tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220985502012-02-16T20:28:14.784-05:00"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see." CS LewisJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.comBlogger250125SmallLettershttp://feedburner.google.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-8778593191793942332012-01-16T21:40:00.039-05:002012-01-16T23:16:59.821-05:002012-01-16T23:16:59.821-05:00

Dressed in a brown jacket, gray trousers and a pair of blue canvas sneakers, it was a stretch to believe this gentle, grandfatherly figure was a leading civil rights activist. It was an even greater stretch to believe that this Rev. Samuel “Billy” Kyles had spent an hour with Martin Luther King, Jr. in the Lorraine Motel —an hour that turned out to be King’s last.I had the chance to meet Kyles

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-20065942197971031492011-11-11T16:34:00.036-05:002011-11-11T17:30:11.633-05:002011-11-11T17:30:11.633-05:00

“The Pacific POWs who went home in 1945 were torn-down men. They had an intimate understanding of man’s vast capacity to experience suffering, as well as his equally vast capacity, and hungry willingness, to inflict it. They carried unspeakable memories of torture and humiliation, and an acute sense of vulnerability that attended the knowledge of how readily they could be disarmed and dehumanized

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-5320812037023612292011-10-15T20:03:00.024-05:002011-11-13T14:58:19.077-05:002011-11-13T14:58:19.077-05:00

Sprinting through Hartsfield’s Concourse C, chasing after an unknown individual who had mistakenly taken my luggage wasn’t exactly how I planned for the marathon weekend to begin. Moments before the sprint, I had stood speechless in front of the luggage lift, overwhelmed by a harrowing nauseated feeling. You get that way when you realize the one remaining black bag there on the second shelf from

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-89461713376712480632011-09-25T22:50:00.027-05:002011-10-04T22:21:39.159-05:002011-10-04T22:21:39.159-05:00

Two weeks ago I managed to put more miles on my legs than I did on my car. Strangely enough, the soles of my shoes saw more pavement than the tread on my tires. With two 20 mile runs on repeat Saturdays and several short runs sprinkled in between, the running odometer had hit 60 miles in a week’s time.In this my #2 attempt at the Chicago Marathon, things have gone swimmingly well…so well, that it

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-78953114595418787782011-09-20T21:56:00.002-05:002011-09-25T14:09:21.107-05:002011-09-25T14:09:21.107-05:00

My mother has had a calendar on her refrigerator for as long as I can remember. Held by magnets on all four corners, a particular month is posted for its appointed days then removed to make way for the next one. And if you happen to have a birthday during the month on tap, you’ll find your name written in red and preceded by a celebratory star. Like mother, like daughter…I have a similar calendar

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-36227679608090881802011-07-27T20:45:00.025-05:002011-07-29T09:04:39.916-05:002011-07-29T09:04:39.916-05:00

The end of July always brings with it a fun-filled weekend with two of my favorite little girls. Their mother goes back to school for pre-planning and I have the joy of keeping them for a few days before they head to Nana and Granddaddy’s to join their brother Will. School starts next Monday, so this is summer’s last hoorah. The bar was set a little too high last year with 3 full days of fun.

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-83238638671535676362011-07-09T15:01:00.069-05:002011-07-11T20:59:47.471-05:002011-07-11T20:59:47.471-05:00

Mom birthed the idea last year. “Let’s go somewhere. As a family. For just a few days like we used to do. How about the mountains? It’ll be fun.” While gathering all of us in the same place at once proved to be a nearly insurmountable feat, we succeeded. All ten of us in a cabin on a mountain’s ledge: what fun it was! So much fun that the drive home had us all wondering, “Where to next year?”

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-19770744214230112192011-06-19T20:14:00.014-05:002011-06-19T20:59:10.375-05:002011-06-19T20:59:10.375-05:00

To a dad who's taught us that when life becomes a tough row to hoe...Riddled with near hits, but sure misses...Fun can always be found in the most ordinary places...Old things can be made just as good as new...A little dirt on the fingers in February...Brings a lot of joy in June...And the best things in life really are free...Happy Father's Day!

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-77885676146121598502011-05-30T06:00:00.014-05:002011-05-30T09:14:57.431-05:002011-05-30T09:14:57.431-05:00

"How little do my countrymen know what precious blessings they are in possession of,and which no other people on earth enjoy."~Thomas JeffersonChip Somodevilla / Getty ImagesDavid Goldman / APChip Somodevilla / Getty ImagesJohn Moore / New York Times

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-53760866251218410712011-05-08T20:51:00.028-05:002011-05-09T00:12:10.923-05:002011-05-09T00:12:10.923-05:00

A few months ago Mom and Dad arrived at my house with a truckload of boxes containing old things of mine. I suppose their effort made it official: I’ve at last moved away from home!With the summer heat right around the corner, I grew concerned about the plastic dolls who would surely soon suffer death, becoming a molten puddle when the first day of June rolls around. In an effort to save a doll’s

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-48617567300428099652011-05-06T21:24:00.061-05:002011-05-07T19:08:28.554-05:002011-05-07T19:08:28.554-05:00

The Blakey family reunion rolled around this past weekend as it does once every year. Vacillating back and forth between North Carolina and Georgia, this year it headed south to the Zittrouer farm in Springfield. (My Great Aunt Martha married George Zittrouer, which explains the deviation of last name.) Aunt Martha had five boys, three of whom still live on or near that farm. They’ve traded in

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-30779670271364547902011-05-02T20:52:00.065-05:002011-05-08T20:50:40.786-05:002011-05-08T20:50:40.786-05:00

“I know my own heart to be entirely English.”Princess AnneIf ever there was a day to be entirely English, last Friday may just have well been it! While I may not have made it onto THE guest list, I was confident I was on the next best thing when I received the following…We were twelve hours late to the actual wedding, so we did everything in our power to make it a fashionably late arrival.

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-67014824154027287622011-04-28T20:52:00.005-05:002011-04-30T21:07:37.607-05:002011-04-30T21:07:37.607-05:00

April is National OT Month and this year marks the 12th year I've celebrated it. Because an OT's primary role is to help folks become more independent in their daily living activities, I thought it would be fun to celebrate independence in feeding. Strawberry cake and sparkling water helped commemorate the month as we all lifted a fork to the profession.

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-85194991296489455412011-04-18T20:34:00.067-05:002011-04-25T17:30:28.658-05:002011-04-25T17:30:28.658-05:00

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of events. Noting that multiple tornadoes blew through the South this past weekend, perhaps “tornadic” isn’t the best choice of words. But, for the sake of alliteration I’m going with it.The description really isn’t too far off as Augusta was under a tornado threat early Tuesday morning of Masters week. The 70 mph winds swirling outside the window two feet

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-83510736771217328582011-03-27T17:24:00.006-05:002011-03-31T23:13:06.542-05:002011-03-31T23:13:06.542-05:00

Spring sprung exactly one week ago today. And while the blooming dogwoods and the azaleas in all their hues might prove that fact, it seems Winter has one last word to say. From highs in the 80’s last week to that of the 40’s today, he offers one last curtain call…an encore of cold. It’s a bit fitting because this winter has been one of many curtain calls…curtain calls very rich in the performing

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-5391794135414402112011-03-22T21:08:00.057-05:002011-03-23T17:16:51.979-05:002011-03-23T17:16:51.979-05:00

"If you want to win something, run the 100 meters.If you want to experience something, run a marathon.”~Emil ZatopekCzech long distance runnerIf all that Emil said is true, my dear friend Veronica had quite an experience this past Sunday. The elevation chart alone was enough to deter me from running the 26.2 miles that threw 3076 feet of changing elevation in the face of all who dared to tackle

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-22226368559114508832011-03-14T18:12:00.027-05:002011-03-14T19:37:40.083-05:002011-03-14T19:37:40.083-05:00

Look who finally decided to make an appearance...."Punctuality is the virtue of the bored."~Evelyn Waugh"There is not one blade of grass,there is no color in this world,that is not intended to make us rejoice.”~John Calvin

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-87112524613893947282011-02-21T22:02:00.017-05:002011-02-22T09:30:31.713-05:002011-02-22T09:30:31.713-05:00

I love camellias for a number of reasons. For starters, they burst forth every February, breaking the winter chill. And they always seem to make a very gracious statement about you, the gardener...appearing as if you had slaved away all winter—fertilizing, pruning, weeding, etc…, when in all actuality, you never lifted your green thumb. Yes, they do their thing independently, and for those of us

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-17265250941282271392011-01-27T21:30:00.018-05:002011-02-03T22:35:09.335-05:002011-02-03T22:35:09.335-05:00

It has been said that writing about music is like “dancing about architecture.” Describing a melodic tune with monotone text never has worked very well. No wonder I’ve been struggling all week trying to formulate words that would convey what I enjoyed last weekend. Here’s an attempt (along with two video clips that will rescue me when words fail).As an introduction to the first, I randomly heard

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-83299009217112058012011-01-20T22:58:00.021-05:002011-01-21T17:28:25.709-05:002011-01-21T17:28:25.709-05:00

It was always easy for me to remember the birthdays of my grandparents because mine was sandwiched between theirs. Grandma’s fell on the 14th; Granddad’s on the 20th; and mine was smack-dab in the middle on the 17th. Growing up in the midst of all these birthdays with grandparents right next door made for a week filled with cake (THREE of them) and a week filled with cards.Over Thanksgiving, we

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-68753098562625139472011-01-17T22:04:00.072-05:002011-01-20T22:15:34.548-05:002011-01-20T22:15:34.548-05:00

"Thirty-five is a very attractive age;London society is full of women who haveof their own free choice remained thirty-five for years."Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)_____________________________________The early morning surprises at work...The lunch date with a dear friend...The gifts at the doorstep......and the warm wishes of family and friends have made 35 a "very attractive age".To Kristi, Janell,

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-71363222013230974232010-12-30T19:53:00.042-05:002011-01-20T22:18:49.644-05:002011-01-20T22:18:49.644-05:00

This afternoon at 4:00 sharp my dad hopped in his truck and drove home from work. It’s the usual thing…something he’s done at the end of every workday for the past 47 years. Yet, what made today so special lies in the fact that he’s punched his time card for the very last time. Yes, after nearly half a century of working as a machinist in Savannah’s paper mill, Dad is done. He’s turned in his

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-57024959299904640002010-12-18T18:47:00.064-05:002011-01-20T21:48:59.392-05:002011-01-20T21:48:59.392-05:00

"Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feellike a shadow walking in a shadowy world.When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City.Always I return home weary, but I have the comforting certaintythat mankind is real and I myself am not a dream."~Helen KellerThe Rockefeller Tree glistened; Lady Liberty stood tall; Grand Central Station bustled; the department store windows

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-30510280102497970042010-12-06T18:04:00.062-05:002011-01-18T19:42:08.993-05:002011-01-18T19:42:08.993-05:00

I took a blog-worthy trip back in September that was overshadowed by all the events of early October. As we’ve just now flipped the calendar to December, a day off from work offered the chance to spend some time writing. While this no doubt scars the sequential flow of blog entries, I’m rewinding things back to the last full week of of September—a week that had me in Las Vegas.While there I had

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22098550.post-30070113465732092782010-10-27T21:20:00.047-05:002011-01-18T19:51:07.677-05:002011-01-18T19:51:07.677-05:00

It was going to be great. The crème de la crème of road races had been on my calendar since the first of the year. 10-10-10. What a day to do something memorable! Finishing a marathon without spraining my ankle was the goal and I was convinced that there could not be a finer setting for a re-run than that of Chicago. Could not have chosen finer people to run alongside either. It was to be Sam’s

Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02906303879686467960noreply@blogger.com2