tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3228938276187357652024-02-19T05:48:55.510-05:00A Woman of the Cloth Reveals AllTheresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-77182041732635041322017-01-10T14:54:00.005-05:002017-01-10T14:54:52.093-05:00Young Living Essential Oils to the rescue!My journey to try essential oils was quite lengthy. I had some recurring issues resulting from respiratory infections and allergies. I wanted to try this oil called Thieves by Young Living Essential Oils, but honestly, the price caused me to pause. Instead, I went to my local health food store and purchased some rosemary and eucalyptus. I added some to a pot of boiling water, tented myself, and breathed in the fragrant warm air for as long as I could stand it. I also slept every night with a humidifier with eucalyptus added into the reservoir. I did feel some relief, but I also wanted to beef up my immune system, so I ordered a “Thieves” copycat blend from an online supply company. I started by using a roller ball with the oil blend and fractionated coconut oil on my feet each morning. Because I was teaching full time, I could not completely escape the germs, but when I did have a cold, it was not as severe and relatively short lived compared to life before essential oils.
Honestly, I hated the smell of the “Thieves” blend……..that was until I used Young Living Thieves. The aroma is warm, spicy, and inviting. I use it every day: toothpaste, mouthwash, household cleaner, and in the diffuser. When I leave the house, it automatically goes on the bottoms of my feet. I spray down my sink and counter with Thieves cleaner, even after preparing raw chicken. When my husband or I are feeling under the weather, I immediately fire up my diffuser with Thieves and Purification to boost our immune systems and clear the air of germs.
I only used Young Living Essential Oils from this point on. Once I became educated on using the oils and the source of Young Living Oils, I have never considered another company. There are some very important elements to consider when choosing the company that supplies your essential oils. We are talking about the health and safety of you and your family. Something that cannot be considered haphazardly. Young Living Essential Oils has something called a “seed to seal” guarantee. What this means is that every aspect of soil preparation, planting, harvesting, distilling, bottling, packaging, and shipping is controlled/owned by Young Living. How many other companies can say that? I love to cook and bake, but when I make a cake for someone, I get all of my ingredients from the grocery store. I cannot certify the quality of these ingredients. I must rely on the conscience of Harris Teeter or Fresh Market, and hope that they have the same standard of excellence as I do. I have confidence that Young Living Essential Oils hold themselves to the utmost highest standards.
So when I received my Premium Starter Kit and opened the bottles, the first thing I noticed was the aromas. The lavender and Thieves, in particular, smelled nothing like the ones I had previously purchased. Consider the difference between the scent of artificial vanilla and pure vanilla extract. Which one would you use in your most special cake recipe? Which oil would you want to use on your body? The next difference I experienced was in the strength of the oils. When you are using Young Living Essential Oils, start with a small drop until you know the effect. I use carrier oils with many of the oils because a little bit goes a long way. Some of the oils are costly, but once you realize their effectiveness and potency, they become more affordable.
In the coming days, I will talk about how to get started with Young Living Oils, how to use the 11 oils in the Premium Starter Kit, and how to build your oil stash.
If you are interested in purchasing oils or a Premium Starter Kit, use this link to get started:
https://www.youngliving.com/vo/#/signup/new-start?sponsorid=3142922&enrollerid=3142922&isocountrycode=US&culture=en-US&type=member
Or if you just want to browse the website: https://www.youngliving.com/en_US
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvxvT-dvS48HwGmKojZAJmL5gxC3pk_EH1lt4YVEwSCFkKAf5eQbryHA1vvR1S9nMbUD9OgV44ZFa7ddrD3cyG55fkakf9Wwt0zf7YwS0KLXhvKfFB_jrumjKqGZajNrSMXUtJfW2qKo/s1600/15781505_10157946191680024_5049704392104709076_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvxvT-dvS48HwGmKojZAJmL5gxC3pk_EH1lt4YVEwSCFkKAf5eQbryHA1vvR1S9nMbUD9OgV44ZFa7ddrD3cyG55fkakf9Wwt0zf7YwS0KLXhvKfFB_jrumjKqGZajNrSMXUtJfW2qKo/s400/15781505_10157946191680024_5049704392104709076_n.jpg" width="400" height="400" /></a></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-60282833992135423862017-01-05T15:22:00.000-05:002017-01-05T15:22:26.845-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVb9wdrvczTHzNvNDT1_3puum027a5_vZXAAYyl2ELv_2pabnbRFk-QMzkDRDmYQ8NGQy7ABtBET7p18xtexbJrGODEg3_u0P3SEeJw-7RIlzkvIzOM8UV2cZY5U7Ft2zfgvcQJvy8z0/s1600/Thieves+cleaner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVb9wdrvczTHzNvNDT1_3puum027a5_vZXAAYyl2ELv_2pabnbRFk-QMzkDRDmYQ8NGQy7ABtBET7p18xtexbJrGODEg3_u0P3SEeJw-7RIlzkvIzOM8UV2cZY5U7Ft2zfgvcQJvy8z0/s320/Thieves+cleaner.jpg" width="320" height="228" /></a></div>
We are preparing for snow here in North Carolina, so I anticipate some quality computer time this weekend. Today I want to show you the main product I use for cleaning: Young Living Thieves Household Cleaner. This bottle will last you a long time because one capful added to a large spray bottle of water will clean everything in your house: floors, counters, even your stove, and it smells amazing!Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-72028560493134406132017-01-02T14:39:00.001-05:002017-01-02T14:39:29.957-05:00New Year, New FocusMy buzz words for 2017 are clean and simple. I want every aspect of my life to follow these two basic words. Clean living, clean eating. Simple style, simple rules. Last year I was on a great track for losing weight and being healthy. Somewhere along the way, life got complicated. I lost my focus. I want to streamline my eating habits in such a way that I don't even think about what is going in my mouth, what I am ordering in a restaurant, or what I am buying at the grocery store. Simple. My house is overpacked with stuff I can't even remember owning. Out it goes. Clean. I am dedicated to replacing the toxins in my life with simple solutions made with essential oils and all natural ingredients. Clean and simple. I want to spend more time reading the Bible and less time watching Hulu. Simple Jesus. Stay tuned as I share my insights and challenges on the journey to clean and simple.Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-65663118164547532682015-12-29T15:56:00.001-05:002015-12-29T15:56:54.924-05:00Back to the BasicsSadly, I have all but abandoned my blogs; however, due to an unforeseen break in my employment, I am back to the writing board. I have been teaching high school for the past seven years, and while that certainly added lots of awesome stories to my repertoire, I did not have much time for writing. Stay tuned as I attempt to return to my first love.Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-7089294820166992752009-02-14T21:11:00.002-05:002009-02-14T21:12:23.195-05:00Happy Valentines Day Theresa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYPtdUz3d7klwjKMvSEbj2SppxAc_e_I7lXjdTbOasF7zYFjxr-TLMLn4gXLekVCB9fRqzOxdYe8Sl8bfAdqGbE5-_-EgGfYSoPIErsJjYBLxLheytYJvBMKYvZX4hAXzRfQjItmS0S4/s1600-h/sweetheart_bouquet_largeview.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 278px; height: 310px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLYPtdUz3d7klwjKMvSEbj2SppxAc_e_I7lXjdTbOasF7zYFjxr-TLMLn4gXLekVCB9fRqzOxdYe8Sl8bfAdqGbE5-_-EgGfYSoPIErsJjYBLxLheytYJvBMKYvZX4hAXzRfQjItmS0S4/s400/sweetheart_bouquet_largeview.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302841161676605650" /></a><br />The way to my heart....Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-67687417227350180602009-02-14T21:10:00.001-05:002009-02-14T21:15:22.456-05:00Happy Valentines Day Nick<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYF7WC1q8aOgOAL2c0zu8toMdiIY3hpcMNea-whfFY6s8jTJoDticqR5bkydJoPDzKlB-vID_S5D8_cMiW5RljCEYMYcprFAl_Gv9SDSePFw4_k_PNheuG9M0yLm55BFj7b7EvXAzT7c/s1600-h/surveyor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYF7WC1q8aOgOAL2c0zu8toMdiIY3hpcMNea-whfFY6s8jTJoDticqR5bkydJoPDzKlB-vID_S5D8_cMiW5RljCEYMYcprFAl_Gv9SDSePFw4_k_PNheuG9M0yLm55BFj7b7EvXAzT7c/s400/surveyor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302842007263749826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSE9yuiX2hYFXYCxa9b3GssoJ1OosjtbYG8mqxWsqgyU8tIKpkXRLWXKXCFT5uIWsYwPMDBwSTnzaF2iomIEVvzB89HFIcggsmFw3BNWJE-YSTcNTWcomPKHRuodYZftTbFBkU0yVtN1Q/s1600-h/SurveyorSportExtsmall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSE9yuiX2hYFXYCxa9b3GssoJ1OosjtbYG8mqxWsqgyU8tIKpkXRLWXKXCFT5uIWsYwPMDBwSTnzaF2iomIEVvzB89HFIcggsmFw3BNWJE-YSTcNTWcomPKHRuodYZftTbFBkU0yVtN1Q/s400/SurveyorSportExtsmall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302840915369279458" /></a><br />The way to Nick's heart.....Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-49752300224819863952009-01-30T20:33:00.001-05:002009-01-30T20:34:23.601-05:00Washing ProblemsWould you believe that the "mother board" on my washer is bad??? I will be without my washing machine until February 10th............not good.Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-36188985902848216342009-01-20T13:40:00.003-05:002009-01-20T13:46:07.673-05:00New Washer and Dryer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxkY5txtES7INH4z9MQEiIppTwKRmdngb4-4D9yXxwHVHNmS7j59G1Cgir0Ny7gOzWA36McZXfDCTzZWM71xCysPz-mxL5c1cjzRzcgrnuiZMAEBjZEnlCpn1sGDVqsMM1MCrnsjorL0/s1600-h/Winter+2009-003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293449032730028338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxkY5txtES7INH4z9MQEiIppTwKRmdngb4-4D9yXxwHVHNmS7j59G1Cgir0Ny7gOzWA36McZXfDCTzZWM71xCysPz-mxL5c1cjzRzcgrnuiZMAEBjZEnlCpn1sGDVqsMM1MCrnsjorL0/s400/Winter+2009-003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj05y2H4NBLobD02uUHzksibjodTeBI8GMBqmmqZcufVHAgd11P2k1LCmPhbpAYUAK764yVVT9yPKgqAan91przd70Ziq1HgJ1O4BbuCn-qcirWQrI_g00EV8_GMlGBr8x0Xo3Et5rHw/s1600-h/Winter+2009-006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293449023053667346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj05y2H4NBLobD02uUHzksibjodTeBI8GMBqmmqZcufVHAgd11P2k1LCmPhbpAYUAK764yVVT9yPKgqAan91przd70Ziq1HgJ1O4BbuCn-qcirWQrI_g00EV8_GMlGBr8x0Xo3Et5rHw/s400/Winter+2009-006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTURvvC8iAkkFl65fWvafEbfiG88rdmBSuxxwj60wvD1zuUC-s7dD8uSft09yjugHB10-r4gGuDsV7j5GtOjPwLxJVcobpOqSndvGiVdvZ8M3j_o_4ICv5X1cqTnwT3LmjQC1ASNbQkwk/s1600-h/Winter+2009-007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293449020874730722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTURvvC8iAkkFl65fWvafEbfiG88rdmBSuxxwj60wvD1zuUC-s7dD8uSft09yjugHB10-r4gGuDsV7j5GtOjPwLxJVcobpOqSndvGiVdvZ8M3j_o_4ICv5X1cqTnwT3LmjQC1ASNbQkwk/s400/Winter+2009-007.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Yeah! I finally made it into the 21st century with my new washer and dryer. I sure am going to miss that loud screeching noise my old dryer made!</div></div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-29845721059649834512009-01-15T09:20:00.002-05:002009-01-15T09:25:26.300-05:00Born Blonde<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyX3dkclwG3GZbRIyaczC4QtB9-OviyPH_b3xa670OsMXFPXvQB7l0qpoEIWhF6G4jcH3O7c0W1e0M5J78zXbZKcHsHtD9bKJzBagdo9gfZVhZLshxsNRQLtFwU1ymZYhHk4a8WOaO7k/s1600-h/1-15-2009+9%3B18%3B53+AM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291526018716743538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 397px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyX3dkclwG3GZbRIyaczC4QtB9-OviyPH_b3xa670OsMXFPXvQB7l0qpoEIWhF6G4jcH3O7c0W1e0M5J78zXbZKcHsHtD9bKJzBagdo9gfZVhZLshxsNRQLtFwU1ymZYhHk4a8WOaO7k/s400/1-15-2009+9%3B18%3B53+AM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKUGV9cXiR8b1l_8_J48IfjOh10Nfw6WRo73H9pYkiJqZSCFMCMNHYKAcIoiJAphRxJBvGtxV0tvtoETkEQsCKpYkRGtB5T2C0aHhnd4zhH5lNsA4Rl4OSkLtfFGNYR2oEO0yzJvq9RU/s1600-h/1-15-2009+9%3B19%3B44+AM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291526016706004194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjKUGV9cXiR8b1l_8_J48IfjOh10Nfw6WRo73H9pYkiJqZSCFMCMNHYKAcIoiJAphRxJBvGtxV0tvtoETkEQsCKpYkRGtB5T2C0aHhnd4zhH5lNsA4Rl4OSkLtfFGNYR2oEO0yzJvq9RU/s400/1-15-2009+9%3B19%3B44+AM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Told you I was blonde. (and apparently a stripper, where were my clothes?!)</div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-48356886949933528122009-01-13T11:49:00.001-05:002009-01-13T13:33:22.273-05:00Servants in Training<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP1O6pp12Sp69Wxb3wUDR7pu5rEAYVGBh7HOMy9rWmBWs9g6rNlJVqPRtRhR_rKKbPUdOkK-XcX9hcUkps7lpdz7cfvo-_tFanJdIa13QPRIIG2DoyzatIWuuG85Q239C2oNhCgQAUjs/s1600-h/1-13-2009+1%3B30%3B37+PM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290848187125199842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJP1O6pp12Sp69Wxb3wUDR7pu5rEAYVGBh7HOMy9rWmBWs9g6rNlJVqPRtRhR_rKKbPUdOkK-XcX9hcUkps7lpdz7cfvo-_tFanJdIa13QPRIIG2DoyzatIWuuG85Q239C2oNhCgQAUjs/s400/1-13-2009+1%3B30%3B37+PM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7H60uiuzznm517EtSYIh5NN-rJBXEyS81UiLAn8rku7AE4L4KWtftcxgY5hnk2GtMcM6Tj-66wPeAoow1brrA1pk39XdKB-zhenaFkI1ZSD1bw8i60ueTql3Uv8MJI7ORqAzLXxpsmU/s1600-h/1-13-2009+1%3B30%3B20+PM.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290848181667569186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 315px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR7H60uiuzznm517EtSYIh5NN-rJBXEyS81UiLAn8rku7AE4L4KWtftcxgY5hnk2GtMcM6Tj-66wPeAoow1brrA1pk39XdKB-zhenaFkI1ZSD1bw8i60ueTql3Uv8MJI7ORqAzLXxpsmU/s400/1-13-2009+1%3B30%3B20+PM.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">T<span style="font-family:verdana;">here is a place, off the beaten path, across the street from the Forest Theatre in Chapel Hill. The driveway and parking lot are dirt and gravel. The lawn bears signs of touch football games, volleyball matches, and sunbathers. The landscaping is casual and natural. The house sits off the main street, back in the trees with a dirt pathway to its rocker filled porch and wide front door that is rarely locked and often times stands open to the constant stream of visitors. This place is the meeting house of the Baptist Student Union of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. We merely call it the “Battle House” which is some reference to its historical significance, but that escapes me now, after all these years. When I first entered this house in the fall of 1978, the furniture and décor did not seem so odd, but now as I tenderly linger over my photographs, I laugh at the garishness of orange carpet and rust armless chairs and couches. And, please someone tell me, what was the deal with those coffee tables?! No matter the design, this house became my home, and the people that gathered there became my family.<br /><br />My first eighteen years were spent under the cloud of an unpredictable alcoholic. My carefully guarded life did not afford many friends or social activities. Once I became a driver, I was able to venture out to become active in a Baptist church. When I came to Chapel Hill, I was naturally drawn to the Baptist Student Union (BSU). We came together on Thursday nights for corporate worship, but the Battle House was almost always open for studying, sleeping, eating, or just hanging out. Bob Phillips and Joe Clontz were the official campus ministers, but mostly, we were peer led. I remember playing the guitar in our “folk team”. I think I knew about three cords, but I was encouraged to “jump on in”. I can still see Joe with his big bass standing in our midst. The lessons learned here were not written down or studied, they were lived. We practiced leading in committees, we cooked and served meals, we fasted for world hunger, we prayed and sang and danced our way to loving each other and loving Jesus. These lessons brought us to where we are now. I shouldn’t be surprised at what most of us became: teachers, ministers, nurses, doctors. We became caregivers of minds, bodies, and spirits. We learned this at the foot of the master, the Jesus that we saw in each other. This season of nurturing prepared us for living a life of servitude and sacrifice. The value of these lessons cannot be measured on this side of heaven.<br /><br />Recently, much to the shock of my younger family members and students, I have become a member of face book. (“Aunt Theresa is on face book?”) What started out as a mere curiosity has become a life line to friends from BSU. Hours have passed unnoticed while viewing photo after photo. And of course, I have to comment on all those clothes and hair dos! I can’t wait to get my own photos posted for everyone to see.<br /><br />I love my life. Sure, I’ve had my share of disappointments and struggles, but those trials have shaped me into who I am today. “I give myself to the Potter’s Hand,” to quote a popular song. Remembering the journey so far strengthens me for the journey ahead. Thank you to all my friends that have walked with me along the way. If we never see each other again, we’ll meet in heaven. Until then, there’s always face book!<br /><br /><em><strong>I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:3-6</strong></em></span></div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-87519645067132620472008-12-13T15:35:00.000-05:002008-12-13T15:38:44.110-05:00Laid Back<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I told you I was getting more mellow as I aged, just like cheese ;-0! Anyway, I didn't panic today when my husband took the wet/dry vac up the stairs to the bathroom where he was trying to stop a leak. I didn't even ask why my toilet still doesn't work....I think we're just going to Lowe's for an upgrade....see how calm I am. Now, how many milligrams was that?</span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-49884676410099696532008-12-11T14:29:00.000-05:002008-12-15T15:23:09.793-05:00Where did those auburn highlights come from?<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am having a hair crisis. You know how you have a picture of yourself in your mind? In my mind I was blonde, then dirty blonde, then light brown with blonde highlights. (If I ever get my old pictures scanned, I can show you the blonde part, oh yeah.) So, as I have aged, ahem, my hair has gotten darker, and now that I am probably 30% gray, very mousey. I don't like mousey. I would like to be Paula Deen gray. Right now. A couple of months ago we had to have our picture taken for our new church directory. I wanted my hair colored, but didn't have $100 to blow, so I went to Ulta and picked out a DIY color kit. Everything went fine, the picture was fine, but I noticed that in a certain light I had auburn highlights that I couldn't see in my bathroom mirror. This irritated me greatly, no offense to anyone with red hair, I just didn't have or want red hair......then, you know how it is when you think you know yourself and then wham! Outta the blue! The last time I was at my mother's house I was looking at our senior pictures on the wall when I notice.....you guessed it, auburn highlights in my eighteen year old hair that had never been colored..........darn, I do have red hair.</span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-56624887433668375292008-12-10T12:13:00.001-05:002009-01-13T11:56:48.312-05:00Holiday Garland Carolina Style<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvef2DdNSLmfmA8dcITE_aNNXjdtc9b9lzhMeh5HVKG9CUpie8WRNTp-mg_Izh4r03Nb76doQJOdmIL7yJOOQj-CerIvH11de4i_lL0rac8indgqyAT3ua-oxb3X-Ye_HSUzaRGm9b3g/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-21.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212789345397394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvef2DdNSLmfmA8dcITE_aNNXjdtc9b9lzhMeh5HVKG9CUpie8WRNTp-mg_Izh4r03Nb76doQJOdmIL7yJOOQj-CerIvH11de4i_lL0rac8indgqyAT3ua-oxb3X-Ye_HSUzaRGm9b3g/s400/Christmas+2008-21.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGza-g76qHSPqnt06LmmlV-JGo9gEXI7jcP6H5UsA66uFvMZDjx4wPWfO-cKtL_rddUxdiTPbvOlfJGG7xczjMsaFEWT_D0ll1exhmBgqYcd4mYzPT6KnZ4LBMh9FdqiI9-JktBWEvyaI/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-20.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212298348164418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGza-g76qHSPqnt06LmmlV-JGo9gEXI7jcP6H5UsA66uFvMZDjx4wPWfO-cKtL_rddUxdiTPbvOlfJGG7xczjMsaFEWT_D0ll1exhmBgqYcd4mYzPT6KnZ4LBMh9FdqiI9-JktBWEvyaI/s400/Christmas+2008-20.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2th4HzNawYvLCEKQ_2UF16f00cHKSwS0y4B4ulxyRkZNeInDto5sSGj4vYtAK6r9QKt-8fEmYwsDfDO8DWHwTIBfpAxoZN3qsyMFISJnQ6IoOk_EpVfvaGfuLwrukHi0faxg4I0H3tT8/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-04.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212287997452450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2th4HzNawYvLCEKQ_2UF16f00cHKSwS0y4B4ulxyRkZNeInDto5sSGj4vYtAK6r9QKt-8fEmYwsDfDO8DWHwTIBfpAxoZN3qsyMFISJnQ6IoOk_EpVfvaGfuLwrukHi0faxg4I0H3tT8/s400/Christmas+2008-04.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherkA2tZmZjTioed-bwjGsedWFnS86Nw8p36aFuEFagPFqeVUF-IBEuLbOnanBhjZGZKigzCnGN_qd0xrXWNKTE2GxLIQrCJSnhdOJBBVplCCIo-eVHBOrKbjzI6lVSJnRGjJF7TxzGbQ/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-23.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212283575764690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherkA2tZmZjTioed-bwjGsedWFnS86Nw8p36aFuEFagPFqeVUF-IBEuLbOnanBhjZGZKigzCnGN_qd0xrXWNKTE2GxLIQrCJSnhdOJBBVplCCIo-eVHBOrKbjzI6lVSJnRGjJF7TxzGbQ/s400/Christmas+2008-23.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81AtnrFA25VkpSQPIVfze7LEdjIuunLRdJalkrTU_7cCvNRH5QKxrDlxgGsFpvii6AbGVAJwu77QT8Uf-MOaBnTX9KDI7c5Pxp1yygMXnOc0t1CxVsAxloe8TjLkL-ysYKNB_Cku79Co/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-19.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212276825736914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81AtnrFA25VkpSQPIVfze7LEdjIuunLRdJalkrTU_7cCvNRH5QKxrDlxgGsFpvii6AbGVAJwu77QT8Uf-MOaBnTX9KDI7c5Pxp1yygMXnOc0t1CxVsAxloe8TjLkL-ysYKNB_Cku79Co/s400/Christmas+2008-19.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoKlforQXoLa5tqd_Cf0C0KQgcN4BX15bDmrfmnd0imEKgXOImq05lKFBqaitji8mKITwWKpKw-RDub6YPJldx8N6c0MUIEmUWHnIlu8fhR9QT-Cbt6SqX_Geu0Yxomf0sfUpFCBHT0A8/s1600-h/Christmas+2008-18.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278212268402414146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoKlforQXoLa5tqd_Cf0C0KQgcN4BX15bDmrfmnd0imEKgXOImq05lKFBqaitji8mKITwWKpKw-RDub6YPJldx8N6c0MUIEmUWHnIlu8fhR9QT-Cbt6SqX_Geu0Yxomf0sfUpFCBHT0A8/s400/Christmas+2008-18.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Holiday Garland Carolina Style<br /><br />This was such a fun project. I wouldn’t have thought of this without the inspiration of the “Nester”. Thanks so much for hosting this “Show us your garland” day!<br /><br />I used four strand of cheapo garland from Michaels for $1.99 each, and one full strand of grapevine that I already had. The center angel is actually a tree topper from Southern Living at Home (previous life).<br /><br />I also added magnolia leaves and pine cones from my yard and fresh sprigs of sage and rosemary from my herb pots. I love birdhouses so had to have one on the mantel with some ornamental balls and feathers.<br /><br />I filled this hurricane from Crate and Barrel with copper, gold, and silver ornaments to pick up the colors in my ribbon.<br /><br />I followed the Nester’s advice and kept adding until I could barely fit another thing. I used every dried thing I had on hand. The last touch was a perfectly shaped seashell.<br /><br />And that’s my garland, Carolina style.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-33874813400148152762008-12-04T23:54:00.000-05:002008-12-04T23:55:54.494-05:00Holiday Garland<span style="font-family:verdana;">Check back on Wednesday, I should have pictures of the garland I am making for my mantle.</span>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-38677837000480529092008-12-03T10:16:00.001-05:002008-12-08T14:48:43.965-05:00God's Vessel<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I stood at the edge of the ocean today. Whenever I need reminding of God’s awesome power and majesty, my mind goes there. Water everywhere. Not just any water, but an animated, breathing sea that sustains a multitude of life forms. A seemingly uncontrollable, immeasurable profusion of water. How can this be? How do those pulsing, pounding waves stay just beyond the mound of dunes? Sometimes God lifts His hands and unleashes the water and it races forth, spilling out of its well defined boundaries causing roads to crumble and dunes to fall. And we’re always surprised at this daring display of power. Why is that?<br /><br />The Holy Spirit is as endless and powerful as the ocean. We can fill ourselves again and again, and yet the supply never diminishes. We are the vessels for this mighty spirit. Every Sunday at our church, before we go our separate paths, we recite our commitment, “I will be vessel for living God’s purpose….”<br /><br />God can fill any sized vessel, yet I bring a thimble, a tea cup, or if I’m feeling especially holy, a bucket. Whatever I bring, He fills it with His spirit like water overflowing and pouring down the sides. Why do I limit the spirit of God within me? Because I am small. I stand by the ocean and think I am insignificant, yet God’s power exceeds the size of the ocean and if I allow Him, His purposes, great and small, will be completed through me.<br /><br /><em><strong>2 Corinthians 4:7 (New American Standard Bible)<br />7But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves;</strong></em></span><em><strong> </strong></em></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-19924828121479272912008-11-27T17:25:00.000-05:002008-12-01T19:03:23.995-05:00Thanksgiving<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjimdsYl0SncXdmTyTVQFnw5Sd6cfo2wXFd521bucJQWfmxbGb4sv_jzBYlkKf-uYOg-Bqx0YnnQF6u7E3D30Lp0pJ2-1Qd7MxLONDScBujrbrTUQGBFaN_Z5k8yDCTI6vfsARQL8LBc/s1600-h/Thanksgiving+2008-17.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274976575682319490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjimdsYl0SncXdmTyTVQFnw5Sd6cfo2wXFd521bucJQWfmxbGb4sv_jzBYlkKf-uYOg-Bqx0YnnQF6u7E3D30Lp0pJ2-1Qd7MxLONDScBujrbrTUQGBFaN_Z5k8yDCTI6vfsARQL8LBc/s320/Thanksgiving+2008-17.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It is hard to believe that this year is almost over. We've had our dinner, ham, turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and turtle cheesecake....then we took a little walk through the cemetery. I couldn't believe how many other people were there! I put some poinsettias on my father's grave as well as Nick's grandmother's grave. I don't always remember, but this should be a good day for honoring those that gave us life. </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">This year my "thankful" list consists of simple things:</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">not meeting my deductible on my health insurance</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">my part time job</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">having too much to eat</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">the price of gas this week</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">else's</span> house to visit on Thanksgiving</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Nick, as always</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">God's eternal presence</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As we enter the season of advent, take care to be mindful of the Christ child. The next couple of weeks are going to be crazy busy, take time to pray and reflect on the greatest gift of all!</span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">God bless.</span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-3142195565013053522008-11-14T14:55:00.000-05:002008-11-14T14:58:12.597-05:00The year of living FRUGALLY<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This has been a long, tiring week. Let’s just say I was more than a little disappointed by Tuesday’s election results, and that’s all I’m going to say about that. Regardless of the winner, I had started a more serious quest for work. Right now I am working as a substitute teacher at our Christian school. I usually work 2-3 days a week, but this week I filled in all week for the same teacher. Since I haven’t worked full time in a year, I am exhausted! Unfortunately with the uncertainty of our economy I hope to be working full time again soon. I am also exploring methods to simplify our lifestyle.<br /><br />The largest drain on our budget is, of course, housing. Other than utilities, little can be done to reduce this amount. We have two auto loans, one large; one small, but cutting back to one car would only work if I find a job with a set schedule. Other expenditures are fairly inflexible: insurance, taxes, etc., so I’m looking at food since we don’t spent a lot on clothes, and our only entertainment is cable/internet and Netflix. Food is huge and complex. First of all, we love to eat out, and with our often hectic schedule, this is my biggest temptation. Secondly, we both need to lose weight. Choosing healthy, low fat, low carb, yet economical food takes time, education, and diligence. Today, I don’t feel up to the challenge.<br /><br />Sometimes I would like to return to our previous house just for the lower mortgage payment, but then I remember why we moved. When we got married we bought a house in a good neighborhood. As time passed, more and more of our neighbors moved away and the houses became rental property. No offense to people who rent, but few renters or landlords maintain property as well as owners who live in their houses. We decided to sell and upgrade. Our mortgage payment increased almost fifty per cent; however, we made the right decision because sadly, our old neighborhood looks run down and unkempt. Aside from living on several acres out in the country, everyone must deal with the dynamics of a neighborhood. Since I am not inclined to be a country girl, we must suffer with the mortgage we have.<br /><br />And so, I continue my quest for a job, coupons, and bargains….remembering that God has always been faithful to provide us with all our needs…..and more.</span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-28290181934562567332008-11-08T16:49:00.000-05:002008-11-08T16:50:45.233-05:00HELPSometimes I just love my life. I worked a full week this week so today I am doing laundry and cleaning. I am in the livingroom vacuuming while my cat is in the dining room throwing up on the rug!Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-63232997061646254202008-10-24T21:22:00.001-04:002009-11-25T15:19:31.634-05:00Lost Shoes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6FiPJOjCiUu5MSdGbISzmnQwxV_5np5Tth16fLPzNRUcmge9wSzhtjHH-PJV0dfeTPOymCX87lgjfVtHDdd-t6kWJv6owtucdFPSIfcpogjZIVzLzEXapFtYQ5RAzEiOK3eAvy5rk14/s1600-h/jessica_bio.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270429395630300322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 107px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6FiPJOjCiUu5MSdGbISzmnQwxV_5np5Tth16fLPzNRUcmge9wSzhtjHH-PJV0dfeTPOymCX87lgjfVtHDdd-t6kWJv6owtucdFPSIfcpogjZIVzLzEXapFtYQ5RAzEiOK3eAvy5rk14/s320/jessica_bio.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The bright summer sun bounced off of the twisted metal and shattered glass of the Chevy Blazer. Slivers of glass and blood covered the seat and my hand reached out to measure the distance between the crushed roof and the headrest where Jessica last sat. I quickly turned my face away from the wreckage and walked back toward my own car, seeking refuge for my tearing eyes and heavy heart as my brother searched in vain for the favorite pair of shoes that were lost somewhere during the confusion of rescue workers and helicopter rides to Chapel Hill. Several months would pass before I would understand the significance of that day and I could relinquish my guilt.<br /><br />I had nothing to do with this accident. I was safe, many miles away in my home, when my sixteen year old niece was returning to a church camp with several other counselors and would roll her SUV over multiple times, breaking her neck and arm. Her best friend was thrown from the backseat and died instantly in the middle of the dark country road, a mere half mile from the turn off to the camp. Jessica was airlifted to NC Memorial Hospital in Chapel Hill and would have neurosurgery within the next twenty four hours. The other counselors in the car were bruised and battered, but no one had injuries as severe as hers. We all sat in a huddle in the waiting room, in shock and disbelief, until we received the news that she would fully recover with no disabilities. Even though the impact of the collision had snapped her vertebrae, the break was such that no motor skills were damaged. She would have a metal plate and pins in her neck and a scar that would be covered by her long <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blonde</span> hair. The relief we felt was overshadowed by the fact that someone would have to tell her about Ricky’s death.<br /><br />I have always considered myself a spiritual person. Even before I truly came to know Jesus, I knew Him and sensed a purpose for my life. My life is not always orderly. Yes, there are some things that I can be compulsive about, but in other ways, I am a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl. Mentally, I tend to be all over the place, so I don’t really have a structured prayer life. Of course, I pray. Some days I feel like every thought is a prayer, and I am a strong advocate of prayer; I understand its power. Back in 2001, our bible study was ending at the end of April and our group wanted to keep meeting until the end of May. Our leader decided to help us put together prayer journals. She was so organized in her prayer life. Every day she prayed for a different set of needs . We put together our journals in class, of course, making them “pretty”, and she gave us detailed instructions as to how to go about organizing our own prayer life. I really enjoyed this process. I listed every significant person in my life and my desires for them or the areas in which I felt they needed prayer. My niece Jessica had just gotten her license. She was such a good kid. (still is, but now she’s a woman, yes that’s me cringing) Smart, beautiful on the inside and outside, kind hearted, generous, sorry, I’m gushing. Anyway, I listed safety on the highway, wisdom with friends, career selection, future husband, everything I could think of for Jessica. I truly began praying everyday for these needs, but as is my random nature, I abandoned that rigidity soon after I started.<br /><br />When I got the call about Jessica’s accident. I was ravaged by guilt. I should have prayed every day. How could I have left those prayers for her dangling out in the air? Where was my spiritual discipline? So many things go through your mind when you are burdened with grief and fear of the unknown. The trip from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Fayetteville</span> to Chapel Hill was heavy with remorse. I do not have children, my nieces and nephews are the closest I will ever come to being a parent, but that day, I understood the anguish that a mother must feel when her child is in pain. I wanted to bear that pain, both the physical and the emotional pain, for her. I wanted to spare her this baggage I knew she would carry for the rest of her life. God worked many miracles during that horrible time, some where physical, some spiritual. The staff and members of White Plains Methodist Church in Cary poured their love out like drink offering to Jessica and her family. My brother attended Ricky’s funeral on Jessica’s behalf and heard Ricky’s father profess Ricky’s great love for Christ and his best friend Jessica. He spoke of forgiveness and healing and celebrated the fact that on the last day of his life Ricky spent it in the presence of good friends eating pizza and having fun, and that as a father he was thankful that he knew Ricky was in heaven. What a blessing that my brother who rarely attends church could see the love of Christ in action.<br /><br />I believe that God ordered my steps the day I saw the wreckage. My brother was left at the hospital without a car and I just happened to be there. Jessica wanted her dad to look for her favorite, worn in just right, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Birkenstocks</span>. I drove him to the garage where the car was parked. I saw the crushed frame and the busted glass where Jessica was sitting. I also saw God’s hand protecting her, holding her back firm against the headrest, allowing the break in her neck in just the right place, shielding her young beautiful face from the flying glass. He was there with her protecting her just as I had prayed. Several months would pass before I could come to terms with Jessica’s accident. The Lord reminded me that my trials shaped me and Jessica’s trials will shape her into the courageous Christian woman that He wants her to be. You, see, Jessica loves Christ and after all, He is in control.<br /><br />I saw a tee shirt this summer that I really loved. It said,<br />“Scars are just tattoos with better stories.”<br /><br />We all have scars, some are physical, but they all remind us that God is our Jehovah <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Raah</span>, our shepherd and protector.<br /><br /><em><strong>Proverbs 18:10<br />The name of the Lord is a strong tower. The righteous run to it and are safe.</strong></em></span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-74083844406250952692008-10-24T17:10:00.000-04:002008-10-24T17:12:50.096-04:00CocooningRight now I am basking in the luxury of a lazy, rainy afternoon. Every living thing except for me is slumbering somewhere in the house so I can cruise the 'net without guilt. I have pizza dough rising in the oven for supper and the new Indiana Jones movie from Netflix ready to go for later this evening. MMMMMMMMMM life is good.Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-82964603077936941282008-10-14T14:35:00.000-04:002008-10-18T12:49:53.035-04:00Courtship<div align="justify">Nick and I have a unique story. We met in the 11th grade in French III class. I was Colette and he was Jean Paul. We became fast friends and spent many hours together. I had no idea that his feelings were more than platonic. I went on my way, being infatuated and obsessed with a couple of different guys. Right before we were to part for our senior year of college, he abruptly dropped me. My calls went unanswered and any plans we had made were ignored. Bewildered and angry, I returned to Chapel Hill as a <em>persona non grata</em> in search of a new touchstone. We would not exchange more than a few forced cordial words for twelve years. I remained angry for many of those years. It was an anger born of pain and ignorance. Eventually, I stopped wondering. One evening in May of 1993, the phone rang at my brother’s house (where I just happened to be living at the time) and Nick was on the line. In my excitement to catch up with my old friend, I had forgotten that I wasn’t speaking to him. He had tracked me down after all those years in what could only be explained as God’s hand moving in our lives. We began regular phone conversations and he finally revealed the real reason for our separation, his total and complete love for me which he feared revealing. He decided he could no longer be my friend, yet the potential consequences of telling me his feelings kept him silent. I hate to admit it, but he probably did the right thing. At the time, my unnatural obsession with a guy who could care less about me dictated my alliances. I believe God had great work for Nick to do, and He needed me out of the way. The maturity required of a minister’s wife danced just out of my reach. When I was ready to accept the task, God brought us together. The shock from Nick’s congregation was palpable. He had been at this church for six years and he was the beloved single pastor who they protected as their own child. “Who is this woman? Where did she come from? How long has he known her?” were some of the most obvious questions. Only a few of Nick’s closest friends knew the whole story. The truth overwhelmed me; I can only imagine the surprise to everyone else! After our first reunion, I thought I had blown it. I went to Lynchburg for the weekend. Friday afternoon we went to a church softball game. Before we left Nick’s house we had fixed drinks for ourselves because the field had no concession stand. We had to cross an open field to get to the ball game. I am walking along and I step in a hole. I fall on my knees and my drink which must have been at least 32 ounces, flies out of my hand and pours over my head. My knee is bleeding and my long curly hair is dripping with sticky Mountain Dew. I am trying to get myself together when I notice the look of horror on Nick’s face. When I fell, I exclaimed, “Oh s%*@!” When he finally regained his composure, he helps me up and we proceed to the bleachers, in silence. The rest of the weekend was uneventful. After I left, Nick told some of his friends that he was afraid I had changed too much. We continued to talk on the phone and then started to visit more often and then decided to get married. His friend asked him about his impression after that first weekend and Nick told her, “She’s my diamond in the rough.” Nick loves to tell me that when I get too rowdy. No one could have been a better match for me. We are like two sides of the same seashell, opposite, yet the same.<br /><br />He is trusting and loving; I am skeptical and reticent.<br />He is optimistic and sunny; I am negative and moody.<br />He is generous and forgiving; I am frugal and suspicious.<br />He is laid back and meandering; I am intense and directed.<br />He is tactful; I am blunt.<br /><br />Yet God blends our personalities in perfect balance. Together our weaknesses become strengths. Who would have guessed what could come after,<br />“Bonjour, je m’appelle Collette.”</div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-26629486727666770772008-09-15T15:41:00.000-04:002008-09-15T15:50:29.080-04:00Red Cross Blood Drive<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWAMZrsuZ9pfqnQ07V6bHQeSp-U5rE4P8u3UcvEZlac3LY3P3FI5b9zfOqWSxLXKzRtIDwJkFwHpwIU05IB3mpoBQQqir0_GhOfvzjoX_sDdCR8b8K0dPKwuwYnAG6W5pP43SVg8pv9A/s1600-h/september-166.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246337585027826258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWAMZrsuZ9pfqnQ07V6bHQeSp-U5rE4P8u3UcvEZlac3LY3P3FI5b9zfOqWSxLXKzRtIDwJkFwHpwIU05IB3mpoBQQqir0_GhOfvzjoX_sDdCR8b8K0dPKwuwYnAG6W5pP43SVg8pv9A/s400/september-166.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD3-ZpxYtQwBpYthQsQIamylcuFeCv5cuJLUI5v0VO-Z8eDpIl9fCpEtWfQIXKyzfayhtMFbyw1F20v2ebMPJdeu2C1GU36eTaQQjk681NeYp9Ih-n3FKsa7KqSc-kiQ81wVxSyQhZ_4/s1600-h/september-171.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246337332451488786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCD3-ZpxYtQwBpYthQsQIamylcuFeCv5cuJLUI5v0VO-Z8eDpIl9fCpEtWfQIXKyzfayhtMFbyw1F20v2ebMPJdeu2C1GU36eTaQQjk681NeYp9Ih-n3FKsa7KqSc-kiQ81wVxSyQhZ_4/s400/september-171.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXTxmAbXMtdxFlzTpM1VR47qSnfeMaf2LXFr2oHL50I_SxS44CVRD9mH7IgOfBbi-1QsON-KJ6FDi2oJPapwHWZ8DcoUR-5QdHbNzLPHjh-x1yEQ9ZJ8TwDJm8KJkmFhkXiqUIcycDg/s1600-h/september-162.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246337062895707298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXTxmAbXMtdxFlzTpM1VR47qSnfeMaf2LXFr2oHL50I_SxS44CVRD9mH7IgOfBbi-1QsON-KJ6FDi2oJPapwHWZ8DcoUR-5QdHbNzLPHjh-x1yEQ9ZJ8TwDJm8KJkmFhkXiqUIcycDg/s400/september-162.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZkTHfBK0vNoZqOF88trClPy5kB4H8YkpwyrnU5MgEyusPlq9-9_1tII2Wmk5l9UkIUcr4VOEdiqOOzCmHmeH0voNFWXwKCdEPaogRmvnVH8_2kHAh7h31R0IbzNun9dohlouAaL6zBk/s1600-h/september-169.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246336774768807970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZkTHfBK0vNoZqOF88trClPy5kB4H8YkpwyrnU5MgEyusPlq9-9_1tII2Wmk5l9UkIUcr4VOEdiqOOzCmHmeH0voNFWXwKCdEPaogRmvnVH8_2kHAh7h31R0IbzNun9dohlouAaL6zBk/s400/september-169.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW4gPS_iJrJqa-wz5mWKc43OpywdUMU6XXeKYBuN-aEMbEttxtrXiOuISLTvXfLK2YfXl4ivQpGqxImoIHitWt8ttu5zBE6IrN9Xp-m6Wo09gweUMuc12ZGq-TWN5aB-3XOlUqxpHKpI/s1600-h/september-164.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246336490096572082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW4gPS_iJrJqa-wz5mWKc43OpywdUMU6XXeKYBuN-aEMbEttxtrXiOuISLTvXfLK2YfXl4ivQpGqxImoIHitWt8ttu5zBE6IrN9Xp-m6Wo09gweUMuc12ZGq-TWN5aB-3XOlUqxpHKpI/s400/september-164.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6VQ3n_lFpK0JkQnmD9wl3pT7kjPB1vPrvlDhiBbzLO-e5yEjtXcVwRf0eWNMZzIcv7ECSfsTc7bCJtt0Kx8MO0xI3J8Z9xCgaLh41-A9YvsIAGbRE7Bi2vShN7oCZSulefe81XMkGX4/s1600-h/september-165.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246336071833535762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF6VQ3n_lFpK0JkQnmD9wl3pT7kjPB1vPrvlDhiBbzLO-e5yEjtXcVwRf0eWNMZzIcv7ECSfsTc7bCJtt0Kx8MO0xI3J8Z9xCgaLh41-A9YvsIAGbRE7Bi2vShN7oCZSulefe81XMkGX4/s400/september-165.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thanks to everyone who participated.</span> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Unfortunately I was anemic and couldn't participate :-(.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-81953756180166876632008-09-15T14:55:00.001-04:002008-09-15T14:58:58.155-04:00Spoiled Rotten Girls<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7cZncW1gYR8dJcuaDatC_ZGXdsu5VXfGUxsxbE2Ybj4CqlvDIaA79JE5yAMaYjaUUWAbkvy8RS3LW-mLhDXZ7LMc2ClozjgboDBPuu3EFFO9XHxnioZlf79R0jaGHAUriVMk5ejKxVs/s1600-h/P1300048.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246324356117004322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7cZncW1gYR8dJcuaDatC_ZGXdsu5VXfGUxsxbE2Ybj4CqlvDIaA79JE5yAMaYjaUUWAbkvy8RS3LW-mLhDXZ7LMc2ClozjgboDBPuu3EFFO9XHxnioZlf79R0jaGHAUriVMk5ejKxVs/s400/P1300048.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Minnie and Jilly don't care if the house is clean, as long as Momma remembers where the dog treats are kept.</span><br /><div></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-51780132528322629412008-09-15T14:39:00.000-04:002008-09-15T14:55:32.003-04:00Someday my princess will come...I hope she's wearing a Molly Maid outfit!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The other day I spent several hours straightening my living room. How large is this room, you may ask. Not very large at all. First I looked over the room and decided to return all the orphan items to their proper homes. This was my first mistake. I have a habit of hanging my purse on the staircase rail. Here’s my pink elephant Vera, love that one, and my straw summer Brighton, oh, and this little black Vera I had just carried to a funeral. Why is this one here? I haven’t carried it in two months. I gather all my purses and carry them into the bedroom to put them away. Oh, wait a minute; I should put in a load of clothes before I start. What is in these purses, they’re so heavy. Maybe I should clean them out before I store them. I’d better make the bed so I have a smooth surface on which to work. I cleaned out all my purses and I found three dollars, a roll of quarters, fifteen pens, three tubes of hand cream, one Burt’s Bees lip balm, and a book of checks for an account I closed three years ago. Oh, the washer has stopped. Dump the clothes in the dryer and start another load. Back to the bedroom. I keep my Vera Bradley bags in a plastic bin in my closet. I put all of those back in and find a purse I‘d like to carry for a while, so I keep that one out. Then I start pulling down the Brighton storage boxes. One falls and hits me on the cheek. My face is bleeding, so I grab a tissue and sit down until it stops bleeding. While I’m waiting I read a couple of chapters in <em>Digital Fortress</em>. Back to the living room, but first I dump the clothes from the dryer onto the bed. I fold them and put them away after I finish putting away my purses. Then I go into the kitchen to help Nick make a rub for the tenderloin he’s grilling for supper. We decided to eat lunch. After lunch I look at the clutter in my living room. That’s when I decide I need to rest a while and read my email. This is my never-ending story…….</span></div>Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-322893827618735765.post-25451711121150332862008-09-14T19:33:00.000-04:002008-09-14T19:36:14.855-04:00Hot CarsToday someone was talking about a red Porsche and I said that Nick drove a Porsche before we got married. I said "He used to have hot cars, now he has a hot wife." Of course, I'm talking about flashes and not looks!Theresa Peele Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12320613849978674376noreply@blogger.com0