<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:blogger="http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IBR387fSp7ImA9WhBbFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053</id><updated>2013-05-15T01:32:36.105-05:00</updated><category term="Sgt. Jeremy  R. Smith" /><category term="Mourning during the holidays" /><category term="the loss of a child" /><category term="advice for mourning" /><category term="Advice for mourning parents" /><category term="Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith" /><category term="death" /><category term="death of a child" /><category term="time heals all wounds" /><category term="961st Quartermaster" /><category term="grief" /><category term="mourning" /><category term="mourning stories" /><category term="Memorial Day" /><title>Just Amy's World</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/JustAmysWorld" /><feedburner:info uri="justamysworld" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8DRHc-fyp7ImA9WhBSFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-9089089113112405494</id><published>2013-02-21T10:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2013-02-21T10:07:55.957-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-21T10:07:55.957-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mourning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="time heals all wounds" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the loss of a child" /><title>Time Heals All Wounds?</title><summary type="html">When someone you love passes from this life to the Summerlands you start to count the passage of time in a completely different way.  At first it is one breath at a time, one excruciatng, heartbroken moment at a time.  Eventually it will be by the day, then the week, and finally a month.  But that first month after their passing seems like an eternity that went by in the blink of an eye.

When &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/dK9-jWWObEc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/9089089113112405494/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=9089089113112405494" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/9089089113112405494?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/9089089113112405494?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/dK9-jWWObEc/time-heals-all-wounds.html" title="Time Heals All Wounds?" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2013/02/time-heals-all-wounds.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQMQXwycCp7ImA9WhBTF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-7051578795241875873</id><published>2013-02-13T06:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2013-02-13T07:49:40.298-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-13T07:49:40.298-06:00</app:edited><title>I Love You, Bud.  I Miss You.</title><summary type="html">
Love Forever,
Mom&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/kVSunrUoXCw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/7051578795241875873/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=7051578795241875873" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/7051578795241875873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/7051578795241875873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/kVSunrUoXCw/i-love-you-bud-i-miss-you.html" title="I Love You, Bud.  I Miss You." /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2013/02/i-love-you-bud-i-miss-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04MRn0zfyp7ImA9WhBTFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-3729210140230438087</id><published>2013-02-10T13:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2013-02-10T13:53:07.387-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2013-02-10T13:53:07.387-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death of a child" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mourning stories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sgt. Jeremy  R. Smith" /><title>Dreamtime</title><summary type="html">


I'm in a department store, looking for something but I'm not quite sure what, when I hear a familiar voice behind me say "hello Mother".  My heart skips a beat and  rises to my throat and I turn around to see my son, my handsome boy that I buried in the cold, hard ground nine years ago, standing in front of me.  Very much alive.

In that instant, I know the blood has drained from my face and &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/9SLaMe6IK0I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/3729210140230438087/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=3729210140230438087" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/3729210140230438087?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/3729210140230438087?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/9SLaMe6IK0I/dreams.html" title="Dreamtime" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hal5jjf0gtE/URf1P86f_wI/AAAAAAAABJg/9qT1Q63NPhI/s72-c/JR.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2013/02/dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQMSXw-fip7ImA9WhNQGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-74897781835022401</id><published>2012-11-26T20:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-11-26T20:29:48.256-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-11-26T20:29:48.256-06:00</app:edited><title>Letter To My Son</title><summary type="html">Dear Jeremy,

Happy Birthday!  Tomorrow would have been your 31st birthday, had you stayed on this earth long enough.   I truly wish you had, that we would be celebrating your special day together with a birthday cake (made by me, of course), your favorite meal and maybe a beer  to wash it down.  

I wonder, had you still been alive, what you would have done with your life in the past nine years &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/niifwqyhp9Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/74897781835022401/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=74897781835022401" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/74897781835022401?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/74897781835022401?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/niifwqyhp9Y/letter-to-my-son.html" title="Letter To My Son" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2012/11/letter-to-my-son.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAARHY7eyp7ImA9WhVbEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-4488436810768252730</id><published>2012-05-27T09:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2012-05-27T09:59:05.803-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-27T09:59:05.803-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Memorial Day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="961st Quartermaster" /><title>Remembering My Soldier Son</title><summary type="html">


Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith

US Army Reserves

Nov. 1981 to Feb. 2004
961st QM



It is Memorial Day weekend and I am thinking about my son.  It's been a long time since I wrote about him.  



Thoughts of him when he was born,  perfect and beautiful, capturing my heart.  It was love at first sight.  As do most babies, he had day and night mixed up and his exhausted  young mama was often in tears.  I&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/j0TsqvW05X0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/4488436810768252730/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=4488436810768252730" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4488436810768252730?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4488436810768252730?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/j0TsqvW05X0/remembering-my-soldier-son.html" title="Remembering My Soldier Son" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UfLGsmfnjtY/T8I3DfcjfpI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/dAA0U2JCsr0/s72-c/JR2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2012/05/remembering-my-soldier-son.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMGQ385eSp7ImA9WhRaEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-6167640523564780709</id><published>2012-02-13T08:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T08:30:22.121-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-13T08:30:22.121-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mourning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sgt. Jeremy  R. Smith" /><title>Death Day</title><summary type="html">
Today is  my son's death day.  There is no other way to describe what today is.  When we are born, we have a birth day, a day to be celebrated.  To say that today is the anniversary of the day he died makes it seems so meaningless when that day had a very highly profound impact on my family.  So I call it his death day.

There are ﻿two days that had the most profound impact on my life -- the day&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/DBVtxTDF4YI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/6167640523564780709/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=6167640523564780709" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6167640523564780709?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6167640523564780709?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/DBVtxTDF4YI/death-day.html" title="Death Day" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CDxYi3XZ-5g/Tzkaqaq7iCI/AAAAAAAAA4g/mcnY6RSQn_A/s72-c/JR1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2012/02/death-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYNQH4ycCp7ImA9WhRRFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-4692201708885438755</id><published>2011-11-30T07:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T08:26:31.098-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-30T08:26:31.098-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mourning during the holidays" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grief" /><title>Mourning During the Holidays</title><summary type="html">It's a fact of life that we all have to deal with at one time or another in our lives. People we love die and it hurts down to the deepest core of who we are as human beings when they do. We grieve their passing because we loved them and we miss them terribly.The holidays can be a very, very hard time for us. Because I have so many friends who are going through tremendous loss this holiday season&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/Lieg2sBTVIY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/4692201708885438755/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=4692201708885438755" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4692201708885438755?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4692201708885438755?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/Lieg2sBTVIY/mourning-during-holidays.html" title="Mourning During the Holidays" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Z0EmvCb5rI/TtY1qFVIm3I/AAAAAAAAA2Y/huKW5XFN9xo/s72-c/254899_1622359573347_1667199098_1084865_6764248_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2011/11/mourning-during-holidays.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQFRH49eCp7ImA9WhdUEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-2578995769767702484</id><published>2011-09-26T17:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T18:05:15.060-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-26T18:05:15.060-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Advice for mourning parents" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grief" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advice for mourning" /><title>Grief/Mourning</title><summary type="html">This weekend, on a campout deep in the Texas woods with many of those whom I hold near and dear to my heart, I met a woman who is angry. She is angry at the Gods, she is angry at life and she is angry at her situation. She called down the wrath of the Gods, dared them to challenge her, to beat her, to apologize to her.You see, her dear husband died four months ago in a motorcycle accident -- &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/_1u2Cq6AH7U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/2578995769767702484/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=2578995769767702484" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2578995769767702484?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2578995769767702484?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/_1u2Cq6AH7U/griefmourning.html" title="Grief/Mourning" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2011/09/griefmourning.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcMQ38zeip7ImA9WxBVEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-7957515501770645664</id><published>2010-02-12T17:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T17:08:02.182-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-12T17:08:02.182-06:00</app:edited><title>For Jeremy</title><summary type="html">I love you.  I miss you.Love forever,Mom&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/DsQ9_fZYGkk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/7957515501770645664/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=7957515501770645664" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/7957515501770645664?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/7957515501770645664?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/DsQ9_fZYGkk/blog-post.html" title="For Jeremy" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cDQH4-eCp7ImA9WxVXFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-5455488331860428874</id><published>2009-02-14T14:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T14:57:51.050-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-14T14:57:51.050-06:00</app:edited><title>The Willow Tree</title><summary type="html">From now until the end of February I am going to do my best to post stories and things on my blog that are not political and that are things others might find positive, inspiring or just interesting.  I wrote about my cats the other day.  Yesterday I wrote about my daughter's graduation. Today I want to tell you about the willow tree growing in my front yard. It started as a stick, about two feet&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/20kh-q8I7ao" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/5455488331860428874/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=5455488331860428874" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/5455488331860428874?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/5455488331860428874?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/20kh-q8I7ao/willow-tree.html" title="The Willow Tree" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2009/02/willow-tree.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04HSHo6cCp7ImA9WxVXFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-494286217479240914</id><published>2009-02-13T07:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T07:32:19.418-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-13T07:32:19.418-06:00</app:edited><title>Hey, Bud</title><summary type="html">It's Mom.  I just wanted to take a few minutes out of my day to say hello.  It might be a good time to play catch up on the family stuff, huh?I think we've all finally caught our breaths and are learning to live our lives in a world where you are no longer.  It's been the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Your sisters are doing pretty good.  Dani is graduating from school today and we're all &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/6ZkEyZVUI0Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/494286217479240914/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=494286217479240914" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/494286217479240914?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/494286217479240914?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/6ZkEyZVUI0Q/hey-bud.html" title="Hey, Bud" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2009/02/hey-bud.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QHQHcyeCp7ImA9WxVXEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-503651953954851110</id><published>2009-02-08T23:45:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T00:02:11.990-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-09T00:02:11.990-06:00</app:edited><title>I Love You</title><summary type="html">ltr, Jeremy, Jaime, me, Danielle.  Our last picture together.For my readers, both old and new, family and friend, I wrote this piece about two years ago when I was approached by a couple of producers who were working on a play in New York City. It was accepted to be part of the play but, sadly, it never got off the ground. I am no longer under contractual obligation to not share this piece, so I &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/nWJ_XyUPD28" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/503651953954851110/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=503651953954851110" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/503651953954851110?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/503651953954851110?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/nWJ_XyUPD28/i-love-you.html" title="I Love You" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/SY_GpGcpAHI/AAAAAAAAAew/XmaGzIgJfTk/s72-c/Our+last+pic+together.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQFRnk8cSp7ImA9WxVXEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-1651451924261375801</id><published>2009-02-08T23:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T23:45:17.779-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-08T23:45:17.779-06:00</app:edited><title>I Love You -- Part II</title><summary type="html">I was home alone that night. Maxx and I had been sick all week long, and that was the first time all week, since leaving Jeremy at Ft. Hood, that either of us had been able to leave the house. Maxx had gone to pick up some much-needed groceries and had only been gone five minutes.“Ma’am, the Army regrets to inform you…” The words hung in the air as the Sergeant stood in my living room.My legs &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/1H-4jONYP_E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/1651451924261375801/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=1651451924261375801" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/1651451924261375801?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/1651451924261375801?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/1H-4jONYP_E/i-love-you-part-ii.html" title="I Love You -- Part II" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/SY_C3M7TPII/AAAAAAAAAeo/oogfhxwKCVs/s72-c/jeremyart.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-you-part-ii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMHQns-eip7ImA9WxRUF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-1437817763970998449</id><published>2008-11-26T17:55:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T18:07:13.552-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-26T18:07:13.552-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Sgt. Jeremy  R. Smith" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="961st Quartermaster" /><title>Remembering Jeremy</title><summary type="html">There are some dates in our lives that will be forever marked "special". Tomorrow is one of those days.Not just because it's Thanksgiving, but because it would have been my son's 27th birthday if he were still alive. It's hard for me to believe that it's been five years since we spent Jeremy's 22nd birthday with him, which was also on Thanksgiving Day that year. It was on Saturday that my husband&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/VCOpnEnRxrM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/1437817763970998449/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=1437817763970998449" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/1437817763970998449?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/1437817763970998449?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/VCOpnEnRxrM/remembering-jeremy.html" title="Remembering Jeremy" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/SS3kc7CKitI/AAAAAAAAAVY/DF69GlDL_48/s72-c/JR+%26+amy+1998.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2008/11/remembering-jeremy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QFRH0yfyp7ImA9WxdaFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-6109789475980767141</id><published>2008-08-25T10:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T10:48:35.397-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-25T10:48:35.397-05:00</app:edited><title>The In-Between Time</title><summary type="html">It happened right when Maxx left for work this morning.  It was that in-between time when it's neither night or day, when the light starts to reach my part of the world, but the sun has shown above the horizon...I stepped outside with my coffee to greet the morning, and in that light, the growing things in my yard seemed so much more green than usual, giving off a luminescent glow, almost.  It &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/_6EkIX3StmU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6109789475980767141?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6109789475980767141?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/_6EkIX3StmU/in-between-time.html" title="The In-Between Time" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-between-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcAQ3g9cSp7ImA9WxdTGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-210528816948106639</id><published>2008-05-15T01:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T01:47:22.669-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-15T01:47:22.669-05:00</app:edited><title>Mom's Lesson</title><summary type="html">Photo by Andrew SternWhen I carried my unborn children within my wombI was full of hopes and dreams and wonder…I wondered at the life we had created, growing within meAnd the first seeds of love were planted when I learned of that life.I wondered what this little one would do with his or her lifeWhat kind of person he or she would be.I wondered if this precious soul would achieve the dreams,The &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/W3jLgs0u_RI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/210528816948106639/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=210528816948106639" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/210528816948106639?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/210528816948106639?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/W3jLgs0u_RI/moms-lesson.html" title="Mom's Lesson" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/SCvbyRRbmfI/AAAAAAAAAH0/X7xaOC1JUUY/s72-c/Amy+Taken+by+Andrew+Stern.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2008/05/moms-lesson.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEDSHo-eSp7ImA9WxZRGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-2336268997516401363</id><published>2008-02-13T16:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T17:01:19.451-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-02-13T17:01:19.451-06:00</app:edited><title>Who Cares?</title><summary type="html">Honestly, folks, aren't you sick and tired of hearing about what baseball players have used steroids and which ones haven't?  I mean, really, don't we have more important things to worry about?  And, more importantly, does't our Congress have more important things to investigate?  Like, oh I don't know, the lies of Bush &amp;amp; Co. told to take us into war?  The possibility that our President has &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/76uUoHEsqmQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/2336268997516401363/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=2336268997516401363" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2336268997516401363?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2336268997516401363?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/76uUoHEsqmQ/who-cares.html" title="Who Cares?" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2008/02/who-cares.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYAQX45fip7ImA9WxZRF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-6246526787150428276</id><published>2008-02-11T16:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T16:15:40.026-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-02-11T16:15:40.026-06:00</app:edited><title>I Miss You...</title><summary type="html">A song written by Tom Chelston, whom I have come to know and associate with from time to time...  Thanks, Tom.Posted in loving memory of my son, Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith, who died four years ago this week in a car accident before he was to leave to go to Iraq with his Army unit.I love you, Bud.  I miss you.And I'll never forget...Love forever,Mom&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/1u4sBubx8NM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/6246526787150428276/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=6246526787150428276" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6246526787150428276?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6246526787150428276?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/1u4sBubx8NM/i-miss-you.html" title="I Miss You..." /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/R7DJB0o7j3I/AAAAAAAAAGM/FMz26_fLnjc/s72-c/Galveston+045.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-miss-you.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUHQHs7eip7ImA9WB9VEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-4013169360862670506</id><published>2007-11-26T12:55:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T13:10:31.502-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-26T13:10:31.502-06:00</app:edited><title>Letter to my Son</title><summary type="html">Dearest Jeremy,Tomorrow would have been your 26th birthday.  As I sit here and think about you, I wonder what your life would have been like had you lived, had you not been killed in that damn car accident before you were supposed to go to Iraq.  I wonder how you would have been when you came home and I wonder what you'd be like now.  I just wonder.I wonder if you would have married by now and &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/YvxhtfaEqSg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/4013169360862670506/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=4013169360862670506" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4013169360862670506?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4013169360862670506?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/YvxhtfaEqSg/letter-to-my-son.html" title="Letter to my Son" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G5ma6Ut_BLs/R0saH6PY3OI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ctBMn_Fsl1E/s72-c/basic+training+2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/11/letter-to-my-son.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YDQ3Y-cSp7ImA9WB9WGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-4254573092915950660</id><published>2007-11-23T22:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:12:52.859-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-23T23:12:52.859-06:00</app:edited><title>Thanksgiving Memories</title><summary type="html">Well, we made it again, another year through Thanksgiving.  On some of the online political groups I a part of, there has been much discussion about NOT celebrating Thanksgiving for one reason or another.  One reason is because it has become a somewhat secular holiday.  Another reason is because people think it is terrible to feast on meat or to participate in the overeating that comes with the &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/6ixHW96Fhm0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/4254573092915950660/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=4254573092915950660" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4254573092915950660?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/4254573092915950660?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/6ixHW96Fhm0/thanksgiving-memories.html" title="Thanksgiving Memories" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving-memories.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IGQnkyfSp7ImA9WB9QE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-2591878736990813768</id><published>2007-10-25T06:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T07:32:03.795-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-25T07:32:03.795-05:00</app:edited><title>Memories and Thoughts</title><summary type="html">Yesterday, as I watched the news of the wildfires in California and FEMA coming to the rescue, I was reminded of my own experience with FEMA about five years or so ago.  At the time my husband and I had just moved to a place called Canyon Lake, Texas, nestled in the Hill Country north of San Antonio and south of Austin.  It's a nice place, really, where people go to retire or have summer vacation&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/9sgNFW9G_Hw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/2591878736990813768/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=2591878736990813768" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2591878736990813768?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/2591878736990813768?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/9sgNFW9G_Hw/memories-and-thoughts.html" title="Memories and Thoughts" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/10/memories-and-thoughts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cCRXc7cSp7ImA9WB5RGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-8501490348478866586</id><published>2007-06-27T07:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T07:57:44.909-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-06-27T07:57:44.909-05:00</app:edited><title>How Do I....?</title><summary type="html">Usually I don't like to air my dirty family laundry publically.  But today I am posting this because I know that some members of my family read this blog from time to time.  And it is the ONLY means  of communication I have with them.  Please know I love you.  I have always loved you.  All I have ever wanted is to know that you loved me, too.  Your sister, your daughter, your niece,Amy  Last &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/ggc-uhE6a8Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/8501490348478866586/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=8501490348478866586" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/8501490348478866586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/8501490348478866586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/ggc-uhE6a8Y/how-do-i.html" title="How Do I....?" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/06/how-do-i.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEFRnk7eSp7ImA9WBFSEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-5168825547635183975</id><published>2007-02-13T06:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T13:43:37.701-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-02-10T13:43:37.701-06:00</app:edited><title>Three Years II</title><summary type="html">Three years ago this morning my beautiful son's life ended just when he was beginning to get it together for the first time ever.  Three years ago today I was home sick, listening to the local news and heard it was snowing in the Hill Country around Ft. Hood and thinking that Jeremy would be enjoying that, not knowing that the snow started about the same time he died.Three years ago tonight the &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/jPgD1j_4UiA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/5168825547635183975/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=5168825547635183975" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/5168825547635183975?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/5168825547635183975?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/jPgD1j_4UiA/three-years-ii.html" title="Three Years II" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/02/three-years-ii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEEQXY7cCp7ImA9WBFTF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-6503571374816370687</id><published>2007-02-06T06:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T06:56:40.808-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-02-06T06:56:40.808-06:00</app:edited><title>Three Years</title><summary type="html">Three years ago today Jeremy was home with us, alive and well, on his last leave of absence before heading to Iraq.  Three years ago we were at the Museum of Natural History looking at exhibits and laughing at stupid stuff.  We went to the movies and on his last night home, fixed his favorite dinner, steak and baked potatoes. Three years ago there were only about 500 soldiers dead from this war. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/snyRv-s2FlU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/6503571374816370687/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=6503571374816370687" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6503571374816370687?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/6503571374816370687?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/snyRv-s2FlU/three-years.html" title="Three Years" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/02/three-years.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEDR3Y5eyp7ImA9WBBaGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18903053.post-116987367680746908</id><published>2007-01-26T22:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T22:54:36.823-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-01-26T22:54:36.823-06:00</app:edited><title>Honor.  Duty.  Country</title><summary type="html">HONOR…DUTY…COUNTRYThese three words may be only words to you and to me, ordinary citizens of the United States of America. To our Servicemen and women, however, they are a code to live by as they serve our country. They live with honor. They do their duty and they serve their country.These words are the words I had inscribed on my son’s headstone three years ago next month. They are the code he &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~4/0JpoIZ95QKg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://amybranham.blogspot.com/feeds/116987367680746908/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18903053&amp;postID=116987367680746908" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/116987367680746908?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18903053/posts/default/116987367680746908?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/JustAmysWorld/~3/0JpoIZ95QKg/honor-duty-country.html" title="Honor.  Duty.  Country" /><author><name>Amy Branham</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02793786637244058806</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npZSheo4Op4/UYnEErp072I/AAAAAAAABRY/fxYYvaS_Huw/s220/JR1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://amybranham.blogspot.com/2007/01/honor-duty-country.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
