tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51450653186649034692024-03-12T16:58:24.762-07:00The GatepostCass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.comBlogger135125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-52428642578640105482023-03-28T07:34:00.003-07:002023-03-28T07:42:32.943-07:00A lesson in Blooms<p> Last summer I purchased an orchid off a sales rack at Harris Teeter. The plant had one bloom left on it, and was cheap. She bloomed, eventually wilted and just sat around taking up countertop space.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvC35QjTRGrzzYTx3gM9uCTNmhIyVTL-qhktR-1c6vSKi-ZrJZpYVmYkj4WZxVnXBDyW81qUG7vjCfgu2YtAPk_Xpu0mrlxxpAbMNYCa3tPzFqqSWPsLcYTtndwmZZLklXdvhaKMQnVzh9xrHWQlCUXdc3Dd5DpIyyjbc_KE3yxVtamXwD4o7UGt2/s1903/orchid1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1903" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvC35QjTRGrzzYTx3gM9uCTNmhIyVTL-qhktR-1c6vSKi-ZrJZpYVmYkj4WZxVnXBDyW81qUG7vjCfgu2YtAPk_Xpu0mrlxxpAbMNYCa3tPzFqqSWPsLcYTtndwmZZLklXdvhaKMQnVzh9xrHWQlCUXdc3Dd5DpIyyjbc_KE3yxVtamXwD4o7UGt2/w320-h208/orchid1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I watered the bloomless plant for several weeks, got weary of it and decided to toss it in the trash, along with another orchid that was gifted to me. <br /><br />I put both of the dormant plants near by back door to take out on my next trash day; but, there was a nagging knot in my stomach...how could I toss away something that still had life in it?<br /><br />For a lack of a better word, I felt convicted about wanting to throw away plants that still had life in them. <br /><br />But, alive or not, they had become a chore, something else requiring attention, thought and responsibility. They needed special food and a surprisingly specific watering cycle and required consistent temperatures and filtered light. Instead of enjoying the delicate flowers- I had to focus on them and be mindful of what I was doing for them- without an instantaneous, tangible reward in sight. I wasn't sure if I would ever see another bloom from them. It was settled. I was tossing them. <br /><br />However, the convicting thoughts hit my heart again. There was still life in the stalk. <br /><br />How often are we just like that in our personal relationships? We thrive as consumers. We are very keen on participating in all the sparkle, shiny and fun aspects of "spring" without thought, but the second a situation requires commitment or work on our end....we're quick to be back at the nursery picking out fresh pots of new flowers. Looking for instant gratification without the effort or pain of any sacrifice. <br /><br />It really hurts to think about, honestly, because I've been guilty of it too. Even with people, treating people as though are disposable. <br /><br />I don't want to be a consumer. I want to be a nurturer of tender things; like, friendship, love and relationships. I want to be a creator of welcoming places where hearts are safe to be vulnerable and honest. I want to be a person willing to adjust my schedule for yours. You need more light, or more fertilizer? Let's figure it out. You need to go dormant and "just be" for awhile....let's work it out. <br /><br />The whole winter passed with me tending these dormant plants. After several months I noticed nubs forming along one of the green stalks. I couldn't believe it. <br /><br /> Now, blooms weigh down one of the branches and I've had to pin it up! There's about 8 more buds waiting to open. I learned a lot about orchids over the winter. The more I learned, the more invested I was in doing things right for the flowers. I feel so much pride now looking at the hot pink and white flowers, its not just a plant to me anymore...it's a lesson and a reward for commitment. <br /><br />I can't help but view my relationship with others differently after this winter lesson in consistency and commitment. I hope that in the end we all learn to be more than consumers, but creators of beauty and nurturers of life. <3 <br /><br />Shine.<br /><br />Cass<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-21620571334159047522022-09-13T07:10:00.001-07:002022-09-13T07:10:08.530-07:00The Loss of a Companion<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disclosure: I
am being woefully dramatic. <br />
<br />
Today is a sad day. I am grieving the loss of my most faithful companion which has
been with me through so, so many stages of life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluH1dZ7hitjbKMYIlV-yGxoZzntf96lkpXx1b_1EgwsihGfIrV_SIM0_G2At4Djpfkbu2kGo0DmlBTBMrW4GOviwXFPg1bQh4wf2VdWB0guei4HuxnQVwENk7TOreZ9T7_QW-59dUjVtItm6Zu4t1T2lslZunqexNhlvyYc6T9gSFLze7yZbd2Gp1/s3648/20220912_095924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhluH1dZ7hitjbKMYIlV-yGxoZzntf96lkpXx1b_1EgwsihGfIrV_SIM0_G2At4Djpfkbu2kGo0DmlBTBMrW4GOviwXFPg1bQh4wf2VdWB0guei4HuxnQVwENk7TOreZ9T7_QW-59dUjVtItm6Zu4t1T2lslZunqexNhlvyYc6T9gSFLze7yZbd2Gp1/s320/20220912_095924.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I know it is weird to admit but, I’m unashamedly and
emotionally attached to my desktop keyboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have had it through the divorce years, the Walk-in Tub years,
parenting as a single mom, chronicling life’s ups and downs through blogging,
“the Great Shunning,” the formative ‘Kinley years’ and now. This inanimate
possession has processed the bulk of my soul-searching, has clacked out a lot
of communications from contracts that took my business to the next level to
heartbroken blogs, side hustles, content writing, airline ticket reservations
and tons of everything in between. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />When Gabe was in Afghanistan, it was my only
connection to my son….Volker and I used to spend H O U R S on Skype….Jacob
learned his A, B, C’s on this keyboard! Oh my goodness! The memories, the
conversations, the secrets and confessions….the LAUGHS and ultimately, the
resurrection of internal hope through supportive relationships kindled and nourished
at this keyboard. This keyboard served as a lifeline in so many ways. I know
I’m dramatic but finding a replacement for it feels a lot like the closing of a
chapter…. here is a toast to its cushy familiarity and to more plane tickets
and many, many yet to be experienced happy blogs…..<o:p></o:p></span></p>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-13790798011778778722022-04-23T04:45:00.004-07:002022-04-23T04:45:46.823-07:00The Campaign Trail has some Pot Holes<p> Crazy how saying YES to things can really, really change the trajectory of your life. Last spring, an acquitenance called me with news about his friend running for an elected position. A big, high profile position. <br />I told him I've never been very involved in politics, but that I would be interested in hearing about his friend and learning more. One conversation lead to another and then to an in person meeting....and a volunteer position on someone's campaign. <br /><br />Over the summer I helped out by making calls and introductions. I spent my weekends making marketing materials, writing a lot of articles, blogs and website content. I learned a lot. I learned that making a change takes a lot of phone calls and elbow grease. <br /><br />Then- in late September a friend and co-worker of mine said he was really praying about running for office. A seat as a Representative in the NC House. I was proud of him and felt like he could really make a difference. I encouraged him and really believed that NC needed him. I was really excited about his passion for the office and hoped that he would run.<br /><br />The next week he came in to my office and said he was filling out some paperwork for the Board of Elections and asked if I could help him fill out the forms and double check after him. <br /><br />That weekend he made plans to attend his first public event as a candidate. We didn't have marketing materials or even business cards to pass out- but he was going to be there and make the rounds at an event called "Politics in the Park". <br /><br />To this day, I don't know how this all evolved into me being his campaign manager, but I'm bursting with honor and pride at being part of this process and journey. <br /><br />In November, I went to the Board of Elections with Brian and his parents to officially file for candidacy. He was "in it to win it" and we hit the pavement hard with spitballing, researching and marketing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsn6BgTiuV8zLKEAVKzO1xZ_LNyMf9XEpuHx7MI3S3VZu_Q1Kc8CXEQCiK2loh-_KT61TnT3-G35HqwKW9hhilCMT3DD5Ng668tHRSmYhhCTcQoap6OHQrMo6sUwzBV4JbFk_AzF3piZrINB5n16T-4gP-fkIxYDM31P3u8MvW9AODn15OEDJiF8lk/s673/boardofelections.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="504" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsn6BgTiuV8zLKEAVKzO1xZ_LNyMf9XEpuHx7MI3S3VZu_Q1Kc8CXEQCiK2loh-_KT61TnT3-G35HqwKW9hhilCMT3DD5Ng668tHRSmYhhCTcQoap6OHQrMo6sUwzBV4JbFk_AzF3piZrINB5n16T-4gP-fkIxYDM31P3u8MvW9AODn15OEDJiF8lk/s320/boardofelections.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p>Every spare moment has been crammed with phone calls, social media posts, article writing, spitballing ideas for fundraising and creating campaign graphics. Every weekend spent making those spitball ideas become reality. <br /><br />Since announcing the campaign we've had our fair share of hurdles to jump. The state has redrawn district lines. We've gone from District 70 to District 61 and back to District 70./..which is a marketing nightmare. The primary dates changed from March to May with talk of it being extended until June. Brian's son had a serious football injury resulting in several weeks of hospitalization, numerous surgeries and now awaiting a skingraft. In January, I was diagnosed with severe anemia and needed emergency surgery which required a 6 week recovery. WE'VE CLEARED EVERY HURDLE. God has been faithful through all of this! <br /><br />The primaries are in just a few weeks. I'm looking forward to what God has in store for Brian and Randolph County!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-22580583233046535842021-11-04T19:57:00.001-07:002021-11-04T19:57:32.621-07:00This is Why<p>It's been almost two years since I purchased my home. The very first time that I stepped onto the property that I now call home I envisioned BBQ's, pool parties and friends milling around. I saw my adult children chasing their little ones, swings hanging from trees and bikes left laying in the yard. It's what sold the home. The image of the chance to make memories in the same place----over and over and over. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhcYTUMjQkQNp6Dz1DuN-YOwDtAMY9nv1x-Q8Qn4NXpnlHT5zp2q8RXr9JfvCe_aL483oahLf7AlZXJsMAvhfa8LTYbkMj_B7aNiljU4jyPlC9f8F-oAG57ottn6gT0eZszfR_NDXGbU/s2015/montie-kiddles-mont.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhcYTUMjQkQNp6Dz1DuN-YOwDtAMY9nv1x-Q8Qn4NXpnlHT5zp2q8RXr9JfvCe_aL483oahLf7AlZXJsMAvhfa8LTYbkMj_B7aNiljU4jyPlC9f8F-oAG57ottn6gT0eZszfR_NDXGbU/s320/montie-kiddles-mont.jpg" width="238" /></a>In June, I was able to see that vision fulfilled again. Montgomery Jane had her 1st birthday in Gigi's back yard. It was so beautiful. Kiddles worked so hard to bring Montie's party together. Papa G built a flower cart to be the focal point of the Parisian Flower Market. The whole afternoon was perfect.<br /><br /> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPnYiCyMO47n3NYC5MrNxf0s6k0jj25XlcKrZhE_7cXpwopC2DSNunP3NkiHlaD7EyN0GzSaCk8ZFahavRJ05T-_BN8QVw-rNb591UQZ33vt_nb8TUu-duS_E4RnJKG-8OHQt6l5QEeI/s4032/20210626_170155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPnYiCyMO47n3NYC5MrNxf0s6k0jj25XlcKrZhE_7cXpwopC2DSNunP3NkiHlaD7EyN0GzSaCk8ZFahavRJ05T-_BN8QVw-rNb591UQZ33vt_nb8TUu-duS_E4RnJKG-8OHQt6l5QEeI/w405-h228/20210626_170155.jpg" width="405" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqeBARMTMbmRhhoqaObUABsunklP_4cmhZo9fcsvupFuyyYqyCzyFlsI70amQ7ovmkCeJ8150YMDgLTub41-8f9tJ-u-nsiJwpdHbfLe8DbrJ6uXMArqYHVGRB-gGG4SJucAM3J7CUt-c/s2215/20210626_170209%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2201" data-original-width="2215" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqeBARMTMbmRhhoqaObUABsunklP_4cmhZo9fcsvupFuyyYqyCzyFlsI70amQ7ovmkCeJ8150YMDgLTub41-8f9tJ-u-nsiJwpdHbfLe8DbrJ6uXMArqYHVGRB-gGG4SJucAM3J7CUt-c/s320/20210626_170209%257E2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />I'm so grateful for my home and family. <3<br /><br />Shine. Always. <br /><br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-89774098943303427692021-06-29T16:18:00.004-07:002021-06-29T16:18:45.753-07:00Accepting and Letting Go<p><br style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Some truth you hold</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Some you let go</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">But in the end, you've got to know</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"></span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">What kind of love</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Is a love that won't break down?</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">What kind of love</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Honestly knows no bounds?</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Hopes all things, believes all things</span><br style="font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span class="lf-line js-share-line" style="cursor: pointer; font-size: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Never, never let me go - <br />What Kind of Love, Amy Grant<br />(Bonus CD- More Music from Behind the Eyes)<br /><br />Some truth you hold........some you let go. Such simple, profound words of wisdom.<br /><br />I'm learning to hold some truths. Hold truth...but, let the weight of other people's presumptions and conditions go. Somethings just are what they are; And somethings are the way they are because you haven't held to truth. <br /><br />I've been in some fairly intense therapy with a Christian therapist for a couple of months. My goodness, the things we hold on to and wounds that we protect.....the lies we swallow and regurgitate and swallow again. <br /><br />Apparently, I'm somewhat of an emotional hoarder. Walling up my pain behind busyness and outsourced projects that keep me moving....because when I'm quiet, I feel. And when I feel, I think and when I think I can't make sense of the pain I've known....so it becomes a whole cycle of self-imploding. <br /><br />I'm learning to hold and let go....to think and feel and release. Don't hide behind the pain and wall up the feelings for later, when it may make sense.....just let it go.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></span></i></p>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-59192752194936251992020-08-19T16:48:00.000-07:002020-08-19T16:48:02.779-07:00Discoveries on the HomefrontI'm still in the process of discovering suprises with my new home. Some of the discoveries include: a family of raccoons that live under the neighbor's barn. I'm less than a few hundred yards from Main Street so I didn't expect to see much wildlife here in town, but boy was I suprised! There have been deer, a larger than average fox who, like the raccoons, seem to supplement thier winter scavenging at the neighbor's cat bowl. <br /><br />Last winter daffodil bulbs pushed up through the front yard presenting a beautiful sea of yellow with intermixed splashes of purple crocus. It felt like a housewarming gift left by a thoughtful seller. It was a lovely suprise and I couldn't wait to see what spring and summer brought. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjo7EdSw5dh4OGtMMxle-ooUQ54VGc10wJd3S8viWzhrCs7p8zDFWcLEoEnjdPJL90H3P_FdHeGRepsegAu4GTTeayRemPT4m0DOST3H4VavC-1f6WbX8oQqt7YoD1RI9hc0CobNMQyc/s854/daffodils-house-snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="854" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjo7EdSw5dh4OGtMMxle-ooUQ54VGc10wJd3S8viWzhrCs7p8zDFWcLEoEnjdPJL90H3P_FdHeGRepsegAu4GTTeayRemPT4m0DOST3H4VavC-1f6WbX8oQqt7YoD1RI9hc0CobNMQyc/s640/daffodils-house-snow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /><br />One suprise that still makes me laugh happened on the day of closing on the house. My friend, Sherri discovered a third bathroom in my storage barn out by the pool! I never even opened the barn to look in it prior to going under contract! Ha. <br /><br />In two weeks it will be one year since the day I closed on this house. One full year. I'm sitting on my back deck now, looking at the pool, listening to the fountatin on the back deck enjoying the sunsetting through the trees. I'm happy to be home. I'm contenat and I'm so very grateful for what God has graciously and mercifully given. <br /></div>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-73150859099052223272020-02-14T15:09:00.000-08:002020-02-14T15:10:31.019-08:00A Terrifying Revelation<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="68uds" data-offset-key="d02ab-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQOGdwrosi9l5stGwb5kSAq43330yRPTGZIJeZHGWZ5_YzIPijOZOODWnXQ00enpo7AbHybIpj03UnMKWAl7Zq3eKXWs4bZfxIBcAH_7XhHFpX3KQIXcYimKfZ9-BCLfIyA_hzTmctTQ/s1600/CS-LEWIS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQOGdwrosi9l5stGwb5kSAq43330yRPTGZIJeZHGWZ5_YzIPijOZOODWnXQ00enpo7AbHybIpj03UnMKWAl7Zq3eKXWs4bZfxIBcAH_7XhHFpX3KQIXcYimKfZ9-BCLfIyA_hzTmctTQ/s200/CS-LEWIS.jpg" width="200" /></a><span data-offset-key="d02ab-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I highly respect the writings, life and philosophy of CS Lewis. When I heard this quote it cut me a little and convicted me a lot. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2g9fh-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">My experiences with "LOVE" haven't been very good. In fact, several have commented that my life should be a book or Lifetime movie. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="aobc-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I've known pain and rejection on levels that are reprehensible. Is there ever enough time and healing that the "broken" become "unbroken"? Experiences have left me gun-shy on a level that I didn't realize until I heard this quote a few weeks ago.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fnulq-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Don't get me wrong: I can LOVE. I feel things so deeply. I can give, care, share. I can even forgive.....</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have a powerful sense of hope and promise. I can feel. I love so very deeply....</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="47dgu-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">What I can't do is lower my shield, relax my guard or even feign a modicum of vulnerability. I have worked so hard to not ever be naive again that I've lost my ability to experience vulnerability....and according to Mr. Lewis....that translates as losing the ability to be loved.
I can love....I just can't allow myself to be loved. That is a terrifying revelation. </span></div>
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-42949324013035976622020-02-10T17:33:00.002-08:002020-02-10T17:33:29.981-08:00An Abundance of Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJom0i820Blp_K8VfFuXRevlUZLc7rESuHi-pnsnBh21lVRd76zO5FZnU4tYlL-a7vXyDxDuxXcICXGkKcUMljZxm_Kx3OBc4narR0S4eu2_kETr9VlhSu0IQuJdK9KpYmO1lcFS9UOs/s1600/20200206_091605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="926" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJom0i820Blp_K8VfFuXRevlUZLc7rESuHi-pnsnBh21lVRd76zO5FZnU4tYlL-a7vXyDxDuxXcICXGkKcUMljZxm_Kx3OBc4narR0S4eu2_kETr9VlhSu0IQuJdK9KpYmO1lcFS9UOs/s320/20200206_091605.jpg" width="320" /></a>I have two babies coming this summer.<br /><br />Kiddles is having her first baby in June. A baby girl who she's giving a very special family name. Last Thursday morning I went to the ultrasound with Sam and Kiddles.<br /><br />Baby girl weighs 11 ounces. Life is such a miracle. It's mind-boggling to see the four chambers of her little heart pulsing and know that it's the size of a dime. <br /><br />Gabe and Cate are also having a baby this summer. Baby Griffin is due in July. We don't know the sex yet- but what an exciting summer it's going to be! What an abundance of Love and snuggles and excitement we will have!!<br /><br />Today Ben-Ben turned two. I Facetimed them tonight and he said,<br />"Hi Gigi! I'm two! I'm two!" He melts my heart. We read Ayelee and Ben's favorite book, "There's a Monster in Your Book!" and Gabe's childhood favorite book, "Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo". Each turn of the page is creating a new memory while bringing back so many old memories. Gabe could recite the book by heart when he was three; I'm pretty sure he still can!<br /><br />My heart is full and I'm so, so grateful for the abundance of love that's been bestowed upon me and my family.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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<br /><br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-41156147228329202902020-02-03T17:57:00.001-08:002020-02-03T17:57:32.883-08:00Seventy-Two DegreesThe weather was beautiful today and this evening. Jacob and I built a fire on the back deck and grilled our hotdogs for dinner. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The sky was clear, the moon had a beautiful ring of light around it. The raccoon from our woods ventured out to our driveway snooping around the neighbors back porch. The moon was bright enough that it reflected in the raccoons eyes, making him easy to track through the darkness.<br /><br />Today's weather was perfect....but it was the conversation and easy pace of our evening that made it a warm night to be around the firepit. <3 br="" nbsp=""><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-49137348183573821592020-01-09T19:44:00.002-08:002020-01-12T06:55:46.700-08:00Placidity in Motion** I wrote this post almost 2 years ago but never posted it, I'm posting it now for personal record keeping.**<br /><br />For the last four years I've been in constant motion- my brain has not rested- all my resources, energy and heart has been put into establishing, growing and marketing a rental division for work. Even in my "down time" my brain was planning, anxiously running numbers in my head, mentally tying up loose-ends left on my desk over the weekend or simply re-hashing decisions that were made the prior day to make sure I had made the best choices. I exhausted all my internal resources; the emotional and mental bankruptcy took it's toll on my creativity, motivation and spiritual wellbeing. It's no one's fault, this isn't a "poor me" post- it's more of a "this is what's going on and why" type of post.<br />
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I lost contact with people very, very important to me; including myself. My real self- not the one crawling on all fours trying to forge a path for survival. When I finally broke down to the point of complete exhaustion my doctor held both of my hands and said, "STOP. STOP. STOP. Literally, Casandra, listen to me....I'm not asking you to slow down. I'm not asking you to take a chill pill. I'm telling you to STOP."<br />
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It was a chilling moment. A moment of her holding me in place, locking eyes with me. She wasn't pleading. She wasn't advising. She was commanding. And it scared me.<br />
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She advised me to resign from my job within a month. The thing I was molding, building and nursing for four years to sustain my livlihood was killing me? She was very dogmatic.<br />
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Obviously, I didn't quit my job. But I did resign some of the self-inflicted anxiety and quit shouldering some of the worries that wasn't my place to shoulder; I am drawn towards and adopt responsibilities like little girls are drawn to cute puppies.<br />
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In the midst of getting better, having infusions and learning to quelch the voices of anxiety I was reclaiming lost territory within myself. I re-read books that had shaped me spiritually. I dug out an old sermon tape that I used to listen to for spiritual refilling. I found the things that encourage and inspire me and dusted them off, polished them up and started doing them again.<br />
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I STOPPED. I really did. And things changed. My perspective changed. The anxiety that hovered over me like a fog started to clear and I felt different. I felt more like myself.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It takes a little time sometimes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">To get your feet back on the ground</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It takes a little time sometimes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">To get the Titanic turned back around</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It takes a little time sometimes</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">But baby, you're not goin' down</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It takes more than you got right now</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Give it, give it time</span></span></i><br />
Two years have passed since my doctor said that to me. It's taken a full two years to come to grips with priorities and learning to let go and adapt as priorities can change from one day to the next. It's really, really hard to let go; sometimes, harder than it is to hold on.<br />
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<br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-61733269159162029212020-01-01T17:12:00.001-08:002020-01-09T19:30:11.530-08:00Febreezing The BlogI'm going to be much more intentional about blogging/journaling this year; even if it's only once a month. I will be making a concerted effort to fluff and "febreeze" the blog over the next few weeks with new layout, graphics and updated profile information to freshen it up.<br /><br />I'm excited to begin writing again and hopefully, with the blogging comes picking up my camera and making time to tell stories through photography.<br /><br /><br /><br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-2394740807970220382019-03-27T20:30:00.002-07:002019-03-27T20:31:32.623-07:00Full Circle Kind of Love<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Last July one of my clients passed away, over the last 8 months or so, his wife of 54 years has been my point of contact. Watching her grieve has been like watching a slow, slow train wreck; her pain is palpable. She was so well loved and everything in her demeanor expressed security, contentment and wellbeing in the most postive ways.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv8B-SvlL0gZnFBmHGJ5IUBwHg1bsvpnUPrb3YToQrzIFax08QX25W9_v2flu__vK0Jr36C95L9yt7Jv9WLsbq6DmGWOo3mUorXXMt7xbETpQFymsv8L2XfjD9bqgSsJhRT7ZtC56hag/s1600/x-loveisallyouneed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1254" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv8B-SvlL0gZnFBmHGJ5IUBwHg1bsvpnUPrb3YToQrzIFax08QX25W9_v2flu__vK0Jr36C95L9yt7Jv9WLsbq6DmGWOo3mUorXXMt7xbETpQFymsv8L2XfjD9bqgSsJhRT7ZtC56hag/s320/x-loveisallyouneed.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
I took this photo in Asheville some years ago.<br />
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Today, making small talk while I was pulling up her account she mentioned that her daughters took her shopping for granite yesterday. She said h<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">er girls are in the process of remodeling her house. She laughed, "I have a state of the art kitchen and no one to cook for." She sighed.</span></div>
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She also mentioned that her grand-daughter (a well known interior designer in the area) has ordered her all new living room furniture and rugs. There's painters in and out. A new french door leads to the back patio. She sighed again. "The girls are so excited. They're really having a time."</div>
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"That all sounds really nice, Mrs. S, how do you feel about the changes?"</div>
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She began to sob. I mean, the kind of sob that gushes out without warning and makes your gut twist when you hear the pain.</div>
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"Every day there's less of him. It's not been a year and he wouldn't even recognize our home. Every new piece is less of his memory here."</div>
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She cried for a few minutes. Gathering her composure she apologized for spilling all of this to me over a phone call.</div>
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I have to admit, I couldn't help but cry.</div>
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"Have you told your daughters that this may be a little too much, too soon for you?"</div>
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"They're loving me in the way that their daddy taught them- by giving of themselves." You could hear the smile in her voice as she said this, " They're having so much fun doing this- it's healing for them. And having them here is healing for me. A new chair doesn't take him a away any more than an old chair brings him back."</div>
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Blunt, honest, wide-eyed reality. So much wisdom.</div>
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I sat silent in my headset, staring out the window long after our call ended.</div>
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Love is so powerful and complex. In an incredible way, the very same pain that consumes her is the very love that's healing her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjoEaiBMjJlaOAe2mqStFT36NyQLiwMElxeuFG3W6M5gZT_NcQdkSqmr6zP1w3VOc-FJPD0ObAFiAMTrC63EKodtxNQPGigeKtr1WWC_MUN92Fyfchv9LQFIsLjZrtxWK258XrU_KRupE/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjoEaiBMjJlaOAe2mqStFT36NyQLiwMElxeuFG3W6M5gZT_NcQdkSqmr6zP1w3VOc-FJPD0ObAFiAMTrC63EKodtxNQPGigeKtr1WWC_MUN92Fyfchv9LQFIsLjZrtxWK258XrU_KRupE/s320/DSC_0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
A reflection of a heart in a window- taken in Asheville, NC.<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">May we all know a full circle love like this.</span></i></div>
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-44964326420070204072018-05-22T21:34:00.000-07:002018-05-22T21:57:59.618-07:00The Shadowlands<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="ed4id" data-offset-key="20s7n-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="20s7n-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I went to my Grandpa's tonight. His mental capacity is declining at a rapid pace. Sometimes, showing him pictures jars his memory and his face lights up. You can literally watch the sparks of recognition firing off inside his brain and for a moment- it seems like a light sputters on in the back recesses of his mind. Tonight, he smiled while looking meaningfully at a picture....but like his memory, the smile faded pretty quickly. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3o1he-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">This all feels painfully familiar. We buried my Grandma in 2004 after a 10 year sentence of withering away from the debilitating thievery of alzheimers. The disease that steals your loved ones from the inside out and leaves just the shells of them....sometimes, compeletely functioning and seemingly in perfect health. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ejrk2-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Grandpa was still holding the picture I was showing him and tapping my phone screen saying, "This here's that family. That family in Missouri. They were good people. We used to run around with these boys." </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5jdvt-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I pointed to one of the men in the picture and said, "Do you know who that is Grandpa? Do you recognize him?" </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="27a95-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">He seems to have to really stare hard and concentrate to be able to make a connection with the locked up memories. He said, " I used to know him real good, you know. I don't think he's around here much. I haven't seen him. Not in awhile."</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="4k01f-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I saw a shadow of sadness pass in front of his eyes, but like his memory, my phone screen went black; the picture and moment were gone. Grandpa handed the picture of his brother and of himself back to me. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="67f68-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: inherit;">And I realized just how right he was...we haven't seen him around these parts for awhile now.
Hot tears streamed poured down my face. Grace gave me tissues. I kept apologizing for bawling my eyes out on her couch. Grandpa just blankly stared at me. I try to imagine what he's thinking of me- Virtually a stranger to him. I've come to their house with pictures of people he used to know and now I'm sitting and bawling for no apparent reason. He seems unconcerned and uninterested. His hand is on the remote. He's ready to turn the Weather Channel volume up the moment he deems it's socially acceptable to do so.
Grandma Grace pats me on the back and rubs my shoulder. She tells me that I need take this season of Grandpa's life in and ingest it in smaller doses. She said I should grieve it as I go. She wasn't around when Grandma Juanita died, but she said that Grandpa told her that I had a very hard time letting Grandma go. She suggested that I share the season, join the journey.. She said it would make it easier for me to face the inevitable...that one we all face at some point...and if you love someone, the one that we all are a part of. Grandma's sure can be wise....because I've been doing the exact opposite. My heart has hurt because I've avoided my grandpa....and I miss him, but I couldn't hardly face him....because he's dying before my eyes. He keeps asking her, Whose that woman? Whose your company, Grace?
And Grandma said, "Honey, just come here so much that you become his company too. He'll quit asking. We just got to get you back in his memory, you're in there- he's just got to find you rattling around in there somewhere."
And that's what I intend to do. I'm going to go and rattle around at Grandpa's house and make enough commotion and nuisance of myself until I bump into myself somewhere in his memories and say...."Hey! I used to know you real good!! I used to run around with you!! I haven't seen you in these part for awhile...but, I'm back....and I'm here to stay."
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-79224670666302002018-04-21T21:47:00.002-07:002018-04-21T21:48:06.351-07:00Arms of Love<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I took prom pictures tonight of a girl who died in August.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_L0r1wgfOgP8f3Ut-mU840A9_5Al4MGCJFX-9bOG7J6GfbHUou0HDypHxd-I4Dy1zSWNZaZ26_WieIJMHaJ6PVfvnKXqr_ed7LDdEdcvNPjzz3r0__Wbvwhx27CZdpKz97NjX0AYp7s/s1600/emma-prom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_L0r1wgfOgP8f3Ut-mU840A9_5Al4MGCJFX-9bOG7J6GfbHUou0HDypHxd-I4Dy1zSWNZaZ26_WieIJMHaJ6PVfvnKXqr_ed7LDdEdcvNPjzz3r0__Wbvwhx27CZdpKz97NjX0AYp7s/s320/emma-prom.jpg" width="248" /></a>She was the passenger of an inexperienced driver who over corrected on a country road and caused a horrible wreck. The girl was pronounced dead; life flight was cancelled. I don't know all the details, but because of the perseverence of a parademic- she was revived at the scene of the accident.</div>
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I didn't know any of this when I took this picture of her mom hugging her. I didn't realize the full extent of emotion <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">the mom was experiencing when she teared up watching her daughter stand in the golden light of sunset in her prom dress and new shoes.</span></div>
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I can only imagine the experiences they have had makes every chance to create a memory, mark a milestone or share a moment all the sweeter.</div>
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There's a powerful story here that's not mine to share- but I can say this: we're all loved with an everlasting love. A true love that just smiles watching us stand in the golden light...a love that not only cherishes the sight of you now, but sees you in the fullness of who you're meant to be. Know that whether you feel it or not- whether you believe it or not- He's there with arms of love.</div>
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-58292822338841456272018-03-09T08:34:00.002-08:002018-03-09T08:36:30.401-08:00Just Marinate Awhile<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4RX_bYeL7dC5mdsmDQkWWJUdjISlQ20sPSAwJ6nXZcMuFgBiJtveiR9XbSefQ2P2DRV7VrMaYQy0kF9SAQFww0BzpSZFGLG9rj3eFkIfhtQ9sWoRsEUy4LboHZ3tBsQveqJZtnluWDw/s1600/TREE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4RX_bYeL7dC5mdsmDQkWWJUdjISlQ20sPSAwJ6nXZcMuFgBiJtveiR9XbSefQ2P2DRV7VrMaYQy0kF9SAQFww0BzpSZFGLG9rj3eFkIfhtQ9sWoRsEUy4LboHZ3tBsQveqJZtnluWDw/s320/TREE.jpg" width="180" /></a>This tree is outside the entrance to my community. It looked pretty against the sunset tonight when my 80+ year old BFF and I were going out for dinner. We stopped and soaked in the view. <br />
She said, " Doesn't that Sunset make you glad to be alive?" <br />
We sat in silence, taking in the view. Her words kind of stabbed my consciousness. <br />
I was thinking about the innocent simplicity of the statement coming from someone who has lived double my life span. <br />
Have I ever conscientious<span class="text_exposed_show">ly been <strong><em>GLAD </em></strong>that I am alive? Have I ever lived in such a way that actually <em><strong>celebrates </strong></em>my very existence? <br /> These thoughts made me feel kind of sad. Sad for the realization of life's fleetingness and vanity. Sad that I don't make time to connect to the things and people who really matter. In that moment, I realized how buried I've become under life and under bondage to things that don't make me in the least bit GLAD to be alive...I'm just barely relieved to survive. <br /> And, I thought what a shame and injustice I've done myself. <br /> I want to look at the sunset and be genuinely glad to be alive. I've lost myself somewhere between the fray of just existing and striving to prove my worth. <br /> My 80+ year old friend told me I spend too much time trying to unring bells and looking for meaning in things. Apparently, kindly, she's saying I complicate uncomplicated things. <br /> "You pour yourself out trying to find fulfillment. You need to just soak in the good stuff for awhile. "<br /> I don't know why I'm sharing all of this, except that were all a lot more the same than we are different. Maybe, you just need to marinate in the good stuff too.</span>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-78839800537509910872017-11-26T10:21:00.001-08:002017-11-26T10:56:48.676-08:00Needing Purpose<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="bp36f" data-offset-key="ctmqm-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="ctmqm-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">It's interesting watching my son. It's become clear that after 5 years of military life- there is very little "at ease" even during down time. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fbgq4-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I've noticed two things during this last visit: he's very schedule conscious. He seems to time everything. The second thing I've noticed is that everything must have a purpose.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="d5pr0-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">These two characteristics are a sharp contrast to my civilian lifestyle. First of all- although I'm punctual- I'm a chronic dawdler and piddler. I enjoy my own pace...my exhusband always said that I have two-speeds...Turtle I and Turtle II. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2e2qn-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"> I've always considered myself pragmatic and simple. My mother in law once called me "utilitarian" and I liked it....A few years later, I spent a week with her and mentioned to her how much I loved that definition of my character and she just guffawed with laughter and said, "Oh, I had you all wrong. This is the perfect example of judging a book by its cover." (when said in her condescending tone it was meant as a backhanded compliment) Regardless, I'm pretty basic.
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<span data-offset-key="81efc-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Anyhow, I get contemplative and introspective when observing people's behavior and interactions...especially my kids- when I see learned behavior that came from outside influences. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8g8nv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Gabe and Sarah are the most alike- and neither of them are sentimental nor materialistic.(not that materialistic is synonymous with being sentimental). Sarah once threw away her baby book saying she had lost all her teeth and didn't need a place to record it any longer. I was stunned. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ddq6g-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, I climbed inside the dumpster and dug through other people's garbage and found the book.</span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="7po4u-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">So, why is it so easy for Gabe and Sarah to toss sentimental stuff? Doesn't preserving a memory give a relatively useless item purpose? Doesn't the warm-fuzzy you get from seeing a childhood toy eventually become valuable? Are my kids missing a chromosome or something? </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fe7mv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Gabe's idea of everything having a purpose has kind of rubbed me sore. Although I admit to being overly sentimental and prone to hoarding kid's art and macaroni necklaces- there are some things that serve a purpose just by creating the atmosphere of "home" and "belonging".</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="c0vqb-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">And after all this thinking and reasoning within- I realize too that Gabe and I's respective homes serve different purposes. Gabe is trained to be ready to move at any given moment. Travel light. Only pack what you can carry on your back. I get that. Even their home life is "light" because every base is a temporary station.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="c1av8-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;"> I came to the realization that he's abiding in his calling. So, the natural thing for me to do is turn and ask myself, "What is your calling?"</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fovm7-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">And so, all of this internal conflict may just come down to that one simple question and the enlightenment that at this point in my life---I really don't know the answer to that question. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8ncq2-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I've always been certain of my place. Certain of my role and there were wonderful examples who I respected and could pattern myself after. I was good at fulfilling my role because the role of "Mother" took up most of life. It was easy for me to see that my children were a purpose much greater than myself. There was daily gratification being a mom. I could throw myself into it and lose myself in it and be completely 100% fulfilled as a person. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="38nv-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Now, I don't have that. I'm not being dramatic. I'm being honest. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="bs9a6-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">So, surely I have a calling, yet discovered, that will give me that same drive, same desire to excel and surely, "it" will reciprocate by providing complete fulfillment? And, please be clear that when I say this- I'm not talking natural fulfillment. I considered raising my children a Godly endeavor- I put my soul, body and mind into the task. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1oi4o-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I guess, all of this rambling has made me realize that deep inside, I'm more like "Sergeant Gabe" than "Civilian Mom".
I too am very conscientious of time. I'm 40 years old. I have a whole life-time still ahead of me...with no marching orders..... - and I won't lie- right now, its not hard to picture myself on a shelf, with warm-fuzzies for times long gone----without any current purpose or value outside of familiarity and sentiment. </span></div>
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-59580138907176358062017-11-18T19:53:00.002-08:002017-11-26T10:59:34.491-08:00Juneau & Mendenhall GlacierOur first city of Port was Juneau- Alaska's state capital. Did you know that Juneau is the only capital in the USA that shares a border with a neighboring country? In this case the country is Canada's Provence of British Columbia. <span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><b> </b>Another interesting fact about Juneau is that although it's part of the main land- </span></span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">there are no roads that connect the city to the rest of Alaska or North America</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">due to the rugged terrain that surrounds it; All goods arrive and depart by plane or boat. Cars arrive to Juneau via the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry System — the floating roadway for Southeast Alaska. In fact, our first indication that we were approaching Juneau is the amount of float planes flying next to our ship. It was amazing watching them wobble back and forth as they made their approach to the harbor and hearing the splash as they skid across the water. It was an adventure in and of itself! </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Originally, Sitka was Alaska's capital but the decline of the whaling industry and fur trade caused the cities economic importance to diminish. In 1906 Juneau was made the capital of Alaska, the city was named after Joe Juneau who supposedly bought everyone who would vote in his name at the city council meeting a round of drinks! (PS. I did not see Russia from anywhere in Alaska)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Our first view of Juneau from the ship was exactly what I expected. It was quaint yet stalwart. Colorfully inviting yet had an air of functionality. It was also the largest port we visited. We could not WAIT to walk down the gang-plank to this outpost capital of the North East.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yxy5EJqjFhqCv8tRii593V-j0tcVBJd-YMZKQiyJhcPBEkPBF7gszZKaFJxcrCOOITSgv0oQJJ4jpSINbW_JlxA8OMdrSK8OXZh0apjKY7hriM3vUyIVDuol570Zp7WxhGsf49glPlE/s1600/20170710_135637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yxy5EJqjFhqCv8tRii593V-j0tcVBJd-YMZKQiyJhcPBEkPBF7gszZKaFJxcrCOOITSgv0oQJJ4jpSINbW_JlxA8OMdrSK8OXZh0apjKY7hriM3vUyIVDuol570Zp7WxhGsf49glPlE/s320/20170710_135637.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I think the first thing that struck me about Juneau, that I wasn't expecting, was the beautiful plantings, flowers and landscaping. I was assuming that since its so far North and relatively cold that it would be rocks, trees and pinecones. I couldn't have been more wrong. Begonias were everywhere....even flowing off of rooftops! Whisky barrels lined the streets full of beautiful flowering bounty. Store fronts, curb fronts, small parks and window boxes were happy to boast of the climates ability to sustain annuals! I remember Juneau as being a beautiful enchanted city. Bustling business district surrounded by fog covered mountain peaks, circling bald eagles above, beautiful flowers, cobblestone sidewalks, the smell of firepit BBQ (coming from somewhere) and the desire to just SIT AND SOAK IT IN. We hardly had time to walk the town- we went to one store, bought a postcard and had to run to catch a bus. </span></span></span><br />
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I longed for more time to walk Juneau. It's a seaside city that invites you to sit, stare, soak-in the glorious EVERYTHING surrounding you.<br />
We tried our hardest to soak it in....At one point on a bus, I told Kerri to look to the left, I'll look to the right and we'll be each other's eyes so we don't miss anything. This seems like a great plan- but on both sides, there's beauty....there's landscape that's impossible to explain, grandeur for which even naturalist John Muir couldn't express. <br />
We boarded the bus, our chauffeur was named Robert. He pointed out Mitchell Mountain and the tram that goes to the top of the mountain. We were headed to Mendenhall Glacier. The place I'd read about, seen pictures of, watched videos....and here I was about to see it myself. Everything that day was surreal.<br />
Our first view of Mendenhall Glacier was from Glacier Highway through the tree line and mountain peaks. I remember feeling a tingling of being overwhelmed. We were HERE. We were DOING it!<br />
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On the way to the glacier, Robert educated us on some historical factoids and pointed out areas of interest. Unfortunately, I was on sensory overload and don't remember a lot of them. One thing I do remember is him telling the story of a woman who brought rutabaga sprouts with her to Alaska. She planted the rutabaga's and the same plants are still producing over 100 years later! I bought some Rutabaga jam and have a taste of Juneau at home!<br />
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Our first sight at Mendenhall Glacier was of a porcupine that wound up on the trail to the glacier.<br />
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I lack the vocabulary to describe the beauty of Alaska- or the grandeur of Mendenhall Glacier.<br />
It's hard to explain the connection you feel to the earth when you're surrounded by wilderness, beauty and raw, uncultured majesty of nature. It's phenomenal.<br />
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Juneau's narrow streets<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></span>Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-84065756081771462152017-10-01T09:49:00.003-07:002017-10-01T09:56:20.133-07:00....God is the Ruler Yet...This week has brought a lot of uncertainty.<br />
I sat at my piano about an hour ago trying to hash out life and my inner prayers through the keyboard. For me, music can speak my deepest needs and feelings through the prayer of a song much better than my heart can express in words. It works.<br />
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So, my mind went back and forth. Praying, begging, pleading for direction. a miracle. a healing.<br />
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And, in the midst of doing that, I happened to look at the open hymnal in front of me....and the lyrics were:<br />
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This is my Father's world, O let me never forget<br />
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the Ruler yet.<br />
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I have no control of a situation going on. None. But, God reminded me, I have influence.....I happen to know the composer of this symphony. God is the ruler.<br />
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I still don't have answers, but I have peace.Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-56302843521438949902017-08-19T09:26:00.001-07:002017-08-19T09:28:37.170-07:00Found My Calling <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Me, Kerri & Lisa<br />
Imagine perfect 72 degree weather, no humidity and the amazing views of the Vancouver shoreline and harbor surrounding you. Imagine 800 like-minded friends surrounding you, each equally excited about the adventurous week and what it holds....imagine being on board a ship with someone you've looked up to for your entire life (Since 2nd grade)! Imagine being in a cabin with two of your closest friends- who have shared life with you for over 15 years. Now, close your eyes and know all of this is going on around you and men are walking up offering you free food, drinks and your feet are in a pool.<br />
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"THIS IS REAL. THIS IS REAL. THIS IS REAL." This is what I had to say to myself a zillion times over. This is HAPPENING.<br />
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My heart was enlarged (in a good, non-life threatening way) and my mind was exploding with imagination, fascination and the thrill of EVERYTHING. I couldn't look any direction without seeing something I wanted to further investigate, soak in or hear. All of my senses were on high alert and overloaded!<br />
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Heading West from Vancouver<br />
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I'm not sure how long we stayed on deck, watching our ship turn around in the bay and head west...but it was beautiful. Watching the shoreline, listening to the motors, feeling the waves, smelling the salt air and pine trees that lined the shores...saying to myself over and over....</div>
"THIS IS REAL. THIS IS REAL. THIS IS REAL. "<br />
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We quickly settled into our cabin, decorating our room with stickers, pictures and tassels. Lisa arranged for us to have hors d'oeuvres in our room. The room had fresh flowers, balloons (celebrating Lisa's birthday) and tasseled garland blowing in the sea wind....it was better than imagined. IT WAS REAL. </div>
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Our cabin had a beautiful veranda with glass railing so that we had a view at all times....even from bed. We slept with our room door open every night, hearing the ocean, the chugging of the motor the sound of the wind. I wish there was a way to bottle a feeling, an experience....to uncork the moment and breath it in...once again. </div>
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If there were a way to that...I think that first day on the deck would have been the day I'd have bottled. The emotion of friends united, adventures on the horizon and beautiful weather. The excitement of what was and what was to be...it would have to be a pretty large bottle to capture all of that! I don't think there's a cork strong enough to contain all of that. </div>
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At one point, during the first day, Kerri said, "I've found my calling. I was born for this." I couldn't agree more, who isn't born for a life of relaxation, adventure and having food brought to you?! This was highly addictive behavior!! Something I've become addicted to and have no plans of quitting!</div>
Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-22610811930183001102017-08-09T20:51:00.000-07:002017-08-09T21:01:37.910-07:00Alarmed Americans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I woke up Saturday morning with the sun spilling through gauzy curtains, seagulls singing their seaside songs and the oddly pleasant baritone bellowing of a barge's horn. I don't know why the moment hit me so profoundly, but the serenity of the moment juxtaposed by the bustling in the harbor was something I don't want to forget. I took this picture from my bed. </div>
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The day before, when we checked in, our room wasn't ready so the hotel gifted us free "appys" (that's what Canadians call Appetizers) and drinks in the lounge. They also upgraded the room to the 17th floor and gave us a room with an impressive view.<br />
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The view was worth the inconvenience of waiting for our room the day before. Kerri and I both stood at the window, facing the harbor with our binoculars in hand watching the activities in the water. There were barges, cargo ships, some sort of military boats and cruise ships. The sun glistened across the bay. The weather was phenomenal. We opened our windows and sat on the sofa enjoying the morning....and passing the time waiting for our friend Lisa to join us. Lisa lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia. She was a hop and skip by float plane or a few hours by ferry.<br />
She was coming in by plane and meeting us to get our main adventure started.<br />
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Kerri and I walked the city looking for coffee and breakfast. The homelessness in Vancouver was painfully evident; according to reports I've read, the main factors contributing to the rising number of homeless in the Glass City is the cost of housing and lack of job opportunities. The third contributing factor to homelessness and crime levels rising is the Opioid epidemic. We saw several people sleeping in doorways and on sidewalks. The homeless population has increased by 30% in two years in the downtown metro area of Vancouver. </div>
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The realization that where we had stood laughing with our friends in front of the Top of Vancouver rotating restaurant (the night before) there was now a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. The contrast was hard to ignore. </div>
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The weather was amazing. We couldn't go 10 feet without commenting on the glorious weather. In the south the humidity weigns on you like a suffocating blanket of misery; the air in Vancouver felt so light, crisp and perfect. I know I said something about it at least 25 times in the first few blocks we covered. We walked West towards Howe Street and found a little restaurant with a sidewalk cafe. </div>
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We walked in and the owner introduced himself from behind the counter, his name was Michael, and he made his way over to Kerri and I to hug us and he kissed me. On the cheek. A stranger.<br />
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He left you no choice but to love him instantaneously and without reserve; And so we did.<br />
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He was seating us by the kitchen and then noticed the matching cruise shirts we both wearing, "Your peoples are here! Let me seat you with your peoples!" The cruise shirts were an idea of Derek, our cruise event planner. The red shirts were called "FIRST DAY SHIRTS". The idea is to for all 800+ cruise participants to wear matching shirts so that we could spot each other in hotels, airport terminals, taxis and so forth on our trip to the cruise terminal. I met people on the plane in Phoenix, AZ from St. Louis, MO whom I would have never met nor spoke to if it wasn't for the shirt. Kerri met people from Nashville on her flight and now, we were going to meet fellow Cruisers in this Greek restaurant during breakfast in Vancouver.<br />
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Micheal led us to our table and comfy seats. We introduced ourselves to the large table of Amy Grant fans, who were wearing their red FIRST DAY shirts. What a fun ice-breaker the shirts turned out to be! Another couple across from the aisle from us (not wearing t shirts and not part of our cruise) ended up being Amy Grant fans and asking us about our cruise, t shirts and how to sign up for the Facebook page. We were walking, enthusiastic billboards!<br />
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We received a text from Lisa, her float plane had landed and she was at our hotel. We each hugged Michael goodbye. He kissed us each goodbye. I reached for my hand sanitizer. I can't help it, I'm not rude; I'm conscientious.<br />
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We got to our hotel and couldn't find Lisa.<br />
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She texted us again. She was at our room.<br />
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We got to our room and still couldn't find Lisa. Kerri said, they're nice here, but surely they wouldn't just let someone into our room? We opened the door to find out. Lisa wasn't there. <br />
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We text her back. She was at the wrong hotel. <br />
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At the time, this was funny. Now it's HILARIOUS, because, you see, this perfectly introduces Lisa. Things just happen and you love her because of it.<br />
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Lisa came to our room and introduced us to her Canadian money and the dollar coins, Loonies and Toonies, giving us each a coin. Kerri and I were packing up our stuff to go to the Ship Terminal, we were to board at noon. The reunion was fun! The excitement was tangible. And apparently combustible....because all of a sudden, our fire alarm went off.<br />
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Kerri looked right at me and narrowed her eyebrows, "WHAT did you DO?!"<br />
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Why am I always the guilty one? I was just standing there. Innocently.<br />
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The sound was deafening. Being on the 17th floor all of a sudden wasn't as great of a treat as it was earlier that morning. We scrambled to the hallway, lugging our combined 5 suitcases and 3 backpacks, my pillow (I didn't have time to pack it before the "fire"). We debated in the hallway about taking the stairs or the elevator. We stood there for a moment waiting on the elevator (although I firmly voted NOT to take an elevator in a burning building) when I noticed no one else was running for their lives. There were no flashing exit signs or sprinklers. No fireman in masks or people escaping their rooms. No people jumping from windows. In fact, we were the only ones in a panic. <br />
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I started putting my ear on doors as I passed them....it was as I had suspected, our room was the only one with an alarm blaring. Of course it was, because that's how we roll, or how the dice rolled...all I know is I was ready, if necessary, to Stop. Drop and Roll.<br />
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We took the elevator. We went into the lobby. No one was alarmed, in a panic or even noticing us. We told the concierge that our room's alarm was sounding. She looked at a panel of lights on a screen. She politely called someone on her walkie-talkie. She rang up the room, gave a receipt and dismissed us. Clearly, Canadians don't get excited about things like fire alarms sounding on the 17th floor. <br />
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-66717215535023208982017-08-08T22:22:00.002-07:002017-08-08T22:34:08.953-07:00V-Town, BC: The Day I Became an AlienFor over a year I dreamed of Alaska and all of its yet to be experienced (by me) adventures. My mind was full of ideas, my heart full of anticipation.<br />
Alaska lived up to every daydream, travel pamphlet, adventure blog and documentary I poured over in the last 15 months of planning.<br />
I was meeting one of my best friends, Kerri in Vancouver and our friend Lisa was meeting us on Saturday. For over a year we had dreamed of this moment...and here it was.<br />
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I landed in Vancouver, Canada on Friday, July 7th. I was not prepared to love Canada the way that I did. One of the first things that jumped out to me is the friendliness of the people and their eagerness to assist. The Canadians are quick to engage you and even alter their direction to assist you (a stranger) in getting to where you're going. </div>
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There was one other thing that really stood out to me immediately in Vancouver. I feel compelled to share it because it was a big part of our experience and cultural learning process. We were not aware of the Asian population in the city. I felt like I landed in Tokyo or Taiwan. Turns out, that almost 40% (although I would have gambled it was higher!) of Vancouver's population is Southeast Asian.( I think 90% of them worked at the Vancouver International Airport.) I regret not taking pictures, or making a video inside the airport because it really did feel like I was in an Asian country. Even the announcements over the loud speakers were in Korean or some other Asian language.<br />
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I was quite bummed to not get a Passport stamp upon my grand entrance into Canada. The security officer wouldn't let me go back to the Customs Desk once I passed some invisible line he guarded near the baggage claim.<br />
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Our first adventure was the Skytrain ride to the waterfront. We had to go across the city and to set the tone and pace for our adventure, we got from Point A to Point B by going under the bay through a big, underground tunnel!<br />
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Vancouver is a city of steel, glass and light; in fact, fittingly, one of the cities nicknames is City of Glass.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbWDf4182JsqFwHngfeu0XPNnvvpsq2yYI73hxlBX72no-SRPzIaiWOHWfqynyzL0KrbXw6B3SvZcLAATVg3ShzISbZC-hnckGG0_cWKA3byviKnnxMCZjkFV615lbSPnCckJSBnGMHQ/s1600/20170707_160242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNbWDf4182JsqFwHngfeu0XPNnvvpsq2yYI73hxlBX72no-SRPzIaiWOHWfqynyzL0KrbXw6B3SvZcLAATVg3ShzISbZC-hnckGG0_cWKA3byviKnnxMCZjkFV615lbSPnCckJSBnGMHQ/s320/20170707_160242.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Kerri and I explored the city. We caught up (we hadn't seen each other in over 3 years) and of course, as with any true friend, your friendship picks up where you left off....there is no warming up or getting to know each other again. You're just happy and content being in the same space again! Some of my best adventures and gut laughs have been with Kerri. My kids love her, my family loves her and she is truly family to me.<br />
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One of the things Kerri and I both had in common was that neither of us had ever been "Foreigners" or "Aliens" before. We thoroughly enjoyed our first day as Aliens exploring!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM9nWEVtwAAvtEA4DRWP6lDRtVxXb0lIJtrO-wx8irWyDzCUVwOvuIWtDzxUt_OK3tkZQZFX0atIFEgOGwXKw6lonDIch5sdAC4NcJqzhuj5xXez63LB59j9HNIwDOGqQ4gekGA4WRZc/s1600/20170707_170628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM9nWEVtwAAvtEA4DRWP6lDRtVxXb0lIJtrO-wx8irWyDzCUVwOvuIWtDzxUt_OK3tkZQZFX0atIFEgOGwXKw6lonDIch5sdAC4NcJqzhuj5xXez63LB59j9HNIwDOGqQ4gekGA4WRZc/s320/20170707_170628.jpg" width="320" /></a>Our first jaunt out of the hotel was to Canada Place. You have to imagine weather from heaven with views of paradise! I couldn't stop gushing with heartfelt "oooooohs" and "awwwwws".<br />
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From the waterfront at Canada Place (which is also the Cruise Terminal) you can look across the water through Burrard Inlet. <br />
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Kerri and I were so excited to meet up with other friends in Vancouver at Top of the World. We started off with reservations for two, then 5, and much to our delight by the time is was said and done we had 10 of us at the table! The conversations, laughter and stories from previous weekend trips together was so fun and satisfying I can barely remember the meal itself! <br />
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Our reservation was for 6:30...and we didn't leave the restaurant until midnight. MJ (second on the left) and I are from the East Coast and it was 3 AM by our bodies time table! The friendship, scenery, newness and anticipation to begin our adventure made up one of the most perfect nights for me. I can't help but smile when I look back at the above picture.<br />
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Kerri took the above picture of the ship terminal at Canada Place during dinner. The peninsula directly behind the building is called Stanley Park and connects to the famous Granville Island.</div>
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Going to sleep on the 23rd floor, in a foreign country after such an amazing day I remember thinking, "I'm going to forever remember this day....this is one of my favorite days of my entire life....." Little did I know, I would think that every single night for the next week.....<br />
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To be continued.<br />
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-42145268864782278212017-02-15T14:50:00.001-08:002017-02-15T14:50:13.329-08:00Looking For YouIm undercover<div>
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Following you; shade to shadow<br />hoping you are the one<br />Maybe this time is different, maybe I'll finally learn<br />Every time I touch the light, it burns. </div>
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<br /><br />I can't hide forever<br />I want your breathe on my skin<br />Touching you; its inevitable<br />the burning begins<br />Maybe this time is different, maybe I'll finally learn<br />Every time I touch the light, it burns </div>
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Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-53540849670494658182017-01-29T09:59:00.002-08:002017-01-29T14:25:05.909-08:00I'm not a FeministI've been paying more attention to political news than ever before- I'm sure the election has a lot to do with that. Recently, because of the Women's March in DC, every news cycle has a feminist being interviewed. I believe in wage equality, laws against sexual harassment, reinforced laws promoting prosecution for domestic abuse...most of the feminist agenda I can either relate to or on some level agree with. However, on the same token and more-so, I believe in woman being created the weaker vessel. Its not a shame. It's not a dismissive insult towards women either. There's beauty in fragility in both the masculine and feminine genders.<br />
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I could very well be the poster child for Feminism: here's why (in reverse order).<br />
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I'm a mother whose shouldered the responsibility of raising four kids mostly on my own. I was emotionally and spiritually abandoned by a husband who confused Biblical teachings of submission with entitled superiority and unquestioned power. I have a very commanding father.<br />
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After my divorce I was hellbent on proving that the kids and I would be fine. Better than fine- we'd be doggone, jolly-fantastic. I could do 'this' and everything that 'this' entailed.<br />
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I worked, raised my kids, cooked the meals, managed my finances, started a savings. I excelled in ways I didn't even thing were possible. I didn't have an education to fall back on. I didn't have family money to rely on. I didn't have a home through the divorce settlement- I left with nothing more than a bag of diapers, a broken heart and the selfish need to prove my worth to no one but myself.<br />
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I'm off the charts stubborn. I am so stubborn that if anyone would ever write about me- they would have to invent a new word that would properly embody the full brevity of my obstinate nature. <br />
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With that said- I thought I was proving my worth and substantiating the resilience of woman around the world. We do what it takes to not just survive but to thrive. To kiss the heads of their sleeping children at night and know they are safe, warm and fed. And its because you didn't give in. You didn't believe the lies you were told. You overthrew the tyrant! I was proving daily to myself that I was so much stronger and more resourceful than he ever gave me credit for. I was marching for liberation- a parade of one.<br />
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Let me say here, for the sake of anyone who stumbles across this.....I believe in and fought for the sanctity of marriage. I believe its a God ordained constitution. I do not make hasty, lighthearted, spur of the moment decisions; I stayed way past the staying point. I endured a lot because I believe in the covenant between man, wife and God. There are three parties in marriage vows...and I took my vows to God seriously, even when I no longer felt anything but resentment and fear. These beliefs were not only taught to me as a child, they were demonstrated in action and deed by adults in my life. People are not disposable. Vows are not out of convenience. Love is not fleeting. But I'm not justifying my journey to anyone. That ship has sailed.<br />
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So, the divorce was final after three years of separation. The joys of independence had somewhat began to tarnish by then- the reality of survival was all too pressing. The economy tanked. My job was teetering in the balances of the recession. The scales tipped and the company folded.<br />
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All the responsibility of day to day living fell on me. I kept a log of child support money in 2011. At the end of the year the total received was $28. It was given to me on Easter weekend to buy 4 kids stuff for Easter baskets. I put the $28 in the church offering instead. God knows why.<br />
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After all that I've experienced- I still believe in submission, teamwork and most shocking even to myself I believe in a man being the head of the household. What I wouldn't give to have a man worthy to be trusted and followed? To have someone to bounce ideas off of? To be able to converse about the decision process of sending Sarah to a 2 year college and later transfer to university?? Have I made the right decision? The decisions are endless.And sometimes really petty. What is the noise the car is making? Is it safe to drive? The pilot light is out on the fireplace and I'm too scared to light it myself. Jacob wants to go to teen camp instead of Junior Camp this summer, I think he should stay with the young kids- am I being over protective? What are your thoughts? Do you think I should dye my hair? Did you hear the bass run on that new song? Do you think these lyrics are pithy? Can you help me get the Christmas stuff out of the attic?( last year the box nearly broke my neck because I wasn't strong enough to guide it down the attic ladder and balance it against my chest for leverage at the same time.)<br />
I don't mean to imply I'm only looking out for my own self-preservation. I am a giver, a sensitive listener whose perceptive. God, this is starting to sound like an infomercial....back to the point.....<br />
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I remember the night that I found out Gabe was in the hospital after being jumped and beaten in the Army. I didn't know what was going to transpire. I was so lost and felt entirely isolated. Being independent at the moment was the worst feeling I ever had in my entire life. I needed someone. I needed reassurance that the decisions being made were the very best we could do in light of the circumstances. Someone to stay awake with and discuss the options we had on the table regarding a criminal lawsuit. I still don't think the best decision was made, but it was overwhelming. I was 17 hours away from my son in the hospital with facial fractures, a missing tooth and a concussion. When I called his father he just said, "Oh yea? Huh." Like I had called to say, "can you believe their calling for snow in July?"<br />
I went straight to my church. It was a Thursday, I didn't know where else to go. I went in and much to my relief, Pastor was there. He prayed with me. He offered some answers and consolation. I felt at ease. I felt like the situation was manageable. He broke down the reality of what I could and couldn't control. And reiterated that my son is a grown adult in the care of the Army. Really, nothing was in my control. There was absolutely NOTHING that I cold do but pray. Being made to realize that was a huge gift.<br />
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What I wouldn't give to have someone to just listen to other than myself! To hand over this burden I shoulder. I'm not seeking a mate, because I think that makes you too open to negative possibilities. I am very guarded. very protective of my home and heart. I have a very small, tight circle of trusted loved ones, and I prefer to keep it that way.<br />
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Back to the subject at hand; the oddest part of feminism to me is that in all honesty, the most discrimination I have ever experienced as a woman is not from men nor in a professional setting. The discrimination that was implied was when I had to act as the "Man" and be the provider for the family. The looks from some happily wedded, stay at home moms when you can't assist in a school play or class party because you have to work. You can't pick up the kids from the school because you have to be at an appointment. You have to use all your resources in friends and family to systematically coordinate everyone's schedules and lives. Its a real task! I won't go into further details, but there's more "discrimination" in Christian circles than professional settings.... The "oooooh, so that explains it" look. It is what it is I'm not defensive over it. Divorce is ugly, no matter how you slice it. I don't wear it like a scarlet letter and I won't. It just IS what it IS. Like a person with a scar on their face....its there and they learn to shave around it or tilt their head for the best angle in pictures. You just deal with it. And eventually it becomes a part of you and you accept it. Without that scar you would't be who you are today. I an only hope that the scars and fallout have made me a gentler, more understanding and giving person. A person that one day will have someone to help shoulder the weights of the world and who'll wink on my stubbornness as an endearing trait. :)<br />
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<br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-72566367043526220532017-01-29T07:55:00.000-08:002017-01-29T07:55:53.727-08:00BelongingSometimes, we lose ourselves; an act which can result in wonderful purpose and lead us to great destinations beyond ourselves. Or , it causes us and others hurt, loss and most of all a connection to our sense of a higher purpose or calling. <br />
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It's amazing that amount of books and philosophical writings that have been published regarding finding your calling, purpose, self, meaning and so forth. Practically every self-help book is about that in one way or another. <br />
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So many voices. So many opinions. <br />
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The intriguing thing is that if you look to scripture for "self-help" you'll quickly realize there's little preservation of self or even encouragement for "self" in scriptures. All through scripture there's the common thread of "die to self", "swear to your own hurt" and so forth. Scripture even commands that we esteem others better than ourselves. <br />
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Using scripture for more guidance on the subject of self preservation, look at the Hebrew boys- who walked into the fiery furnace. Daniel, thrown in a lion's den. The Exodus of the Hebrew children. Nothing was comfortable. None of the great stories of Faith have any plot line that remotely looks like self-preservation. It was all or nothing. <br />
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Humans (for the most part) have an innate need for comfort, belonging and warm fuzzy feelings that makes us feel loved and included. There's not a lot of support for warm fuzzies through scripture examples...for instance there was the time that Jesus said "Let the dead bury the dead. " So harsh, in light of the circumstances in the story. <br />
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It's painfully obvious that any good in ourselves is contrived, self-preserving and blatantly pious. <br />
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From an early age good, Christian children are taught that our righteousness is but as filthy rags....but to really comprehend and come to grips with the reality of that scripture applying to YOU with as much severity as it applies to the hypocritical televangelist asking for donations- well, its a sobering realization to say the least.<br />
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Coming to terms with the lack of righteousness and goodness I possess is not only sobering- its almost depressing.<br />The point that I've had driven into my spirit and heart recently (through prayer and reading) is that we as Christians are to hide ourselves in Him...we are to be so intertwined that we are no longer "ourself" and therefore any good that comes from us is not reflecting back on ourself but is lighting an onlooker to Christ.<br />Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5145065318664903469.post-50799114792028140642016-08-05T17:32:00.000-07:002016-08-31T07:00:55.277-07:00The People I've Been I was thinking about some events that happened a few years ago and the thought came to me "I'm not that person anymore." <br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What a strange thought. Even stranger, is the question of asking yourself, "So then, who are you?"</span><br />
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Are we different people living one life? Or does life mold us into different people who grow, become enlightened and eventually break the current mold?<br />
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Scripture supports the idea of us growing, evolving (if you will) into something greater.<br />
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The conversation I was having with myself reminds me of a song from Amy Grant's early works; a song written by her first husband, Gary Chapman titled All I Have To Be <br />
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<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>When the weight of all my dreams</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>Is resting heavy on my head</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>And the thoughtful words of help and hope</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>Have all been nicely said</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>But I'm still hurting, wondering if I'll ever be the one</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>I think I am--I think I am.</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>Then you gently re-remind me</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>That You've made me from the first</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>And the more I try to be the best</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>The more I get the worst.</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>And I realize the good in me is only there because of who</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>You are, who You are.</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>And all I ever have to be is what</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>You've made me</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>Any more or less would be a step out of Your plan</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>As you daily recreate me help me always keep in mind</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>That I only have to do what I can find</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>And all I ever have to be</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>All I have to be</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25px;"><em>All I ever have to be is what You've made me</em></span><br />
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The wonderful thing is knowing that we are all still a work in progress. We will shed the current skins of who we are as we grow and become closer to the Lord. The beauty of grace is that in His eyes, we are already complete and perfected in Him- no matter what stage of life- or person we are at the moment. In His eyes, we are not just a child. We are His. <br /><br />Leave the Light On, <br /><br />Cass </div>
Cass Griffinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14210620592759668820noreply@blogger.com0