tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71091394698820749402024-02-19T02:48:22.674-05:00In the Box, Out of the BoxKim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.comBlogger288125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-62513237546428423552018-06-09T09:49:00.002-04:002018-06-09T13:22:06.291-04:00This Fragile Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We're doing it wrong. This I know.<br />
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The public suicides have depression in the news lately. It stuns us....then we forget. That's how most of us deal with pain. Which is OK and normal sometimes....but not in this case.</div>
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We've been putting a Bandaid on a open chest cavity.</div>
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Life brings stress. Good things happen, bad things happen. Nothing is happening at all. All can cause anxiety. </div>
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Life can be good. Life can be bad. Life can be "fine". Depression can happen with all three.</div>
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People have more money than they can spend in a lifetime. People are drowning in debt. People are living paycheck to paycheck. People are financially secure. All can cause a mind to be in turmoil.</div>
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You can have a lot of people who love you. You can have a close circle of friends. You can have no one. You can be surrounded by others all the time, or be a loner. You can be the life of the party...or the person sitting at home in front of a TV set or a computer. You can feel as though no one cares and that no one really knows you.</div>
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We ask people how they're doing, but never hear anything but fine. We aren't asking to learn the true answer. We ask because it is polite. Often if they would tell the truth we would cringe and change the subject. Or over-react and scare them. Often they tell us what they think we want to hear, because they have been taught fine is the only appropriate way to be....and that no one really cares about their answer.</div>
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If you have any interaction with people, you know someone suffering from anxiety or depression. It may be that thing in yourself that you haven't wanted to label, but the reason you do some of the things you do.</div>
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Our choice of treatment in America has been to medicate people. Sometimes that is a right and appropriate thing to do, but it should not be the only thing.</div>
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Those who don't feel they can express what is going on with themselves, and there are oh-so-many of these people, self-medicate. That's the real reason for the problems we have with alcoholism and other chemical dependency. That's the real reason we have problems with obesity. That's the reason so many people self-isolate and why others find themselves in inappropriate and wrong relationships. Maybe it is why you avoid the unpleasant and live a life you don't love.<br />
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We need to be honest. We need to talk about depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses. Yes, some people don't understand. Some people can't understand. Some people refuse to understand. But we need to talk anyway. If people see the faces, and hear the stories of your heart, a new face will be put on a condition that is biological in nature. That is actually quite natural. That is universal. We all have a certain body chemistry that to some extent controls us. It does not always tell us the truth. Sometimes you need help to find a healthy way to keep it from disturbing your joy in life. Yes, medication is sometimes necessary. Self medication is seldom the answer. Get the help of someone who will walk though it with you. A medical professional you trust is a good place to start....but if they simply give you medication and send you on your way and believe that in itself is enough, know they may not understand it all themselves. There are other healthy ways you can learn to cope, with medication or not.<br />
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I lost two family members to suicide within six months. I have lost friends and acquaintances who I thought were coping with life well, and others who I knew were fragile. You leave behind people who hurt unbelievably for the rest of their lives.<br />
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You matter. This world needs you. Fight against the lies your body may be telling you, but don't fight alone. Form an army. Yes, it may take a while to find the right soldiers, but look for those who will have your back. I promise you they are out there.<br />
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I chose the picture at the top, the dandelion in its most fragile state, because I feel like that is us. All of us. At times we are fragile. We don't need a strong wind or someone blowing on us. We need someone who appreciates our beauty, just as we are.<br />
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If you feel you must be anonymous now, call a suicide prevention hotline (<a href="tel:1-800-273-8255">tel:1-800-273-8255</a>). Tell your doctor, make an appointment with a counselor. (Many employers offer something called an EAP where you can get a certain number of free visits with a counselor. See if this is available to you.) Or call someone like me. I'll only judge you with pride for reaching out for help. I'll hold your hand. You're going to be alright....and live a life that may be bumpy, but can be very, very good. I promise.<br />
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We're doing it wrong. We're forgetting to teach healthy ways to deal with anxiety and depression, which we all will encounter in different measures. We're forgetting to look out for each other. We're forgetting that some of the outward behaviors and screw-ups of those around us happen because people are inappropriately trying to cope. We can get better at helping each other. I know it.<br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-1651116884766102792018-06-03T21:57:00.000-04:002018-06-05T09:41:28.664-04:00The Best Friend<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carole - senior year yearbook</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: center;"><i><b>"One thing I've learned is when you find a best friend in this life, you better hang on." - Jim Nabors</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: center;">We were nine years old when we met. Fourth grade. Mrs. Summer's class at Wayside School. I was the "new girl", having just moved to a new neighborhood that summer. We lived around the block from each other, so we were on the same bus routes always. We were one bus stop apart. That meant we spent a lot of time sitting together, and talking our heads off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: center;">We became best friends. We did everything together. We would be together all day at school (well, except those years they evilly separated us), ride the bus home, and then get home and call each other to talk about our day.</span></div>
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We were among the first students at East Iredell, in 5th grade, and would talk to each other under the cabinets. (It was a 'progressive" school....no walls. Let's just say there are walls now. Experiment unsuccessful.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We'd ride bikes and go on long walks. We went to Vacation Bible School at each other's churches. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We played Barbies. I won't tell you what age we were when we stopped doing this. We swore we would never tell anyone. I will keep that promise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The first slumber party I attended was at her house. We'd sleep on the sun porch, but "I dare you to..." would have us sneaking into the house in the middle of the night. We did this well into high school. Now I know her parents probably heard the giggling and knew exactly what we were up to. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me - also senior year</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Our parents dropped us off at the Playhouse Theater on Saturdays for the kiddie matinees. This was awesome fun and probably our first real taste of freedom. We'd see things like old Elvis Presley and Gidget movies. (These now seem a bit weird to me for kiddie matinees. But we loved them.) The bats would fly overhead and our feet would stick to the floor. We laughed....but I still may have a fear of bats attacking my head. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We could talk about everything forever. We were very different, but yet we always "got" each other. We still do. Even if we have gone years between visits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We started high school together and the summer before the then-modest me stressed about high school PE. You had to take showers afterward.....that terrified me. Carole wasn't as scared as me. Of course, I got the female PE teacher who stood over the shower stalls with her clipboard and made sure students got naked. OK, she would say she made sure they practiced good hygiene and took a shower. Carole got the male PE teacher who didn't know whether they showered or not. We remained friends anyway. (Mass showering still icks me out.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Most of our high school extra-curriculars were the same. We were in Model UN. Probably because we loved the teacher who started it and the others who were in it. We were in chorus freshman year and the school musical was Oklahoma. We were not cast in parts (didn't want to be), but loved singing in the chorus and doing our special dance number with four other girls. Yes, standards for dancers were not high. I had a purple covered basket that matched my dotted swiss dress. Carole's was another color. Maybe green? I don't remember. But we were spectacular. (So OK....we got through it without tripping and probably sang in tune. The families were not embarrassed.) But it was glorious fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We were allowed in a Bible study where we were the youngest members. Some had graduated from college. Carole's sister Angela invited us to be a part of it, I think. They were a great influence to me....and I suspect Carole. But even then we were confident in our beliefs and would join the discussion as an equal. I believe that was one of the things that grounded us and showed us that we could have our own opinions and beliefs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We had a great group of best friends in high school....our little crowd had half of us from East Itedell and half from Union Grove. We went to football games and cheered our hearts out. Maybe we lost a lot of games, but we thought we were great. We'd go to dinner at Darryl's in Winston or El Tio's for Mexican. We once almost drove into the pond at the Fiddler's Convention property. Yes, we were trespassing....but we had decided we would go to Union Grove so our friends didn't have to come to Statesville that night. You had to do something. Carole was driving. I was in the front seat. We were on an incline and saw nothing. The people in the back seat screamed and prevented us from going into the pond. Just barely. We laughed and laughed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We double dated to the junior prom. I refused to go my senior year.....and was solid in my stance until my friends came by McDonalds (where I was working) in their finery. I might have regretted not going then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We went to a certain teacher's home in the middle of the night and put her Volkswagon in the front yard. I will never tell which teacher. She probably would be shocked to know. 😊😊😊</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I got thrown out of study hall my senior year (for "corrupting freshman"....still rolling my eyes at Mr. Gainey.) I didn't want to take a study hall anyway...but had been forced to. I left as directed, and Carole and a few other friends got up and walked out with me. Greatest move ever for all of us. Some of our best memories from high school were made hiding from teachers for the rest of the year so we wouldn't be forced back to class. Mr. Gainey was overjoyed we were never caught and stayed out of his hair. The freshmen, though they stayed in class, remained corrupt. (Mom....I told you about this, didn't I? Oops!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I remember after going to our ten year class reunion, which Carole was not able to attend, that I called her and said "Did you have fun in high school?" She said "Yes! We had so much fun! Why are you asking?" I said to her "Evidently we were the only ones." We laughed. I had talked to a lot of people at the reunion about "the good ole days" and found out that most of them hated high school. I had loved every minute and was totally oblivious to any angst with anyone else. Well, maybe I didn't love every minute....I was a teenager....but most of them. Carole and I still don't totally understand why others weren't having as much fun as we were. But even as adults make fun a priority in our lives. We are both easily amused. And I think we were probably a bit naive to "normal" teen pressures.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We don't always do a great job keeping in touch as adults. Carole found out that my dad had died the day before his memorial service. She's not on Facebook, and that was the only way I told anyone. Her mom saw his obituary in the newspaper and called to tell her. Though she had just started a new job, she asked off of work so she could be there for me and my family. It meant so much. But as she said "I just had to be there." I understand. I would do the same for her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I have a great fortune in my best friend group (you know who you are, I hope)....amazing people collected from different parts and times of my life, who love me well, despite any faults or differences. I know people who say they only have one or two true friends. I have been blessed with more than that. Another from high school, several from college, some from those early 20s years, and those from my current Statesville and balllooning life. I don't take friendship lightly....and I hang on rather tightly. Or maybe loosely and just accept it as it comes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Carole and I had lunch together yesterday. We hadn't had a good conversation in years. We sat for three hours over lunch, catching up and sharing where we were now in our life journeys and marveling at how similar our thoughts are, even though our paths have been so different. She told me that at some point she and her husband plan to move back to this area. It seems right. We'll pick up where we left off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We forgot to take a picture, so I can't include one here. But in our eyes we are still those girls from high school, so I plucked those pictures from our high school year book. That's the thing about the best of friends....we see souls. In the eyes of a best friend, you don't change. You are a jewel. Your value only rises.</span><br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-90377490431855784732018-05-30T17:50:00.002-04:002018-05-30T18:53:49.645-04:00The List - Number One -Things I Dislike<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are those times that you have to make a list. Just to get your thoughts together. To clarify things in your mind. Sometimes it is to remind youself what you believe, so you keep yourself more purely you. What we believe....we don't always do. Reminding ourselves of it...it's a good thing.<br />
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I'm feeling like it's one of those times for me. So here it is.....10 things I dislike. You are welcome to add your own. And yes...I have mentioned some of these before and will again. I am really a simple girl with a simple mind of only so much depth. Truly, though, I don't really dislike that about myself.<br />
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<li>People who tell untruths. I could just say lies....and they are...but you know. I am talking about what some see as grey areas. Specifically those who compliment people about something and they don't mean it. They just want to bond and be thought of as nice. Of all the wonderful things they could say truthful, they pick something false. Because they are too lazy to say anything other than what is expected. Don't give false compliments. Find something true...and kind ...and say it.</li>
<li>People who throw trash out of car windows. Especially cigarette butts. Yep...this can cause road rage in me. I find myself speeding up to "catch" them....then realize I have no idea why. Perhaps a citizen's arrest. I watched too much Andy Griffith as a child and feel I have that right. Yeah....I quickly get smart again and slow down. But I'm glaring at you, horrible person.</li>
<li>Icebreakers. Yeah...I hate having to participate in them. Not many great words begin with K. And it falls in line with my introvert hatred of small talk.Let me have a real conversation and I will bond. But I hate "social on demand." </li>
<li>People who do good works for their own self-interest. Let's take all the rewards out of it, and see who shows up. </li>
<li>Dictators. You know....people who think leadership means they get to decide it all. Annoying. And yes, I have done it. I was wrong. Though my excuse was no one would make a decision. I probably should have worked a bit harder at that.</li>
<li>Not leaving things better than you found them. Places, jobs, relationships, life - don't walk away until you leave something good.</li>
<li>People who stay at home from a public event because "they weren't invited." Yes, most of us have done it. Hey you....you have the ability to invite others. And if one says no, keep going. Refuse to take it personally. Who wouldn't want to hang out with you? </li>
<li>People who think "the good ole days" were perfect. Nope....imperfect people lived then, too. As Ecclesiastes says "There's nothing new under the sun." We may recycle dumb things, and put a new spin on it, but don't act like these things were the first downfall of man. That happened a long time ago.</li>
<li>People who will not commit. I'll call my family out on this one as an example, (Because most don't read my blog.) Someome sends you a text to see if you are attending an event. The appropriate response is to reply. Yes, no, or maybe with an expiration date. I love you...but you make me crazy when you don't.</li>
<li>People who say we should never talk money, politics, or religion. Yeah, go ahead and live in your fantasy world...,but some of us think these are the most important topics in life. We care people live under crazy debt. We care that our political system divides us instead of unites us. And some of us think where you are spiritually is the heart of who you are. So not talk about these things? It may keep a few arguments at bay, but becoming Stepford people (for those confused, Google Stepford Wives) doesn't leave the world in a better world than they found it. They are not real people, Have the conversations...but with respect. And while there are times it is fine to make others uncomfortable with what we say, know when you're doing it to provoke instead to lovingly change minds.</li>
</ol>
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Ten things are easy. It would easy to list more. But time to stop....for now.</div>
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-83706057041730981232018-05-13T12:30:00.004-04:002018-05-13T12:30:32.378-04:00A Picture of A Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I love this picture of my mom. It was taken a few weeks after my sister Dana was born. A couple of years before I came on the scene. I believe she looks especially cool. If I remember correctly she was 20 years old. (Dates....not my strong suit. Yeah, in any facet of the word.)<br />
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I think she rolls her eyes at me each time I bring it out and is less than amused when I put it on Facebook. But that's what happens when you create a child like me. They do things that are somewhat annoying over and over again. And enjoy it.<br />
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All moms aren't like my mom. It took me a while to understand that was a good thing. She paid attention to everything we said and did as we were growing up....and called us on it. Drove us crazy....and we drove her crazy. But now I know that others did not get that kind of attention....and they had to figure it all out on their own.<br />
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I have often had parents tell me that they trust their kids to make the right decision. My mom was invested in us making the right decisions....but always watched us for signs that we were headed down wrong roads. I'm a "prone to wander" type. Oh, the lectures I had to endure growing up! She never thought I was listening. But I was. Her voice remains in my head. Always. I have a mind of my own....boy, do I ever..,but everything funnels through Mom's words of wisdom. She figured out things pretty well and always told me in a way that appealed to my sense of logic. Some of the things that are right for her are not necessarily right for me....but because of her I have the freedom and confidence to do it my way.<br />
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My siblings and I always have said that we had the perfect parents for grown-ups. They raised us to be adults....when we were grown, they released us to the world and didn't try to force us to do things their way. While I know there were times we made them cringe, they let us figure things out. If we needed advice, they would give it. They didn't resent if we didn't take it. They didn't usually interfere with our personal lives...even when I lived a few doors down from them in the apartments for a while. As adults we were allowed to have our own lives and we did not need to tell our parents everything. As a result, we probably felt free to tell them more than most. Well, Mom says I tell her nothing. Probably because my mind stays pretty crowded and I forget. But really...I trust her with my confidences.<br />
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If we found ourselves in trouble, our parents would be there for us...though they never felt if we were in the wrong we shouldn't endure the consequences (yes, I chose to use the double negative. Sometimes I like them). As a result, we're grown-ups. We face those consequences. We first try to figure our own way out of trouble. But when we really need it, we know we can ask for help. We are not surprised people are kind and will help us...because that was modeled for us. We were always around helpful and kind people...not only our parents, but the others they brought into our lives. We also learned how to be there for others. We had responsibility to the world.<br />
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An acquaintance asked me the other day if I smile all the time. No....not all the time...but usually. Life is good. I was never raised to believe it was perfect, or fair, or that people were flawless. I was raised to deal with it all as part of life. I was raised that my character was more important than anything else. Way more than money. Way more than what people think.<br />
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I was raised to know that God was listening and it didn't matter if everyone else believed me (or didn't believe me)....God knew the truth. That particular lesson came when Mom suspected I was lying (I was), but she couldn't prove it. It was brilliant. Stopped the lying flat. And gave me a lot of freedom. If God knows the truth, I don't really care what you believe about me. (So there.)<br />
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Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thanks for all you've taught me. You're my favorite. And that picture of a younger you is awesome. Trust me.<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-2159262135008520842018-04-30T00:25:00.001-04:002018-04-30T01:03:50.857-04:00Two Years of Missing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><u>"</u>Sometimes, when one person is absent,<br />the whole world seems depopulated."</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: , "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: , "georgia" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Allphonse de Lamartine</span></span></span></blockquote>
<u></u><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">It's been two years today since we lost my great nephew Kaelan. I still feel like a part of me is in denial and he will show up and life will go on. It's weird....because so much of me also realizes the loss of him. The world is definitely different. In some ways more colorful, as you realize the frailty of life and the need to celebrate it big, but in other ways more colorless, without the presence of his light.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">A friend of his, a beautiful 20-year old young woman named Christina, was stabbed on Thursday night and died s a result of her injuries. I saw a picture of the two of them on Facebook today, taken some years back, with Nic, Christina's boyfriend and Kaelan's close friend. How much sadness, where there was such laughter and life.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">I have a difficult time with "celebrating" the day of his death. Oh, I know that celebration is the wrong word...most would say commemorate. But truly that is my least favorite day of his life. Honestly I wish I could forget.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu_ceaeHPRLQcA_99JWjDNIIqXCeGp1hSHoNgRVtWau2rojh2xlvBdkVWEaSz2TuN6ZejHvbN6D54sp6jHppKYsbPaAW8-YlPzL4EUscbHfOmGL0LIZTH7SLV89mt01TJasVQa30tDms/s1600/IMG_1254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu_ceaeHPRLQcA_99JWjDNIIqXCeGp1hSHoNgRVtWau2rojh2xlvBdkVWEaSz2TuN6ZejHvbN6D54sp6jHppKYsbPaAW8-YlPzL4EUscbHfOmGL0LIZTH7SLV89mt01TJasVQa30tDms/s1600/IMG_1254.JPG" /></a></div>
<span style="color: black;">I'd rather remember his date of birth, the date God gave us him. July 12, a week before my birthday. I'd rather remember the times he greeted me with a big bear hug...I can still feel them sometimes. I'd rather remember when we were running in the Electric Run in Charlotte and he dragged this guy over to me wearing what he called a horse head. It was a unicorn mask, and that was what he wanted for his birthday. Yes, Aunt Kim found one for him (as he knew I would).....and he loved it. </span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black;">I'd rather remember the time he crewed with Joanie and Stuart at BalloonFest, and they all cracked me up every time I saw them. Or when he crewed with me at Victory Junction, and I saw his compassion for the sweet special needs kids (some older than him.)</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black;">I heard someone say that losing someone is like an amputation, and sometimes it feels like that. Something's not the way it should be....there is phantom pain.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black;">I hurt for the family that is grieving their sweet daughter now.....and his friend Nic who has lost two of the most important people in his life. Two that he has loved. I'm not one who thinks this was all in God's time, though I know it was no surprise to God. I think God grieves with us. </span>The ripples of these losses of life are great....I trust there is a purpose in it all and in its timing.<br />
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Our lesson? While most would say to tell everyone you love them at every opportunity, I'd instead say "Be kind." Cherish those you love and consider the gift they are. Treat them well. Words are good, too....but actions mean so much more. Life is way too short....but we should work to make it wonderful. Even with pain. Love the world...everyone you can. Love and respect yourself. Get help if you need it. People do care. They may even be missing you now. That's probably even worse than death....missing the ones who are here. Don't live alone in a cave of your own making. Reach out....and live.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Your absence has gone through me,<br />
Like thread through a needle.<br />
Everything I do stitched with its color."</blockquote>
.-W.S. Merwin<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-5229402437786118532018-04-22T20:25:00.003-04:002018-04-22T20:55:33.574-04:00 Pruning the Facebook Tree....or Yelling "Timber"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotI40FDKt6M5-zqh29lwrxNcNHhVyN4djcjsqiyiCPz43bUtEBaHYu3uZOHr8MFonnBpwig1JhNf3UQ3BRmdei0uqhDym15f2TC4T9qi6ptmZVf94WjQ2VQuhic7Z3eBQ8LnVfY5rZ2c/s1600/IMG_0845.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotI40FDKt6M5-zqh29lwrxNcNHhVyN4djcjsqiyiCPz43bUtEBaHYu3uZOHr8MFonnBpwig1JhNf3UQ3BRmdei0uqhDym15f2TC4T9qi6ptmZVf94WjQ2VQuhic7Z3eBQ8LnVfY5rZ2c/s320/IMG_0845.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">I had another friend tell me this week that they thought they were going to delete Facebook. This is not a person who uses Facebook very much, so I can't see that the action will change their life very much. I was frankly surprised it was "a thing". I feel it has been a good thing in our lives as friends, allowing us to keep in touch. In fact, I wished this person used it to post more because I love knowing what is going on with them. With the busy-ness of our lives, the preferred direct communication is difficult sometimes. When we do get together there is only time to share so much. To already have an idea of what has been going on? We can cut to the chase and get to the details! I know their encouragement of me (through my excessive posts of daily life) has been a gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">I had another friend delete Facebook this year, and I will confess it still makes my heart ache. I mourned. It was our only form of communication. Granted it was an acquaintance and not a close friend, but he is someone whose thoughts and insights enhanced my life. His life is very different than mine, and I enjoyed seeing the contrast. I miss him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Some people seem to see Facebook as this super negative power. It's just an app....though I admit it can have power. But in your life, really only if you allow it to. I believe I hold its power, and don't experience a lot of negatives. I have the power to choose my friends (some are people I have never met, which is weird and wonderful and I guess at times could be creepy. Mostly it has been wonderful.) I control whose posts I see and whose I don't. I seldom block people or posts.....but if I want to, I have the power. If an image or a post particularly bothers me (and granted, some I don't want taking up space in my brain). I can wipe it off my page and focus on others that uplift and encourage me and make me think without shuddering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2kkBn2R1utTNUDxD951jqD3lpSZvzdMHZpzUBbHMmZi1_XVJOyd9C1X8MoiRUeYzGOPqbotYC2TEu5adWze7c8zsSwSI8Smo1V3zYCkrS-HK_djEcIwbbQZN-HL6gkCOdxDKlU6wdPg/s1600/IMG_0855.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2kkBn2R1utTNUDxD951jqD3lpSZvzdMHZpzUBbHMmZi1_XVJOyd9C1X8MoiRUeYzGOPqbotYC2TEu5adWze7c8zsSwSI8Smo1V3zYCkrS-HK_djEcIwbbQZN-HL6gkCOdxDKlU6wdPg/s320/IMG_0855.HEIC" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">I am fascinated by Facebook behavior....by the things that people share and the sides of them that come out when they do. I try to keep things in perspective and realize one statement does not the person make. People have bad days. People express themselves badly. And then there is the opposite. Some people only post the good and amazing parts of their lives. They post words of great wisdom, when truth is they live really screwed up lives. This doesn't bother me. They, too, can say something that encourages or changes me for the better. Even if they really don't live it in their real life. I'll use their words well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Some people only post about others. They'll tell you about the accomplishments of their children and grandchildren, but never give a glimpse of their own lives. Some rant on topics to the point I wonder what their goal is...though I know they truly have no goal or they would do it another way. They are just letting off steam. Facebook is their chance to vent and get validation from those who agree with them....and start fights with those who don't. They seem both proud and confused when people unfriend them. They are the drama queens and kings of the world....and would probably be offended if you made that observation to them. But we know it, don't we? Most of us don't choose to live such drama in our lives and should not take it as reality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Which leads me to another observation I have made lately....how many people are slaves to the opinions of other people. Oh, I am not beyond it....which probably is why it fascinates me so much. I have identified that as a personal weakness. In doing that I give myself power to change it. I tend to notice it in myself more quickly and put things in perspective a bit faster. One of the greatest truths I have ever learned is that people are human. Yeah...inane statement to some...insert eye roll here if you find it necessary. But as an analytical type, that simple statement has often changed my whole view of things. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Even the brightest and most intuitive can be off base about things. I learned this best from people criticizing me (and while I have been criticized a lot in person, nowhere near as much as on Facebook. Especially from complete strangers.) I used to agonize when someone I respected made a critical comment about me that didn't ring true. It confused the daylights out of me. I would obsess about it and look for the truth of it. They had to be right...they were smart and had made many observations of people and things that were on point. But as I marinated in their words (sometimes preparing to grill myself), as I looked at who I know myself to be, I simply didn't agree with what they said. Or I agreed completely in the observation itself, but where they saw it as a weakness in me, I saw it as a strength. It was not something I wanted to change, just because they said so. As for a stranger criticizing me, it only hurts until I consider the source and remember they are judging me based on one written comment....it smarts a bit longer when my "real" friend doesn't defend me as a person of value.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZV4m-H1eiQQC3vGYBj3sAMQDKPPmoGNBbGK9NQPXc6PUcDtR0y2nyh9ODNvz9t0PD8U6XwO51odWoOQA0kZrL3jS9VqSEGDpdYopsTD7kV4D9lNnpWiaZmofSf9g2OBTqKrB793Rmwnk/s1600/IMG_0847.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZV4m-H1eiQQC3vGYBj3sAMQDKPPmoGNBbGK9NQPXc6PUcDtR0y2nyh9ODNvz9t0PD8U6XwO51odWoOQA0kZrL3jS9VqSEGDpdYopsTD7kV4D9lNnpWiaZmofSf9g2OBTqKrB793Rmwnk/s320/IMG_0847.HEIC" width="320" /></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "helvetica";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">The Facebook meme words of wisdom would tell me to cut these people completely out of my life. They would be seen as negative</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "helvetica";"> influences</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "helvetica";"> and therefore should be banned. But if you look at everyone as simply human, you realize that you can keep people like this in your life and simply realize they are sometimes wrong. Or they are right in a way, but it is not something that you need to change now. Or ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">There are parts of who I am that annoy other people (sometimes I annoy myself), but I am not inclined to change them. I am sometimes a difficult friend. I am on occasion brutally honest. It's a family trait, inherited from both sides. The McKinneys and the Scotts are honest and blunt and critical and very often loud in spouting their thoughts. Not an excuse for me to do it excessively, but it is what I know. And I prefer going through life this way rather than being someone who wears a mask all the time.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: "helvetica";">If you are my real life friend, I almost always have an opinion on the choices you make in your life. There will be few times you don't know what these opinions are, whether you ask for them or not. As your friend, I feel the obligation to tell you. My goal is to only say these things to you one time if they are negative, unless you bring them up again yourself. Or unless I see you making what I believe are critical errors in your life and I am following you around with a life preserver so you don't drown. I sometimes fail in that "one time only thing", but most of my friends know the magic words are "We've already discussed this." That usually makes me put a clamp on it. But if you know me well, you know I believe you get to make your own choices in life. You get to make mistakes. You don't have to change yourself or how you live because I have an opinion. These things in themselves will not ruin our friendship. If they cause struggle or consequences for you, hopefully these will be the times I will be there for you the most. Even if I could say "I told you so."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">There are people I don't particularly care for. There are days I don't like or respect even my closest friends. There are times I feel unappreciated and overlooked. There are times I don't meet expectations and times I offend. Sometimes I ask for advice and decide your view is not my own, so don't take it. It doesn't mean it wasn't valuable....but sometimes it simply clarified my own take. No offense intended. And there are times when I decide certain opinions of me just don't matter. Even from the best of people. These times seem to increase with age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">But "unfriending" friends? I don't do it often. I am OK when they do it to me and realize they have that right and don't owe me an explanation. Though I have been known to ask anyway. Because yeah.....sometimes the curiosity gets the best of me. And sometimes I want to know how someone I love can discard me (because sometimes that is how it feels). Even though, once again, I fully believe they have that right. You are not obligated to be my friend for life. Well....some of you are. But me believing that doesn't mean it is necessarily right.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">In my life I have learned that often if I run from certain relationships or try to pretend certain people don't exist, God will keep putting these people in my path. Over and over and over again until I realize I just need to surrender. Usually it is to remind me that they are more than a caricature. They are a complicated human, both good and sometimes "evil". That does not mean they are worthless. And because they are not where I am in life, or where I think they should be, it does not mean that God is not prodding me to love them well. Where they are....without judgment.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"> How does shunning people change them for the better? It's a concept I have thought about a lot in recent years, especially since I had discussions with a friend about certain Christian groups that do it often (I had no idea), and I abhor the whole concept. I admit I wanted to join one of these churches for the express purpose of eventually being shunned. But that's a character flaw with me. (And one that I kinda enjoy.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">But as for us....spending our time trying to convince anybody their opinion of us is wrong (especially strangers) is usually moments of your life wasted. It's fine to be who you are today. You have to accept where you are so you can be better tomorrow. Work on not ever living life for applause from anyone but God. (He knows you inside and out and is not going to unfriend you.) Let that be enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Those folks who tie you up in knots? They are mere mortals. Just like you. Fallible and wonderful. But sometimes you do need to avoid them and regain your equilibrium. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphens5lzzyjoZfQRkqTsPdA_lOedbRiaUfBH4lhaQkFtSzbDETBzcuPyrl-R5NVtKX9T-JLdbCz8cm414prcykMK5qaIuBaj6ZtF4NJFxzInUEo2sIYza7q-GZkanh0YfjwoOeWc7MYD4E/s1600/IMG_1519.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphens5lzzyjoZfQRkqTsPdA_lOedbRiaUfBH4lhaQkFtSzbDETBzcuPyrl-R5NVtKX9T-JLdbCz8cm414prcykMK5qaIuBaj6ZtF4NJFxzInUEo2sIYza7q-GZkanh0YfjwoOeWc7MYD4E/s320/IMG_1519.HEIC" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">That;s OK.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">You've heard this from me before. If you don't have people around you who love you warts and all, who don't acknowledge all of who you are, who spend all of their time with you trying to mold you into who they think you should be, and who don't include you in their lives with open arms and open doors, then knock down those walls you have put up to everyone else and open up yourself to the world. Find your tribe. You need those who support you well, so you can counter the many you will run into who won't. Sometimes you make changes in your tribe. Your needs may be different, or theirs. You may no longer serve each other well. Sometimes hard relationships are worth it. Sometimes they are not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">A relationship is not just about you....think of the needs of others equal to your own needs. Not more, not less....equal is best. There needs to be balance there. Love the full person (even the things you don't like.) Don't give them a life sentence for a minor infraction. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Embrace the good parts. Minimize the bad parts. Be kind to strangers. And cut the public drama. Quietly prune your friends list, if you need to (stop with the public "I am deleting 97.6% of my friends today who I no longer need in my life". What's the point of that anyway?) Walk totally away if it burdens you excessively. But think </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">twice before you destroy that tree. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica";">Maybe you need to prune, and in time it will produce fruit you will enjoy eating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica";">You can control Facebook. It doesn't need to control you. One thing I like about it....it's a microcosm of our world. You can learn a lot about others. And about yourself. I don't see that as a bad thing. Even if on days you are really aware that we can all be quite annoying. But on another day....oh, how beautiful our people, how beautiful our world.</span><br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-25625993518849985312018-03-31T12:38:00.000-04:002018-03-31T13:29:23.115-04:00Non Potable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:97px;wocalc:97px;hcalc:228px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"When you drink the water, remember the spring."</span></i></b></div>
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I was driving behind a truck the other day that was marked Non Potable Water. As one easily distracted, thinking about that kept my mind busy for a while. Which is probably a good thing, because I was behind him in the right hand lane for a long time and couldn't get over, and he was driving at that speed that isn't really under the speed limit, but just hovering at it. Unlike most of my family, I consider that too slow, so it has a tendency to make me impatient. (Yep...I recognize it's my issue...that's the first step to change. I haven't necessarily fully accepted the wanting to change thing yet.)<br />
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So my first thoughts are "Why do you have to mark the truck for that? Is someone trying to drink it.... sneaking and slurping from that massive container in the middle of the night because they don't have a bottle of Dansani available?" "Was a lawsuit involved? Is it the work of the same person who suggested the 'Do Not Use on Garments On Body' label on the iron or 'Remove Child Before Folding' label on the stroller?" (So OK...maybe the first one is especially funny to me because I possibly could have done it. I haven't tried the kid in the stroller folding....yet.)<br />
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Is there some great harm from a vat of unpotable water imploding in an accident? Are there trucks of water that pretend to be something they are not? That someone is trying to pass off as pure? I'm sure there is some reason for that truck to be marked, but I am clueless.<br />
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Anyway, in my ADD stream of consciousness, I started thinking about how essential water is to life. Our bodies are about half water. Is our body water potable or non potable? I guess it depends on what we put in it. If we put in clean water, it replenishes our cells and allows us to live. If we put in non potable, on the other hand, it can possibly kill us.<br />
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As those of us who are Christians are closing down Holy Week, I think of Jesus giving his people the gift of living water to quench our thirst. But because someone is saying they are drinking this living water, doesn't mean it is true. How do you know whether someone is drinking authentic holy living water? It is always potable. It always (yes always) produces good fruit....love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.<br />
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There seems to be a lot of confusion about such things these days. Anger, unkind spirits, judgmental attitudes, rudeness, hatefulness, prejudice....these are things are created from non potable water. It may look the same in the glass, it may not be marked on the container, in fact it may be mis-labeled, but still it is contaminated, from an unpure source. It can be muddy and filled with microscopic creatures and nothing even resembling purity. Still thirsty people drink it. It can be consumed almost undetected, slowly and subtly damaging bodies. It can be consumed with eyes wide open, knowing there could be consequences. It can make people sick, and have them spewing vomit all around. It can even lead to death. It's insidious and evil and not good for us at all.<br />
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Whoever you are...whatever you believe.....Christian or not....if you are human you are at least half water. As you refill your tank, are you drinking that which is potable, or that which is not fit for human consumption? How are you filling your body? How are you filling your mind? Who are you accepting the glass from? Your life reflects these things. Your label is can be as large as the lettering on that truck, or small enough to be almost undetectable...but clearly it is either Potable or Non Potable. You can change the water source and change the fruit your tree of life produces. It's spring...time for renewal for living things. And it's Easter, Christians....time to admit those nails you hammered and live resurrection. How about a glass of water?<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-14378112810148011512018-03-24T21:16:00.000-04:002018-03-24T21:55:04.722-04:00This Gun Thing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was in high school most pickups had gun racks in the rear view window. In those gun racks were guns. Many went hunting before coming to school in the morning. Some after school. We had to take hunter safety in PE, at the insistence of one of our coaches. I probably still have my patch where I passed the class. I rolled my eyes over having to take the class because I didn't think it was necessary for me. It wasn't, but it was for many of my classmates, so I get it. It certainly did me no harm, though I also never personally used the information.<br />
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I was not from a family that had guns back then (though most of my family does now), and I never spent one minute in fear that someone was going to go on a shooting rampage in my school? Naive? Maybe. But the fact that no one did, means fear would have been for nothing.<br />
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Most of my friends not only have guns, but many conceal carry. While I am in favor of this, I do admit there are a few that concern me. Sure, mental illness is a restrictor.... but what if someone has anger issues or is skittish or prone to fear or has times when they feel everyone is against them? There have been times that seeing certain people with guns in public has scared me. But who decides where the lines are? Even with some of the folks I know well, I wouldn't want to make that determination. I don't believe I would trust you to, either.<br />
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There are things that scare me more than guns. Terrorist bombs. Poison in our water or food supplies. Those driving while impaired....or while texting. Somebody running me down me in a parking lot or while crossing the street (thinking of you, downtown Statesville drivers). I know more people who have injured innocent people with guns than have saved themselves or their families. I know folks who have been murdered....probably with legal guns. One was probably the act of a stranger (no one has been convicted) and another was a former boyfriend. But I don't see the guns as the murderer....just the murderer's weapon of choice. They could have been knifed or hit with a lamp or poisoned. They'd still be dead. That's just my experience and thought process....yours could be different. It shapes our views. How can it not?<br />
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I've heard some folks put down the kids protesting our gun laws and not feeling safe in our schools. Agree with them or not, I will do nothing but encourage them. Get out there and speak your minds, kids. Tell people what you think..learn to articulate your thoughts. You may be right....but be open to being wrong.. You'll be ahead of most adults with that one quality. I'm sorry you don't see it modeled much.<br />
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I am hopeful that these teens are not only learning to peacefully protest, and link arms with those of like minds (and even engage with those who think differently) , but they will continue to exercise their rights. I hope they vote in record numbers...and pick better candidates. I hope they blow up our political party system, Agree with them or not, they are trying to influence our politicians and our world. Do I think they will be successful any time soon? Nope....because I cynically believe that something about being in public office makes ears and minds and even hearts close. Maybe the job and the number of opinions to sift through is just overwhelming. But I don't see politicians listen to opinions of people well. I don't see them trying to solve problems creatively....or even seem to understand what the real problems are. So if they don't change, we need to change them. Because the symptoms are not the disease. Maybe the voices of these teens will resonate an<br />
d get their attention. Maybe.<br />
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I want dialogue. I want us to vote differently....grading politicians on how they listen to we, the people. I want us to figure out what is going on. Why do we live in such an angry country, an angry world? Why are there so many mentally unbalanced people? Aren't those the real questions?<br />
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If guns are the problem, I would not be opposed to changing the Second Amendment. I've said before I don't think guns are our primary issue, and I'm not a gun fan. Still I also don't think any part of our constitution is so sacred it should never, ever be changed. Before you get up in arms, I like our constitution. I currently don't think it needs to change. But I am open to it changing it if we decide that's best for our nation.<br />
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What really need to be open are our minds. I love seeing some of my friends make bold choices and changes as they are actively working through the issues. Some are giving up their guns. Some are learning how to shoot better and safer. Some are securing their guns like never before and making sure they are not easily accessed, especially by children. Others are learning self defense....and learning how to defend others. I admire them all. They're leaving their comfort zone and growing. They are taking it seriously. I suspect they will come through it more balanced and stronger. Hopefully their experience will teach us all.<br />
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I am not currently advocating for changes in gun laws, because I currently feel the problem is bigger than guns. That could change tomorrow. I listen to people on all sides of the issues and I am willing to be changed.<br />
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There seem to be so many scared and unbalanced people in our world. They....sometimes you.....scare me. Not obsessively, but for moments in time. But I still believe there are more people who are balanced, who will come together and soothe an angry world. I often mention the quote "Anger is fear disguised." Let's work to find the source of fear and soothe some angry souls,<br />
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Young people,with your beautiful passion...I pray you don't become discouraged by the naysayers, the cynical, and the closed minded. Find those adults who are wise.....you will know them by their balance. Listen to them and learn. Ask them hard question and find the inconsistencies in their thoughts. That is how you grow your minds.<br />
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Don't let anyone tell you that you can't change the world.....and that your fear is unfounded. You're headed in the right direction. I am proud of what we will do together. Because you're not in this alone. There are adults who are working for change. And while your innocence has been damaged and you may be scared, we want you to be able to go back to being kids. Strong kids. Kids that are both seen and heard. And protected.<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-22809997543355323832018-02-03T16:20:00.000-05:002018-02-03T16:20:41.034-05:00The Passport Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"When you look like your passport photo, it's time to go home." Erma Bombeck</i><br />
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I realized yesterday, through our travel agents at work, that my passport expires this year. Not until October, but anyone who travels much knows that as long as it is in the same year some countries will not let you in (OK, they say within six months, but I have learned to be extra cautious because if something can go wrong, I will find it out . I am easy-going about most things, but could very well stage an international incident over such a thing.<br />
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So this procrastinator, who often misses deadlines in her personal life (most recently my car tag renewal), would never knowingly not have a passport in good standing. You never know when someone may say "Hey, do you want to go to Antarctica?" ....and you must be prepared to say "Sure!" (That is the only possible answer, from where I sit.)<br />
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But today as I was waiting at the CVS, where I believe all of the passport photos of my adult life have been taken, I remembered a Dad story. I don't think there have been many, if any, days of my life since my dad has been gone that something hasn't brought him to mind.<br />
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Dad was almost always calm, cool, and collected.....and seldom wrong. He also was a bit thrifty. Some of you are grinning because you know I inherited that particular trait. It was time for Dad's passport to be renewed and he thought "Why should I go out and pay someone else to take a passport photo of me? I'm a pretty good photographer."<br />
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So Dad read all up on all the requirements.....he was the type who would not miss a detail (I did not inherit this trait.) He knew the backdrop he needed, he knew the size his head needed to be, he had each and every detail down. He set up a white sheet with a chair in front of it, set up the tripod, and started the process of taking his own picture. He found it wasn't quite as easy as it looked. This was back in the days of film, so there was film cost and processing that needed to be done. Dad kept making adjustments and taking more photos until the roll was ready to be developed.<br />
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When Dad got the pictures back, I don't think one was usable. The pictures were hysterical. Sometimes it took before he was seated. Sometimes he was leaning one way or another. Sometimes you could see the sheet draping, and other times wrinkles in it. Yes, we laughed until we cried. Not Dad....he wasn't around when we saw them....the rest of us. I think he had left them on the counter. And yes, our mom was the ringleader.<br />
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If I remember correctly, that did not stop him. It just gave him more data to make sure he got it right. He got the picture.<br />
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So me....CVS has always been my passport place, because I learned from Dad how I didn't want to do it. Even after all of that, and knowing my inability to do anything crafty, Dad would have still told me I could do it myself. Most who know me, know better. Sometimes his faith in me was misplaced.<br />
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I wanted to hug the young guy who took my picture today when it was over, not because the picture was so great, but because the process was fun. He had to remind me "You can't smile".... which made me purse my lips in a way that makes me look a bit suspicious. We laughed after he took it and I really had to laugh when I saw it. I may be patted down or strip searched in my future, because of that look on my face. But my photographer was proud of his work But he further said "They do call them mug shots. And they're the ones who say you can't smile, wear glasses, or have your hair in your face." I rolled my eyes at him a little, but acknowledged "I'll be traveling. If I looked too good they wouldn't recognize me."<br />
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Thrifty me found a $2 coupon online when I checked to make sure CVS still did took passport photos (since it had been 10 years.) So I didn't pay full price....that is a good thing. And truly....as bad as my photo is, I know Dad's were far worse. Sometimes 'Do it yourself" is not smarter or cheaper.<br />
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Now to mail it all in and get ready for more adventures. It's fitting I am doing this in February. Is there anything I love more than travel? A few things, but not many.<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-32571905734171641232018-01-22T08:29:00.003-05:002018-01-22T09:09:04.195-05:00Beyond the Shutdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Supposedly they'll vote at noon today whether to stop our current government shutdown. Since it started there has been a side of me that wishes everyone who will not get paid as a result of the action (or inaction)....including our military....would refuse to do their jobs. OK, the childish petty side of me, I don't really believe that or want that.....I know we need them and it would put our country in chaos...and danger. I appreciate that they understand that and have a commitment that supersedes their salary. But when you have a government insensitive to the needs of you and your family, the temptation has to be great to really let them see the significance of their actions.<br />
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I'm not being partisan here. I follow no party. In fact this once again demonstrates to me what I feel is disgusting about our political system. It's on the level of junior high drama...are you in the popular crowd or not? The gang mentality supersedes the individual responsibility. Good parents do not let their children slide when they do something because of peer pressure. Why do we allow it in our government?<br />
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Looking at the numbers, no party is blameless. <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/01/19/us/politics/live-senate-vote-government-shutdown.html" target="_blank"> NY Times List of How They Voted</a> But truly I don't care about that. Let's throw the party out of it all. I hold each individual responsible. I could not care less about what party they are in. They get one vote....they have full responsibility for that vote. If the other members of their party jumped off a cliff, would they follow? (The questions of childhood stay with us forever, because silly as they sound they still ring true.) Yes, many obviously would.<br />
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I'm tired of people bringing up the idiotic statement of Trump from the past that the president is responsible. I don't believe our president is that powerful. Any president. Those kinds of statements deflect from the truth and probably give this one person more power. They don't recognize the checks and balances of our system. They don't recognize the big picture. If our government was run by leaders who put people before politics or their own self interests, who represented all of the people of our country instead of their particular self interests, they would work more for small focused changes that make a difference instead of big bulky bills most of them haven't grasped or understood when they voted for them. They'd get more done, with much less chaos. They'd take one issue at a time and really let people see what they believe.<br />
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I don't know about you, but my eyes were rolling back in my head this weekend each time I saw a Senator make a huge public spectacle of writing a letter refusing their salaries, because of course they are exempt (as they are almost always) from the impact of the laws they pass. Some of my friends appeared very moved by this. Not me. I agree they should not get those salaries. Write your letter and send it, but instead of having time for a press conference or public relations campaign to gain accolades, spend your time working for solutions that will impact those who have no choice about what will be done with their salary. And in the future, make sure you are never exempt from a law that is passed for the people. Leaders should be the first in line to take the action they are suggesting for others.<br />
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I've followed the Facebook posts of friends who are "non-essential" government employees. They're confused as to what it all means for them, even those who have been through this before. I hate they are dealing with such instability. In a world where many live paycheck to paycheck, I am sorry this has given them extra stress.<br />
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Working in corporate America, there doesn't seem to be a choice as to when our budgets are final. My company has never had a shutdown in the 12 years I have been there....they make their decisions and the budget is final. Not everyone agrees with it, but it is what it is. I don't work with budgets now and only see the outward impacts, not the inner dialogue. I do know that usually their most important audience are the stockholders and decisions are often made to make them happy. I don't always agree with this, but I understand it and understand the whys behind it.<br />
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Who are the stockholders of our country? I think it should be our citizens, all of our citizens. Too often it is the campaign contributors. Too often it is a very small group of people just like them. Too often it is their friends, who they socialize with at cocktail parties or on the golf course. Too often it is the members of their political party, those with the power to make the party decision. The 'popular crowd." Too often they forget they are working for "we, the people." Too often it is because we have let them, have continued to elect them, and have not held them to a standard befitting a member of Congress of the United States of America,<br />
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Like many I have grown to hate politics. I hate that immigration and the handling of illegal aliens (a critically important subject itself), is used as leverage to pass, or not pass, a budget (way past the "deadline"). I hate that we elect people who don't represent many of us....who often are people who have no ideas of the struggles of the common man. Who have never been to a grocery store, or laundromat, or checked a book out of the public library. Who never had to stick to a personal budget. People who would rather grandstand than compromise.<br />
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When it gets down to it, we the people are responsible. We elected these folks. Both parties. Casting our votes or failing to cast our votes. Participating in the system or failing to participate in the system. Believing the voice of a political party rather than making our judgments based on each candidate, each issue, one at a time. Getting our idea of who a particular candidate is from media rather than trying to actually get at the truth of who they are. Which yes....I believe may be almost impossible.<br />
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Years back I failed to vote for a particular candidate because they wore a bad toupee. My thought process was that anyone who had poor judgment in that area, would have poor judgment in making decisions in political office. Afterward I got to know this person and I learned they were intelligent, compassionate, knowledgeable, and cared about our community. I wish I could say that was the only time I made such a shallow judgment, but it is not. It has taught me to try to get to know the person behind the candidacy. That's a tough thing to do, I have found. Often I am voting for a bio or from the judgment of a journalist whose eyes may see things differently than mine. Neither usually give me a true judgment of that person's true character. But we need to learn to look for the character, to look beyond parties and to people. We need to hold those we elect accountable. We need to look out for our communities and our country, and all the people who make them up, rather than only our own self interests<br />
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I know I vote differently than most. I sometimes vote for candidates that don't share my views. A weird concept to many, I know. But I want good strong points of view debating issues. I want different types of people represented. To me that is how democracy works best. I have no illusions that we are at a place where they do this well at the moment, but I believe it is a step to get us tgere.<br />
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While I am frustrated rught now with most things political, I have hope. I talk with younger friends and many have a better handle on debate and reaching consensus than my contemporaries. I hope they do not become jaded.<br />
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We the people are the power. Not the president, not the Congress. We can stop this foolishness. Why don't we stop the name calling and the childlike meme wars, why don't we stop supporting politicians who don't take their responsibility seriously, whose actions don't match their words or votes. Why don't we stop following the misplaced ideologies of our political parties and think for ourselves? Why don't we band together and care about each other and fight for all of the things our constitution says it stands for? Why don't we act as mature leaders and show them how it is done? Why don't we compromise when it is needed? Why don't we quit worshipping politicians and media and make decisions that will be an example of how you live unified in a democracy? We can, you know.Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-23787711877303916772018-01-01T20:22:00.002-05:002018-01-01T22:05:49.477-05:00Resolute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you know me at all, you probably know that planning is not my favorite activity. I'm a good planner, mind you, but more of a "wait until the last minute, figure out all the things that need to be done, and do them" kind of woman.<br />
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I hate things like project plans (ironically I'm currently a project manager by profession), because I would rather be doing or strategizing than writing a list and crossing it off. No, I never make a grocery list either, which is why I can go to get things for Christmas dinner and forget the most important items.<br />
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So it falls in line I don't make typical new year's resolutions. I do think about the new year and evaluate my life. There's a little holiday break in there and it seems to come up. Last year I had one goal.....to be more active in my work day. Major fail.....but I am not giving up on it because 2017 has ended.<br />
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I have found myself laying around a lot the past month....pain and illness and such taking over my life. Not my norm, and it was frustrating. But I spent a lot of time thinking things through and I realized something. My life feels a bit stale. Not just because of the forced time out, but even before. I have realized lately I am not trying new things or seeing new places. Both of those things are part of who I choose to be, so a life lacking in them is not me living my life to the full.<br />
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I had lunch with my friend Mirielle some time back, and this sassy girl challenged me. I have thought about it ever since. Before I tell you what she said to me, let me tell you a bit about her. When Mirielle was about to begin studying at Chapel Hill, we had dinner when I said "Oh, I'm going to miss you so much when you go away." She said "Why? I'm coming home every weekend." I am sure my face showed sheer horror. We then had a conversation that began "Nooooo......you can't do that!"<br />
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The first weekend, she was home. I shook my head at her and she said "Really.....I am going to stay there some." And then she did.....and learned the joy of it.....and I barely ever saw her.<br />
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But there's more. She graduated. She started traveling. She loved it. She didn't wait for someone to come along and do the typical group of friend trips to the same destinations everyone else her age went to. She went by herself, to wherever caught her fancy, and stayed in hostels, or possibly in her rented car. She is more outgoing than me, but you never would have seen it those first years I knew her. She was quiet. But she meets people easily and has learned to ask for both advice and help. She'll talk to anyone. She has learned to read people well and figures out who to spend time with, and who to avoid. You may be able to tell, I am not only proud of her, but she has become a role model for me.<br />
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Back to our last conversation. Knowing my love of new places and adventure, she called me on my current staid life. She challenged me on not taking advantage of opportunities to get out of my comfort zone. I have a few valid constraints, but still she made me question why I'm not pushing my boundaries more. Why I'm not working harder to live a life more reflective of the things I love most. Lots of food for thought.<br />
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I believe the biggest sin in most of our lives is that we don't live our purpose. That we disrespect this big world God has created for us and box ourselves in. Now, don't get me wrong. Everyone is not supposed to travel like I am. It's a definite passion for me, but it is not for everyone. (It's not for most of my family, for instance.)<br />
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But still, we all have passions. We all have adventures to experience. We have weaknesses to strengthen. Fears to test. Skills to develop. Talents to use. People to serve. We all have purposes to live. They look different. But they are the same in that they add the blood to the body of our lives.<br />
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I've talked before about the experience of seeing a friend come back to life during a transfusion. It was amazing. Totally from death to life. From comatose to talking and laughing. I think a lot of us need a few pints of blood. And/or a good kick in the pants.<br />
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I'm resolved this year that I am going to meet at least one challenge a month. It may not even be one per calendar month. Just 12 challenges. A dozen. It seems like a good number.<br />
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These may not be big things to anyone else, but they will be something God is telling me to explore. It may be a town. It may be a state. It may be a country. It may not even be travel. It may be doing something that scares me. It may be something you wouldn't give a second thought. Because we are all different and have different hurdles to jump. But I am going to leave my comfort zone at least 12 times.<br />
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The thing I know is this.....these things will not be careless for me. They need to meet a need in my life. A weakness. A fear. An adventure. A challenge. A thrill. A service. A way to think about where I am and whether I am headed in the right direction....or whether I need to change a direction. Or detour. Some may be mustard seed things. Some may be mountains.<br />
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I need more zest for life.....and Mirielle has more than most people I have met, of any age. So I am going to meet her challenge. Probably not in the way she would do it. But that is good and right for me. We take the challenges of our friends and make them our own.<br />
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A new year looms. Are you good with a repeat of last year? If not, where are you headed? Make a plan. Or don't. Just open your eyes wider and do what needs to be done. That is what works for me.<br />
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May your 2018 be rich and full and happy. May you live your purpose. You'll know you are there when you are living your life in a way that honors your beliefs, your loves, and your passions. And when you know the world is better because of you.Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-62226360926433557802017-12-15T13:21:00.000-05:002017-12-15T16:17:02.398-05:00 I Am Not Human<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><i><b>The determination has been made that I am not human. Furthermore, since I am not a human, I must be a computer.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;">This is not a conclusion I have come to to easily or without argument. It has taken a few years for me to accept it. But I cannot seem to pass the human test; therefore I am a computer. Thus says the CAPTCHA.</span></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">CAPTCHA stands for "Completely Automated Public Turing Test to Tell Computers and Humans Apart." You know them.....they are a big part of internet "security" these days. Used to be bigger, but some folks have gotten smart. They were designed to keep the bots from taking over the internet. Or at least that is what the official line is. The truth is, they were designed to drive me insane. I just know it. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">I have scanned the names of the inventors listed in Wikipedia to see if I recognize one of the names as someone from my past. I don't recognize any of them. But still....maybe that's it. I should have noticed them lurking. I must have offended someone.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">You may understand. There may be more than just me out there. When I see one of those tests of jumbled letters and numbers, I never seem to be able to decipher them correctly. I try and try. I focus intently. Wikipedia said the average person gets them in 10 seconds. I am certainly above average. I have never gotten one in 10 seconds in my entire life. I wish I were exaggerating. No....I would guess my record is probably 10 minutes. And that would be on a day when I am high fiving myself due to my brilliance.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">The newest are the pictures where you have to identify things like signs and cars in pictures. Granted I do better on these, but still have difficulty. Is that a line or a signpost? Is </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;">that the headlight of a car or another shiny object? Yes, I am perhaps a tad over-analytical. Or maybe not analytical enough. I can't decide....because you never see why you failed, so you can't learn how they view them. </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">I have a mild form of dyslexia. The biggest issue from this that has manifested itself in my life (other than not knowing what shoe went on what foot way after it was socially acceptable) is that I can't reverse mirror images. My siblings can enjoy themselves</span></span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"> for hours imitating me trying to use a curling iron. And you thought I have short straight hair because it looks best on me? Who would know? A "style" is not an option.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;">So I suspect that dyslexia may play a part in this. But also....it's just messy. I am a person of detail. I am over-analytical. Maybe I make it more difficult than I should. But truly....I have tried first instincts and agonized over every character. Every time, I get the sign of "you are a loser". The next "puzzle" pops up. Arghhh!</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;">Sometimes there is an audio option, The first time I saw that I got excited. Then I realized that it was like Charlie Brown's teacher, or at other times Chatty Cathy on speed, doing a spelling test. I don't think I have ever made it through one of them correctly. I don't even try these days.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">So on the CAPTCHA scale, I am not a human. I am a computer. Which is funny since the concept of the technology is that my fellow computers, instead of humans, make that determination. I think they like me. They really like me.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);">While in the past it has made me feel like the "bad egg" in "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" (If you don't know the reference, or want to review it, I will place a link from the movie at the end of the blog), I have decided that I will instead be proud that computers see me as their own based on this great programming by the CAPTCHA people. I suspect a computer could get through their test easier than me, so the CAPTCHA folks are not quite as smart as they think they are. Nor are the websites that seek feedback, or purchases, from folks like me, but require I first pass this test. After a while I give up, still pretty sure I am human but unwilling to spend any more time in my life proving it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "nimbus sans l" , "arial" , "liberation sans" , sans-serif;">"A Bad Egg" scene - </span><a href="https://youtu.be/kpgRdVBf5Qk">https://youtu.be/kpgRdVBf5Qk</a><br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-55815816306581579872017-11-22T10:42:00.000-05:002017-11-26T11:32:46.290-05:00Stealing the Purpose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3D185fyFlOefoKIsM56-t_aHN-l89xm1KjDX0D1geEc-oSgR7Uv74K2vgM0GKfHW9SMLSt76JEj4-sXi6jF1oMFyL5jWn_YPdy5Dez5DEovoJ0Q4Ei87VNWxKquIKLXik3ZnCU0T6Ecs/s1600/IMG_0003.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3D185fyFlOefoKIsM56-t_aHN-l89xm1KjDX0D1geEc-oSgR7Uv74K2vgM0GKfHW9SMLSt76JEj4-sXi6jF1oMFyL5jWn_YPdy5Dez5DEovoJ0Q4Ei87VNWxKquIKLXik3ZnCU0T6Ecs/s320/IMG_0003.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
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My niece Sara recently posted a video on Facebook about a visit to Publix. We’re a family of independent women (well, other than I am hopeless with any home or craft projects and always am begging for help there) and to have someone push our grocery cart to the car when we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves just seems wrong. She was a bit stunned to realize that when the cashier said she was happy to take her groceries to the car, she really meant it. The cashier really liked that part of her job. To say no hurt her feelings a bit. Providing that kind of customer service is important to Publix and their company culture is based on it (well, at least they said that when they moved into Statesville). I suspect it does make their employees happier.. There is joy in doing nice things for other people or in knowing your work brought a smile to someone’s face. Sata said yes and they had a good discussion about being willing to receive help.<br />
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I hate when I hear a friend has struggled in some area where it would have been simple for me to help. It’s a bit deflating...because I feel they don’t trust me as a friend. I believe that’s part of friendship...and part of family. When I say “Call me if you need me”, I mean it. On one hand I understand they don’t want to bother me, because I do the same to others. But when they do that, they are also denying me the opportunity to care for them. And we should look out for each other. I like to take care of my friends.... or anyone who needs it.<br />
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I’m not usually the person who can often force myself into a situation. “Introvert respect”, I guess you would call it. Because sometimes I don’t want people around (such as when I am sick or in the hospital), that is my default in most relationships. I forget others are different. That sometimes people need someone just to be there for them. That sometimes people need to know people are there to care for them. And we all deserve to be cared for. Even this introvert loves her time with other people and enjoys the sweet gift of another's time or a a gesture of caring. (Just maybe not all day, every day.)<br />
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Usually when I have had friends or family that were facing a serious illness, they have never wanted people to do things for them. At least that is what they said. Maybe they would allow the closest of family, their spouse for instance, but that was it. And the spouse, already emotional themselves, was burning themself out. <br />
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Someone told me of one person, though, that started making lists. She was sick, but she understood the need of people to show her they loved her....and it was great. If you asked if there was anything you could do for her, she would get out her list and say “If you could get me a box of notecards and some stamps, that would be great” or “How about bringing dinner on Friday? If I feel well enough, I’d love you to stay and eat with us, but also know I may not feel up to it. Can we play that part by ear?” or “The kids really could use a fun activity. Can you plan something?” or “We’re about out of toilet paper. Could you pick us up a few rolls?” or “We’re going to be away for three days for these treatments. Could you get our mail?” She kept people bustling and they kept going back for more. It was a sweet time for all....and they bonded more because of it. She created community....and they all got through it together.<br />
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I admit I am usually bad at this sort of thing....both giving and receiving. I want to give, but for most people I am always hesitant. I make feeble attempts, but have no great thoughts of what people really need. It’s like my brain becomes paralyzed. Plus I am a bad shopper....so hate things like gift giving. I like practical tasks.<br />
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I’m not always good at receiving either. Yet sometimes I need someone to keep me on task. To sit there and make sure I stay focused on things. Or frankly, sometimes “the overwhelms” hit and I need them to do it for me. <br />
<br />
For a certain period of time in my life, I moved five times in five years. Most of those were company moves, so they would often do the packing and moving part. But I couldn’t let them unpack for me (even the times the company had included that) because I get a bit freaked out about the moving process. I don’t know what I would have done without family and friends. More than once my mom unpacked my kitchen and put those things away for me. A kitchen that is put together goes a long way to making you feel at home. My dad would set up the washer and dryer. My college roommate Ann came for several moves and once, after repeated attempts by me to distract her and get her to go do fun things instead of unpacking, she said to me “Go get a book, and sit in that chair, be quiet, and read. I am going to unpack boxes.” And unpack she did. What a wonderful gift. And she seemed to like going through my stuff and putting it away. Or maybe she liked doing things for her friend. I suspect it may be more of the latter....though I prefer to think the former, as though I was giving her a gift in letting her unpack for me and put my home together!<br />
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We are meant for community. Communities are at their best when they give to each other and receive. The healthiest have balance, and all give and are at times in a position to receive, During my 20s none of my friends could afford movers. Many Saturdays were spent with a crowd of us getting together to help someone move. It was even fun.My roommate and I had a paint party when we moved into a new house. I never lifted a paintbrush. If anyone knows of my painting skills, you know my friends were saving me from myself. Instead I cooked....and went from room to room talking and laughing with everyone. It was a great time and produced some fun memories.<br />
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I have made a large number of my friends while volunteering. Some of the activities were not pleasant or generally my idea of a good time. But for some reason we had fun. A job needed to be done and we did it together. Or we did it for a good cause. Because someone couldn’t do it for themself. Or because they needed a reason to smile.<br />
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I love the concept of random acts of kindness. I think my 2018 goal is to do more of them. To find a need and meet it. To find someone who has lost their smile, and help them find it. So often the smallest of things can pick someone up. <br />
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I was at work many years ago and one of the gentlemen who worked with me came by to see if I had change for a dollar. I was fighting severe migraines at the time (later I figured out they were caused by the sugarless mints I had been eating) and was feeling horrible. He didn’t know this, but was simply his normal warm self. He walked out of my office and I burst into tears. I remember it still 30 years later. Those were tears of thanksgiving....he was simply kind on a day I needed kindness (even if he thought he was just getting change for a dollar.) Those simple interactions can change the course of someone’s day. Do you remember some of those times in your own life? If not, think on things a bit.....and remember.<br />
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Let us be thankful for each other. Let us give.....and receive. Because sometimes receiving gives someone a wonderful gift. Purpose.Don't steal it from them.Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-89320942065020145472017-11-17T18:57:00.002-05:002017-11-17T18:57:43.864-05:00Dear Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Dad,<br />
<br />
It’s your birthday. The first one you are spending in heaven. A bit better than last year, huh? I know from my Facebook memories we were praying you would pass the swallow test. I am glad we did not know what would come ahead. Having hope was good.<br />
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It’s your first birthday since I have been born I haven’t gotten to speak to you. Well, except for that first year of my life when I was almost four months old and I may have babbled. But you still got the message that year, didn’t you? I may have babbled to you at other times. I seem to remember you mentioning it. You usually tolerated it well. And heard me out and pretended it made sense.<br />
<br />
Birthdays weren’t important to you. They really weren’t. The years I was in college and the years I lived out of town and called and asked to speak to you (I always had to ask for you, because if anyone else was in the house, you would not answer the phone), you would listen to my exuberant birthday wishes, say a bemused “Thank you, Kimberley” and then “Do you want to talk to your mother?” You’d not wait for my answer, but hand the phone back to her. It always made us laugh. Talking on the phone was not your thing. Even to your most precious daughter. You didn’t see the sense of having a long conversation on it.<br />
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You didn’t get traditional birthday cakes. That was not what you loved and Mom indulged you. You preferred an apple pie or a cobbler. With vanilla ice cream, of course. Maybe an apple cake. Never the frothed up and iced up traditional birthday cake with candles.<br />
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To be the center of attention and the recipient of the Happy Birthday song? I suspect it was torture for you. (I kind of understand that one.) As we kids got older I don’t recall us doing it often. But then the next generation came and you had to suffer through it again for your grandchildren's sake. I think that was far more tolerable for you. You did love those grandchildren.....and you had mellowed out about such things so I don't think you suffered much then. You enjoyed their enjoyment of celebration.<br />
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You being you, and our family being our family, it is not a big birthday celebration for you I miss today, because our birthday celebrations are usually reserved for kids. But this, the anniversary of the day you were born (or was it?....there was a bit of confusion there), you have been on my mind all day. Work has been busy, so that took a lot of my attention. But you were with me all day. I could have spent the whole day grieving your death, but if my mind went there I stopped it. Grieving on this day misses the most important point.<br />
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While you didn’t particularly get much pleasure out of your birthday, I do. Your birthday was my gift. I am privileged to be your daughter. I was able to celebrate your birth in some way with you (even if it was only a 15-second phone call) for 56 years. So many don’t get that chance. You were a good man. Someone consistent in how they lived their life. Someone I could always count on. Stubborn as a mule. The least funny person in our family (bless your heart.) Tolerant of the humor of the rest of us....even if at your expense...though mostly you ignored our funny selves. You were one of the smartest people I have ever met and someone who always just dealt with the logic. You didn’t get the emotional side of life much. But you took care of us well and kept us on an even keel. We were loved purely and without doubt. In the Dad lottery, I got you. The best prize.<br />
<br />
So to apply logic to it all, in my own way, this should not be a day about your death at all, but a day to celebrate your birth. I am so glad you were born. I am glad you chose to have children and gave me life. I am grateful for all the memories...and all the things you taught me. (Like how to stalk people with cameras. And the finer points of basketball.) You took fatherhood seriously. You took most things seriously. You were stable and honest. You didn’t waste time on anxiety. It served you well. It served us all well. I’m trying to emulate that....though I don’t have it quite to your level.<br />
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I asked Mom if we should do anything to commemorate your day. She said she would prefer it be quiet. Surely that is what you would have wanted. You were private and quiet. Well, unless we were in trouble. Then you could get very loud.<br />
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Today I am remembering those things that remind me of you, and I am smiling. A few tears may be leaking out, but I am trying to keep them to a minimum. Your birth day was a great day. Something to be celebrated, not mourned. Maybe sometime I will come up with a cool way to celebrate this day in a special way. For now, I’ll celebrate quietly. Or try. You know us McKinneys. We’re not that great being quiet.<br />
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You changed the world. In a very good and simple way. I am proud of that.<br />
<br />
Even now God is with us. In heaven and on earth. We’ll be together again. In the meantime, I will look for signs of you. I will live what you taught me, as best as I can. With my own spin on it, of course. Because really... you never expected me to do it all your way, now, did you?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdclJQYglVHrwvLjwy0XD0Om3RztSpEqFHdx4r8ELVpAwVrQdoDhqJXTkEKWHpQyhsQnVs7K-2x3JvzbtffU_6PVcWfv3Pk0dvLP42E5XOEGM7qNxVcT351S4veeDb8ZU_SbDiObFWVyU/s1600/P1090209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdclJQYglVHrwvLjwy0XD0Om3RztSpEqFHdx4r8ELVpAwVrQdoDhqJXTkEKWHpQyhsQnVs7K-2x3JvzbtffU_6PVcWfv3Pk0dvLP42E5XOEGM7qNxVcT351S4veeDb8ZU_SbDiObFWVyU/s200/P1090209.JPG" width="200" /></a>I love you. That will never die. Nor will your love for me. It is still here. I feel it. And I know it.<br />
<br />
XXX<br />
OOOKim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-9503622635857180572017-11-04T08:49:00.001-04:002017-11-04T08:49:16.909-04:00That 2017 Goal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I had one goal for 2017. Just one. I am not a huge proponent of New Year's resolutions because I think often they are like drunken promises. We get crazy enthused and are going to make these huge major changes in our lives just because a new year has started... and we fail miserably each time. Usually week one. I'm over that....but still....I try to pick one area and make small incremental changes that will make my life better. Sometimes I even fail miserably at that.<br />
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For 2017 it was simple. I had found I had gotten completely sedentary in my work life. Working at home most days, there aren't a lot of rules. While friends and co-workers have told me they have issues working at home because they get easily distracted, I don't. In fact, the opposite occurs. There are so many distractions around the office, that I find it harder to focus on work there. I like to catch up on the lives of my co-workers and chit chat about everything going on, work and personal. (We all obviously get much less work done when I am in the office....probably one reason the company is so supportive of me working at home.) I like to watch the activity around the building. "Who's that guy walking down the hall....I've never seen him before." "And what happened to the woman that used to be in that office?" I attend meetings in person, where it's frowned upon (and rude) to multi-task. And it is loud....at least compared to home. There's always something to get my attention away from the work I need to do. The hazards of living life with ADD.<br />
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Home is different. I don't need to get dressed if I don't want to. Often I just start work. I don't even have to leave my bed....it is the perfect office. Add my laptop, iPad, and a couple of phones all around me, and I have everything I need for the day. I can comfortably focus on work....which is a good thing, right?<br />
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Until it is not. Until those two hours you save by not commuting to your office just become two more hours to work. Until you don't leave that spot on your bed for hours on end. I'm talking five hours at a time on occasion. OK...even.more than sometimes. It happens way too often. Lately daily.<br />
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While some may be proud of this awesome work ethic, it horrifies me. I've read the problems sitting still for hours at a time can have on your health. I forget to eat, I forget to drink water. Hours of my life pass me by and I notice nothing except the computer screen in front of me or the voices on the latest conference call. My human contact is all virtual. When it gets down to it, this is not acceptable to me. I want more out of my life and my body than a good work ethic.<br />
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So there are two more months in the year. I need to attain my goal. Like I said....I don't even try for perfection these days, just progress. It's time to make some small changes and see what I can do. To possibly work at my desk in my home office on occasion. Or sit where I can look out if a window and see a squirrel running around my yard. To take a break for a walk....even if I am doing it while on a conference call. To make lunch dates when it fits into my schedule so I can look people in the eye in person and catch up on their lives. To get on the treadmill when I hit the wall and take a few minutes to get away from it all and re-group. To make lunch and sit and eat it. Maybe reading a novel as I do so....or maybe just enjoying the food and noticing what I am eating.<br />
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No one has forced me into this cycle.....though I have other co-workers who are doing the same thing. We advise companies on wellness programs....and tell them to encourage healthy work habits in their employees. It's not only beneficial for them, but it pays dividends to the company. Yet sometimes we don't take our own advice.<br />
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We plan our days. We make choices in our lives. If I were talking to a friend who had developed my bad habits, I would be lecturing them furiously and telling them a million ways they could make changes. Yes....I know a few of you are laughing at the truth of this....because you have been the recipient of lots of solicited or non-solicited advice. But it is because I care. And I do believe we need to care for ourselves the way we want those we love to care for themselves.<br />
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So I have two months to meet my goal. The year isn't over yet. I just need to make progress. I have re-assessed where I am and I have not moved from where I was at the first of the year. I may have regressed. The time to change is now.<br />
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You are allowed to hold me accountable. Ask me what I have done to break the negative cycle. Ask me if I put real clothes on today, or took a shower. Call me to make a lunch date. Call me during the work day and ask me when I last moved my body. Sometimes we need a little help from our friends.<br />
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Enough about me....how can I encourage you? What bad habit do you need to change?<br />
<br />
<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-61735398887767453402017-08-23T23:58:00.003-04:002017-08-23T23:58:40.173-04:00Eclipsing<i><br /></i>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDzgkFVZuwlPcKwf5aO0SbgmQGSl9_ycAYPqNSts2zFCfbnqApl_RsGyddG8MHnnB02Z5OeC4JjWd07dfoaUXUq7uu1oeDSgOQQEp9h3cve2RKr5k9IRISvMpuaegxKMZjY4SMFqjjq0/s1600/IMG_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDzgkFVZuwlPcKwf5aO0SbgmQGSl9_ycAYPqNSts2zFCfbnqApl_RsGyddG8MHnnB02Z5OeC4JjWd07dfoaUXUq7uu1oeDSgOQQEp9h3cve2RKr5k9IRISvMpuaegxKMZjY4SMFqjjq0/s320/IMG_0038.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Mike Woodside</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: "open sans" , "arial" , "sans" serif;"><br /></span></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;"><i><span style="font-family: "open sans" , "arial" , "sans" serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul." </span></i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Victor Hugo</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"<i>We should always endeavor to wonder at the permanent thing, not at the mere exception. We should be startled by the sun, and not by the eclipse. We should wonder less at the earthquake, and wonder more at the earth</i>." Gilbert K. Chesterton</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">"<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i>When we have God in clear focus, His powerful presence eclipses our fear.</i>" Chuck Swindoll </span></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZCSXo2kv38trDZL7hjmPO0nAEOv9aGEdQS8r-OaBaJch-6TUJpp8q1yUvwHqwyiLAdMGpPXimBcRHSQ7iE5K1TOrTJizIJkCJCOlz_VfiCrzEGLFdRfKkD8Y4V9eW3x0DpScltu6b2U/s1600/IMG_0950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZCSXo2kv38trDZL7hjmPO0nAEOv9aGEdQS8r-OaBaJch-6TUJpp8q1yUvwHqwyiLAdMGpPXimBcRHSQ7iE5K1TOrTJizIJkCJCOlz_VfiCrzEGLFdRfKkD8Y4V9eW3x0DpScltu6b2U/s320/IMG_0950.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only memory I had of the eclipse that was in 1970 was in the preparation. I remembered the pinholes in the shoe boxes, the warnings not to look at the sun without them, and the general feeling of excitement and fear ("Don't look at the sun!"). That's about it. I have no recollection whatsoever of seeing the eclipse. Maybe some of you that knew me during that time will tell me if I did. Regardless, it didn't make much of a lasting impression. My guess is that I was underwhelmed.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So why did I decide to not only view it, but go to see it at totality in Columbia, SC, with my friend Jan? Well, beyond the fact that Jan is fun to hang out with and we were overdo a visit, I have no clue. Luckily I can work from anywhere, so I just prepared to work at Jan's house that day. It seemed to make sense because I had to be in Atlanta for a meeting the next day, and from Columbia that's only about a 3 1/2 hour drive. I hate flying to Atlanta for day trips and I figured the airports would be full of people who were headed home, so driving seemed the more peaceful route. Yes, I knew traffic to Atlanta may be worse than normal, but I was prepared for that. I thought.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Astronomy was one of my least favorite classes at UNC. I loved the lectures of my cute Dutch professor, but hated all of the parts of the class others would consider "fun." My TA for observatory and I hated each other from Day 1....right after I asked him how you really figure out what direction North is. Yes, I knew the North Star (his answer) and could figure that out....but I though there was more. There had to be....you can't always see the North Star. I still don't get it. I thought if I could unravel the mystery of North-South-East-West, it would be a college coup for me. The TA snapped at me to point my telescope in the same direction as everyone else, and then I knew he wasn't one of my people. No coup would occur.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I did not stay awake for one of our weekly planetarium sessions. People pay money for the experience. The voice of the guy who led them was amazing....but monotone and soothing. After about the first few sentences, I was taking a nap. Every single class. Planetariums still have this effect on me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But still.....part of me is fascinated by it all. I used to date a guy who loved astronomy, and I enjoyed stargazing with him and listening to him talk about it all. He didn't rid me of the astronomy hatred completely, but it was fun to see things through his eyes. A couple of years ago I attended a planetarium show and actually stayed awake for the whole thing. I was shocked by myself....though I still see it as a fluke.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then there is the sheer beauty of the heavens. When my great nephew Kaelan died last year, my niece Sara asked people to take photos of the sky. Ever since I have found myself captivated by it. And comforted by it. I'm constantly shooting pictures of it. It reminds me that God has a really good view of things....and is in control of it all....and is quite the artist.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the early moments of the eclipse started we threw blankets on the ground in Jan's beautiful back yard. I was hoping for quiet, and was so pleased when it was. We could hear some occasional chatter of the neighbors, but not much. As we laid there with our glasses on (that we tested out on the sun even before anything started), we were comparing notes. We saw different things. It was weird and fascinating. Jan attributed it to her cataracts, but it made me wonder how many things factored into it. How different is the view of the world for each of us?</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58bi2Rj1rL50MAZS_De7TekVcvsa_Bz77VZD21NSAWaFcHzjzztce0p1YMbIr1iuR25CyT-9I3FNLOPxFw-uS92QvAdrnnE_miXTI63hQoXH53MeT1LbFeKw-s93IpU76_Rn-1rjACUY/s1600/IMG_6872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58bi2Rj1rL50MAZS_De7TekVcvsa_Bz77VZD21NSAWaFcHzjzztce0p1YMbIr1iuR25CyT-9I3FNLOPxFw-uS92QvAdrnnE_miXTI63hQoXH53MeT1LbFeKw-s93IpU76_Rn-1rjACUY/s200/IMG_6872.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Totality came and there was silence, then a collective sigh throughout the neighborhood, then cheers, then the voice of someone saying</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> "We don't need glasses now." I had trouble keeping mine on anyway, so gladly flung them off.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I saw a black circle with a very small band of golden light behind it. Around the black circle there seemed to be a ring of glitter....that silver kind, with sprinkles of color. Totally magnificent. The neighborhood was in a bed of twilight. It was quiet (except for a few fireworks.) It was awe-inspiring. It was worth it. Not only the actual moments of life it took to view it, but the almost seven hours it took to get to Atlanta (where taking the Waze route may have advanced me a little here and there, but also took me on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere for over two miles in the dark of night. Thankfully the serial killers must have been in traffic. Or gone elsewhere for the eclipse.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Of all of the photos I have seen at totality, and I have seen a lot, none have captured what my eyes saw. They are beautiful, but not "it". Only one has even come close so far. But this is what I think. God has a pretty strong watermark. His work can't be duplicated. But possibly in our memories.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For a few minutes a lot of us were simply looking to the heavens. Excited about a supernatural occurrence that really is simply a natural part of creation. Feeling unencumbered by worries of the world, but instead giddy with child-like wonder. Not afraid of the future. Bonding with the people around us, even when we couldn't see them. Trusting that the universe was doing what it was supposed to do. Feeling like God was conducting an amazing cosmic ballet. For us.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I may not remember what I saw at 10, I took a clear picture of this one in my mind. I will remember.....and smile. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-62194349370762474782017-07-29T15:16:00.001-04:002017-07-29T15:16:34.961-04:00My Book of Mistakes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OZLG3CTQkKbHGIMnO4uCxqQt-230kDGvgTwS3drxKGQyE4DiYS1xlVPQ6xZxf371ovGVLZFG4Cfs1fWfbcvoRIbK3Y0-S3wTjYzaIjBzRuanrmeAWkoRS6mUNlZr6ijlGBPjW-3FYJw/s1600/IMG_6391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OZLG3CTQkKbHGIMnO4uCxqQt-230kDGvgTwS3drxKGQyE4DiYS1xlVPQ6xZxf371ovGVLZFG4Cfs1fWfbcvoRIbK3Y0-S3wTjYzaIjBzRuanrmeAWkoRS6mUNlZr6ijlGBPjW-3FYJw/s320/IMG_6391.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><h4 style="color: #555555;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></i></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></i></span></h4>
"</span><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;">A mistake should be your teacher, not your attacker. A mistake is a lesson, not a loss. It is a temporary, necessary detour, not a dead end." - Anonymous</span></i></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:92px;wocalc:92px;hcalc:1140px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;">"You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, </span></span><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:92px;wocalc:92px;hcalc:1140px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;">but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space." - Johnny Cash</span></i></span></div>
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<span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:102px;wocalc:102px;hcalc:570px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; color: #555555; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;">"Never</span><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:141px;wocalc:141px;hcalc:152px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px;"> say, 'oops'. Always say, 'Ah, interesting'." - </span><span cwidth="0" eza="cwidth:0px;;cheight:0px;;wcalc_source:child;wcalc:69px;wocalc:69px;hcalc:24px;rend_px_area:0;" style="background-size: auto; margin: 0px; max-width: 535px; padding: 0px; text-align: right;">Anonymous</span></i></span></div>
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As my friend Heather and I were tooling around Malaprops bookstore in downtown Asheville, the cover to this book caught my eye. I snapped a picture. I didn't pick it up, didn't rifle through the pages as I often do when a book catches my eye. It just made me think......how thick would my book of mistakes be?<br />
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I don't seem to dwell on mistakes as much now as I used to. I used to let even the most minor error keep me tied up in knots for ages. As an analytic personality, I'd want to dissect it up and down. Why did I do it, say it, think it, forget it, or simply screw it all up? Do you know many angles from which you can dissect something? It's infinite. When you are finished with the things from your point of view, them you start obsessing over the people impacted, or who may have been impacted. What do they think, will this change how they see me, am I a dork, idiot, or horrible person?<br />
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We're often presented to a tough jury. Some would rather you serve a life sentence for the mildest infraction. Or the death penalty.....you are dead to them and they want you to be dead to everyone else. Often that jury is simply yourself....and you seem to berate yourself as though with the internal voices of twelve angry jurors. Oh...and any lawyers and judges that happen to be in the vicinity. We need to remember that often the jury is wrong, or prejudiced. And sometimes they are right....and compassionate.<br />
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So many people live in complete fear that people, or God, will find out their mistakes. They try to hide from them completely. It reminds me of Jonah as he tried to hide from God. Quite silly to think God couldn't find him....especially since he was never out of his sight. But Jonah tried. And Jonah felt sorry for himself. And Jonah mourned everything and was obsessed with himself. He actually was both whiny and useless at a time when he could have been doing good things. Jonah wasted time.<br />
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I don't think we should forget our mistakes. We should deal with them appropriately. Was someone else impacted? We should apologize. Is there a lesson we can learn? We should figure it out and learn it. We should change when necessary, or adjust whatever needs tweaking going forward. The past can't be changed. But we can be better as a result of what we learned there.<br />
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While I don't believe you need to confess every little thing that you do to everyone you meet (because truly we don't want to hear), sometimes you need to talk it through. Sometimes saying it out loud allows you to figure things out for yourself. Sometimes there is someone with knowledge that can help you sort it out or figure out how to keep it from happening again, if only you tell them the truth of what happened. That's why we are here...surrounded by others.....to learn and share what we learn. Yeah, it takes a certain amount of bravery to live transparently. But it's also a big burden lifted.<br />
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Truth is, we know you are not perfect. And those times you pretend to be? It's wasted effort. There will always be someone who sees the real you.....and who will be shaking their head at your denial. Especially with today's technology. One way to keep clean....imagine you are on camera at all times. You just may be. And anyway...like Jonah, you're not fooling God. He can see you hiding behind that plant.<br />
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This morning I was sitting at a stop light and got distracted thinking about needing to run by the bank to get some cash out of the machine. I glanced at my purse and reached for my wallet, preparing to grab my card in my wallet. The light turned green, the person in the white SUV behind me honked. I was momentarily startled and embarrassed, but went on my way. I didn't give it another thought (I may have hit myself in the head, reminding me to pay attention.). I pulled into the bank (probably a mile further down the road) and stuck my card in the cash machine. A white SUV pulled up in the next lane, which made me pause because there was no bank machine there. The lady rolled down her window and said "I am so sorry for honking at you back there." It confused me for a minute, then I remembered. "There is no reason to apologize," I told her, "I was the one who had gotten distracted. Thank you for getting my attention." She apologized again (lol) and went on to park in the lot near the bank. It made me smile. She worried about something she handled appropriately. Maybe it was not guilt but fear she would be a victim of my road rage (I don't have it often...and I don't think that was the case). I, the one who actually made the mistake, was already on to the next thing.....though admittedly more focused on my task at hand (driving) than I had been before because of her little reprimand. She, however, worried needlessly. She did nothing wrong. But still she felt more guilt than the true transgressor.<br />
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My book of mistakes would be quite thick, but you probably won't get a chance to read the special unabridged edition. I've forgotten a lot. There are others I need to forget, a few others I need to work through. But I'd rather get through the guilt stage and focus on the lessons learned....and live a better life without toting that extra weight around. It's a beautiful world when you allow yourself to see it.<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-41607169364933044272017-06-17T12:19:00.000-04:002017-06-17T17:12:47.286-04:00Father's Day Without Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNqGWXLxzCNilsl4f0gwUR5deld9egUetfBo2_dUNnZgMk-b-x7TTLWt5NYW6YPKb2VuUOpoa19F9SxZdKj-KCptGWLMg6Xk5QTiJWqF_JqhLIg04A3tl7xWrSMJlseu6YZGh18OrgdA/s1600/P1100434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNqGWXLxzCNilsl4f0gwUR5deld9egUetfBo2_dUNnZgMk-b-x7TTLWt5NYW6YPKb2VuUOpoa19F9SxZdKj-KCptGWLMg6Xk5QTiJWqF_JqhLIg04A3tl7xWrSMJlseu6YZGh18OrgdA/s400/P1100434.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I have always joked that my dad would not have known it was Father's Day unless we told him. That kind of thing just wasn't important to him. He didn't need presents, he didn't need cards, he didn't need flowery words. In fact, he preferred not to get any of that sort of thing (which worked for me!) But Father's Day was always family lunch day and that he always enjoyed, or quietly tolerated... we have very loud family gatherings, where he would sit in his recliner and alternately get in short conversations, watch the family antics with amusement, or watch television, oblivious to us all.<br />
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Many of you know my died died December 18. This is the year of first everythings without him. Father's Day has always been a rather benign holiday to me (because it wasn't important to dad at all....and he never wanted to be the center of attention). It almost was funny to me....to watch him trying to be gracious for something he just didn't care about. But we celebrated him regardless.<br />
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This year it's not light and easy. The things that lead up to the day that I never really noticed (the advertising, for example) seem to be everywhere.To tell you the truth, this year I am annoyed by the day. This is a feeling that I don't believe will last into future years....because the day really is sweetly benign...but this year I believe I am allowed to indulge in feeling sorry for myself a bit.<br />
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I find myself mocking the retail advertisers in my head as they make statements that seem so stupid in my situation Universal messages just aren't universal.. "What would your Dad like for Father's Day this year?" "Another day with his family, Belk. Are you selling that?"<br />
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The emails.....Open Table telling me to make my reservations to treat my dad (he really didn't care about going out to eat. He preferred Mom's food.....or takeout.) K-Mart's "Dress Dad for Adventure". Sorry K-Mart....it may be difficult and I don't think you have anything that fits. Except a gift bag perhaps. "The best books to buy for Dad".... I just wish I could. He did love his books.The one gift you could buy him that he just may like.<br />
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I wanted to avoid our regular family celebration this year....and did not bring it up. I figured I would go hiking or do something else solitary. But I am not the only member of my family for whom this will be a tough day, and I know being together will not be an over-emotional outpouring, but our easy-going norm. That is always comforting. My nephew and his dear wife (who lost her dad way too young, so has experienced this loss for a lot of years) are going to host lunch and weather permitting we will enjoy the pool. It's not going to be the same, and not everyone in the family is going to be there. But that is the good thing about my family....we do what we need or want to do. There are no tight ropes. Whether together or not, the bond will be there. While I could choose solitary for the day, being with family, doing something a bit different, seems right. While Father's Day will always be about our Dad, how we each choose to celebrate it is fine. And he would approve. His needs were so few, it always was more about what we needed.<br />
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What media story about Father's Day actually made me feel better? Weather permitting, NASA plans to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWoj-JePt-lAm804Ck23bdmbOIOKlq9pF5ITvY1974kW9NaBmMpsREN9ShPUR1ITmnY0HK9Ke4Y4sGxjpd8rjMJheDy_rDSpnMBtFh9hD6kwRowoxPONK_H7zYsEgO60MMxAhbpkk6v4/s1600/September+2011+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWoj-JePt-lAm804Ck23bdmbOIOKlq9pF5ITvY1974kW9NaBmMpsREN9ShPUR1ITmnY0HK9Ke4Y4sGxjpd8rjMJheDy_rDSpnMBtFh9hD6kwRowoxPONK_H7zYsEgO60MMxAhbpkk6v4/s320/September+2011+002.JPG" width="320" /></a>launch a rocket that releases colored vapors that become bright colored clouds. My dad's first jobs were related to the space program and everyone who knows me knows I love glow-in-the-dark. The idea of the skies lit up between earth and heaven... it seems perfect this year and makes me smile. Whether it happens or not....I love that it could.. <a href="http://www.wmur.com/article/nasa-hopes-for-father-s-day-launch-to-create-colorful-clouds-in-the-night-sky/10036871">http://www.wmur.com/article/nasa-hopes-for-father-s-day-launch-to-create-colorful-clouds-in-the-night-sky/10036871</a><br />
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Happy Father's Day Dad. On earth or in heaven, the truth doesn't change. It is a great fortune to have a dad that was steadfast and strong, that cared that the humans he raised be truthful, hard working, and kind. You could care less if we made tons of money or met some crazy definition of success or perfection (good thing!). Loving you was always easy. That love lives eternally....and that is what I celebrate this and every Father's Day. But still.....I will miss the hugs. And the conversation.<br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-36274604446836111512017-05-15T17:21:00.000-04:002017-06-17T12:16:04.656-04:00Mom and I Go to the U.K. - Part 1I'm an unusual traveler, I know. I don't make a lot of plans. I try to book airfare and accommodation, but usually. I do not do this months in advance....because....things happen. It seems to make more sense to me to decide where I am going and go soon.<br />
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I believe I started talking to Mom about going to Wales in March. It took her a bit by surprise, but she agreed. So here we go in a whirlwind two week trip, our main destination Newport, Gwent, South Wales, where my mom was born and where our family on her side still lives. She is trusting me to get her there. I think we'll do it....though we'll see if one if one of us kills the other before it is all over.<br />
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I have a travel rule.....we are all responsible for our own good time. Which means I will do what I need to do to have fun. You can join me or not. I won't feel personal guilt if you choose to be miserable, nor will I join you. I won't be offended if you want to spend your time differently than I do, and decided a long time ago I won't do things I don't want to do. Life is too short to fail to spend limited vacation time your way. I don't enjoy traveling because everything has always gone right. Some of my favorite memories are when things have gone horribly wrong. They usually turn out well.<br />
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I love flying and most of the travel process (other than packing and carrying luggage.) I don't mind wandering aimlessly, and figure I will spend much time lost. Mom hates flying, likes a plan, and likes when things go as predicted. We'll see how things go!<br />
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Travel is crazy these days. I booked through Expedia because rates were lower. (And I get Exoefia points and still get frequent flyer points.) Our flight over was an American Airlines flight, booked through Iberia Airlines. Mom was suspicious. She thought I was booking her on a cut rate airline with a sketchy safety record, even though I kept reminding her it was actually going to be American Airlines. She finally believed me. I think because her sister Beryl told her she had flown Iberia many times.<br />
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For for some reason I still don't know, they woukdn't let me book our seats in advance. People in our lives didn't help me here. They kept saying "They probably overbooked and you won't have seats." I scoffed....though a tiny part of me prayed. If it was just me, that would be OK. I'd go with it. That's not good enough when Mom is with me.<br />
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But it worked out fine. The first seats we were given were middle seats, but Mom mentioned she wanted an aisle seat and the woman changed our seats to an aisle and window seat close to the front of the plane. Score! Even better, leg room was ample. Even the food in the plane was tolerable ((I usually rank airline food in the same category as hospital food.) Mom, who never sleeps on planes, slept much if the way. I, who usually sleep on a flight from Charlotte to Greensboro, could not get comfortable. I barely slept at all.<br />
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Our hotel stay ended up being free in an Expedia deal. We read a couple of reviews and picked it together. It's called the Corinthia.....and is about a block from Trafalger Square. To get here we took a black cab. It is one step up from Uber, but cheaper than a regular cab. Our cost, with a generous tip, was 10£ less than a regular cab ride without tip. Still, a long ride so a bit of an expense. Not carrying luggage on the train....worth every penny. (Or rather pound.) Our cabdriver (who Mom was teasing about his testosterone when he carried most of our luggage himself, said he didn't have much since he was 33. He was from Bulgaria and enjoyed arguing politics with Mom on the drive. I think that helped keep her mind off his driving, which scared her and delighted me. He would fly down narrow streets where it looked like there was no room for one car, let alone two. Be did a three point road turn in the middle lane of a crowded London street. And he showed us his two pence coin, suitable for throwing at the cars of rude or crazy drivers. He claimed to have never really thrown one. I don't necessarily believe him. But he got us to our hotel, and we got a nice city tour besides.<br />
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The hotel is gorgeous. Great location, but for these two exhausted travelers, our plans of shopping at Harrod's and going to a show lost out to the need for sleep. The desk clerk said he gave us a triple upgrade in our room. Who knows? But it is great. Mom says it is the nicest hotel she has ever stayed in, I admit I got quite excited when I realized the bathroom floors and towel racks are heated. And there is a TV over the bathtub. It's the little things.<br />
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We napped for a couple of hours, then went out looking for fish and chips. We got them at a place called Garfunkels. (I remember that because of Art.) Fish, chips (French fries y'all), malt vinegar, a bit if extra salt, garden peas instead of mushy peas, and a pot of hot tea with sugar and milk. One reason we love it here. After a walk around the block, we came back to the room. I write, while Mom sleeps. Days 1 and 2.....a success.Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-84167091367519026182017-04-01T21:38:00.004-04:002017-04-01T22:29:20.409-04:00Tournament Time Without Dad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's NCAA tournament time. This is the first one I have ever watched without talking to my dad about it. I didn't usually watch it with him, but we always talked about it. Always.<br />
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My love for basketball came from my dad. I had no interest in it until my teen years. It was then I developed my love for NC State basketball. Yes, I said State. I didn't become a State fan because Dad was a State fan....though he certainly enjoyed them. Dad just had the games on. I watched one day and it got my attention. That team excited me, David in particular. He could fly. And he crashed. And he made my heart stop on numerous occasions. He was amazing to watch and always entertaining. I was hooked.<br />
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Dad never had a preference of a college team (though for the pros he always loved the Boston Celtics). He simply loved a good game of college basketball. Dad would watch anyone....men or women, college or pros. I always said if midgets were playing basketball, Dad would be watching it. He loved the game.....and watching was our bonding time. We watched all of the ACC teams play. I always had preferences. Loving the Wolfpack, Hating the TarHeels.<br />
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But when time for college came, I realized I had to go to Carolina. There was no Broadcast Journalism program at State. My loyalty had to change. So it did. It was great timing. The Thompson years ended, the Jordan years began shortly after. I got my NCAA tournament win for college graduation,<br />
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I noticed Dad's lack of college team loyalty changed when I went to college. I believe he developed a preference for the Heels. Probably because it made me so happy. It tickled him that I not only went to nearly every game (three years home game perfect attendance and only a couple of games missed my senior year due to work.) I also went to practices. I'd tell him every detail when I came home....but even then he knew more than me. I had a class with Matt Doherty my senior year (his freshman) and we became Spanish class buddies. I had no clue he played basketball (he had never mentioned it), until one day when I was looking at his feet and realized not only was he really tall, with basketball feet, and he also wore an AAU jacket. I went back to the dorm and called Dad and asked if Carolina had recruited a freshman named Matt. He started telling me his whole history.,...and his stats.<br />
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Games back then were in Carmichael Auditorium and the environment was electric. The building vibrated. You were a part of it. There was nothing like it. When I asked Dad if he would like to go to a game with me, he said no. He preferred watching them at home, where no one would bother him (except a stray child now and again.) And where there were replays.<br />
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I always cheer for my TarHeels first, then (unlike most other Carolina fans) I cheer for other NC teams. Then come the other "old" ACC teams. (Except Maryland. Because, you know. Defectors. And I used to love them, too.) I may then give a slight preference to the newbie ACC teams. Maybe. I still haven't fully accepted them, though. But after that, like Dad, just give me a good game. Though I don't have the same passion for it that Dad did....there are many I don't watch. Even during the regular season when Carolina is playing. I don't really like watching them alone (Dad never cared). And I love to go to games in person.<br />
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Dad would have loved South Carolina's team this year. He loved seeing teams come out of nowhere and play great basketball. He'd have loved my Tar Heels, too. I can hear his laugh and his shouts of glee....and frustration. It made me sad when I realized this would be the first tournament that we couldn't discuss. But then it occurred to me. This year he just may be watching with Dean Smith. I wish I could listen in on that conversation.<br />
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<br />Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-75688261795644309562017-03-14T23:13:00.001-04:002017-03-14T23:13:10.862-04:00Own, Share, or Release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I formed a philosophy for myself some time back. If I have an issue with someone, it is my responsibility to tell them. If I don't, it's my issue and not theirs. I own it, if I am not willing to share it. Or abandon it.<br />
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My practice of this is somewhat spotty. Confrontation is difficult.....especially confrontation when you care about the other person. Oh, give me a stranger who is being a jerk and I usually bring it right on the table. I am a righteous fighter....if I notice mistreatment of others or if mistreatment of me means others are probably also treated poorly, I can't seem to keep my mouth shut. I learned how to speak my mind young, and it flows. My adult goal is that it be with kindness. I think my stats now run over 50%. Finally. Maybe. But still.....I am confrontational. When necessary.<br />
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There are subjects in my mind that I will think need to be discussed, because they continue to fester in my head. But do they, just because they come to my mind? If I really examine it, is the timing right? Is the person ready to receive it? Am I in the frame of mind where I can speak with love and not anger or frustration? Am I ready to invest in helping them? Is it really a big deal (and doesn't just feel like one because I am having a bad day)? Is this a battle I pick to invest in? While sometimes the answer to these questions is no, if you are a human being who invests in others, sometimes the answer also needs to be yes. Yeah, life's complicated.<br />
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Often I must face the fact that perhaps I am the one who needs to truly own my reaction to the issue. I am the one that needs to change. I am the one who needs to give up my "right" to be right. Or let an issue just die on the vine. Or admit I am just cranky. Sometimes sharing is not what I need to do.<br />
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Honesty is not always the best policy. Whoever first said that was dumb. Whoever repeats it is dumber. I don't mean that it is good to be dishonest, because no.....I abhor lies. Lying is not good. But because it is truth does not mean it always needs to be spoken. And you...oh wise one...do not have to always be the truth teller of the universe.<br />
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Sometimes "honesty" piles on to an already overwhelmed individual and further ties them up in knots. It is like this pile of jewelry I have that I can't seem to untangle....so beautiful, but the more I try to get it back to rights, the worse it gets. I don't usually solve the problem when I try. My brain is not good at looking at a mangle of knots and figuring out how to remove them. As this is the case, sometimes I am not the person who needs to be the one saying certain things to certain people. Even if they are true, and everyone else thinks so. Sometimes I just need to cut off the jewel and forget about the tangled chain. Sometimes I just need to throw it away.<br />
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There are a few people in my life that can very bluntly tell me something (criticism) and from them I hear love. They help me with their critical, but loving, words.There are not many of these people. Very few, in fact. Most others will issue the same criticism and it simply hurts. It is of no help at all. Not because we don't have a good relationship....sometimes especially because we do. I can't put it in perspective because they tie me up in knots. It is not that the criticism isn't valid....it very often is. But still, it doesn't help. We may thank the person (because that is what you are supposed to do, right?), but try not to let them see the tears in our eyes or the dismay they cause in our hearts. Usually they are totally oblivious to the fact that we do not consider it a gift. Sometimes their criticism adds to the problem and pulls us further away from the solution because they embarrass us, make us feel like a total disappointment, add to our insecurity and the obsession we already have with the issue, or just say things in a way that cut deep. Often we feel as though we are tangled jewelry, a bunch of knots with no value and no hopes of solving the problem.<br />
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Still, I don't aspire to be the friend that tells you what you want to hear. You've got enough of those in your life, I am sure. You may catch me rolling my eyes when they speak to you, in fact. I try to speak truth with those I love. I try to not give baseless compliments or false flattery. I hope I am not the endless truth-teller, though. The friend that won't ever let their truth about you take a rest or go away.<br />
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Sometimes it is my job to simply keep my mouth closed and not jump in the pile-on of all of your imperfections that others so "generously" catalog for you. Obviously if you are in my life, I see value in you. Let's talk about that more than all the other stuff. While my responsibility may be to tell you if I think you are spinning out of control, or hurting yourself or someone else, or making choices without fully considering the consequences, usually that responsibility is one conversation initiated by me. When you may be ready to listen. When it might be helpful. Not to go on and on and on and make it the center of our relationship. Who needs that? Maybe you just need a hug as you try to get through this week or this mood or this problem. Maybe you need a reminder of all of the good you are in my life and in the lives of others, so you can clear your head and deal with the bad from a positive base. Maybe you need to talk about it all night long and I need to listen.Maybe we just need sleep and a new day.<br />
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There are times I get so caught up in myself and my need to point out what I have observed, that I don't see I have crushed someone until it is too late (if at all). I'm working on that.<br />
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Let's think before we speak to each other. Do we need to say the words, change ourselves, or release it and go on? Whatever it is, you own it. Until you share it. And "share" implies you continue to have some sort of responsibility to them....not just to throw a heavy weight on their back, but to help them carry it. Unless you need to drop it and leave it behind. And maybe help them do the same.<br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-853550067811823222017-03-02T00:34:00.004-05:002017-03-02T20:48:57.165-05:00The Cherry Weeps.....But Then Blooms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love that tree. It's the perfect size, the perfect shape. I love where it sits in my yard, right above my glorious quince bush. <i>(I just found out the name of that bush this year thanks to my Facebook friends. They teach me things all the time that I can't easily Google.)</i> Whoever landscaped my yard did a wonderful job. The idea of losing this perfect tree was inconceivable, I just couldn't. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">So I denied it. I wouldn't believe it. I declared it was still alive. He gave me that indulgent "OK....we'll wait for now, but you'll see."</span></div>
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So I waited. It had no leaves the rest of summer or through the winter. With the warm weather, the quince bush below bloomed. Amazing, vibrant orange. But the weeping cherry was desolate in comparison. No blooms there.</div>
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Then this week. I was in the car, pulling out of my driveway, and looked in that direction. I saw cherry blooms. Not the normal covering, but some. There are signs of life there. You have to look a bit closer, but it is beautiful. It seems to be getting better. The blooms seem to be increasing.</div>
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It's interesting to me that this happens as we begin the countdown to Easter.....the celebration of rebirth. Sometimes we are that tree. Sick and hit by outside and inside plagues. Worn down and tired and a bit dead inside. And worn out. Ugly. Purposeless. Trying to find our joy, but we just can't touch it. And those who look at us do so with pitying eyes that see the disease, that see the death, and doubt our possibilities. Sometimes we believe them. Sometimes that inner glimmer shines just a bit, defiantly, and we refuse to live as dead.</div>
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Then it happens. We start to bloom. We come to life. Slowly, but surely, we fight the blight. Sometimes beyond us works to make us the gorgeous vision of what we were meant to be. Even we seem a bit surprised of the change. </div>
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I love the message of Easter. I'm starting to enjoy observing the season of Lent. Anticipation of the dead coming back to life. The renewal of our purpose. The death of winter turning to the blooming of spring.<br />
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I've felt a bit of the blight lately. Tired and rundown. Emotional and a bit purposeless. I've been challenged by several to observe Lent in some very positive ways. To give away my stuff that sits unused. Let it have new life in someone else's hand.<br />
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The ladies of my church are going to focus on the simple act of walking. Together and on our own. Adding the disclipline of action. Maybe praying as we go, for ourselves and each other and our world. Maybe communing with God. Maybe encouraging each other. Maybe letting God encourage us. Maybe celebrating our bodies and where they are now, and where they can be if we treat them well. Maybe looking around and seeing needs we can meet.<br />
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Some people use Lent to give up things that have a hold on them, Just 40 days of this self denial can give new perspective. Especially if you replace it with positive things that free you.<br />
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I'm someone who easily loses focus. I need to constantly reset. This is not a bad thing. It is who I am and I know it about myself. It is who most of us are, I believe. We have short attention spans and we are prone to wander. I eventually re-evaluate and recommit to living my purpose, even as that purpose changes. Sometimes just moving forward in faith, not sure where God is leading me. I'm at that place now. Feeling like change is coming, and preparing to embrace it. To set the fear aside and live life well.<br />
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God is here. He leads me to good things. He reminds me he is bigger than people. That ultimately he is in control. And that which worries me or paralyzes me is in vain. He shows me that this short life can be long and eternal. We all change this world forever.....the question is how. Do we improve it, make it worse, or increase the mediocrity?<br />
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For now that weeping cherry tree is not weeping. It blooms. It is adding beauty to the world. What is ahead for it? I have no clue. But for today I will celebrate it and be glad I wasn't hasty to remove it. It brings me hope and contentment and a reminder that the experts and those who give us their opinions are sometimes wrong. It makes me smile. Sometimes you need to go with your gut and live in anticipation of the gift of rebirth. Joy.</div>
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-30459453512018217872017-01-17T06:51:00.000-05:002017-08-16T21:03:14.285-04:00On Grieving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My dad died December 18.<br />
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The number one question I am asked these days is "How are you doing?" The second is "How is your mom?" (That may even be first....it's a close call.) Oh, I understand people asking and please don't feel guilty if you have asked it. I have asked it to other people myself, and I am sure I will continue to do it. It's fine. It's something to say. It's a point of connection. It shows you care. But when you ask, if I pause and say nothing for a while, or look back at you like a deer in the headlights, if I stammer and say something that doesn't make much sense, or just give a non-answer, please forgive me.<br />
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I have no clue how to answer the question. I haven't reached that point of self-awareness where I know how I am doing,. And I don't know what people are really asking. It never occurred to me before that I don't quite understand the question, even when I was asking it. Am I supposed to answer it good, bad, or OK? (OK is usually my answer of choice, but do any of those words fit?) Am I supposed to give details of my grief? Explain it? That's something else I am not prepared to do. Am I supposed to answer in the context of how I'm doing compared to life before dad died? Will there ever be a comparison there that could explain? It's confusing....and I have no clue. I have lost people I dearly loved before, but this is different. I have no experience with life on earth without my dad.<br />
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Basically, I am living my life. I work, I sleep, I spend time with friends and family. I try to regain normal. I suspect part of me is denying the reality. I do that with my great nephew Kaelan, too (who we had lost earlier in the year). Maybe a part of us has to let a piece of our brain go there. It's almost impossible to fathom earth without either of them. Dad was there every day of my life. Kaelan was supposed to be in it every day for the rest of my life. They are part of the very fabric of who our family was...and were so important to it. It's hard for the brain to grasp their loss. I guess I compartmentalize the thoughts in my brain and try to forget it. An escape from the reality. Is it really real? Maybe it didn't happen?<br />
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But then something will come up, like when I was taking a picture of the trees in my front yard during the snow and realized my yard looks rather bad. My trees need shaping, I think my butterfly bush needs to be cut down and my knock roses cut back. I had planned to plant more tulip and daffodil bulbs out front this year, and add a hydrangea bush to my yard. But when and where and how? I have no knowledge of that kind of stuff. I didn't need to. Dad knew it.<br />
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I have cried less than I would have thought. I usually cry easily. Possibly I haven't because Dad was not a crier. McKinneys as a whole are rather stoic and not known for gushing emotion. I've always had some of that in me, too. It could be because I am following in dad's example...how he acted when he lost his parents. Possibly it is the denial, but I don't usually deny it....part of me is always aware he is gone and misses him every minute. It could be shock or the weirdness of it all. If I am here on this earth, dad should be, too. He had been every day of my life. One of my constants.<br />
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Maybe it's just a continuance of the peace I felt throughout this process of his hospitalization. In the midst of the worse. Never have I had to lean on my faith more, but the peace I have felt through the process astounded me. God seemed so at one with me. Still, noticing God at work often makes me cry. And I haven't much. It confuses me. Doesn't worry me, but doesn't seem like how I would have thought I would have been.<br />
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It would have never occurred to me that the most part difficult part of losing my dad would be feeling so inadequate to help my mom. (I felt the same way when Kaelan died and left so many shattered.) I just don't know what to do. We're different, have led very different lives, and I can't really know what she is going through and what she really needs. Everyone has to get through grief in their own way. But thankfully she is taking care of herself just fine. Though life as she has known it for 60 years has been blown to pieces, Mom has been nothing short of amazing. She cries (though mostly when alone), and says she yells at my dad on occasion for leaving her, but then she puts one foot in front of the other and moves. Somewhere. Doing something. By necessity she will have to answer the question "So how do I live now?" I hope the answer to that takes her to great happiness and new adventure. I think it will. She is a good planner and a good decision maker and a vital person. She has a lot to give to this world. She is a people person and hasn't been on her own, ever. She's starting to think it through, to think of what she will need going forward. That's good and healthy. She does no honor to my dad by refusing to move. In fact, she honors the strength they built in each other by continuing to live well. He would want that for her.<br />
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One thing I know about grief.....none of us do it the same way. I think my siblings are handling dad's death similarly to me, but yet not the same. Truly we don't talk about it much. Not that it is taboo, but I think we understand each other so don't need to. Mom, our verbal parent, has probably gotten us each to talk about it the most, without even trying. But she doesn't push...and won't...and I suspect even she just gets a few sentencs from each of us here and there. That's enough.<br />
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Three friends of mine lost parents within weeks of me. We're all dealing with it differently. We all have different needs, different perspectives, different ways to grieve. If you are wondering how to help people grieving, know there is no special formula. Just be there. Don't avoid them. Try to see where they are. Ask them what you can do can help. Don't be surprised if you get no answer. Try to figure out what they need and help them through it, but meet them where they are. How you would handle things is probably not the way they will do it. We are all so different. And grief can make us weird. We may not even understand what is going on ourselves and why we react a certain way.<br />
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As for me... most times I don't want to have long conversations with you about it. We had six weeks of the horrors of intensive care hospital time before his death, and it was difficult, stressful, and all kinds of exhausting. Then hospice. Then death. I got sick hours before dad died and spent the days before the memorial service on my own. It was fine. God must have known the introvert needed to be forced to have alone time.<br />
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If you are my friend, I don't want you to stay away. There is no greater reminder that life is short than a parent dying. For me that means I want to live life. I don't want to sit around by myself and cry. I want my friends around. I want to laugh. I want to play. I want to try new things. I want the comfort of the old good things. I want hugs and love. I don't want to make a lot of decisions...so suggestions are great. I'm trying to engage, but sometimes the thought of it is exhausting. Someone telling me what we are doing is good. I will tell you if I don't want to or if the timing isn't right. You know me. I will exercise veto power.<br />
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The notes people have sent, the simplest of words comforting. The memorials to his life, so thoughtful and kind and sometimes imaginative. The flowers and plants. The texts. The phone calls. The stories people have told and words of what dad meant to them. People who showed up at the memorial service during a weekday, Christmas week, some just hearing about it hours before. So many other things they could have been doing, but they chose to be there for us. Reminders that our family is made up of more than shared blood. It all means so much.<br />
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So how am I doing? OK this minute. But it will be a long term adjustment. The number one man in my life is no longer around for me. The loss will be with me every day, for the rest of my life. But still, I will live. It's what I want....what God wants....and what Dad would want for me.<br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-42307753867153954272017-01-11T09:08:00.002-05:002017-01-11T09:08:59.534-05:00So....Maybe I Don't Like You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm currently frustrated with people. I don't like them much.<br />
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My current inclination is to hole up and not engage with other people at all (well, other than my family and a few close friends. That friends list gets shorter by the day.). I'd be a hermit of sorts. Stay home a lot and read or go out to hike in beautiful places of solitude. It would make life easier. It would be far less frustrating. It would be peaceful.<br />
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But I can't. That's not why I believe I am here. I believe we are here to engage in life and work together to create a good life for ourselves. A good life for everybody.. Our neighbors. All of our neighbors. Our community. Our world.<br />
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But there are days I simply want to give up. Now more than any time in my life. People I have respected are supporting this rude, thoughtless, unloving, unkind behavior, and engaging in it way too often. It hurts my heart.<br />
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I don't like Republicans. I don't like Democrats. I don't like liberals. I don't like conservatives. I don't like people with opinions different than me. I don't like people who think exactly like I do. I don't like people with no opinions at all. I don't like those who speak up. I don't like those who remain silent. I don't like friends. I don't like strangers. I don't even like Christians...the folks who are supposed to be my brothers and sisters in Christ. Quite frankly, sometimes I dislike them most of all.<br />
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We have become such a rude, intolerant people. We spout, but don't listen....unless it is to slam the other speaker, for what we thought they were saying, because we certainly didn't listen beyond their first sentence. We take facts out of context and espouse them as truth. We do no fact checking. We speak far and wide on subjects on which we have not educated ourselves. We don't care whether what we are saying is right or wrong. We only care about scoring points and winning people to our side. It's all about the spin and the win. The manipulation. We <b>know</b> we are right.....and our minds will not be changed. There is little civil debate. It has been replaced by personal attacks and mocking and condescending attitudes. There is no thought that perhaps we don't know it all and maybe if we talked to people.....those who believe as we do, but also those who don't...we may learn something.<br />
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I don't want to hear your opinion about our new president because your emotion leads to the behavior already discussed. Your behavior has often rivaled his. Some of you will consider that a compliment. It is not meant to be. If you dislike his style, make yours different. If you like it, take a long hard look in the mirror. Are you really someone who respects this behavior and chooses it for your own?<br />
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I wish it was just politics. But it is not. There just seems to be a "mean girl" attitude among both women and men. I despair of the kids being raised to hear some of you spouting off. I'd like to cover their ears.....and ban them from Facebook.<br />
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What completely breaks my heart is there are times I feel there is no one to talk to. No people who want to truly find solutions. Strong solutions that come as a collaboration of different thoughts, ideas, backgrounds, experiences, and education.. People who love learning they are wrong at times because it opens up their world and gives them more possibilities for solutions. People who want to make this world better, even if "better" may not be their current vision, or the vision they were raised to believe is "right".<br />
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We bury ourselves in our smart phones and in our small little social circles. We don't look up to see if we are about to mow someone down. And if we do, we don't care. It's their own fault. They shouldn't have been in our way. We have also forgot the most important part of an apology.....not to just utter the words, but to make a plan to not do it again.<br />
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I may not like you at the moment, but I will get over it. Because you are in my world and though I do not like you all the time, I do love you. Let's reconcile. Let's put away the personal attacks. Let's not focus on our differences, but instead find common ground. Let's solve problems, one by one. Using all of our knowledge and experience. With open minds, but mostly open hearts. Letting kindness be the rule, and not the exception.<br />
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Look in the mirror.....who are you? Have you forgotten? What do you value? How should you behave?<br />
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I'm going for love, kindness, and reconciliation. Because I think those things are what will really change the world. Not a derogatory comment about someone's intelligence, weight, or hairstyle. Those make you look dumb. And I don't believe you really are. When it gets down to it, if more of us resolve to jump off the crazy train and act as mature and wise adults, something good can be accomplished. In spite of those who choose ridicule and unbalanced rants as their communication of choice.<br />
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I want to like you. Should I?Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7109139469882074940.post-60421071549356151722016-12-21T11:09:00.002-05:002017-04-04T19:43:27.163-04:00The Legacy of Holding Hands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My parents were hand holders. It always made me smile when I saw it. It was one of the first things people noticed about them.. More times than I can count I had friends call and say "I saw your parents. They were just walking along and holding hands. They are so cute." And they were. It was almost like a game of "I spy." "I spy the McKinneys holding hands. Again." We grew up seeing it, but I got so many of these calls I soon realized what a rarity it was. I loved it about them and what they taught us through this one gesture.<br />
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Mom and Dad were married 59 years and 11 months. On January 30, 2017, it would have been 60 years. They were engaged after three dates. Married after just one more. And not just a normal "get married and go on with your life" wedding. My 19-year old mom dropped out of nursing school in Newport, South Wales, packed her things, and got on a plane bound for the United States. She gave up her whole life there to join my dad in North Carolina for a small wedding at my grandparent's house, with only the pastor and his wife, and my dad's parents in attendance. No pictures, no fancy reception. She then moved with him to Massachusetts, where he worked full time and maintained a 3.8 grade point average in engineering school at Northeastern University there. Not an easy feat. Four out of the five of us kids were born there. More of a challenge.<br />
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As mom points out, leaving dad was never a practical option, so they had to work things out. Growing up we learned that in real life relationships you love, honor, and respect each other....but sometimes you also get angry. But you work it out. You don't hold grudges. You are always loyal.<br />
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If you had met my dad, you probably wouldn't have thought of him as a hand holder. He wasn't what you would consider a romantic. Romantic gestures were not the norm. If left to his own devices he would most likely buy my mom a gift on the level of a vacuum cleaner or a mixer. That may be a romantic gift to some, but not to my mother. Yet he could surprise you....on the occasions when he ended up buying her jewelry, he bought her beautiful things. He had wonderful taste. Well, except that time he listened to the opinion of someone else. That was not a good idea. I think he learned his lesson. The one piece of jewelry he bought mom that she never wore.<br />
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There was a certain level of emotion my dad just didn't possess. He was a classic engineer. Logic trumped all emotion. He could not care less about what anyone thought about him. This was on a level I have never encountered in another human being. It never occurred to him that it was any of his business or even something worth thinking about. I mentioned this to someone recently and they said that sounded like me. Oh....I so wish it was. It used to be a foreign concept, but I have learned from him in time. No, first I have to feel the pain, but then blessedly the logic I learned from dad now creeps in. Why should such a thing really matter to me? Unlike my dad the feelings are felt, but in my life I am blessed with plenty of love. I've learned, however, it doesn't have to come from everyone. I won't waste precious moments of my life worrying about it....instead I will enjoy and celebrate that which I do have. It is enough.<br />
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My cousin and I were talking when my dad was in the hospital about being raised by these McKinney men for whom the words "I love you" just weren't often said. Yet we never doubted their love. (So OK, there were those times growing up I knew my "real" royal family were going to come for me and take me away from my Cinderella life....but maybe the thought that I read too much during these years was correct after all.)<br />
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My dad was in the hospital since November 8. Much of that time is heartbreaking. Some of it was full of great beauty. My mom lovingly feeding my dad vanilla ice cream underneath his oxygen mask after he had what would only be his first surgery that day. (He savored each bite. I am so glad...vanilla ice cream was his favorite and it was his last real food.) Mom sitting in a chair next to dad's bed, holding his hand as she slept with her head on his bed. Each of his children, and many of his grandchildren, kissing his cheek and reaching for his hand as they visited with him. Him squeezing back. Until he couldn't. Then us just squeezing extra.<br />
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I had several friends who during these last days advised me to make sure I told dad I loved him. Does it sound weird that I didn't find that to be important? I never have doubted, never will doubt, that he knew. Oh, this man of logic knew. It wasn't because of us saying the words (because as I said before, those didn't matter to him). It wasn't because of my ability to be the best daughter (because he really didn't require much from me as his daughter....and we all know I was his favorite anyway.). It wasn't because of gifts I gave him.....I realized years ago he took no pleasure in gifts and it was a kindness not to make him open things and appear grateful. It was a burden to him and not a pleasure. No....these typical things others may need were not a bit necessary for him.<br />
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I was part of this man.....and him part of me. He knew I loved him just because I did. Would we all have liked more days together? Certainly. Are there more things I wish I'd either had him tell me about or I wish I had listened closer to? Oh yes. But my logical dad wouldn't comprehend wasting time on regrets. He accepted what was. I will do the same.<br />
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When we first moved my dad to the Hospiçe House last Friday, and I reached for his hand, it was cold. It was a bit disconcerting. Later that night the radiating warmth returned. The last time I saw him on Saturday afternoon I held that warm hand for what would be the last time. As he and mom taught us, that's what matters. These McKinneys are hand holders. We are forever unified. He is a part of who I am and forever I'll feel the warmth of his hand in mine. No regrets understood or allowed. I loved him and was loved by him. That will never end. I am grateful for the gift.<br />
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Kim McKinneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11882935933228171366noreply@blogger.com1