Scars

I wrote this for my beautiful sister Lindsay. She is such an example of strength and faith.

Scars

My finger traces across my skin
Pale lines where a wound has been
Each has a story of some sort of length
Marks of my weakness and of my strength

We start as a canvas, perfect and new
And life paints our portraits with lines and with hues
Our stories are etched in a series of marks
Seemingly subtle and jaggedly stark

Each mark was gained with some kind of trial
Tribute to sacrifice and of survival
The angry lines fade from across my skin
A constant reminder of changes within

My body and face, unique in design
Won’t follow the beauty the world defines
The wrinkles and scars that TV abhors
Are proof of my love for those I adore

When my body is old and my portrait is done
My scars tell the tale of fights I have won
Each tells a story of some kind of length
Not marks of my weakness, but proof of my strength


By Jaymie Quigley
Written 10-18-09 For my sister Lindsay

I also want to add the thought that inspired me to write this was the realization that when Jesus Christ was resurrected and His body was made perfect He kept the scars on His hands, feet, and side. He kept them as a reminder and proof of His sacrifice for those he loved.

Fruit of my labor

Adoption Update

We have been chosen as one of the top three families for a little boy here in Boise. He is five and he is absolutely adorable. He looks a lot like Shaylee with dark blond hair and blue eyes. Everything seems very promising but we won't find out for sure for two more weeks. It is so weird to look at his picture and think that he could be our son. I am so excited it is hard to sleep!

Blue Jean Ball

Thursday night I got called in as an emergency speaker for the Boise March of Dimes Blue Jean Ball. The ambassador family got sick and I had spoken for March of Dimes once before so the director called me the night before to ask if I would speak. Usually my speaking is to teenagers that aren't really paying attention anyway so a group of wealth, highly positioned adults (including the Governor and his wife) were intimidating. However by the time I spoke I think most of them were pretty drunk anyway. I talked about losing Colin and how their contribution will help keep things like that from happening. I did get quite emotional but it was nice that this time when I cried people paid donated money. Many people thanked me for sharing my story. It is nice to know I can make a difference with it.

Some Day

What my kids want to be when they grow up
Shaylee: An alligator farmer and live in a swamp
Avery: Someone who scuba dives and pets sting rays (obviously she hasn't seen The Crocodile Hunter)
Bryce: An army guy but not one that does ballet because there is secret group of them that does ballet
Paxton: An air force pilot. Oh, wait...

Bears and Apaches

For scouts, a family friend of ours offered to land his Apache helicopter in the field next to our church. Of course there was a huge turn out (not just of scouts, but of their dads, uncles and distant male relatives). My first thought when watching the kids mob the aircraft was that this machine had been through war but would it survive 300 elementary aged children. Here are a few fun pictures.

Landing:

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Bryce and his buddy trying to push start the helicopter

Happy boy:

Quoteof the week

Bryce: Mom, my pet fly died and I tried to do the thing where you blow in it's mouth to bring it back to life, but I think I got the wrong end.


Avery (picking up a bottle of yellow fingernail polish remover): Mom, why are you buying a bottle of pee?!


Me: Avery, come on, we are going to be late! What is taking you so long?
Avery (while moving very slowly): Mom, I coming but I'm moving is slow potion!

Me: Paxton wanted my hair long and blond and now it is short and blue.

While looking at pictures of foster kids in need of adoption with my sisters:
Me: Oh, look at that little guy! He is so cute.
Mary: That one is really cute too!
Jenny: Ohh, that one is really cute.
Me: Jenny, you can't adopt him. He is seventeen and you are only fifteen.

Good Times!