Fitness Friday

Today I am starting a new routine with a personal trainer. I’ve never really had a personal trainer before so I’m not sure what to expect. It conjures up all sorts of gruesome images of drill sergeants screaming at new recruits. (In fact, she’s already told me some of her recruits, er… clients, call her drill sergeant.)

Years ago, my boyfriend was a die hard gym rat. He lifted weights, took supplements and compared muscles with other gym rats. Unfortunately, he didn’t keep this obsession/hobby to himself. He wanted me to be “fit” (Read: SKINNY), too.  Over time, I realized that his hobby was a bit unhealthy and completely unrealistic for me. I’ve never been a size two and I’ll never be a size two. I’m built bigger. For my then boyfriend, that was not a reasonable answer. I had to strive for that size two (or, even better in his eyes, size zero.)

Instead of, “How was your day honey?” I got, “Did you go to the gym today?” If I had, the next question was often, “For how long? What did you do? Did you break a sweat?” I began to dread his arrival home from work each day. My workouts were never enough for him. I ate like a bird around him and pigged out on candy and snacks when he wasn’t around. I began to hide food. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t losing weight. Once, he even went out for wings with friends and left me behind because I “didn’t need to eat unhealthy foods.”

The gym became a war zone for me. I loathed every person there – associated them, even if I didn’t know them – with my boyfriend. I considered them all fanatics, haters of fat people,and judgmental Judy’s of the gym.

planet-fitness-i-lift-things-up-ad

When I met my now husband, we discussed going to the gym. I agreed, knowing he is much different than my gym-loving boyfriend. The first time I went… the smell of sweat and testosterone stirred up a wicked range of emotions. I almost didn’t stay to even step on the treadmill. When I heard the grunts of the weight-lifters, I cringed. Changing in the locker room set off my low self-esteem indicators and I kept my eyes on the floor the entire time – making it very hard to change into my gym clothes. A trip to the gym often resulted in more depression than success for me. (Why does everyone look like they don’t NEED to be at the gym? Where are all the fat people? I felt like the only one on most days.)

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Courtesy of Planet Fitness

But as time as moved on, it did not become easier, so I quit going to the gym. I opted to try Zumba classes and my own workouts instead to try and stay fit. It’s worked for the most part, but I’ve slacked off some and need that push from someone else. So I’m trying the trainer. I’ve already warned her I’m skittish so I pray she’ll go a bit easy on me at first, but for years I’ve been an unhealthy weight and I want to change. My hips hurt. My feet ache. Pants don’t fit. It’s been 42 years of the same. My dad’s heart surgery really pushed me to make this decision. Almost everyone on his side of the family has died of heart attacks. I don’t want that. I want to live. I do need this trainer to push me, to give me a routine that works, but also to do it in a caring way – something my boyfriend never did.

So, here I go. On another adventure. I don’t think there will be an “lunks” at this gym, God has directed me to a Christian trainer so I pray we’ll be able to avoid the stress that I remember about workouts. I want to be thinner, to be healthier, and to get some pretty new clothes that fit! Wish me luck and come back often to see my progress!

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Goodnight Sweet Prince

Last Thursday, a music legend (and I don’t use that term loosely) died. Prince Rogers Nelson died at his home at the age of 57. I’m sure most of my readers know him so I won’t go into details about who he was and the accolades he achieved. (But if you don’t know much about him – like just that he liked purple – then check him out.) What is on my heart today, is the lasting legacy he’s had on my life.

Prince-Purple-Rain

Purple Rain, both the movie and the soundtrack came out in 1984. I was ten. Because of its “raunchy” material and themes, I was not allowed to see it until later, when my friend acquired it on laser disc (remember those? Think gigantic CDs for movies.) and we watched it in her basement. Of course, our first thoughts were to watch it because it was Prince and it contained his (raunchy) songs. We felt like we were getting away with something (and we kind of were.) As we watched, it became so much more.

You see, Purple Rain, is more than a movie about Prince’s music. In fact, I truly believe it is one of the most enduring stories about a plethora of themes – that most people aren’t even aware. If you haven’t seen Purple Rain, despite any feelings you may have about his music, I encourage you to watch it. It’s not simply about his music, but his music connects the story in such a fascinating way. I’ll be clear: the music is the best part, the acting is not Oscar worthy and the filming seems very… well, 80s. Get over it. Because, you see, the movie moved me when I was eleven and still until this day because of its themes and, I think, it’ll move you, too.

Domestic abuse, bullying, depression and suicide are major themes throughout this movie. Prince’s character struggles with how to cope with every single one. He does it mainly through music. Now, as a writer, I realize that this connected to me because I seek to express myself through my creativity, too. I’ve not overcome the things Prince’s character had to overcome, but we all have something. In addition, before you point to Prince’s “raunchy” music as a reason NOT to watch… I’ll say this: Yes. A lot of the music is… raw. But the character Prince plays does not do drugs, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink (in fact encourages his girlfriend not to) and rarely swears throughout the film (although he does struggle with domestic abuse because it’s what he knows). Can we say that of many of our movie characters today? He is a tortured soul, trying to find his way in the world against pretty crappy odds. But he has a talent. He excels at it, in fact. And he uses that talent, that life purpose, to make his way and to get out of the life mess he is in.

Guess what? It’s 8 Mile before Eminem. (In fact, this movie may have inspired Eminem, too, since he’s my age.)

In his lifetime, Prince donated millions of dollars to charities that were dear to his heart, but we’ve not heard about it until now. Now, after his death, people are coming forward to say how he changed their lives, and businesses, with his generosity. This is a man people ridiculed for his purple attire, his flamboyant costumes and his small stature. But now as the world grieves over the loss of this man, I am amazed that now, only after he’s dead, do we finally see the true, and deep, humanitarian that he was. There is no more name calling, no lewd comments about his love life, no more snickering at his outfits – in fact, I’m wearing purple today as are many others, his music and his movies are being played continuously on MTV, and even NASA colored a nebula purple in his honor.

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For me, it started when I was ten. I saw him from day one as the creative being he was not just some guy in purple clothes. I recognized the God-given talent that he exuded and I admired his dedication to his craft. He often spoke in interviews about being an “artist” (in fact, it was part of the reason he changed his name at one point) and that many “singers” today are not. I love that. It’s what has made me cry over his death – something I rarely do for someone I don’t even know. He wasn’t a god – he was just a man – but his words and his life touched me. He was real – no auto tune, no gimmicks, just music. And I want to be like him. I want to stand firm in my convictions, understand and hone my craft, and be a light onto others – no faking it.

Thank you, Prince, for your life and your legacy. I pray it will go on as you would have it go on, it would not be tarnished by anything and your light would continue to shine.

My favorite Prince songs, it was hard to choose just one and this list is not even complete, are I Would Die 4 U, Purple Rain, Diamonds and Pearls, and Take Me With U.

What are yours?

Prince

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I’m Not A Gardener… or am I?

Recently, I’ve been conversing with a fellow writer who is also big on gardening. She started her own blog about it and it’s inspired me to finally get that garden of my own growing. The problems are: 1) I live in town; 2) I don’t have a huge yard; 3) my husband hates when I come up with these ideas.

But, we have a little bit of decking material leftover that I’ve been trying to DIY into something else for awhile. I saw on Pinterest (that devil of a website) that you can use this leftover decking to build raised beds for gardens.

“Oh honey!”

Quite easily, my hubby took it and ran with it. Now we have a garden bed standing in our garage all ready for me to obtain dirt and plants to start. Then the problem becomes: I can’t haul dirt because I have no truck. “No worries,” another friend advised me, “You can buy dirt in bags, just like potting soil.”

Who knew?

But they are still too heavy for me to obtain so I must wait for this weekend when hubs can help me again. I’m sure he’s beginning to think this is his project and not mine, but I promise to cultivate it myself once it’s all up and running, Honey.

I’ve been also considering what to grow for some time. The real impetus of this whole thing started when we traveled to Texas and friends introduced us to homemade jalapeno poppers using jarred peppers. The jarred version, as opposed to the fresh, are a bit less spicy, which appeals to me and are already pitted so you just remove them from the jar, stuff, cook and eat. Yum. The problem? In Pennsylvania, where we live, you cannot obtain jarred, whole jalapenos. No kidding. We searched several grocery stores and every aisle imaginable. Apparently, folks in PA just do not understand the yumminess of stuffed jalapeno peppers.

So, I reasoned, I’d just grow my own. How hard can it be? Then I could prepare and can them for my own use throughout the year. (Including, maybe, some hot pepper jelly!) No more trips to the store for the non-existent peppers. I don’t want to grow hundreds of these little things though, so I decided I’d grow other things, too. I’ve decided on basil, pole beans (maybe) and some sort of lettuce. Beans can be canned, too and we love salads in the summer so we’ll use up the lettuce for sure. I don’t want to grow anything that I can’t use after all – that seems wasteful.

So this weekend is all about getting my garden set up. I’ve hoarded cardboard for weeks for the bottom of the thing – determining just recently that I had enough cardboard for about three beds. No matter, at least I had enough for the one I needed. And, who knows, maybe this endeavor will be a fruitful one (although no fruit is actually being grown) and I’ll decide to do more in the future (Sorry Hubby. Hold on to that decking…)

How about you? Are you a gardener? What do you grow? Any tips and suggestions for me?

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Mini Post Monday

A lot has been going on here in my life. I’ve been working on my writing more (see my post from last Monday for an excerpt of my YA) and gearing up to find new things to do once my hubby starts his schooling. (See this post for that!) I also strive daily to connect with the Lord and keep delving into His word. It’s given me not only food for thought and reflection, but also some great ideas for my nonfiction Bible study book.

Here are the three things during this time that have impressed me:

  1. How quickly my schedule filled up. When I put out a plea to friends to help me fill up some “hubby-neglected” time – they came running! I never felt so popular! I’ve got plans for warm weather walks (with one cute little baby and his momma), plans to work on ancestral stuff with a friend (really excited to get started on that), and promises of a few girl’s nights out, too. Add that to my usual schedule including Bible study and writers groups – I’m good to go! (I do hope for SOME quiet/me time in there too.)
  2. How my marriage is getting stronger. John and I have started communicating much more again. Those darn smartphones sure do take up our time sometimes, but we’ve made an effort to put them down and just talk again – like we used to when we were dating. I don’t know if he’s enjoying it, but I am. We’re even setting aside Sunday afternoons as “our time” so we ensure we can connect at least once a week during his sure-to-be busy schedule. I love talking with him. We even started praying together again – something that I hope we continue.
  3. How okay I am with this. In the past, thoughts of alone time and time away from John stressed me out. I don’t want to miss a single minute of being with him. So when this opportunity came along my first thought was, “uh oh.” I so want to encourage him and support him – not focus on my own insecurities. And, guess what? I’m okay. I’m ready for this time in our lives (perhaps more than he is…) and I see good things coming. I just know we’ll both be stronger in the end and what a blessing that will be.

You know what has impressed me most though? How God is giving me peace every day. I feel Him saying to me, “I got this. Here’s a few friends to pass the time. Here’s an idea for your book. Here’s some time with your husband. Here’s some more ideas to get started on. And, don’t forget, even if all that fades, I’m here, too.” Wow. What a blessing that is. Peace. I’ve sought peace for so long in my life. I’ve searched and searched. He was here all along. All I had to do was accept it.

Thank you, Lord for showing me the peace that goes against all understanding.

Hope you have a great Monday – seek God’s peace in your life and write down those blessings to remember His goodness!!

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Entering A New Era

“I’ll need to study tonight,” my husband informed me today.

I thought, “And so it begins.”

The hubs is getting his doctorate. We can’t pass up the opportunity, his employer is helping pay for it. I’m on board one hundred percent, but it all just got very real. We sat down tonight to discuss what the next several years of our life will look like. We agreed that he’ll need to study about five nights a week for several hours a night (maybe a bit more or less depending on the classes. He hasn’t technically started yet so this is mostly conjecture.) Holidays, board meetings (for his employer), and special exceptions may apply, but, for the most part, I’m on my own now in the evenings.

We agreed that Sundays were off limits to schooling (unless absolutely needed). That’s now “our” time – actually about two to three hours of it, not the full day. Between church, which takes up most of Sunday morning, church duties (he’s the financial secretary) and church board meetings and choir… we only get the afternoon time slot for each other. I guess I’ll take what I can get. (The rest is, apparently, the Lord’s.)

I’m not good at being alone really. I got married for a reason – to not be alone. (Well, I loved the big goof, too…) So I say…”now what?” Welp. Blogging, apparently, for one thing. It seemed like a good time to put down my thoughts. Maybe I’ll even get more written on my works in progress. (Maybe I’ll even make my year end goal for publishing!)

I put out a “I’m free for shenanigans” type request on Facebook and several friends have already said, “We can do this!” So I’m grateful for that (and I hope they meant it because I’m totally taking them up on it!) Perhaps it’ll even free me to explore more of who I am in the process. Take an art class, visit friends, make new friends, take up running… okay, not that last one. I know I’m not that person.

But still it’s hard not to be worried. I’ve been warned by other “doctorate widows” about the perils: 1) Lack of together time; 2) Sudden outbursts of anxiety, anger and depression (probably none caused by me); 3) missing my husband. My prone to depression side says, “The marriage is over!” while my supportive wife side says, “He’s going to do great!” and my inner single girl yells, “WOOT! Drinks with the girls!” (hint, hint girls…)

I’m so thankful, though, that my husband sat aside time tonight to say, “Let’s figure this out” instead of just saying, “See ya in three years!” He shows me he is thinking about us and about our upcoming time apart. His education and career are important, but we are too. I’m glad he sees that. Because, in the end, that’s what will keep us together.

So as he and I both embark on this new era in our lives … who’s up for drinks?

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Mini Post Monday – starting fresh and my novel

Starting Over

Happy Monday. Or, as I see it, a chance for a do-over. Last week pretty much sucked. I’m not a huge fan of that word, but it describes a week that I accomplished almost nothing, I fought with my husband, the dog irritated me and I failed at writing any significant masterpiece. It just seemed to be one big mess after another. SO… today, I start again.

My novel

I hate even calling it a novel at this point. It’s not very long…yet. But I have big aspirations for it. I’ve written many scenes/chapters but it isn’t coming together. I’m fighting my own low self-esteem and inner negative thoughts as I try to write it. It’s a young adult story based very loosely on my own childhood. Really, it takes someone like me, as a teenager, and she learns some of the lessons it took me almost forty years to learn. Do you know how hard that is to cram into a novel? Writing is hard. Here’s an excerpt for your perusal. I hope that I’ll get some good feedback from this (hint, hint).

Beth grabs my sleeve and drags me inside the office. My back breaks out in a heavy sweat—so much for pretending to be fearless. Suddenly, my hoodie is a bit too warm for comfort. She pulls me down to a crouching position with the rest of her outlaws. We duck-walk our way behind the administrator’s desk, seeking cover in case someone else walks by the glass-fronted office. There isn’t much space under the desk and it’s pretty dark without lights. I feel Jonah’s warm body press close to mine, seeking his portion of the space away from potential prying eyes. Despite being a fugitive now, I realize he smells pretty nice. Like he’s just taken a shower. It’s a soothing scent and I close my eyes for a moment wishing I was back in my warm, comfy bed.

Then I feel a hand on my thigh.

“HEY!” I yell.

“Shush!!” Beth hisses, “What the heck, Em? Are you trying to get us found out?”

“Someone had his hand on my thigh!” I hiss back, staring a hole at, or in the direction of Jonah.

“Sorry,” Adam says. I turn to glare in his general direction instead. “Just thought ‘if not now, when’ you know?” he says. Even in the dim light I can see his shoulders half shrug and a small smirk cross his features.

Beth slaps her hand on her forehead and says, “Really Adam? Get a grip. She’ll let you feel her up later. We need to get the test answers and get out of here.”

“What do you mean I’ll let him feel me… wait… what test answers?”

Beth is already crawling quickly across the office floor towards the main computer desk and I follow my “protector,” if only to get away from additional prying hands. There was a moment that I was flattered that it might be Jonah with his hand on my thigh. But even then, it would have been moving a bit too fast for me. Especially given our current situation. This was no time for shenanigans… other than the current shenanigans.
The floor feels gross against my palms. My germophobe tendencies suddenly kick into high gear.

“What do you think is on this floor, Beth?” I whisper, quickly forgetting the danger or my potential love interest, cringing instead at the thought of leftover puke residue, bits and pieces of someone’s Chinese take-out, or the dog poop someone carried in on their shoes grinding into the crevices of my outstretched hands.

Her fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in various words, trying to find the right password. Now the mystery residue from the floor is all over that keyboard too.

Eww.

I fight a wave of nausea. This is probably why I’m not as adventurous as Beth.

So… whadda think? Comments please! You might make my week.😉

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People Make Me Laugh

People make me laugh about so many things, but lately I’ve gotten a kick out of people doing their ancestry research. I have found that a lot of folks just do their research to find someone famous in their line. And while that’s always a perk, I do ancestry research because I want to know the people who make up my family better.

Here’s a for instance: One man I know frequently posts on Facebook about his semi-famous aunt. (Someone I’m also, by the way, remotely related to.) But I never see him post about HER. He posts about why she’s famous. Then, I began to wonder how exactly he and I were related – and how I was truly related to her. So I began to dig to find her parents and lineage. Guess what? I could hardly find anything! It was all about her career (which made her famous). So there is no pride, in my opinion, in the family aspect of this person – just that she’s a “famous” person in his family tree. What about the person?

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Here’s what intrigues me: How people lived. What they did for a living. How they survived the Depression. I have a gg grandfather who died in a poor house. It’s sad, but at the same time, I think, “How did he get there?” His ancestors actually had land and were decently rich – what happened?? My husband and I both have family that were adopted in some manner. Some traveled from overseas with “sponsors.” Typically, they would then become these persons “slaves” or “help” in order to earn their keep. Some were even able to eventually earn pieces of land and start their own families. Did their parents die or did they send them off to the New World just for a better life? What would push a parent to send their child so far away with strangers? (Okay, they weren’t usually strangers, but still…) How hard that must have been!

Mary_Clark Murray Family

Families that were much bigger too (except for the Duggars)

Our ancestors were made of some pretty hardy stock. Farmers, factory workers (before OSHA was invented), and oil well diggers all make up parts of my ancestors. To me, each of them is unique and famous. They SURVIVED. We often complain today about how hard life is and what we’re offended by today. We argue about political candidates – many of whom have never lifted a finger in manual labor to help this country like our ancestors did. Men left for war simply because they believed in the cause – not for a GI bill or a paycheck or the promise of advanced schooling (not that ALL men and women do that today!) – leaving women and children behind to keep the family farms going as best they could.

My paternal grandfather struggled. He didn’t go to college – there wasn’t money for that. So he struck out on his own, working odd jobs off and on until finally – as his family started to grow – the TV started to come to popularity. He apprenticed with a local repairman and within a few years had his own TV and radio repair shop. He made that his living – and a good one. His shop name isn’t remembered in my local town, he isn’t “famous,” but he is to me. I know that he worked hard to feed his family. He sought out a dream – to make life easier for his children and to show them how to have pride in their work. Every single one of his kids worked hard to also make their family life easier. He taught them that. He helped his family SUCCEED despite hard times. THAT is success to me. Not that he was famous for what he did – no one except our family even remembers him – and I’m not related to a king or queen or an ancestor that made all the newspapers for something they did. I’m related to hard-working, God-fearing, make-this-country-great-again people. (Take THAT Trump!)

And I’m proud of every single one of them.

So when someone says, “Hey look here! I’m related to this famous person!” I want to say, “And what have YOU done to keep that legacy going? What about her parents – how did they encourage her, work hard for her, finance her to get to that point? What is her STORY?”

Instead, I just shake my head and laugh…and write blog posts about it.

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Prayers Avail Much

As I woke up this morning, I remembered a friend that needed prayer. My mind still groggy, I lifted her up in silent prayer, seeking God’s grace and mercy on her this day. I didn’t even have to open my eyes for this silent prayer. I felt good that I had remembered her and that I had started my day with this silent prayer. I felt connected to God and I knew He would hear my prayer for her.

Then my mind started wandering.

Our study group has been reading The Red Letter Prayer Life by Bob Hostetler. If you haven’t read it yet, I suggest it to you. Since we’ve started this book, I’ve been reconsidering all my prayers. And I did so this morning, thinking how prayers, both silent and not, can benefit us and others. Which are the most effective? I thought.

I find solace in a prayer said under my breath or just in my head. Sometimes I think it’s the closest I am ever to God, especially in the mornings. There is nothing else, yet, to distract me from these prayers in my head. I haven’t even made a decision to get out of bed or what I will wear for the day. I just begin in prayer. These prayers connect me immediately to my Lord and fill me with a sense of peace. All the day’s distractions, to-do lists, and stresses surely cannot attack me if I am lost, first thing, in prayer.

But then I thought about how Jesus taught his disciples to pray. “Our Father…give us this day…lead us not into temptation…deliver us from evil.” Although Jesus mentions going into your private room to pray, I believe He was also telling us not only to pray for others, but to pray with others.

Have you ever stopped and prayed for someone right in the middle of the street? Or maybe in the middle of a conversation? When people talk to you about their heartaches, bad decisions, pains and despairs – do you stop what you’re doing and pray? Out loud? I have a friend that does that sometimes. I admire it. Not only is she expressing her love and care for that person in need, she is also exhibiting her faith. It’s a hard thing to do.

We’re all too trapped in that box in our heads that says, “They won’t like it” to actually do what Christ commanded us to do. Tweet: We're all too trapped in that box in our heads that says,

I can tell you this: I’ve had someone stop what they were doing and pray for me. It was one of the most emotional moments of my life. To know that this person not only heard my struggles, but wanted to do something about them… I felt loved, cared for, and understood. She petitioned God for me.

And how often do we not pray for ourselves? I know I don’t do it very often because I think, “This person’s struggle is more dire than mine,” or “God knows my hurts…I’ll just keep on keeping on.” I’ve changed my way of thinking about this, too. I’ve started to pray for me, my husband, our marriage and for the “little” things holding me back – like bitterness, anger, and hatred within my heart. (Don’t be shocked – you have these thoughts, too.) And, you know what? I pray these requests out loud.

It’s amazing what you can discover within yourself when you speak things out loud.  Tweet: It's amazing what you can discover within yourself when you speak things out loud. #prayer

“I never knew I really felt that way,” or “What? Where did that come from?” have been two responses I’ve thought when I’ve commented out loud about my fears and sins.

Today, consider all the ways you can pray – both for others and for yourself. Start the day with prayer, but don’t stop there. “…pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17-18 NASB) You might be surprised how full your prayer life can become when you include both silent and spoken prayer for your friends and you.

God bless and have a great day!

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Stepping Back in Time

Last week, the sun was finally shining (although the warmth was still lacking) and I decided  to get out of the house and explore a local historical site that I’ve driven by for years without checking out.

In a little town on the road to Danville, PA there is this one-room-schoolhouse. The Montour County Historical Society have done a great job and I could tell you can also see the inside, but it was locked that day. While checking online, I found some great photos by my friend Heather of the interior (small world, but I knew she’d have already been here!) You can check that out here. Apparently it’s open in October on Sundays – maybe I’ll mark my calendar to go back out sometime then.

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There is even old-timey outhouses with cute little children silhouettes on them indicating “hers” and “his.”

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While the schoolhouse is unique and fun all by itself, I went there to see the other signs about the famous one-time resident, Christopher Sholes. I have been interested in Mr. Sholes story every time I drove by these signs, being that I’m a writer. You see, Sholes invented the first commercially successful typewriter.

 

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wp-1458659452354.jpg It’s unusual, at least to me, to find someone of this magnitude in history so close by my hometown. Maybe it’s simply because without Sholes improving the typewriter over the years, we would still be writing out every word. Can you imagine! Oh, the horror! Besides that, I know that there are still people who revere the typewriter and still use them to write their works of art. My friend Linda is one of this folks. She participates in Type-Ins even with her own, old typewriter.

In addition to the schoolhouse and the markers for Christopher Sholes, there is also the outhouses, a carriage house and an old post box. The spot is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and is a great educational spot to take the kids. If you’re in PA – be sure to check it out!

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He Is Risen!

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.” (Matt. 28:1-7 NIV)

He is risen! Now what?

The Great Commission

Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matt 28:16-20 NIV)

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