<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:34:22.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Papa Time</title><subtitle type='html'>Looking at life through a grandfather's lens. . .</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8579178920310356210</id><published>2008-09-24T02:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T02:32:08.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordy Wednesday</title><content type='html'>It's Wednesday, so I here I am. Nothing earth-shattering to report. No keen insights or words of wisdom to dispense to the masses. Just checking in with the blog community to let everyone know I'm still standing. I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;furious&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; over the thought that the economic meltdown on Wall Street is the cause of corporate greed. I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;saddened&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that the political commercials are getting so ugly. I am still very &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;thankful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for my new school. I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;frustrated&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that I can't spend more time with my grandchildren. I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;pleased&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; with the cool fall air that is coming. I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;curious&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (and just a little &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;worried&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;) about the outcome of the upcoming election. I am &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;relieved&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that my daughter Rachel, her husband Michal, and my grandchildren Noah and Chloe were spared from an auto accident yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;So that's my life. In so many words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8579178920310356210?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8579178920310356210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8579178920310356210' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8579178920310356210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8579178920310356210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/wordy-wednesday.html' title='Wordy Wednesday'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-2968548554882970697</id><published>2008-09-17T02:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T02:23:57.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!</title><content type='html'>Well, sort of.  Michal is finally coming home from his extensive diving training and will be looking for jobs from the States.  Noah has gone BERSERK in a good way in anticipation of seeing his father again.  In fact, as we were having "tent time" last night, Noah looked up at me and said, "Papa, you look just like Daddy."  For those of you who know what we both look like, you know there is no truth to this statement physically (you know, like Michal has hair, I don't).  I think what Noah was trying to say to me is that I remind him of his father or that I am filling that need in his life.  Either way, I think that this was a powerful statement for a three-year old to make.  Or maybe he is so excited about seeing Michal that any male near him would "look like" his father, just because he is focused on seeing him again.  It will be wonderful to see those two united again.  Not to mention how great it will be for Rachel.  And Chloe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-2968548554882970697?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/2968548554882970697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=2968548554882970697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2968548554882970697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2968548554882970697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/british-are-coming-british-are-coming.html' title='The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8107687819600984259</id><published>2008-09-10T02:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T02:19:58.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out With the Old....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SMeQxg2CjVI/AAAAAAAAAMY/GiTzNTtpMzw/s1600-h/shslogo1.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244319471400815954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SMeQxg2CjVI/AAAAAAAAAMY/GiTzNTtpMzw/s320/shslogo1.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to brag some more about my new school- Sanderson High School.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night we had an Open House. I was amazed at the number of parents who came and was even more amazed at how invested these parents are in their children's lives! Our school has a very dedicated school community that celebrates, encourages, supports, shows up for, funds, and inspires their students.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where does this comraderie originate? I have a feeling that it comes from the top. By the top, I am naturally referring to the leadership in our school. The principal at my new school is a true leader. She is not afraid to make tough decisions, but does so equitably. She is not afraid to confront, but does so approrpiately. She is willing to help, to listen, to guide. Every parent I have spoken to about her speaks her name with respect and kindness. So does the faculty, a RARITY in high schools, believe me. So I get to teach in a learning environment that not only fosters and allows learning, but &lt;em&gt;requires&lt;/em&gt; learning. There is no question in the students' minds as to what they need to be about at school. I find myself inspired to reach newer heights of teaching excellence there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to be part of the spirit of excellence that pervades my school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy New Year to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8107687819600984259?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8107687819600984259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8107687819600984259' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8107687819600984259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8107687819600984259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/out-with-old.html' title='Out With the Old....'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SMeQxg2CjVI/AAAAAAAAAMY/GiTzNTtpMzw/s72-c/shslogo1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8083536616471003887</id><published>2008-09-06T02:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T02:54:45.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Batten Down The Hatches</title><content type='html'>Since Hurricane Hannah decided to visit our great state, the entire family (except Michal, who is Aberdeen, Scotland) is here to ride the storm through together.  We had a giant sleep over last night.  My grandsons were ecstatic to spend time together.  Once I got home, they happily invited me to join them in their games of pirates  and Star Wars adventures, screaming with delight as we played together on my bed in our makeshift tents, proudly and loudly proclaiming "Only boys- no girls allowed!"  Amazingly, we got them calmed down long enough to feed them, bathe them, and put them to sleep. I got to spend time with my beautiful granddaughters, whose smiles still melt me every time I look at them!  We then settled in for a game of dueling laptops (Rachel vs. Christy vs. Kenney- I don't know who won) and our favorite Friday night TV shows, "Monk" and "Psyche".  All in all, we had a very pleasant evening together.  This morning, we'll have breakfast in several shifts and surely continue the pirates/Star War marathon. &lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't have it any other way.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8083536616471003887?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8083536616471003887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8083536616471003887' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8083536616471003887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8083536616471003887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/batten-down-hatches.html' title='Batten Down The Hatches'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-505195312291703787</id><published>2008-09-02T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T18:04:39.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 30th to Us!</title><content type='html'>Happy 30th Annivesary to a wonderful person who has made everything  good in my life possible.&lt;br /&gt;Happy 30th Anniversary to a wonderful person who knows more about love than anyone else I have ever known in my life.&lt;br /&gt;Happy 30th Annivesary to a wonderful person who has made my life so complete.&lt;br /&gt;We have traveled to Florida, Georgia, North &amp;amp; South Carolina, Virginia, Washington, DC, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Canada, London, Barcelona, Spain, and Salzburg, Austria together.&lt;br /&gt;We have faced destruction, loss, grief, poverty, and shock together,&lt;br /&gt;We have raised and married off two wonderful children together.&lt;br /&gt;We have welcomed four precious grandchildren into this world together.&lt;br /&gt;We are together.&lt;br /&gt;Happy 30th Anniversary, Janice!&lt;br /&gt;All my love to you forever,&lt;br /&gt;Kenny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-505195312291703787?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/505195312291703787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=505195312291703787' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/505195312291703787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/505195312291703787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/happy-30th-to-us.html' title='Happy 30th to Us!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-203555960030059567</id><published>2008-09-02T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T17:55:49.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Proud to be an American!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SL3eSoKIJsI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/TCTbmGEzwzQ/s1600-h/images[1].jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241589952928032450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="157" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SL3eSoKIJsI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/TCTbmGEzwzQ/s320/images%5B1%5D.jpg" width="117" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am actively listening to the latest media blitz about Sarah Palin, the Republican nominee for Vice -President. The liberal media is buzzing and swarming around her, trying to sling as much mud as they can about her unwed, 17 year-old teenage daughter who is expecting a child.  They are attempting to disgrace Sarah Palin by focusing on her daughter's personal choices.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let's look at the choices that the Palin family has made recently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, both Sarah and her husband chose to deliver and raise their latest child, who was diagnosed as having Down Syndrome while she was pregnant.  Sarah Palin chose life, even when doing so would clearly cause her family hardship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next, the Palin family chose life again when they embraced their daughter and her unborn child.  Again, they are living out what Governor Palin has said repeatedly that she believes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't see anything worth slinging mud over.  In fact, I see much to honor.  Having walked where she walks as a parent, I clearly know what she, her husband, her daughter, and other siblings are choosing.  And I know the pain that is involved in such a process.  I also know the utter joy that comes from grandchildren.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sarah has chosen well.  I am proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her daughter has chosen well.  I am proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am proud to be an American in a time when a woman as honorable as Sarah Palin can seriously seek one of the highest offices in the land.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am proud to be an American in a time when some of those seeking these lofty offices honor the sanctity of human life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am proud to be an American.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-203555960030059567?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/203555960030059567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=203555960030059567' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/203555960030059567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/203555960030059567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-proud-to-be-american.html' title='I am Proud to be an American!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SL3eSoKIJsI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/TCTbmGEzwzQ/s72-c/images%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8891549565130347102</id><published>2008-09-01T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T07:31:43.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have Returned!</title><content type='html'>I am embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;I have not blogged since...gulp...July 15. &lt;br /&gt;So here goes an honest attempt to get back into Blogland.&lt;br /&gt;If I am allowed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my defense, I have been crazy busy in August. I changed scool districts.  For those of you who are teachers, enough said.  You know exactly how exhausting and time-consuming that is! I got a wonderful opportunity to teach in the best school district in my state, so I jumped on the chance.  My new school has a great auditorium (a treat for Theater teachers), and a Booster Club that raises $, runs concessions at shows, handles tickets, and makes my life a dream come true!  I have very eager students who are really into Theater.  I have principals who actually care about rules and take care of business!  Pinch me...am I dreaming????  No wait- I AM awake!  I also have tremendous technical resources available to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am smiling a LOT these days....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I teach at a school that actually has a football team that wins games. &lt;br /&gt;(And I'm not just just talking about forfeits, either). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what that I have a long commute.  We will be moving closer to my new school this coming summer, so I can hold on for now.  I bought a new car that's great on gas and has XM satelittle radio, so I am all set.  I can listen to Fox news, Broadway show tunes, stand-up comedy, Big Band, 70s hits...the list goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to hear from others who will forgive my looooong blog absence.&lt;br /&gt;I hope to talk to you tomorrow, as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8891549565130347102?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8891549565130347102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8891549565130347102' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8891549565130347102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8891549565130347102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-have-returned.html' title='I Have Returned!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-3675933186493789490</id><published>2008-07-15T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T19:50:11.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise, Surprise, Surprise</title><content type='html'>It's been a few weeks since my daughter and her two children have moved in with us while her husband is training to become a deep sea diver. I must confess that I thought I had this grandparenting thing down pat. After all, I've been one now for four years and have felt pretty good about the job I thought I was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandson Noah has proved to be quite skillful at pointing out just how much I miss the mark. He has sized up my weak points quickly and efficiently, and attempts to use them (in his own sweet and very charming way) to his advantage when I am not aware. Fortunately, my daughter Rachel sees right through this and prevents him from capitalizing on my inconsistencies or weariness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also discovered that I just don't have the same level of tolerance for crying as I used to have. Chloe pointed that out to me last week. And I feel very, very badly about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One wonderful aspect of them living with us is that I can see first-hand just how incredibly competent Rachel is as a mother. She is light years ahead of where I was at her age. She reminds me so much of her mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another wonderful surprise is learning just how funny and intelligent Noah is. I enjoy his company tremendously and am amazed daily at his capacity to learn. And our little Chloe has one of the most engaging smiles I have ever seen in a baby. She smiles and laughs with all of her heart. And I melt every time she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am surprised at how well the children have adjusted to being moved across the ocean to live in a completely different world without their father present. I am painfully aware at what a poor substitute I am for Michal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not surprised at how well Rachel has done. She is a fighter and a survivor like her mother. And, like her mother, she is very gracious about having to survive and adjust. Her children's happiness and well-being have not skipped a beat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am surprised by the constant joys that come my way by having them all here. I get to make up for some of the time they were gone. I get to share relaxing cups of coffee with Rachel while we chat about the latest charming demonstration by Noah, the latest diving adventures of Michal, the newest trick by Chloe, or the latest surprising elimination from the many reality shows that I must admit make up some of my summer fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children are wonderful. They are full of surprises that we do not expect and are not always prepared to face. That is the wonder of children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-3675933186493789490?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/3675933186493789490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=3675933186493789490' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3675933186493789490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3675933186493789490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/07/surprise-surprise-surprise.html' title='Surprise, Surprise, Surprise'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-5426454048284374668</id><published>2008-07-03T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:35.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes....</title><content type='html'>I know it has been over a month since I have posted a blog entry. The month of June was a blur. In one month, my wife and I flew to London, Barcelona, Spain, Salzburg, Austria, back to London, and then finally back to North Carolina. Whew! I got tired just typing that. Our daughter, Rachel and her children have moved back to the States with us while Michal is in training to become a professional deep sea diver. My mind is spinning with the memories of the spectacular views of the Alps, the amazing and dazzling city of Barcelona, the beautiful shores of the Mediterranean Sea, the exciting and bustling West End of London, and the most INCREDIBLE sight of all: the beautiful, smiling and trusting faces of our grandchildren, Noah and Chloe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that they live in the same house with me after two years of being an ocean away is more than I can take. Knowing that they can spend time with their cousins Braydon and Makenna is so fulfilling. Noah and Braydon have already become inseperable. Spending time with Noah as we play space ship in our makeship tent , have "carpet time" to read books he selects, or race his coches (cars) means the world to me. Each minute with him is a gift beyond measure and description. Seeing my beautiful red-haired granddaughter beam at me with her beautiful blue eyes brings me to tears at times. Our house is alive again with the sounds of preschool joys and infant discoveries, with early morning breakfasts, summer runs through the water sprinkler to make "muddy puddles", special trips to the store to pick up special treats for obedient little boys, the sound of a lively seven-month old jumping vigorously in her exersaucer, screams of laughter during bath time as Poppa creates water falls over Noah, sweetly-voiced pleas to come upstairs to "play together" (how could anyone ever turn this down?), and so many more blessings. I have discovered just how wonderfully exhausting chasing after them can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything. Because I realize that the day will come only too soon when Rachel and Michal will move into their own home again and part of my heart will die again as I watch them all move on again....So for right now I will hold them every second I can and enjoy the gifts they freely give!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219126989210153378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SG4QWDWGcaI/AAAAAAAAALw/hxc8pqXlgog/s320/Chloe08.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219126988456893650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SG4QWAignNI/AAAAAAAAALo/z4XoCb-MiYQ/s320/Noah08.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-5426454048284374668?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/5426454048284374668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=5426454048284374668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5426454048284374668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5426454048284374668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/07/changes.html' title='Changes....'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SG4QWDWGcaI/AAAAAAAAALw/hxc8pqXlgog/s72-c/Chloe08.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-448118871294706995</id><published>2008-05-26T13:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:36.155-08:00</updated><title type='text'>His and Hers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;In your twenties, it's matching T-shirts on your honeymoon.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In your thirties, it's matching towels for your master bathroom....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In your forties, it's matching digital cameras for your &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;silver anniversary trip....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In your fifties, however, it's....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                               His...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204787406510989090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SDsekfCDnyI/AAAAAAAAALY/4yA5BPsfdkE/s320/heating+pads+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;                                                         and Hers....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204787415100923698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SDsek_CDnzI/AAAAAAAAALg/EWgyiw2Ia20/s320/heating+pads+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....HEATING PADS WHILE YOU WATCH WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND HGTV!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-448118871294706995?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/448118871294706995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=448118871294706995' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/448118871294706995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/448118871294706995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/05/his-and-hers.html' title='His and Hers'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SDsekfCDnyI/AAAAAAAAALY/4yA5BPsfdkE/s72-c/heating+pads+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-3799756754926408726</id><published>2008-05-10T04:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:36.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech Envy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SCWRPXLsGqI/AAAAAAAAALQ/jH-ocm1JoC0/s1600-h/computer+icon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198721037976214178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SCWRPXLsGqI/AAAAAAAAALQ/jH-ocm1JoC0/s320/computer+icon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Inspired by my daughter Rachel's recent blog entitled "Blog Envy", I thought I would write about a condition commonly shared by most of the people in my generation: tech envy. Yes, that's the dreaded condition where trying for 45 minutes to program the VCR leaves one dazed and babbling incoherently to one's self. When trying to answer my cell phone without experiencing PTCPD (Post Traumatic Cell Phone Disorder) summons every bit of will power. I tend to panic when my cell phone rings for fear that I will not be able to answer the call in time. The buttons on my cell phone are small and difficult to master quickly for me. Sometimes I spazz and miss a call because of the lack of response time and feel like the world is going to come to a screeching halt just because I missed The Important Call (even though I do realize that I can simply scroll down and highlight the number I just missed and call it back). And don't EVEN get me started about the computer....My daughters and son-in-laws (and probably grandchildren!) fly around the computer like a NASA-launched rocket while I still look for the part of the mouse required to get my screen to come back up....The list is endless. I will spare you the dreaded "Back in my day" rehash of three-channel, manually operated televisions and eight-tracks. I will just privately reflect in the glory of the mastery I had of these technologies (which, unfairly, didn't seem to boggle OUR parents) and hope that SOMEDAY, SOMEWHERE, I will be able to take steps closer to being "tech- savvy". That will probably happen the day my hair grows back and gas returns to a reasonable price....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-3799756754926408726?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/3799756754926408726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=3799756754926408726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3799756754926408726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3799756754926408726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/05/tech-envy.html' title='Tech Envy'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SCWRPXLsGqI/AAAAAAAAALQ/jH-ocm1JoC0/s72-c/computer+icon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8872507003775031628</id><published>2008-04-26T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:36.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To My Best Boys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOixLc-ipI/AAAAAAAAAIg/7y0nXzJ4dnA/s1600-h/Braydon+at+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673761059932818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOixLc-ipI/AAAAAAAAAIg/7y0nXzJ4dnA/s320/Braydon+at+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                            My Best Boys: Braydon (above), Noah (below)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOixrc-iqI/AAAAAAAAAIo/OL-T5raVC2c/s1600-h/noah+truck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673769649867426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOixrc-iqI/AAAAAAAAAIo/OL-T5raVC2c/s320/noah%2Btruck.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, we celebrated my oldest grandson's 4th birthday at a local park. We had family (Christy, Kenney, Braydon, Makenna, Aunt Laura, Aprille, Alex, Ella Bella and Nate) and several friends from Braydon's Preschool Class join our celebration. We had beautiful weather and a scenery to enjoy our party.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I often will refer to Braydon and my Noah, my other grandson, as my "Best Boy". These two little guys are the apples of my eye. They are lights in this dark world, and are the source of tremendous pride and joy to me. Soon, my other Best Boy will come and stay with us for a while. The thought of having him back here is tremendous! Then I will have &lt;strong&gt;both&lt;/strong&gt; of my Best Boys near me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8872507003775031628?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8872507003775031628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8872507003775031628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8872507003775031628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8872507003775031628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/04/to-my-best-boys.html' title='To My Best Boys'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOixLc-ipI/AAAAAAAAAIg/7y0nXzJ4dnA/s72-c/Braydon+at+4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8883777801983337825</id><published>2008-04-26T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:36.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only in the South!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOd_7c-ioI/AAAAAAAAAIY/mHqvMct1vjA/s1600-h/Braydon"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193668516904864386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOd_7c-ioI/AAAAAAAAAIY/mHqvMct1vjA/s320/Braydon%27s+Birthday+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, that's right. As if NASCAR, grits, pig pickins, and mullets weren't enough, now our lives in Dixie are now thoroughly complete. We now have JUST the right kind of soft drink....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8883777801983337825?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8883777801983337825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8883777801983337825' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8883777801983337825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8883777801983337825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/04/only-in-south.html' title='Only in the South!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/SBOd_7c-ioI/AAAAAAAAAIY/mHqvMct1vjA/s72-c/Braydon%27s+Birthday+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-1603506847381570505</id><published>2008-04-17T03:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T16:13:06.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back.....</title><content type='html'>I know it has been quite a while since I have added a new post. As most of you know, my time and attention has been focused on helping my wife deal with her major surgery and possible cancer diagnosis, which wonderfully is NOT the case. She is on the slow road to recovery, but at least she is on the right road!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some other cheers and a few jeers to share:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) I recently began a texting frenzy with a good friend of mine from Canandaigua, New York, who has the same distorted sense of humor that I have. We have shared some bizarre and twisted texts, the contents of which are best kept to myself. This has been fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) I am currently working on creating the scenery for a production of THE PAJAMA GAME at a theater in Virginia where my brother Joe is currently acting. It has been a lot of fun to meet new people and to work on something that makes me soooo happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:( I had to reluctantly write a check to Uncle Sam for my 2008 taxes- grrrrrrr that so much of my hard-earned money is stolen from me and freely given to support the same people who abuse me in my classes and who make my life miserable. This stinks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) I am SO THANKFUL for my daughter Christy's faithful care of my wife during her illness, surgery, and recovery. My son-in-law has been very supportive, as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) I have enjoyed spending time with my grandchildren Braydon and Makenna here in Rocky Mount, and spending time via the wonders of the web cam with my grandchildren Noah and Chloe in the UK (and of course, their wonderful mother, Rachel!) Good times with grandkids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) My niece Aprille and her husband Alex, who took time out of their lives to feed me lasagna (YUMMY!) and to bring a beautiful plant to the hospital while we were up in Chapel Hill. They are a precious and giving couple who make the world a better place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) The incredible and generous friends from our church, who have showed tremendous love and kindness to us during Janice's illness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Our gracious neighbors, who have also showed great kindness to us during Janice's recovery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:( The price of gas...GRRRRRRRRRRRR!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) My weekly dose of the reality shows I indulge myself with: American Idol, Top Model, Top Chef. Ah, the joys of self-indulging!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) My sister Laura, who drove 1 1/2 hours last weekend to come and stay with Janice last weekend so that I could keep my commitment to the theater in Virginia. Laura served us both like we were royalty. I am humbled to know someone like her. Her husband, Jim, graciously allowed her to leave him for the weekend to come to us to help. Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) The joy of blogging!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I will be better at posting on a more regular basis. Talk to you soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-1603506847381570505?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/1603506847381570505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=1603506847381570505' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1603506847381570505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1603506847381570505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back.....'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-1849123320755680185</id><published>2008-03-23T03:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T03:41:19.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not My Will</title><content type='html'>This Easter, I have had the privilege of participating in a riveting stage production centered on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ called SHEPHERD OF LOVE. The story closely follows the scriptural account of Jesus' birth, ministry, miracles, betrayal, crucifixion,and resurrection. Having been exposed to this story for many years, it is easy for me to gloss over certain aspects of who Jesus really was and what He actually experienced for me. There is one particular part of this account that has begun to consume me: the prayer of Jesus as He struggled in horrific agony in the garden before He was led away to be murdered for us. His humble and submissive declaration of, "Not My Will, but Thy Will" in the midst of facing the most gruesome torture to pay for my crimes is beyond my capacity to process. But the phrase is sinking into my spirit as I am facing some potentially critical issues in my own personal life. I want things to be comfortable and happy. I want everything to be peaceful and calm. I want...I want...But what does GOD want? What is HIS "want" for me? Quite often, the paths He calls me to walk are the polar opposite of the colors I work so hard to use to paint my life. He chooses difficulty, while I scream out for ease. He calls me to walk through loss, while I work feverishly at times to hold on desperately to how things are. In my spirit, I want to humbly say, "Not my will, but Thy Will, be done." And sometimes in my life, I sincerely offer up that same prayer. Sometimes in my life, though, I find myself fighting and grasping to keep control of how I see I want my life to be. And yet God my Father continues to work out His best in my life, even though His best doesn't always come packaged the way I want it to. My only recourse is to utter the words my Lord did, knowing that our Father always DOES know and do what is best: "Not my will, but Thy Will, be done." Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think of me, maybe you can ask God to help me to continue submitting to Him. Maybe you can join me as we bow to His Will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-1849123320755680185?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/1849123320755680185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=1849123320755680185' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1849123320755680185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1849123320755680185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/03/not-my-will.html' title='Not My Will'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-5183184154987000772</id><published>2008-03-10T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:36.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Manic Monday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R9UPZGFgipI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/FU1FVywsrLU/s1600-h/the+king+and+i.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176060270537116306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="146" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R9UPZGFgipI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/FU1FVywsrLU/s320/the+king+and+i.jpg" width="116" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah....the Monday of Dress Rehearsal Week. This week, my high school theater department will have our Dress Rehearsals for our upcoming production of THE KING AND I. For those of you who have never been in a high school stage production, you surely have missed out on an experience soon not be forgotten: relentless hours of toiling to correct endless lists of technical challenges, cast members who choose to spazz and go Diva on you, endless and needless delays that you prepare for months to avoid but happen anyway, lost keys, late parents, broken set pieces (of course which are BORROWED from other theater groups), ripped zippers on- you got it- borrowed costume pieces, students who flit back and forth beyond your wildest imagination (but who can never seem to be at the place they should be for their set changes), skipped meals, unwanted visitors who want to get in on the "fun" backstage...the "fun" seems endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, miraculously, Opening Night comes and sets begin to move smoothly between scenes, actors actually project, become their characters, and tell the story you've been drumming into their heads for months, props appear out of nowhere for the first time at the right time, cast members actually are quiet backstage, and audiences again are moved by seeing their children become Story Tellers who take them to places impossible to visit in real life. They are touched by the truths their Story Tellers reveal and discreetly wipe away tears of pride and joy as they see their Story Tellers bow in recognition of their months of effort. They suddenly no longer resent the director who demanded so much of their Story Tellers and actually smile and speak warmly to the director in the thrill of the afterglow of a successful production (although earlier that week the director's picture had been drawn with horns on his head and was riddled with dart holes). The Story Tellers experience the thrill of goal-setting, endurance, persistance, and success, and realize that anything in life worthwhile demands our very best effort for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the director gets to go home to his wife! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-5183184154987000772?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/5183184154987000772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=5183184154987000772' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5183184154987000772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5183184154987000772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-another-manic-monday.html' title='Just Another Manic Monday'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R9UPZGFgipI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/FU1FVywsrLU/s72-c/the+king+and+i.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-1994336960029158101</id><published>2008-03-02T05:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T13:45:47.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appointments</title><content type='html'>"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven."&lt;br /&gt;Eccesiastes 3:1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appointments. We all make them, keep them, break them, forget to keep them. The difference with God is that once He makes appointments, they simply are NOT broken. This week, two divine appointments hit me like a ton of bricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first divine appointment came to me quite unexpectedly as I was performing hall duty at school. While watching red-clad gang members streaming by me noisily on their way to first period, one of my theater students came to me with a panicked look on her face. She asked me if she could speak to me privately. "Oh, no!" I thought selfishly. "She's going to drop out of our show (which is in 2 weeks)." As it turned out, she handed me a copy of an e-mail written by another student of mine, with whom I have worked hard to cultivate a positive relationship. The email&lt;br /&gt;was a plea for me to get her some help with her secret eating disorder, which was consuming her and making her consider some drastic options.&lt;br /&gt;After I made the necessary arrangements for the help she so richly deserved, I realized that had not I been diligent to shower this student with God's kindness, she would not have felt that she could have approached me for help, which could have led to disastrous results for her health (and possibly her life). I was overwhelmed with the fact that God has indeed placed me exactly where He wants me to be, that His appointment for me at my school was truly His Will. Talk about being humbled. I grew teary when I considered His Grace in this situation. Please be in prayer for this student. God truly intervened on her part to spare her life. We need to intercede for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second divine appointment took on a very different form. A friend of our family, only 35 years old, passed away unexpectedly after suffering complications from medication he had been taking for several years. His wife, 27 years old, is now left with a grief beyond imagination after sharing just four years of marriage with her husband. God's appointments are not suppressed by our earthly construct of justice and equity. His Ways shatter our notions of what should and should not happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spares one and calls another home. He heals some and allows others to walk through horrendous suffering and loss. He loves all of us with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3) and yet He maintains His right to order our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is GOD. And we are not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-1994336960029158101?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/1994336960029158101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=1994336960029158101' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1994336960029158101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1994336960029158101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/03/appointments.html' title='Appointments'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-6790440277167702894</id><published>2008-02-22T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T17:39:31.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Going Gets Tough, Where Do The Tough Go?</title><content type='html'>Over the recent weeks, I have come to a personal revelation.  For many years, I have looked at missionaries who have visited our church or have written me and have sighed deeply with regret or remorse as I considered my lack of mission experience. I watch the heart-tugging videos that are played at my church during the offering which compel us to "go into all the world...."  I see the missions displays in the church lobby with the intriguing color photographs of sites around the globe that beckon believers to boldly go.  I read the announcement in our bulletin about the upcoming meetings for those called to participate in the multitude of mission trips currently being planned by our church.  I read articles online about the draining but inspiring real-life experiences that are endured by many faithful missionaries who are on the frontlines around the world, working to spread God's love to a hurting and decaying world.  "Ah", I think to myself. "The crowns those brave warriors must surely be accumulating for the Kingdom of God...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I go to work.  I teach at a gang-ridden, violent and grafitti-worn high school bursting at the seams with an inner-city student population, many of whom only attend school so that they can participate in the rampant drug trade that funds their lives of crime, profanity, rampant promiscuity, and hyper-violence. My school has even earned the reputation as being a mecca for high school lesbians, some of whom have now brazenly formed their own gang, replete with bright orange shirts declaring their lifestyle and defiantly daring anyone to challenge their "rights" to public same-sex demonstrations of "affection".  Students are arrested weekly for gang fights, which often stir sudents up to a level close to a riot.  The use of the "f-bomb"among my students is such a regular occurence that my ears are no longer shocked at its casual and continual utterance. In case you think I exaggerate about the state of my school, just ask my daughter Rachel, who used to teach at the same school I do.  She will sadly but quickly confirm all of this.  And God, in His wisdom, has sovereignly placed me right in the middle of all of this.  In all honesty, I have tried to undo His placement a few times with job opportunities at more affluent safer schools, but I realized with humility and sobriety that God has actually called me to serve Him and advance His Kingdom at this school.  So I walked away from my attempt to undo His Will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I get into my beat-up, tiny little thirteen-year old car (I don't dare drive anything nicer to school, as I risk vandalism) with no sound system and a film of mold on my dash board that won't go away and drive to my school.  Maybe there will be a broken heart that needs a listening ear.  Maybe there will be a student who desperately needs me to affirm their need to belong.  Maybe there will be a student whose mother threw her out (again) and who is sleeping on her aunt's sofa.  Maybe there will be a student who needs a place to go during lunch because the rejection and taunting that awaits them in the cafeteria is just too much to bear that day.  Or maybe there will be another fight, another string of f-bombs, another student violently resisting any attempts of mine to get them to behave in a reasonable and civilized way in class.  Whatever my Heavenly Father allows to come to me, I will get in my little car and go back to my school.  Because I just HAVE to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So some go to Nepal (Rachel), some to Equador (Christy), and others to other corners of the earth to proclaim God's love. I go to my school, only twelve minutes away. May God see fit to use me to show broken students that He is Who He said He is.  May they see Christ in me, the hope of glory.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-6790440277167702894?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/6790440277167702894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=6790440277167702894' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6790440277167702894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6790440277167702894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/02/when-going-gets-tough-where-do-tough-go.html' title='When The Going Gets Tough, Where Do The Tough Go?'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-7023692851387120939</id><published>2008-02-19T02:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:37.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When I Am Gone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R7qxISoTm4I/AAAAAAAAAII/2MlNqZMWspQ/s1600-h/heaven.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168638278359030658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R7qxISoTm4I/AAAAAAAAAII/2MlNqZMWspQ/s320/heaven.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our pastor gave a sermon last week on how to die as a Christian. Accompanying the sermon was a nicely laid out funeral guide in which a person could express exactly what he or she would like to have said and done during his/her funeral service. This got me to thinking. As unpleasant as a topic as death is, it is one of the great realities in this life. So how do I want others to think of me when I am gone? What do I hope is the measure of my life? I hope...that others will look past the many significant failures of my life to the great grace of God that I have received....that others can point to how God redeemed my failures and repackaged them for His Glory...that others will smile when they remember me....that more than one person can tell others how God actually used me to point them to the Cross....that my family and close friends look back and remember &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;just how much I truly loved them.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is up to me today, and from now on, to live in such a way that it will be very easy for others to recall all of the things that matter so much to me for them to recall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-7023692851387120939?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/7023692851387120939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=7023692851387120939' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/7023692851387120939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/7023692851387120939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/02/when-i-am-gone.html' title='When I Am Gone'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R7qxISoTm4I/AAAAAAAAAII/2MlNqZMWspQ/s72-c/heaven.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-7453733647007816925</id><published>2008-02-12T02:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T03:12:10.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's A Small World After All!</title><content type='html'>This week, we have had the privilege of getting to know a member of the Liberated Wailing Wall Team, which is a ministry of the organization, Jews for Jesus, a Messianic outreach to spread the Gospel to Jewish people.  We had volunteered to host a member of this team, which was coming to our church on Sunday evening.  Little did we know that we were going to run intoa person on the team named Michael Chadwick who had actually gone to school with our daughters up in Lima, New York, several years ago.  His older brother, Dan Ross, had performed in our first production at Lima Christian School called CATACOMBS.  We were flabbergasted at this coincidence.  We were fortunate enough to arrange for Michael to come and stay with us, which gave us a great chance to catch up with old times and to get an in-depth understanding of Jews for Jesus.  We were so blessed to learn more about this fine organization!  I invite you to check out their website at &lt;a href="http://www.jewsforjesus.org/"&gt;www.jewsforjesus.org&lt;/a&gt; to learn more about this crucial ministry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/36/Red_Star_of_David.svg/800px-Red_Star_of_David.svg.png&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Red_Star_of_David.svg&amp;amp;h=533&amp;amp;w=800&amp;amp;sz=21&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;start=1&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;tbnid=yzE5rfRuuKa_VM:&amp;amp;tbnh=95&amp;amp;tbnw=143&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Dstar%2Bof%2Bdavid%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26rls%3DSUNA,SUNA:2006-41,SUNA:en%26sa%3DN"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/4/49/Star_of_David.svg.png&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://www.answers.com/topic/star-of-david-svg-1&amp;amp;h=381&amp;amp;w=338&amp;amp;sz=17&amp;amp;tbnid=4PKH5xa6iKb4CM:&amp;amp;tbnh=123&amp;amp;tbnw=109&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Dstar%2Bof%2Bdavid%26um%3D1&amp;amp;start=1&amp;amp;sa=X&amp;amp;oi=images&amp;amp;ct=image&amp;amp;cd=1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-7453733647007816925?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/7453733647007816925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=7453733647007816925' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/7453733647007816925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/7453733647007816925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-small-world-after-all.html' title='It&apos;s A Small World After All!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-9045451302912834623</id><published>2008-02-03T13:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:37.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sacred Influence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R6YwUNLyD5I/AAAAAAAAAH4/fVDLsmAwrTQ/s1600-h/sacred.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162867146521448338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R6YwUNLyD5I/AAAAAAAAAH4/fVDLsmAwrTQ/s320/sacred.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, like so many Americans, have been bombarded with the onslaught and rush of the primary campaigns, debates, pundits, media biases, etc. that accompany every Presidential election year. Being the "good citizen" that I thought I was, I jumped into the race myself, carefully reading candidates' websites, sifting through several online articles, and weeding through the media coverage of the candidates vying for the White House. I began to form opinions about who would be "fortunate" enough to receive my vote. I even courageously engaged in a lengthy discussion with my daughter and son-in-law about this topic while we returned from going to a family event yesterday. I was very impressed and grateful that the four of us (Christy, Kenney, Janice, and I) could engage in honest dialogue about politics, which is often a recipe for familial disaster. Even though the four of us have varying outlooks politically, one point that my wife made was that this election was one in which we have to make a absolute stand at the polls in terms of our faith in Christ. Especially with the Presidency. As I pondered that today, I thought of a book written by Gary Thomas called SACRED INFLUENCE in which the author discusses the impact a godly wife can have on her husband. It hit me that each Christian can have an equally sacred influence on this generation and generations to come at the poll by voting for a candidate who will pursue righteousness for our nation. No, I am NOT a Huckabee Committee Chair or even a volunteer, nor am I even convinced that he is worthy of my vote. What I AM convinced of is the fact that we as believers in Jesus Christ MUST seek God as to who He would have us support. Our faith MUST have a sacred influence on our lives in every aspect, including politics. If not, what good is our faith?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-9045451302912834623?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/9045451302912834623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=9045451302912834623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/9045451302912834623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/9045451302912834623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/02/sacred-influence.html' title='Sacred Influence'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R6YwUNLyD5I/AAAAAAAAAH4/fVDLsmAwrTQ/s72-c/sacred.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-4853464636442382764</id><published>2008-01-27T04:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T04:48:59.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God-Smacked!</title><content type='html'>I have recently been awe-struck, or "God-smacked", at the wisdom that I see reflected in our grown daughters as they walk out their responsibilities as godly mothers and wives. They both have very active preschool boys and newborn daughters to raise, houses to clean, attitudes to juggle, families to cook for, husbands to please, and their God to follow. I sit in genuine amazement often as I watch how they are handling all of these roles and wonder, "Where did they learn to handle all of this with the grace that I see???", as I can honestly look back and realize that unfortunately, it did not get passed down from me. They both are light years ahead of where I was at their age. Or even ten years older than they are now. Their mother did a fantastic job setting an example of a godly mother for them growing up, but even she is equally amazed at the fruit in our daughters. So what IS the source of their capabilities and wisdom? And naturally, the only appropriate and genuine response is found in the book of James, chapter 1, verse 17 :"Every good gift and every perfect gift comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." God's goodness smacks me in the face when I consider His amazing goodness to us, to our children and their husbands, and to our grandchildren. I never thought that being smacked could be such a wonderful thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-4853464636442382764?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/4853464636442382764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=4853464636442382764' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4853464636442382764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4853464636442382764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/god-smacked.html' title='God-Smacked!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-6902749260361217507</id><published>2008-01-20T13:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T14:16:36.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Off!</title><content type='html'>I feel the need to electronically confess something that my wife, my daughters and their husbands know all too well: I meddle. Whether I guise it in what I think are discreet, gentle inquiries or just knock them over the head with blunt interference, meddling is meddling. My ego, springing only from the fact that I have lived longer than my grown children, falsely validates my "right" to "guide" them with my vast wisdom. Oops. After being rebuked for this over 15,000 times in the past six months (did I also mention that I struggle with hyperbole?), I am finally getting the message from God to SHUT UP and BACK OFF. Rachel, Michal, Christy, and Kenney: please forgive me. My intentions have always been honorable, but that is little to no consolation to you or excuse for me to intervene in your independence. God doesn't require my assistance to watch over you, and I am sure somehow you manage to get through your days without me there. I am painfully slow at times to learn lessons others never need learn. I think God must have an IEP for me in Heaven. For those unfamiliar with educational lingo, an IEP is an individualized education plan for students with learning issues. Filled with remorse and more than a little embarrassment, I will crawl off to my own little corner, lick some ego wounds, facing my learning issue and hopefully delete my meddling instinct and increase my prayer time for my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-6902749260361217507?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/6902749260361217507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=6902749260361217507' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6902749260361217507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6902749260361217507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/back-off.html' title='Back Off!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-1551561508541310818</id><published>2008-01-20T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:37.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who WAS that masked man???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R5PDHFSsIVI/AAAAAAAAAHw/y4uEyoeEZy4/s1600-h/Mr.+Incredible+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157680524716417362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R5PDHFSsIVI/AAAAAAAAAHw/y4uEyoeEZy4/s320/Mr.+Incredible+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mr. Incredible paid a special visit to our house yesterday. Fighting crime among the stuffed animals and toddler toys in our house, "Mr. Incredible" (whose secret identity is my grandson, Braydon) works hard to keep the rooms in our house safe from the menacing threats of evil-doers! Between bouts of crime-fighting, Mr. Incredible took a break and posed with his mother and little sister for a photo op.  I can sleep more peacefully knowing this eager crime-fighter is working overtime!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157679270585966914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R5PB-FSsIUI/AAAAAAAAAHo/eHXnAVZbRZ8/s320/Mr.+Incredible+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-1551561508541310818?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/1551561508541310818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=1551561508541310818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1551561508541310818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/1551561508541310818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/who-was-that-masked-man.html' title='Who WAS that masked man???'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R5PDHFSsIVI/AAAAAAAAAHw/y4uEyoeEZy4/s72-c/Mr.+Incredible+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8602280896487366875</id><published>2008-01-11T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:37.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Fun</title><content type='html'>Tonight, my daughter and son-in-law brought Braydon &amp;amp; Makenna over for supper. Braydon &amp;amp; I managed to play several rounds of SuperHeroes (a variation on the many sub-plots of THE INCREDIBLES), policeman catching the criminals, we watched "Jesus movies" (a slide show of Bible stories displayed on a kiddie projector), Cars stickers, and we also pretended to talk to several people on Braydon's "cell" phone, including his girlfriend Macy (whom he informed me tonight that he would marry, but I couldn't go until I get an "inbitation"). After reading the story where Jesus gets criticized by the Pharisees, Braydon started to pretend he was a Pharisee himself. Here is a picture of Pharisee Braydon (it's not my fault it came out looking like a wannabe rappa pose!)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154400745955270930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R4gcK1SsIRI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/uLynLQj96Hc/s320/Pharisee.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Of course, between adventures with Braydon, I snapped several shots of Makenna.  Check out her response to the incessant flash of my camera:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154400750250238242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R4gcLFSsISI/AAAAAAAAAHY/YFEvdfiBkEo/s320/More+Pix+of+B+%26+Ladybyg+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;"What???????!!!!!!!!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We had a very nice evening, visiting with Christy &amp;amp; Kenney and the kids!  And another reason I had fun Friday is because today was the last day of the first semseter at my school and I know that I will NEVER have to deal with the students I had first semester EVER AGAIN!!  I'm free, I'm free!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8602280896487366875?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8602280896487366875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8602280896487366875' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8602280896487366875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8602280896487366875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/friday-fun.html' title='Friday Fun'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R4gcK1SsIRI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/uLynLQj96Hc/s72-c/Pharisee.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-5751525335960808326</id><published>2008-01-08T02:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T02:30:53.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!</title><content type='html'>My wife and I are attending a two-week seminar at church sponsored by a group called Life Action.  The focus of this seminar is on brokenness and revival.  Part of the experience of the seminar is completing a very painful and brutal private inventory about the sinfulness in your life.  As I left church for the past two nights, I left with a very uncomfortable and nagging sense of just what a loser I still am.  And that hurts!  I don't want to think about the cumulative reality of my sin.  I want to keep things on a very even, comfortable plane so that I can ease on down the road of life.&lt;br /&gt;We are all in desperate need of the Savior.  I am on the top of THAT list....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-5751525335960808326?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/5751525335960808326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=5751525335960808326' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5751525335960808326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5751525335960808326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/ouch.html' title='Ouch!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-3613623778760972506</id><published>2008-01-06T11:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T11:41:37.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Family Needs a Jim and Laura</title><content type='html'>Today, I would like to brag about two very special people who have been instrumental in my life and the life of my family: my sister, Laura, and her husband, Jim. This couple has been an integral part of almost every significant family event in my own family since we got married. They have sown amazing amounts of love into my family for almost three decades now: we lived with them for a brief spell in the 1980s, they have showered us all with their presence and too many gifts to even begin to recall at birthdays, anniversaries, births, family reunions, get-togethers, church events, etc. They have been emotional and spiritual rocks for us when we walked through dark, dismal valleys. They have welcomed our grandchildren's arrival into this world with tears in their own eyes. They have fasted, prayed, supported, given, shared burdens, treated us to extravagant meals, laughed, cried, prayed, laughed, whispered, shouted, and lived their life before as genuine, authentic believers in Jesus. They have become such dear friends to us; there are no words to adequately describe the bond between our families. THANK YOU, LORD, FOR JIM AND LAURA. You are so good to have allowed them to be in our lives!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I end this blog with verses from the Bible that describe them. When I think of Jim, I think of Psalm 1:3- "He shall be like a tree, planted by the rivers of water,that brings forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also shall not wither; and whatever he does shall prosper." Jim is a like a strong, oak tree of compassion, friendship, and strength. Laura to me is a shining example of the Virtuous Woman described in Proverbs 31: 28. "Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praises her: 29 Many daughters have done well, but you excel them all. 30 Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, but a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised."  Thank you, Jim and Laura, for your example, your love and your friendship.  You two have made such a difference in our lives....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, by the way, Happy Birthday, Jim!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-3613623778760972506?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/3613623778760972506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=3613623778760972506' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3613623778760972506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/3613623778760972506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/every-family-needs-jim-and-laura.html' title='Every Family Needs a Jim and Laura'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-2527422356621557287</id><published>2008-01-04T14:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:37.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WANTED!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R364IlSsIOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/b7h6u4HHFMU/s1600-h/DSC01338.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151757481347391714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R364IlSsIOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/b7h6u4HHFMU/s320/DSC01338.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Becky Sue Marie Burp, Junior Burp, Bubba Burp&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you seen this family? They are WANTED in North Carolina for impersonation of P.W.T. (Poor White Trash). Contact 1-800-Countree if you spot them. Last seen in a 1973 Chevy Pickup with a bumper sticker that reads: "God, Guns, and Glory!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-2527422356621557287?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/2527422356621557287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=2527422356621557287' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2527422356621557287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2527422356621557287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/wanted.html' title='WANTED!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R364IlSsIOI/AAAAAAAAAGs/b7h6u4HHFMU/s72-c/DSC01338.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-6650472173438530826</id><published>2008-01-04T06:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:38.302-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Ladybug</title><content type='html'>This morning, I discovered through my grandson that his new little sister Makenna has a nickname: "Ladybug". I was able to take the day off from work and spend it with Christy, Braydon, and Makenna, so I just HAD to take some pictures! The digital camera that Rachel &amp;amp; Michal gave us for Christmas is my new toy that I play with all of the time! Here are some shots of Ladybug and her Mommy. This morning, she had her very first bath and I was there to capture it on film. The first shot is one of Makenna and her Papa discussing the merits of bathing. Next is Makenna just fresh from her bath. &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151640194380472498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R35NdlSsILI/AAAAAAAAAGU/bzScM3yWQK8/s320/IMAG0101.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151640202970407106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R35NeFSsIMI/AAAAAAAAAGc/nqyuBmCG0Ak/s320/IMAG0096.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151640211560341714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R35NelSsINI/AAAAAAAAAGk/KZR5xS3sseI/s320/IMAG0099.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Isn't she a pretty Ladybug????&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-6650472173438530826?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/6650472173438530826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=6650472173438530826' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6650472173438530826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6650472173438530826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-ladybug.html' title='My Ladybug'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R35NdlSsILI/AAAAAAAAAGU/bzScM3yWQK8/s72-c/IMAG0101.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-5584642241331509753</id><published>2008-01-04T03:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:38.888-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Many Faces of Michal a.k.a. "The Scot"</title><content type='html'>If you know my son-in-law Michal, you know that he is always looking for ways to have fun. While scanning through old family photos this morning, I discovered some shots of him that you might find "interesting".....&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151585901698883746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R34cFVSsIKI/AAAAAAAAAGM/TKkCEXRQcR8/s320/DSC01276.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151585897403916434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="320" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R34cFFSsIJI/AAAAAAAAAGE/KU-ex3CIL5c/s320/DSC01327.JPG" width="252" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151585884519014514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R34cEVSsIHI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Gu6ny4FhWoc/s320/Christmas-Makenna+034.jpg" width="321" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151585893108949122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R34cE1SsIII/AAAAAAAAAF8/jtDrs6cso0k/s320/Christmas-Makenna+021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;What can I say?  Draw your own conclusions!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-5584642241331509753?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/5584642241331509753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=5584642241331509753' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5584642241331509753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/5584642241331509753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/many-faces-of-michal-aka-scot.html' title='The Many Faces of Michal a.k.a. &quot;The Scot&quot;'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R34cFVSsIKI/AAAAAAAAAGM/TKkCEXRQcR8/s72-c/DSC01276.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-4973343895399062530</id><published>2008-01-01T07:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T07:58:37.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fork Drops of 2007</title><content type='html'>What in the world, you might ask if you are not a member of my immediate family, is a "fork drop"?  A fork drop, as defined by our crazy family, is a shocking or unexpected event.  You know, the kind of news that makes people at the dinner table drop their forks in shock and stare blankly into space.  At the end of every year, my family develops the Fork Drop List for the year.  Here is my official Fork Drop List for 2007:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. It SNOWED on my daughter's wedding day!  You have to understand, she got married in April, which is usually warm and bright in North Carolina.  So my wife and I happily planted gerber daisies throughout our yard in preparation for Christy &amp;amp; Kenney's big day.  The bizarre snow that morning wiped out the entire crop of gerbers!  Grrrrrrrrr!  (and Brrrrrr!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. BOTH of our daughters announced that they were going to give birth to baby girls!  What are the odds that we would have two grandsons and then two granddaughters?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I actually learned how to BLOG!  Who KNEW?????????????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I actually learned how to navigate my way around a digital camera.  Again, who KNEW??????????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I actually beat my son-in-law at UNO.  How in the WORLD did that happen???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. My son-in-law Michal announced that he is going to become a professional deep sea diver and that Rachel and the kids would be staying with us for a bit.  I am THRILLED to have the chance to spend so much time with Rachel and the kids, but we will miss Michal a LOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I actually lived long enough to see the Washington Redskins BEAT the Dallas Cowboys and make it to a playoff berth!  WHO KNEW????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there is this year's list.  Who knows what will make the Fork Drops of 2008 list?????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-4973343895399062530?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/4973343895399062530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=4973343895399062530' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4973343895399062530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4973343895399062530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/fork-drops-of-2007.html' title='Fork Drops of 2007'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-4481306248664284969</id><published>2008-01-01T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T07:45:56.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day To Remember</title><content type='html'>Yes, it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; New Year's Day.  But this day has a different significance for me. Thirty-three years ago today, as a seventeen year old high school student, I prayed to receive Christ as my Savior and Lord.  It is by far the most significant event of my life.  God's goodness, mercy and grace have sustained me throughout the decades.  May your New Year be filled with God's goodness, mercy and grace. And, by the way, Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-4481306248664284969?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/4481306248664284969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=4481306248664284969' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4481306248664284969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/4481306248664284969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2008/01/day-to-remember.html' title='A Day To Remember'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-2711169437998588581</id><published>2007-12-31T14:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:39.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Soldier Boys: A Rite of Passage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3lzyVSsIGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/VXemS1INDbc/s1600-h/Soldier+Boys.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150274957421060194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3lzyVSsIGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/VXemS1INDbc/s320/Soldier+Boys.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is almost a tradition for every little boy to play with a package of little green plastic army men. I can clearly remember hours spent as a kid myself at this pursuit, strategically lining up my soldiers to annihilate the approaching enemy, and laughing giddily as I did so by sweeping them down onto the floor with my hands, only to line them up and start all over again. Well, I promised my grandson Braydon that I would get him his first bag of soldiers. To my delight, he went crazy over them! We played with them in the hospital room when Makenna was born and had the time of our life! Even Kenney got in on the action, as you can see in the photo above. Three generations of soldier boys in action! What traditions have been handed down to you from your parents that you have already passed down to your children, or intend to? I would love to hear about them. Right now, I think I will go and play soldiers with Braydon, who just walked in the door!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-2711169437998588581?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/2711169437998588581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=2711169437998588581' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2711169437998588581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/2711169437998588581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/soldier-boys-rite-of-passage.html' title='Soldier Boys: A Rite of Passage'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3lzyVSsIGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/VXemS1INDbc/s72-c/Soldier+Boys.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-6821741767227596055</id><published>2007-12-29T10:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:39.572-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She's Here!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abVQxLXJI/AAAAAAAAACg/jXgxyPOHz5w/s1600-h/Christmas-Makenna+045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149474013525531794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abVQxLXJI/AAAAAAAAACg/jXgxyPOHz5w/s320/Christmas-Makenna+045.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Here is our little doll!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abXgxLXKI/AAAAAAAAACo/CeO4GGvJ64M/s1600-h/Christmas-Makenna+050.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149474052180237474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abXgxLXKI/AAAAAAAAACo/CeO4GGvJ64M/s320/Christmas-Makenna+050.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Big brother Braydon holds her (with help from Daddy!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abYgxLXLI/AAAAAAAAACw/D8wjgtR5Gm0/s1600-h/Christmas-Makenna+053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149474069360106674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abYgxLXLI/AAAAAAAAACw/D8wjgtR5Gm0/s320/Christmas-Makenna+053.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;A very proud Papa with his grandchildren!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abYwxLXMI/AAAAAAAAAC4/xU87ECsPXrQ/s1600-h/Christmas-Makenna+056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149474073655073986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abYwxLXMI/AAAAAAAAAC4/xU87ECsPXrQ/s320/Christmas-Makenna+056.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;happy family!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abZQxLXNI/AAAAAAAAADA/1V5_x_du-fU/s1600-h/Christmas-Makenna+059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149474082245008594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abZQxLXNI/AAAAAAAAADA/1V5_x_du-fU/s320/Christmas-Makenna+059.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our 4th grandchild, Makenna Rae Elise, made her grand entrance into the world today at 7:32 a.m., weighing in at 7 lb. 6 oz. and measuring 19 1/2 inches long. Makenna kept the promise she made to me before I left for England to wait until I got back to be born. So now I guess I have to pay her the $20 I promised for waiting (just kidding!)&lt;br /&gt;We are so thankful that we could be here for her birth! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-6821741767227596055?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/6821741767227596055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=6821741767227596055' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6821741767227596055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6821741767227596055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/shes-here.html' title='She&apos;s Here!'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3abVQxLXJI/AAAAAAAAACg/jXgxyPOHz5w/s72-c/Christmas-Makenna+045.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-19206812981869174</id><published>2007-12-27T15:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T23:28:13.023-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All Good Gifts</title><content type='html'>The title for today's blog is actually the title of one of my favorite songs with the same name from the musical GODSPELL. The song lyrics powerfully point the listener to the root of all blessings in our lives: our merciful Heavenly Father. As I wrap up my time in London with Rachel, Michal, Noah, and Chloe Grace, I am keenly aware of the undeserved and bountiful gifts I have unwrapped this Christmas season: the thrill of holding my newborn granddaughter, the joy of playing with my best boys (this is my special name for my grandsons), the pleasure of spending quality time with my daughters and their husbands, the excitement of traveling abroad, the knowledge that God the Restorer has made all things new in my family...the list goes on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Christmas has been so extraordinary to me because I have seen God work so powerfully in my children and grandchildren's lives to bring them together in the families as He has, and to reassure me that He truly is the giver of all that is and can be good in this life. He has allowed me the privilege of living long enough to see so much beauty from former ashes. For any former LCS Drama students who know this show from when we did it , I urge you to find this song and enjoy it again. As you listen, think about just how deeply good God is. I would love to hear from you when you do. Tell me how good He has been to you. We can never say it enough....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-19206812981869174?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/19206812981869174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=19206812981869174' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/19206812981869174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/19206812981869174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/all-good-gifts.html' title='All Good Gifts'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-8290263101730554123</id><published>2007-12-25T03:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:40.188-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas in London</title><content type='html'>Merry Christmas from the UK! As they say in the South, I "just about fell out" when I opened a present from my daughter and son-in-law that contained a digital camera! Just in time for my new-found obsession-blogging! I immediately began snapping shots like a kid in a candy shop. This morning was so wonderful, with Janice, Rachel, Michal, Noah, and Chloe Grace. Again, today was a lifetime memory in the making (I seem to have them a lot when I am over here). The joy of seeing my daughter celebrating Christmas with her family is too deep to put into words, so I won't try. What I will do is maybe let some photos speak for me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148020867175504978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3FxtAxLXFI/AAAAAAAAABM/tS5AzS5MzjQ/s320/christmas+in+england+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                 &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Noah plays with his brand new camera!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148020871470472290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3FxtQxLXGI/AAAAAAAAABU/U9EU5dKPD_w/s320/christmas+in+england+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                         Ama enjoys a laugh with Chloe Grace as we celebrate Christmas!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148020875765439602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3FxtgxLXHI/AAAAAAAAABc/uBq7d0wcryU/s320/christmas+in+england+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Michal tries to show off in his new bathrobe.....(ask no questions, and we will tell you no lies)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148020880060406914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3FxtwxLXII/AAAAAAAAABk/6plz-s8svOs/s320/christmas+in+england+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                             My best boy plays with his new race track!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-8290263101730554123?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/8290263101730554123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=8290263101730554123' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8290263101730554123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/8290263101730554123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-in-london.html' title='Christmas in London'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R3FxtAxLXFI/AAAAAAAAABM/tS5AzS5MzjQ/s72-c/christmas+in+england+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-6882237842475083782</id><published>2007-12-24T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T07:18:00.801-08:00</updated><title type='text'>'Twas the Night Before Christmas</title><content type='html'>Thank you to everyone who took the time to welcome me into the world of Blogdom!  Your comments made me feel so good!  Well, here it is- Christmas Eve.  I have so many things to be thankful for- my wonderful family and friends, my church, my school (yes, I said, school, Rachel &amp;amp; Michal!) and my faith.  Of all of the things I am thankful for, it never ceases to amaze me just how much it costs God to surrender the most cherished of all gifts to give us humans redemption that we could never earn or deserve.  As I see my grandchildren around me, I am overwhelemed with an avalanche of love.  How God could surrender this for me is unthinkable, yet is undeniable.  O Holy Night.  Many blessings to you all.  All my love to our family, especially Christy, Kenney, Braydon, and Makenna!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-6882237842475083782?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/6882237842475083782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=6882237842475083782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6882237842475083782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/6882237842475083782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/twas-night-before-christmas.html' title='&apos;Twas the Night Before Christmas'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4020977227007766020.post-406140976542443982</id><published>2007-12-23T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T02:22:40.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Should People My Age Blog?</title><content type='html'>Well, I finally took the plunge and joined the electronic age by having my daughter set me up with my very own blog! I was unreasonably nervous about starting this to begin with as I obsessed with thoughts along the lines of "What if my entries are stupid???" and "Who would even care???" Then it dawned on me that, like everything else in my life, I really don't lose sleep at night worrying about the opinions of others. Not to sound rude. Just too tired to filter all of the stuff that people like to offer (unsolicited, of course. And I ought to know about offering unsolicited advice. Just ask my daughters and son-in-laws....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went into London with my wife, daughter-son-in-law, and grandchildren to see Santa &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Claus&lt;/span&gt; (or Father Christmas, as he is known in the UK) at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Harrods&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Harrods&lt;/span&gt; has got to be the ultimate Christmas shopping experience available to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;modern&lt;/span&gt; man. Afterwards, we took the Tube to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Covent&lt;/span&gt; Gardens (amazingly beautiful and thrilling) and then wrapped up our day at Trafalgar Square. It was one of those times in your life when you realize so strongly that you are making lifetime memories, that it almost takes your breath away. The time I get with my UK family is so precious to me that I try to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;imbed&lt;/span&gt; it all in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;memory&lt;/span&gt; as much as I can. Of course, photos help, too. Here is one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Covent&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Gardens&lt;/span&gt; decorated for the Holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147279392611458066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R27PVgxLXBI/AAAAAAAAAAs/MikebgDWK6I/s320/Picture+081.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here is my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;daughter&lt;/span&gt; Rachel holding our new granddaughter, Chloe, in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Harrods&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147279396906425378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R27PVwxLXCI/AAAAAAAAAA0/93xHxYsOs_k/s320/Picture+056.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My grandson Noah, my wife, and I are enjoying a ride on Thomas the Train!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147279405496359986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R27PWQxLXDI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qfG8kvgqP-k/s320/Picture+059.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My daughter Rachel took this spectacular shot of Trafalgar Square lit up- just beautiful!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147279409791327298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R27PWgxLXEI/AAAAAAAAABE/SZY03Jc1DrY/s320/Picture+095.jpg" border="0" /&gt;So there! I finished my first-ever blog and actually enjoyed it! So easy even a grandfather can do it (with a lot of help from my daughter....) So maybe I'll write another one tomorrow-even if no one reads it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4020977227007766020-406140976542443982?l=papatime.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/feeds/406140976542443982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4020977227007766020&amp;postID=406140976542443982' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/406140976542443982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4020977227007766020/posts/default/406140976542443982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://papatime.blogspot.com/2007/12/should-people-my-age-blog.html' title='Should People My Age Blog?'/><author><name>Ken</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10635175168969087635</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-N65M0zHUWs/R27PVgxLXBI/AAAAAAAAAAs/MikebgDWK6I/s72-c/Picture+081.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry></feed>
