<?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-1929836958495179095</id><updated>2011-11-21T23:02:58.117-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Real time with Rue Lynn</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-6336847580229835777</id><published>2011-11-16T14:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T14:28:43.634-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Raise Me Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;My niece Rachael, &lt;/span&gt;was on a TV program this past Monday night called the Generation Project. The premise of the program is connecting with the past to help the person on the program in whatever challenge you are facing today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__fFqLDgAAo/TsQjNFwBwsI/AAAAAAAAAIo/NpdtDP249hE/s1600/Me+and+Dad%252C+1978+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Rachael's father died when she was twelve years old and has longed to have that father-daughter relation, which was taken from her.&amp;nbsp; As I sat watching it over the Internet, I pictured my family&amp;nbsp; sitting there in Utah...then my thoughts turned, as they usually do, to those who have gone on and experienced what Rachael experienced, of losing a parent so early in their childhood. My paternal Grandfather, Edmund P. Galbraith, Little Grandma, Mary Elma Haynie, Susan Ellen Johnson among others. Her story brought a new freshness, a voice to those who have gone on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;As a Family Historian, I have always felt a closeness to those of the past, they have never been names on a pedigree chart for me, but rather real people, people whom I wanted to know. So it was fun to see Rachael to get to do this on TV.&amp;nbsp; It also put a little fire underneath me to finish the editing and writing of my family History so that my daughter, nephews and nieces and their children and their children will have something to read and to hold on to, so they might find strength in their past to face the challenges which lay before them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;A few years back, the singer Josh Groban, recorded a song which became very popular - "You Raise Me Up" - while I know that it is a song is towards Jesus Christ, for me it as always been about my Ancestors. The song opens with: &lt;i&gt;"When I am down and, oh so weary;&amp;nbsp; when troubles come and my heart burdened be; then, I am still and wait here in the silence, until you come to me."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;I have been still and waited in silence many times and they, my ancestors, have came and sat&amp;nbsp; awhile with me. "&lt;i&gt;For behold I will send you Elijah the prophet...and he will turn the heart of the fathers to the children.."&lt;/i&gt; Then they have and do &lt;i&gt;"Raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; they raise me up to to walk on Stormy seas; I am strong when I&amp;nbsp; upon their shoulders; they raise me up to more than I can be." &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Perhaps, the one I seek the most to come, like Rachael, is my Dad, the sorrow felt twenty-eight years ago today has mellowed, however the longing, missing, the emptiness has not. I feel his love, my memories brings me&amp;nbsp; happiness, but they don't bring back his touch. I can see his smile, hear his voice, but how I long for the day when we can embrace in a loving hug! To stand face to face and tell each other "I Love you."&amp;nbsp; Yes, his spirit comes to me, and I know if I stand on his shoulders of love and example I can be more than I can be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;In the book "How Green was my Valley" There is a quote which not only applies to my Dad, but to all my Ancestors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Men like my father cannot die. They are with me still, real in memory as they were in flesh, loving and beloved forever."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;To Rachael, and to all of us; I hope we will be still and wait in silence for those who are beyond the veil to come and set&amp;nbsp; awhile with us, for they will come and raise us up to be strong so we can be more than we can be.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__fFqLDgAAo/TsQjNFwBwsI/AAAAAAAAAIo/NpdtDP249hE/s1600/Me+and+Dad%252C+1978+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__fFqLDgAAo/TsQjNFwBwsI/AAAAAAAAAIo/NpdtDP249hE/s320/Me+and+Dad%252C+1978+001.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"&gt;Dad and I at the airport before leaving for France.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-6336847580229835777?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/6336847580229835777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=6336847580229835777' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6336847580229835777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6336847580229835777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2011/11/your-raise-me-up.html' title='You Raise Me Up'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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/-__fFqLDgAAo/TsQjNFwBwsI/AAAAAAAAAIo/NpdtDP249hE/s72-c/Me+and+Dad%252C+1978+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-3310744992661082136</id><published>2011-10-01T21:47:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T22:52:09.928-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Voice from the Past Points Towards Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Over the last few months my mother's voice came to me. It started  just as one small remembrance then over the past weeks it begun to grow until I knew I had to follow her example and trust in myself....and change career paths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In the spring of 1981, I had just returned from my mission, I witness the wisdom of my mom. Since moving to Orem, Utah in 1969, Mom had worked at the Wasatch Medical Center, first as a Nurse then by 1981 she was the Office Manger. One morning, I believe it was a Wednesday, I answered the phone and it the Clinic asking if they could speak to Mom. I told them she was at work, the person on the other end said OK and hung up later that afternoon I received another phone call asking to talk to mom and I replied that she was work, they then said that she had not been there all day, and were wondering if I knew were she was. Of course I had no idea. I begun to worry and wonder where she would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mom arrived at home, later that afternoon, carrying a painting into the house. I asked her "Where she had been all day, that the Clinic had been calling for her." She replied "I had to take a personal day to think and went to Provo Craft and Novelty to take an art class." The result was the painting. She had not painted since leaving Blanding. She then turned to me, and said "I have made a decision. I am working way too hard for someone else, not to be working for myself."  Shortly thereafter she quit the Clinic and her "second" job of teaching sewing became her full time focus. Over the next few years &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Distinctive Designs by Glen Dora&lt;/span&gt; was the sole income for our family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It was that one small phrase that kept echoing in my heart and mind..."I am working way too hard for someone else, not be working for myself." Finally I could not fight it any more. I too, realized that after seventeen years, working for Gap, Inc. That I too was working way too hard, not to be working for myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But what can I do, what do I have a passion about? I thought and thought and could not come up with answer. However like most things in life,  what is right in front of you is the thing that you can not see...Genealogy, Family History. So I begun to research what it would entail to be come a Professional Genealogist. The more I looked the stronger the idea became. When doubt came I heard my mom's voice...with a leap of faith and trust in myself I made the decision, a calm then came to me and all fell into place, I have plan, I see a future....so "Unlocking your Past with Rue Lynn" is born.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-3310744992661082136?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/3310744992661082136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=3310744992661082136' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3310744992661082136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3310744992661082136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2011/10/voice-from-past-points-towards-tomorrow.html' title='Voice from the Past Points Towards Tomorrow'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-6839240691685556777</id><published>2011-05-23T10:48:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T13:04:04.314-04:00</updated><title type='text'>'Little Grandma' and Discourgament</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOogofPyxsQ/TdqJazHEWUI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fWU2-oYoAoU/s1600/Mary%2BAnn%2BThurston%2BMartineau%2B001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOogofPyxsQ/TdqJazHEWUI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fWU2-oYoAoU/s320/Mary%2BAnn%2BThurston%2BMartineau%2B001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609947379332831554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"&gt;      From time to time all of us will be come discourage &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;or a little down or maybe resentful. So I thought I would post this thought from Grandfather James H. Martineau as it was related to Little Grandma, Mary Ann Thurston, his daughter in -law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;     Little Grandma, was so called because of her size, just five feet tall. This size was even more emphasized when she and her husband Joel Hills Martineau who was six feet and some stood side by side. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mary Ann Thurston Martineau, was the maternal Grandma of my Mom.  When she and her sisters spoke of Little Grandma, it was always done in hushed and reverent tones, even when relating humorous events. There was always sense of deep love and devotion for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;    Little Grandma was known to be an excellent  cook, baker, and seamstress, these gift were passed on to my Mom, who was also known to be a great cook and seamstress. I grew up hearing how "Little Grandma taught me this." or "This is how Little Grandma would do it." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Little Grandma was just sixteen when she married Grandpa Martineau, in 1891, but she was very mature for her age. She was eleven years old when her father was killed by Indians, she was called on to help her mother provide for the family, as her two older sisters where hired out for room and board, therefore out of necessity she matured quickly as she took care of home and her younger siblings as her mother was away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;    Shortly after there marriage, Grandpa had to leave her  in the care of his parents, James H.  and Susan Ellen Johnson Martineau. The following is the story she tells from this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;          &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I was a young married woman living Colonia Juarez with my husband's parents, James Henry and Susan Ellen Martineau. my Husband Joel, was gone most of the time since his work was freighting with a team and wagon. while I loved my in-laws for being kind to me, I was home sick for my mother and Sisters who lived in Arizona. I  had been very sad for days as I went about doing house work.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father in-law was a patriarch who gave patriarchal blessings. When he did, I acted as scribe and enjoyed doing so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One day he said to me: 'Annie will you write something for me?'&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yes' I replied and brought pen and ink and seated myself at the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is what he dictated:&lt;/span&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The spirit of discouragement never comes from the Lord; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=" font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;                neither does the spirit of contention or resentment. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=" font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;                The spirit of the Lord is a spirit of faith, love, humility and                                patience."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;After I had written, he said 'Now, take this with you and when you feel down hearted read it and ask the Lord to give his spirit.' "&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Little grandma took this to heart; she found solace in the words of her father in-law. Throughout her life she would turn to this words to turn away any negative feelings she might have, in turn she is remembered by her daughter, Aula Martineau Haynie, as a "person without guile. She accepted life and what it offered, always doing her part and extra. She never complained but made the best of what there was or tired to improve it, which she usually did."&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If from time to time we feel down hearted, my we turn to those word also.  &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;           &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-6839240691685556777?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/6839240691685556777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=6839240691685556777' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6839240691685556777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6839240691685556777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-grandma-and-discourgament.html' title='&apos;Little Grandma&apos; and Discourgament'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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/-WOogofPyxsQ/TdqJazHEWUI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fWU2-oYoAoU/s72-c/Mary%2BAnn%2BThurston%2BMartineau%2B001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-3422091851026607816</id><published>2011-04-13T10:21:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T20:25:10.030-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Robert Baskin Haynie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;One Hundred Fifty years have passed since the beginning of the War between the States, more commonly known as the American Civil War. Since my early years I have have had a fondness for this period of United States History...beginning first with Abraham Lincoln, by the ens of 5th Grade I had read every book in the Library at Cherry Hill Elementary School. Then, being memorized by Scarlett O'Hara in "Gone with the Wind" ...her words of hope or delusion of "I can't think about today, I'll think about it tomorrow for tomorrow is another day!" Her finding strength in the red earth of Tara. She has been a Heroine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt; The South has been calling to me since my youth, in a small town of Moultire, Georgia I found home for a season.  It is there were my ties to the South strengthen...as is my life, I find myself torn between being for the Blue and the Grey. I would walk by the memorial  "To our Glorious Dead", honoring those confederate soldiers who had died during the war, and would stop and think of Robert Baskin Haynie, my great great grandfather, who has a true Southern joined the Confederate Army and fought  to save his 'country'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;Robert was born in Flat Rock, Anderson county in South Carolina, 12 May 1827, Married Emily Jane Hall, 9 December 1848, Great Grandfather Patrick Calhoun was their fourth child and was five when his father went of to war. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:trackmoves/&gt;   &lt;w:trackformatting/&gt;   &lt;w:punctuationkerning/&gt;   &lt;w:validateagainstschemas/&gt;   &lt;w:saveifxmlinvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:ignoremixedcontent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt; 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&lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-priority:99;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style=" text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=" Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;font-size:100%;" &gt;Robert enlisted 14 July 1861 into the Confederate Army as private into the Franklin County Tugalo Blues, Company B, in the Georgia Fifteenth Infantry Regiment; know during the war as the “Fighting Fifteenth”.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style=" text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=" Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;font-size:100%;" &gt;This regiment served throughout the war in the Army of Northern Virginia, which was under the command of General Robert E. Lee. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The Fighting Fifteenth fought in many of the major battles of the war including, the second Bull Run or the Second Manassas, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Spotslvania Court House and members of the regiment were there at the end at Appomattox. (Rigdon) From 13 June 1864 to 29 June 1864, he was in the Jackson Hospital in Richmond Virgiania, due to illness, measles. Family tradition states this broke his health, and was not well enough to return to the battle flied and sleep in the cold rain. The final record of his regiment was that he was AWOL. The last prove of payment  or "muster roll" that I have found was in January 1865, three months before Lee's surrender. The question remains, was he too ill to go on and fell behind, or seeing the war's end went home to find his wife and children?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style=" text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style=" Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;font-size:100%;" &gt; &lt;span style="mso-tab-count:1"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;During the war the family moved to Alabama where it was thought to be safer than Georgia. At war’s end the family stayed in Alabama then moved to Georgia and settled in Floyd County near Rome. There on 31 October 1876 Robert Baskin Haynie died at the age of 49. The following year his family heard the Mormon Missionary Elder John Morgan, were baptized and soon moved to Colorado and help settled the Mormon settlement Manassa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"&gt;I am sure it is this southern blood which  runs through my veins, which causes my soul to stir in pride as see the rebel flag...again I am torn between what it once stood for that of honor, love for country  and what it stands for today as  a symbol of hate and intolerance.  Because of Robert Baskin Haynie, the War between the States is REAL - I honor him, he might have been of the wrong side of history, yet like most, if not all Confederate Soldiers he fought for freedom, for a way of life, and prayed to the same God as the Union soldiers did. Both fought for what they thought was right&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we remember the words of President Lincoln...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"It is for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a one who sees the war not between good and evil, but as one to preserve a Nation, with good and evil on both sides...my heart goes out to the Men and Women of the Blue AND the Grey for each prayed to God and saw Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps, and built Him an alter in the evening dews and damps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-3422091851026607816?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/3422091851026607816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=3422091851026607816' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3422091851026607816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3422091851026607816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2011/04/robert-baskin-haynie.html' title='Robert Baskin Haynie'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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-1929836958495179095.post-7369993331129003929</id><published>2010-05-25T16:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T18:04:50.741-04:00</updated><title type='text'>As I Am</title><content type='html'>&lt;object style="background-image: url(&amp;quot;http://i1.ytimg.com/vi/THKdEs_lwWg/hqdefault.jpg&amp;quot;);" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/THKdEs_lwWg&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/THKdEs_lwWg&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-7369993331129003929?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/7369993331129003929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=7369993331129003929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/7369993331129003929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/7369993331129003929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2010/05/big-gay-musical-as-i-am.html' title='As I Am'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-3487506346990655686</id><published>2010-02-21T16:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-21T17:10:01.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/S4GuAsQxdgI/AAAAAAAAABs/imryQhgtGQo/s1600-h/Rue+Lynn+Galbraith+-+Graduation+1977+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/S4GuAsQxdgI/AAAAAAAAABs/imryQhgtGQo/s320/Rue+Lynn+Galbraith+-+Graduation+1977+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440821151745013250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Who am I anyway? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Am I my resume? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: verdana;"&gt;That's a picture of a person I don't know."&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;-A chorus line-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As I looked  at my graduation picture I thought; "That's a picture of a person I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those word leaped to mind as I flipped through the pages of my Year Book this past week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; It's been thirty plus years since I graduated from Orem High, even though I still feel like I am a teenager, (love to listen to alternative music i.e. Green Day and Dashboard Confidential), I realize I am not the same person I was in High School, I much more liberal in my ideas, sadly not as optimistic as I was then, but yet I still try to live for the moment, I am still shy in a crowd, I have but few friends, I still make people laugh to reflect my dyslexia. I think most of all even though I thought I knew who I was,  I was hiding in plain sight, afraid that people would find out the really me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The past thirty years have been filled with adventures, tragedy, love, sadness. One consent has been my family.  I know I am the mysterious Dad and Uncle Rue, who swoops in  for a week and then is gone. I try to keep up with everyone, but hearing the news is not like watching or making the news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So I may not know the person in that picture any more, but I recognize who he is, how much he has grown and I really like and love the person he has become. I recognize  him in the mirror everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am free to be who I am, and what I will be, most of all because I love myself I am free to love others more fully&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-3487506346990655686?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/3487506346990655686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=3487506346990655686' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3487506346990655686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3487506346990655686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2010/02/who-am-i.html' title='Who Am I?'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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/_FBVFdgPxFWc/S4GuAsQxdgI/AAAAAAAAABs/imryQhgtGQo/s72-c/Rue+Lynn+Galbraith+-+Graduation+1977+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-1596944518045321327</id><published>2009-12-31T08:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T09:53:14.667-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How to measure a life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred moments so dear,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;How do you measure, a year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In daylights, in sunsets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In midnights, in cups of coffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;How do you measure, a year in life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;How about love? Measure in love, seasons of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;It's time now, to sing out, though the story never ends,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Oh, you got to, you got to remember the love,You know that life is a gift from above,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Share love, give love, spread love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Measure, measure your life in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The musical Rent as held a hold over me ever since I first heard those lyrics long ago. When I finally saw it on Broadway and fully felt the story of life it told, I realized it was the story of my life.  In fact I almost commenced by remarks at my Mom's funeral with those words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One lyric seemed to sum up how I have always tried to my life, one day at a time. "Forget regret or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way, no day but today."  It is my belief that if one lives each day to it's fullest, with hope, with love, being true to oneself, then the past will be with out regrets, and the future will be bright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One can look back and say 'will I should have done this or I should have made this decision.' However ask yourself; With all the knowledge and wisdom I had at the time did I make the best choice?   If you did, then there should be no regrets, no living in the past. Move on, learn, grow. Because there is no day but today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all want to 'write one song' that we will be remembered by. I again look at the lyrics of seasons of love, I believe it is our love that will be remembered. I want to be remembered as a Teacher who cared for his students, a Father,  Brother, Uncle, a Husband who loved with out judgments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As 2009 comes to an end and a new decade is about to begin, I look back and I see love...over the past year, thanks to the 21st Century technology, I have been able to be apart of my family, even though they are miles away from me. I see my Nephews and Nieces and their families, I may not post a comment on post or a picture, but I see them grow, hear the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Brittanny getting married, my heart was again opened to love a son I do not know, yet there in the still quite moment, looking at picture of  Kyle with Britt, I knew he was the one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end of 2009, also makes me look back not only on the past year, but over the past fifty years. I have no regrets, I do wish I made better choices, was stronger in my faith in me. I own those dissensions. They have made me who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I look forward to the second half of my life and the few years I have left, I once again choose to live for today, it's time now, to sing out, though the story never ends. I live for today that my one song will be written, that when they think of me, when I am gone, it will be of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-1596944518045321327?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/1596944518045321327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=1596944518045321327' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/1596944518045321327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/1596944518045321327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/12/how-to-measure-life.html' title='How to measure a life.'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-7116510549901872828</id><published>2009-11-19T07:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T11:06:52.184-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVMv16V-RI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B7yj-hp4BMg/s1600/scan0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVMv16V-RI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B7yj-hp4BMg/s320/scan0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405811312537499922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There are anniversaries which seem to be milestones, five years, ten years, always it seems  in the multiples of five.  Today is one of those...can it be ten years since the passing of my Mom? Even more hard to believe this past Monday, the 16th, twenty-six years of Dad's death. It will be safe to say that a day does not pass that I do not think about them, on those days I feel most a lone or of great happiness,  my thoughts turn to them and I think about all the times we shared together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much has happened in the past ten years, their family has grown. Each time I see a photo of the newest great grandchild I think how much Mom would enjoy them, talk to them in her own special way she would always talk to newborns, how they would feel of her love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the musical Rent, one number asks how do you measure a life of a person, the answer how they loved.  I know my parents were not perfect, yet I know that their love for me and my brothers is true. If there is one thing I would want to pass on to future generations is that they loved their family each daughter-in-law, each grandchild found a place in their hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom, was a unique woman, in fact looking over her life she was, for a lack of a better word, a rebel. At a time when the Mothers were to stay at home and the wife was to be under the husband, and long before the feminist movement of the sixties and seventies, Mom was already being an independent woman. Working outside the home, a leader in the community. There was nothing Mom could not do, once she set her mind to it.  Be it a first rate Nurse with little training to being a savvy business woman without an MBA. Her abilities and and talents were limitless, from cooking to sewing to crafts and painting, singing and acting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always saw my Dad and Mom as  equals, each used there own strengths to build a home, Dad the provider and peacemaker, Mom keeping order of the household, financially as well as the day to day activities. Mom was a 'go getter', Dad was easy going. While Mom personality could over shadow Dad's, from time to time, she would let me know that Dad was the Priesthood holder of the home, even though she could get Dad on board with any thing she deemed the family should do, even when Dad was not 100% with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Dad disapproved what we we did, he would make a comment, like I don't understand you kids, why you can't do it right. Mom on the other hand would 'preach' to us pointing out the reasons for not behaving like we did then would end "We taught you better than that"! Making me to take responsible for my actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like most couples they had their ups and downs, however I knew Dad always loved my Mom, and she him. In those final years, Mom's simple touch to his hand would stop Dad's trembling.&lt;br /&gt;Dad wrote of Mom:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "The appreciation I have for her is above words can say. Her talents are more numerous than one could count. Her faith in prayers is her deciding factor, here on earth. She can heal the most painful wound, her knowledge of advice is tremendous, and in time of discouragement, she can erase it from one's mind. I know because I have been there.  In speaking of my wife Glen Dora, I never speak of her by her given name, I address her as my loving wife, Sweetheart, Honey or my Dear Wife. The reason for this - she is more to me than Glen Dora."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pause today to think about my parents, I still long for the day when we shall meet again, I miss them more than ever.  Even to hear Mom tell me to turn my life around would be a treat, because I would hear her voice and even through the wall build between us I would still feel her love. To see Dad's smile, feel his arms around me, are just a memory away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pause today to give thanks for parents who loved me. I Love Mom and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVNxxY1raI/AAAAAAAAABU/qvYK8Ug1omc/s1600/scan0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVNxxY1raI/AAAAAAAAABU/qvYK8Ug1omc/s320/scan0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405812445194595746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVROK8xL8I/AAAAAAAAABc/04iW6zTnp3I/s1600/scan0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVROK8xL8I/AAAAAAAAABc/04iW6zTnp3I/s320/scan0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405816231627403202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Who can say for certain? Maybe you're still here. I Feel you all around me, your memory so clear. I cherish all you gave me everyday...Forever loved, watching me from up above. And i believe that angles breathe, and that love will live on an never leave."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-7116510549901872828?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/7116510549901872828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=7116510549901872828' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/7116510549901872828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/7116510549901872828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/11/remembering.html' title='Remembering'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SwVMv16V-RI/AAAAAAAAAA8/B7yj-hp4BMg/s72-c/scan0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-6190371860560556987</id><published>2009-09-18T21:54:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T22:51:56.909-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Since Sunday (13 Sept), when I received an excited phone call from my daughter Brittanny telling me the Kyle just ask her to marry her, I have felt oh so old. Was it not just yesterday that I was holding her in my arms, bathing her watching her take her first steps? I have also felt excited for her, have felt that my blessing which I gave her so many years ago is still honored by Heavenly Father. There are few blessings I remember pronouncing as I held her in my arms arms as others gathered around.  One was the ability to make friends, I knew she would moving around a lot, (there's a story behind that) Another is that she would find a Priesthood holder that would take her to the Temple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; And so that day is at hand.  I love my little Britt, She has bought me such joy and yet she has also bought me great sorrow - not her personal because she is the best daughter in the world - the sorrow comes from not being there for her.  I knew long ago as I held her in my arms in the hospital that my time with her would be short, that the path I was facing would take me away form her and my family. But I also knew I would love her all my life, and I trusted she would always feel my love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Keeping to my form I always have song for each point in my life, I guess comes from being in the "Theatre" So from Fiddler on the Roof - I bring you Sunrise Sunset. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little girl at play? I don't remember growing older when did she?....Sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the days...When did is get be a beauty? Wasn't yesterday she was small? Sunrise, Sunset swiftly fly the years, one season flowing another laden with happiness and tears.."&lt;/span&gt;  (OK a little campy but....)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am so happy and excited for her. I felt a peace a month ago when we talked about Kyle and knew he was the one. Just been on pins and needles waiting. I have a Son!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish wish them all the happiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-6190371860560556987?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/6190371860560556987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=6190371860560556987' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6190371860560556987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/6190371860560556987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-little-girl.html' title='My Little Girl'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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-1929836958495179095.post-3096134322237195675</id><published>2009-07-10T19:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T20:45:28.913-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Have you done any good?</title><content type='html'>Steven and I were returning from Ikea, when we stopped at Publix, our local grocery store to pick up some lunch.  As we turned into the parking lot I noticed a 'panhandler', I told Steven we needed to get out of the car a quickly as possible so we could miss her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... no luck. She did not ask for money but if we could buy her and her husband some food to eat. I quickly answered yes and rushed off inside the store. I picked up some chicken fingers from the deli and found Steven and rushed through check out. I found the women and gave them to her. Then quickly started the car and drove off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was driving home a hymn come in my head. I thought how strange I have not sung this hymn in many years, since my youth. It's not a favorite hymn of mine, never the less, the words seemed to have been called forward....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you done any good in the world today?&lt;br /&gt;Have you helped anyone in need?&lt;br /&gt;Have you cheered up the sad,&lt;br /&gt;help someone feel gald?&lt;br /&gt;If not you have failed indeed.&lt;br /&gt;When they needed my help was I there?&lt;br /&gt;Then wake up and do something more,&lt;br /&gt;than dream of your mansion above.&lt;br /&gt;Doing good is a pleasure a joy beyond measure.&lt;br /&gt;A blessing, a duty of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure if the words are correct, however the thought was there. I then told Steve we could have done more, bought water, why not a full chicken?  I was so much in a rush to get through with my task, that I did not stop and think, "What can I do, to really help." Over the day I kept thinking why was I so much in  a rush to help this woman?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through out my life I have tried to treat people I met with love and be nonjudgmental, to see the good in them. In all I do I try to left people up, to have them feel worth. When I was active in the Church, the two topics I would choose to talk on were always Christ and his love, then just Love - charity the pure love of Christ.  When ever I did the spirit was there and would always  receive  several comments after wards.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vowed I would not fail next time I would help out of love, not just out of duty. The next day I was provided an opportunity to full fill this promise. I was just putting the gas cap on my car when I was asked if I could spear money so they could get gas in their car. I never carry any money with me, so my first reaction was to say"No sorry I don't have any money with me." However I said "I have no money but I can put ten dollars in the tank for you." So went with them pulled out my ATM card and filled the tank with ten dollars worth of gas. A simple act.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write not to say how great a person I am but rather to reflect on the many times we might pass a stranger without a word, with out seeing them. Would a warm hello and smile help them on their way?  Do we say a quick I love you as we say good bye to our loved ones, just out of habit, or do we really stop look them in the eyes and really mean it when say I love you. Do we discipline out of and with love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on, however this blog would be way too long. So I ask, Have I helped anyone in the world today? Have I cheered up the sad, have I made someone feel glad? When they needed me was I there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-3096134322237195675?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/3096134322237195675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=3096134322237195675' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3096134322237195675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3096134322237195675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/07/have-you-done-any-good.html' title='Have you done any good?'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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-1929836958495179095.post-8267803076290799765</id><published>2009-06-06T08:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T07:48:45.965-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Longest Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SipwStn8FtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NKZ87xDfuww/s1600-h/Formal+Portrait.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SipwStn8FtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NKZ87xDfuww/s320/Formal+Portrait.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344207374615582418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sixty-five years a go today, thousands of men were in small landing crafts in the English Channel off the Normandy coast of France, waiting for the command to commence the invasion of France. Among them were the men of the 65th Armored Filed Artillery Battalion. This group of men were not green to battle, they had cut their 'battle teeth' in the desert of North Africa, honed their skills in Sicily and now they were asked to put all this knowledge to the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among those of the 65th, was a 29 year old man, Sgt. Wilkie Dee Galbraith, my hero, my Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can not be over stated what happened on June 6, 1944, the largest military invasion in history. For 'Many men went there as soldiers; many men past that way. Many men counted the hours as they lived the Longest Day. Many men did not see the sunset, when the Longest Day ended. Many men where there to stay.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel for reasons unknown to me, that Dad was saved for me so he could be my Dad. My brothers might also agree. Dad wrote: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I have had prayers answered before the wink of the eye, so I know that prayers are answered  and that there is a Father in Heaven."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad landed on Utah Beach, watched men die in front of him that day. He himself was blown from a half- track, causing him to have whiplash, yet he did his duty to repair tanks so they could get off the beach and into the French Countryside. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I was the only mechanic in the Battalion " &lt;/span&gt;wrote&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "I took my toolbox (which weighed fifty pounds.) in my arms and started for the tank 100 feet away. hearing an incoming shell, I fell flat on my face. I laid there for a moment then I heard it make it's mark. When I arrived at the tank,I found laying at the rear of the tank, Sgt. Herman Strevell, who was in charge of the tank, cut nearly in half, dead. I repaired the tank..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad summed  up the war this way &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"As it has been said, 'War is hell.' At times you can't think back only forward...we acquire a certain trait in the fear of death or in being 'scared to death'."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today June 6th 2009, I pause to remember my hero, who sixty-five years ago faced his own mortality, went forward in fear, having faith in his Father in Heaven to do his duty as a Solider in the United States Army. To him and to all those who passed that way on the beaches of Normandy may we remember them, may we never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad you are my hero, my soldier. you were saved to come home from the war to be my father. No other man on earth would I rather have for a Father than you! I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-8267803076290799765?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/8267803076290799765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=8267803076290799765' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/8267803076290799765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/8267803076290799765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/06/longest-day.html' title='The Longest Day'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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/_FBVFdgPxFWc/SipwStn8FtI/AAAAAAAAAAU/NKZ87xDfuww/s72-c/Formal+Portrait.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-8748403684739707100</id><published>2009-02-11T20:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:47:48.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am how old?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well, I have not written for a long time so......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My Birthday was last Monday the 9th. I commenced a posting but was called away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I supose that becoming this age one should stop and reflect on their life. Well I have and the past fifty years have been FABULOUS!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There has been sorrow and pain along the way but most of all there as been great joy and happiness. I have lived trying to live by making the best decisions I could with the knowlegde I had at the time. Of course looking back, I see that I may have had different choices. BUT I made the decision I could so I have for the most part have lived with out regret. I have lived for today, believing that a great today builds a great past and bright future!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In High Schoold I wrote a autobiography, which I entitled "Know this that every soul is FREE!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Based on a Hymn by William Clegg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Know this that every soul is free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;to choose his life and what he'll be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;For this eternal truth is given&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That God will force no man to heav'n&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Freedom and reason make us men;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Take these away, what are we then?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Mere animals and just as well&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;the beasts may think of Heav'n or hell.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I still believe that every soul is free to choose his life and what he'll be! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The other guideing principal is that of LOVE. Paul and Moroni wrote that between faith, hope and charity (love), the greatest of all is love. Love is powerfull, but in this world hate is strong and at times seems the strongest. I ahve tried to love show compassion to all. It is hard to follow. Why is it easier to find fault in others than it is to find one great thing in them? How hurtfull are words. I am afraid to say that I have been hurt the most by those who say they are followers of Jesus Christ, than by those who are not. Of course I have felt the love by those who follow Jesus Christ also. But the wounds are deep and hard to forget and to forgive, but forgivness is part of love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I learned long ago that as the song lyric says so beatiful, the greateat love of all is learing to love yourself &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;" I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows If I fail, if I&lt;br /&gt;succeed At least I'll live as I believe No matter what they take from me They&lt;br /&gt;can't take away my dignity Because the greatest love of all Is happening to me I&lt;br /&gt;found the greatest love of all Inside of me."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"And if&lt;br /&gt;by chance, that special place That you've been dreaming of Leads you to a lonely&lt;br /&gt;place Find your strength in love." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I did find that the by loving myself did take me to a loney place, in many ways it is still a loney place. However I have found love, I have opened my heart to those who I thought would not love me and accept me for me, for who I am. It is still hard, I still feel on my own. I want to extend my life to them, but...will they love Steven as my 'husband', will they see him as an in-law, just if I was married to a woman? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I love my family. But I am what I am. I know of the love they have for me...is there room for one more?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Life is short and if by chance I follow my parent's foot steps, my life is 3/4 over. If that is so the next 1/4 of my life will be full of love and laughter. Living each day to it's fullness. So I end this post with a poem by Wilt Whitman, that I read while in my youth which still today guides me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The Road not Taken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Two roads diverged in a yellow&lt;br /&gt;wood,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And I sorry I could not travel both&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And be one traveler, long I stood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And looked down one as far as I could&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;To&lt;br /&gt;where it bent in the undergrowth;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then took the other, as just as fair,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;having perhaps the better claim,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Because it was&lt;br /&gt;grassy and wanted wear;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Though as for that, the&lt;br /&gt;passing there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Had worn them really about the&lt;br /&gt;same,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And both that&lt;br /&gt;morning equally lay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;In leaves no step had trodden&lt;br /&gt;black.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Oh, I kept the first for another day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Yet knowing how wayleads on to way,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I doubted if I should ever come back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I shall be telling this with a&lt;br /&gt;sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Somewhere ages and ages hence:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I&lt;br /&gt;took the one less traveled by,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And that has made all&lt;br /&gt;the difference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So now I, Rue Lynn Galbraith now say ages hence I did take the road less traveled and that has made all the difference!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-8748403684739707100?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/8748403684739707100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=8748403684739707100' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/8748403684739707100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/8748403684739707100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2009/02/am-how-old.html' title='Am how old?!'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-795705630321381430</id><published>2008-12-24T09:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T14:31:27.962-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Keeping with my song lyric theme I open this one with an old Karen Carpenter song: "Greeting cards have all been sent. The Christmas rush is through, but I still have a one wish to make a special one for you" So Happy Christmas to everyone a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Joyeux&lt;/span&gt; Noel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Someday Steven and I will be in Utah for Christmas, we're so an old married couple. We ask each other "What do you want for Christmas?" "Nothing." is the reply. Of course being in retail, he will receive some clothing. Last year he gave me a sewing machine, so I have all I need or want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I know to many who will read this blog my not understand, but the love Steven and I have is all I need. The only thing that would make this Christmas happier is if we could spent it with my family in Utah. During the last few months, I have thought about Steven and I. For whatever reasons the love we have together, most people don't care about it or want to ignore it. It seems they want us to go away. At the end of the day my love for Steven remains true and I really don't need to have a church or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;government&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;approve&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;recognize&lt;/span&gt; it, because it's true and in the end the truth makes me free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Christmas time is about family, love and looking beyond oneself. Christ taught, in as much as ye have done unto these the least of thy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;brethren&lt;/span&gt;, you have done it undo me. I have in recent days been remind of a poem Longfellow wrote, "I heard the Bells" the last two stanzas are:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"And in despair I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bow'd&lt;/span&gt; my head:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;'There is no peace on earth' I said&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;For hate is strong, and mocks the song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Of peace on earth, good will to men."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Then pealed the bells more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;loud&lt;/span&gt; and deep:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;with peace on earth, good will to me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I hope I will always be an instrument of peace. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-795705630321381430?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/795705630321381430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=795705630321381430' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/795705630321381430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/795705630321381430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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-1929836958495179095.post-3119552789477565532</id><published>2008-12-06T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T16:57:20.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Last week at this time I was getting over Black Friday. I was sick all last weekend! The Outlet Mall, where I worked opened at 12 Midnight! (Thursday night/Friday morning)I worked 12 am till 11am, yup 11 plus hours, then I was back at the Gap Outlet at 11 hours later at 10pm and worked till 7am Saturday morning. Putting the store back together and pulling clothes fro the backroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Since, Thanksgiving commences the Holiday season, I pulled out my top three CD's to lesson on my 45 min commute to work. They're Barbara Streisand, Josh Groben, Julie Andrews. I first put in Josh's CD, while I listened, all those Christmases from long ago come back. That will be a later blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However one song that I have forgotten Josh singing played - Thankful- I replayed it and I thought how much this reflects my life with my hopes. We all get caught up in our own lives and we forget to see each other for who they are. I have tired to live to be able not to judge people, because I do not know about their own life experiences or what might have happened just before I met them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I share once again Lyrics from a song my boy Josh sings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Someday we forget&lt;br /&gt;To look around us&lt;br /&gt;Somedays we can't see&lt;br /&gt;The joy that surrounds us&lt;br /&gt;So caught up inside ourselves&lt;br /&gt;We take when we should give. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Look beyond ourselves&lt;br /&gt;There's so much sorrow&lt;br /&gt;It's away too late to say&lt;br /&gt;I'll cry tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Each of Us must find our truth&lt;br /&gt;It's so long over do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even with our differences&lt;br /&gt;There is a place we're all connected&lt;br /&gt;Each of us can find each other's Light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So for tonight we pray for&lt;br /&gt;What we know can be&lt;br /&gt;And on this day we hope for&lt;br /&gt;What we still can't see&lt;br /&gt;It's up to us to be the change&lt;br /&gt;And even though this world needs so much more&lt;br /&gt;There's so much to be thankful for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hope each one will find their truth and look beyond themselves and connect with the light that shines in everyone and see the joy which is all around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-3119552789477565532?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/3119552789477565532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=3119552789477565532' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3119552789477565532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/3119552789477565532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2008/12/black-friday.html' title='Black Friday'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1929836958495179095.post-441699727018124113</id><published>2008-11-17T07:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T08:06:09.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DAD</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So my first entry into this thing is about my Dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Yesterday - It's been twenty five years since my father's death. It is hard to believe, because it seems like only yesterday, that I received the news and walked the streets of London thinking about Dad. While the 'hurt' is gone I still miss him, his hugs, his laughter. However I do still feel his love all around. I often think of a picture taken at the SLC Airport as I was leaving for France on my Mission. Dad and I are hugging and the smile he has on his face. In less than a year he would be fighting for his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and for the past 25 years, my thoughts turn to my Dad, and for the last 8 to Mom who died on the 19 November. I pause remember, cry, and give thanks to our Heavenly Father for wonderful parents. Realizing that they are 'watching over me from above.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I heard Josh Gorban sing the Song "To Where You Are." I immediately thought of my parents. Here are some of the Lyrics:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;"Who can say for certain?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Maybe you still here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I feel you all around me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Your memory clear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Deep in the stillness&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can hear you speak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You're still an Insperation,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Can it be?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That you are mine,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;foreverloved&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And you are watching&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Over me from up above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Are you gently sleeping -&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here inside my dream?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And isn't faith believing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;All power can't be seen?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As my heart holds you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Just one beat away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I cherish all you gave me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Everyday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Forever loved,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Watching me from up above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I believe that angles breath&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And that love will live on and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Never leave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fly me up to where you are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Beyond the distant star,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I wish upon tonight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To see you smile,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;If only for awhile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To know you're there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A breath a way's not far&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To where you are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know you're there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A breath away a way's not far&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To where you are."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Dad, Mom thank you for all you gave me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1929836958495179095-441699727018124113?l=ruelynng.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/feeds/441699727018124113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1929836958495179095&amp;postID=441699727018124113' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/441699727018124113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1929836958495179095/posts/default/441699727018124113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruelynng.blogspot.com/2008/11/dad.html' title='DAD'/><author><name>Rue Lynn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11222737922566309274</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></feed>
