<?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-5795569669741364552</id><updated>2011-12-04T10:55:00.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wherever I Go, There I Am</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5795569669741364552.post-2592811415030357636</id><published>2011-12-04T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T10:18:25.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only took 2 1/2 years to come back...</title><content type='html'>I love reading old posts of mine, but I hate that they have reminded me that I haven't been here for 2 1/2 years! And I'm not into waiting until a New Year's resolution to get back into a good habit. My need for journaling has prompted me to revisit this old blog site, mostly because when there is so much going on in my head that I want to journal about, it helps me to type instead of write...simply because I can keep up a little more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last couple years, one child has turned into two, I started my own business that is relatively successful so far (we'll see), and my hair has been a variety of colors. Bobby and I just celebrated 8 years of marriage, which felt less like a celebration and more like a 'Wow! We've endured what?' I've watched a million wedding ceremonies, and also watched marriages fall apart. I've seen babies born, babies adopted, and babies grow up. My baby girl is now 4, my baby boy is now 1, and I'm...well...I'm 30. Yikes. It was a birthday I was actually looking forward to, hoping in a way to leave behind some of the stuff that came with my 20s. However, some of it followed me, some of it became worse, and those stubborn fine lines around my eyes got just a little more defined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I don't really know where I'm going with that other than to say that a lot of time has passed, and at the same time, it all feels like yesterday. But here I am again, hopefully to record more of my journey, more of my life, and most of all, more of my healing. This IS me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-2592811415030357636?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2592811415030357636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=2592811415030357636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2592811415030357636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2592811415030357636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/only-took-2-12-years-to-come-back.html' title='Only took 2 1/2 years to come back...'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-3080306437916059974</id><published>2009-05-20T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T21:13:04.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Geen Fiangas</title><content type='html'>Annsley is now 19 months old, and boy, do I have a smart one on my hands!  I love that she's into learning, but at the same time, nothing gets by her.  And she locks everything in to that brain of hers.  She knows her shapes, all her colors, her letters, numbers, and she's even counting.  A couple days ago she counted to 14...well...let's see..."leven, telve, fowteen, fowteen, fowteen, fowteen!"  I was impressed!  And my favorite thing that she has said recently is "geen fianga," which is green triangle, or course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that she is really into helping right now...she loves to help Daddy cook and help me fold laundry...oh yeah, she likes to "keen up" and I don't argue with that.  I love that she also loves to share - her food, toys, anything - she'll hand it to you or other kids and not bat an eye.  It may not seem important, but at the age when so many kids are shouting "MINE!" and hoarding things, she's very quick to give things away.  I encourage it as much as possible, even if it means reluctantly eating a soggy goldfish when she puts it to my mouth, because she wants others to enjoy what she's enjoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's got quite the personality, and sometimes I just watch in awe and with such a joy that it feels like my heart can't contain it.  She snuggles and gives kisses and laughs when we're being silly.  We dance, she spins and gets dizzy.  It keeps getting more and more fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-3080306437916059974?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3080306437916059974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=3080306437916059974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/3080306437916059974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/3080306437916059974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2009/05/geen-fiangas.html' title='Geen Fiangas'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-461833168469041895</id><published>2009-03-01T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T21:12:26.254-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Note to My Girl...</title><content type='html'>My Baby Girl,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Mommy's a little sappy after watching Nights in Rodanthe with your Daddy.  (That Nicholas Sparks will get you every time!)  I got to thinking a lot about you, and I want you to know that I'll always love you no matter what.  More than anything I'd love to have the kind of relationship that always gets stronger through everything that we will inevitably face.  Looking at your sweet little face in the picture frame above the tv, already you've changed so much since that day.  I can't believe how fast you're growing up, and I know it'll seem like seconds and you'll be in school, then high school, then who knows where. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope that you never hate me when you're a teenager.  I hope you'll always feel that you can confide in me.  I'll never tell your secrets, I promise.  And you can cry any time you want.  It's ok, believe me, I understand.  You know, I dread the day that boy breaks your heart.  But I've been there, so I promise to do the best I can to listen and love you through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try so hard to take in every moment, every first, all the cute things that you're saying now.  My favorite is when you ask "peez" and move your hands across your shoulders, trying to do the sign.  It always makes me smile (and, of course, give you whatever you're asking for!), and I never, ever take that for granted, because I know that day will come when you'll pronounce every letter perfectly and you won't do the sign anymore.  And then I'll miss these days, today, right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As cute as it is, it makes me sad when you see pictures of yourself just a few months ago and say "Bee-by."  And I always have to say, "That's Annsley, and your Mommy's baby."  When your baby girl calls out other babies in the store, you suddenly know that what you have is not a baby, but a little girl.  But then again, as old as you'll become, you'll always be my baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, baby.  I'm such a lucky Mommy, and I hope that I'll always make you feel like a lucky little girl, even when you're not so little anymore.  You're growing up right before my eyes, but even as I cry looking back on the past almost 17 months now, I know that we have so many more fun things to look forward to.  (My goodness, can you imagine the basket case I'll be at your graduation, or worse, your wedding!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to tell you that and to remember what I'm feeling at this very moment.  I love you, Annsley.  I'll see you in the morning when you'll ask for your "O's," "boos" (blueberries are your fave) and "muck."  Goodnight, sweet dreamies, Mommy loves you so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-461833168469041895?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/461833168469041895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=461833168469041895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/461833168469041895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/461833168469041895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2009/03/note-to-my-girl.html' title='A Note to My Girl...'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-2891776592641525327</id><published>2009-02-26T16:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T16:42:39.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ZAP!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jT9MRj5FBpI&amp;amp;hl=en&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/jT9MRj5FBpI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;This is by far one of my favorite things to watch if I need a good laugh.  I don't know about you, but I've never thought of Jesus as a "mounty" and I've never imagined Him "zapping" me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-2891776592641525327?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2891776592641525327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=2891776592641525327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2891776592641525327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2891776592641525327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2009/02/zap.html' title='ZAP!!!'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-2470706267175555253</id><published>2009-02-18T14:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T15:00:38.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Fave Pasttimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySfPehSlI/AAAAAAAAAFM/CfdCfkABYQ8/s1600-h/New+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304275526563744338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySfPehSlI/AAAAAAAAAFM/CfdCfkABYQ8/s320/New+019.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySe57uHoI/AAAAAAAAAFE/psukaF8WE14/s1600-h/New+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304275520780639874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySe57uHoI/AAAAAAAAAFE/psukaF8WE14/s320/New+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Wagon rides...being silly with her cousin Ava...playing in the sprinkler (yes, in Florida you can do that this time of year)...and, of course, shoe shopping (even if they're Daddy's)!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySeiIDprI/AAAAAAAAAE8/lsu6HWrqW6Q/s1600-h/New+013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304275514389931698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySeiIDprI/AAAAAAAAAE8/lsu6HWrqW6Q/s320/New+013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySedzr_uI/AAAAAAAAAE0/WmdzeSNeK98/s1600-h/New+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304275513230753506" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySedzr_uI/AAAAAAAAAE0/WmdzeSNeK98/s320/New+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-2470706267175555253?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2470706267175555253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=2470706267175555253' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2470706267175555253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2470706267175555253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2009/02/few-fave-pasttimes.html' title='A Few Fave Pasttimes'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZySfPehSlI/AAAAAAAAAFM/CfdCfkABYQ8/s72-c/New+019.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5795569669741364552.post-8768336857850179930</id><published>2009-02-18T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T14:29:13.864-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nannies &amp; Cook-Cooks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLapmUHZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ViJSP3gFp_w/s1600-h/Feb+2009+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304267751095016850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLapmUHZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ViJSP3gFp_w/s320/Feb+2009+015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLaRl0R0I/AAAAAAAAAEY/tgRvvdVVNMI/s1600-h/Feb+2009+016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304267744650479426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 279px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLaRl0R0I/AAAAAAAAAEY/tgRvvdVVNMI/s320/Feb+2009+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLaPVwLwI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/moxSZ_WOv3A/s1600-h/Feb+2009+017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304267744046231298" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLaPVwLwI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/moxSZ_WOv3A/s320/Feb+2009+017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nope, these aren't professions, these are Annsley's newest words! Bananas are "nannies" and cookies are "cook-cooks." Then there's "muck," which is milk, of course. And "peez" is please. I am surprised every day to have at least two new words come spilling out, and I have to say that it so much easier to be able to understand what she's asking for!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She loves to read books, and I love to watch her "read" to herself. It just confirms that she picks up EVERYTHING that I say and stores it away for that special day when she'll decide to blurt it out of nowhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She loves to play with other kids and is fascinated by older kids especially. I'm realizing more and more that I have a very independent kid on my hands. In many ways, it makes things easier - like leaving her in the nursery at church or with sitters - she's like "peace out, Mommy." But then there are those times when I just want to snuggle and she's just too "busy." There's always something that she's learning or doing, and she loves to figure out how things work. In those moments, I wish she had a little clinginess in her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But it's ok, because I'm now officially "Mommy" - she says the word very clearly, she asks for me when I'm gone, and greets me with a smile when I come back. I love it. She's a very happy little girl, and I'm so thankful. She makes me laugh with all of her funny new faces and words. I can't believe that 16 months have flown by this fast!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-8768336857850179930?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8768336857850179930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=8768336857850179930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/8768336857850179930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/8768336857850179930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2009/02/nannies-cook-cooks.html' title='Nannies &amp; Cook-Cooks'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SZyLapmUHZI/AAAAAAAAAEg/ViJSP3gFp_w/s72-c/Feb+2009+015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5795569669741364552.post-6465190591934481866</id><published>2008-10-13T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T17:45:07.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Year Gone By</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrH8swaMI/AAAAAAAAACw/GAvKnqMzH3E/s1600-h/1st+Birthday+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256803711856961730" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrH8swaMI/AAAAAAAAACw/GAvKnqMzH3E/s320/1st+Birthday+015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrHySWS0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/ooLKD_j9Ch8/s1600-h/1st+Birthday+083.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256803709061843778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrHySWS0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/ooLKD_j9Ch8/s320/1st+Birthday+083.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrICgmI0I/AAAAAAAAADA/UWiFQW-pdVs/s1600-h/1st+Birthday+077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256803713416569666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrICgmI0I/AAAAAAAAADA/UWiFQW-pdVs/s320/1st+Birthday+077.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrIaMd7HI/AAAAAAAAADI/PxV3xD0gvxc/s1600-h/1st+Birthday+032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256803719774596210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrIaMd7HI/AAAAAAAAADI/PxV3xD0gvxc/s320/1st+Birthday+032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I've been cleaning up the house and still recovering from Annsley's 1st birthday party on Saturday. Whew! We had a ton of people here and what felt like a million kids!! It was so much fun, but I was definitely wiped out after the front door finally shut for the day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I've been putting together new toys, trying to find space for them!, and deflating sinking balloons, I've actually found myself getting a little sad. Maybe it's not sad, just sentimental. I mean, my baby is one. And technically, she's now a toddler, not a baby, but as they say, she'll always be MY baby. But I feel like she was just born yesterday. I can't believe it, but I really do believe I've done everything I could to preserve and enjoy every moment of this first year. I considered her party also a party for me and Bobby, celebrating our first year of parenthood. It's a big job, and I know we've just begun, but I feel very proud of our accomplishment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also realized at Annsley's one-year check-up this morning that this next year will probably be even more challenging, as we're heading into no bottles and disciplining. Yikes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But as I sit here, I feel like this is a bittersweet moment. She's growing up so fast. And I can see already that I have a very independent child on my hands, which in so many ways is such a good thing, except in those moments when I just want to snuggle with her. In some ways I miss her being a brand new baby, and today was especially sentimental because this was the exact day last year that we brought her home from the hospital and experienced our first night at home with our new member of the family. But a bigger part of me really enjoys the age she is now, exploring everything around her, learning new words and finding her sense of humor :0) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm very much looking forward to what this next year will hold. I'm really excited to watch Annsley continue to grow, and everyday I love her more. I love watching Bobby fall more and more in love with his little girl, and I love his face when she squeals as he walks through the door. Our baby is one lucky little lady. I love you, Annsley. I'm so thankful for this love-packed year, and I'll never take for granted every day we get to watch you grow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-6465190591934481866?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6465190591934481866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=6465190591934481866' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/6465190591934481866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/6465190591934481866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/10/year-gone-by.html' title='A Year Gone By'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3b1pFYlYkFs/SPPrH8swaMI/AAAAAAAAACw/GAvKnqMzH3E/s72-c/1st+Birthday+015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5795569669741364552.post-1568149488220066670</id><published>2008-10-08T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T09:24:12.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drawing the Curtains</title><content type='html'>Yes, it may seem as though I dropped off the face of the earth lately, but I think maybe I've just been hiding out.  Lately I've had this desire to be a little more secretive...not sure why...I guess I haven't liked the idea of my personal stuff floating all over cyber space.  I cancelled my MySpace and Facebook accounts, maybe because I've been watching one too many morning talk shows about stolen identities...or maybe because every once in a while I don't want people to "watch" me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like Bobby is always in the spotlight and, therefore, so am I.  Not that I'm trying to sound negative...it's just how our lives are.  I have a weird dichotomy to my personality...I really love people, love being around new and different people, love working in customer service and sales, enjoy being out and about.  But a lot of times I just like being invisible, lost in my own little world where I'm not a pastor's wife or the "hostess with the mostess" or even an "example" for people to model things after.  I like being JUST a normal, everyday wife and a mom, tripping over laundry and flicking wet Cheerios off my feet.  I like to be a kid who enjoys smelling pretty flowers outside, and I like sometimes feeling a little naughty while I'm reading cheesy romance novels.  I like to play around with new shimmery eye shadow colors and getting excited about the new series of Tim Gunn's Guide to Style. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I guess I'm just a homebody, and while Bobby likes all the attention that is poured over him constantly, that's not what drives me.  I'm the definition of an introvert, even though I never realized that until just a few years ago.  I always gave the idea of being an introvert a negative glance, but I've realized that there's nothing wrong with me, just different in the ways that I get "fueled."  And a lot of times my thoughts are processed simply in my mind, instead of over the internet.  This blog was never meant for people to "look in" on my life and be impressed with how many "hits" I've gotten.  No, this was meant for me, to download things in my life and stuff I'd like to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you're keeping up with my little blog for whatever reason, don't be disappointed if you haven't gotten a newsflash in a while or the latest picture.  I'm probably somewhere with my baby, or reading, or doing laundry, or playing outside, somewhere that doesn't involve being glued to my laptop, you know, spending time with the things I love most.  I like being a little private with myself and my family because so much of our lives are "looked in on."  Not that I mind those parts either.  I guess I'm just drawing a few curtains these days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-1568149488220066670?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1568149488220066670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=1568149488220066670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1568149488220066670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1568149488220066670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/10/drawing-curtains.html' title='Drawing the Curtains'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-4639074350523487018</id><published>2008-07-05T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T09:22:46.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moments in the Mountains...</title><content type='html'>So right now I'm looking at my dumb dog who, on our first night up here in the mountains, decides to fall down an entire flight of steep, wooden stairs.  Yes, at 3 AM, as I'm trying to console a screaming baby, Rook heads down the steps in the pitch black, and I'll never forget the sound of an 85-pound idiot falling head over heels.  So now he's sore all over and yelps every time he gets up, but I'm surprised he didn't break anything.  He's like Chevy Chase, always doing the dumbest stuff, yet still surviving to do it all over tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Bobby and I are trying to relax.  It's a rainy day today, the baby's sleeping, and Bobby and his dad are playing yet another riveting game of chess on the porch - look out, brilliant minds at work.  When it's quiet up here, it's REALLY quiet...it's a nice change of pace for a little while.  I'm trying to finish up my book for book club.  I love having the opportunity to read more up here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Annsley gets up, we're headed to a winery...and then to the greatest thing since sliced bread - Wal-Mart!  :0)  It's the big deal around these parts!  Ha ha!  More to come...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-4639074350523487018?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4639074350523487018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=4639074350523487018' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/4639074350523487018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/4639074350523487018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/07/moments-in-mountains.html' title='Moments in the Mountains...'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-808650656951024997</id><published>2008-07-03T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T15:40:33.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I finally have time...</title><content type='html'>Ok.  I'm back in the blogging world :0)  Between work and an almost 9-month-old, by the end of the day, I'm usually too exhausted to brush my teeth, let alone write a blog entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm in the mountains now, relaxing, eating and walking - I also got a little reading in, which is quite an accomplishment, especially during the day!  The trip up here went pretty well, probably better for Bobby because he was driving and in the front, away from poopie diapers and Rook's fish breath.  But overall, I can't complain.  We all made it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a treat to sleep in this morning.  The grandparents took Annsley when she finally decided she was done sleeping at 5:30!  Of course, that was after waking up forgetting where she was and screaming bloody murder.  And then there was Rook's falling face first down the steps in the dark with the safety gate (I guess we'll have to change the name of that gate!).  But she got to read a few good books with Grandma and take some walks around looking at all the pretty flowers, not to mention squeezing in a nap, all before Bobby and I got up around 9:30.  Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, time for a pork roast dinner.  Yum!  And maybe later, some smores over the fire out back.  We're making memories as I write.  Looking forward to making more this week :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-808650656951024997?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/808650656951024997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=808650656951024997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/808650656951024997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/808650656951024997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-i-finally-have-time.html' title='So I finally have time...'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-1893425841248867877</id><published>2008-06-22T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T18:21:39.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Dreams</title><content type='html'>I went to a friend's baby shower today, and we were asked to write down a little advice or note of encouragement for the mom-to-be.  I realized that it was the first time that I could do that out of my own mommy experience.  I told her to take in every moment, no matter how tired you are, and to take a ton of pictures - it goes by way too fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight as I was putting my little angel to bed, I turned on her night-night music and got her all snuggled in her jammies, but instead of laying her right down in her bed, I held onto her just a little longer and rocked her in my arms.  As I prayed over her with her little fuzzy head on my shoulder and her little face all nuzzled in my neck, I listened to the sweet, soft sounds of her sucking her paci...and I soaked up those moments into my memory.  Then I kissed her and laid her down, and she made those sweet little sounds of contentment as she rolled on her side with her blanket, and her eyes began to close.  There's nothing like that in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every night when I pray over her, I pray that God would surround her bed with angels to protect her, that she'd have sweet dreams and a peaceful sleep.  Then I thank Him for giving me this precious little angel to love and protect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe she's 8 months old already.  It seems like she was just born!  I love her so much.  I can't begin to describe the joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-1893425841248867877?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1893425841248867877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=1893425841248867877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1893425841248867877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1893425841248867877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/06/sweet-dreams.html' title='Sweet Dreams'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-961530417096165819</id><published>2008-06-01T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T08:17:47.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talents and Teething</title><content type='html'>So May kinda got away from me blogwise.  I've been super tired lately - Annsley, work, new church things, managing our household, and a couple other changes in my life- it's gotten the best of me.  But I'll try to get back on track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe that my baby girl is on the verge of crawling!!  It's going by WAY too fast, and I'm not ready for her to be mobile yet.  Naps have become interesting because now she can sit herself up in her crib and play with the wallpaper.  She doesn't cry, but I'll go in there to check on her, thinking she's asleep, and there she is smiling at me :0)  Stinker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's fun, nonetheless.  What's not so fun, however, is the teething.  That's been challenging.  We've been so spoiled with her sleeping through the night since 6 weeks!  So now that she's up several times a night, that certainly isn't helping my tiredness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's so many new things that she's doing, everyday it seems like she's learning something and proudly displaying her talents.  Clapping is the newest thing, and I can't get enough of it!  Also, she's beginning to show her "love" for us.  Daddy's favorite is when she lunges for him and grabs on.  She also gives "kisses" by coming at our faces with a slobbery open mouth.  We end up covered in drool, but I'll take it anyday :0)  Those are the little things that make us forget the frustrating moments.  And she just looks so darn cute with those teeny little teeth popping through on the bottom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like every month that goes by I'm more and more in love with her.  It's amazing.  And one of the greatest joys for me is seeing Bobby bond with her.  Watching their relationship makes me melt, and I'm so thankful that she has such a great Daddy who loves her so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-961530417096165819?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/961530417096165819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=961530417096165819' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/961530417096165819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/961530417096165819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/06/talents-and-teething.html' title='Talents and Teething'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-5618776766612641724</id><published>2008-05-01T18:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T18:40:48.390-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Praise</title><content type='html'>My baby girl Annsley loves these 'Praise Baby' dvd's that another mom suggested to me.  They're basically a bunch of clips of kids playing, flowers, and animals in the wild, all set to worship songs.  We have a couple of them, and we're in love with them because what else can keep a 6-month-old's attention for 30 minutes straight?  And it usually gives me just enough time to wash some bottles, unload the dishwasher or eat some breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I try to also watch them with her sometimes, singing along with the songs and pointing out the names of everything.  She's fascinated.  Several weeks ago I was sitting there next to her as she sat mesmerized in her highchair watching her "movie," and she caught my attention.  As I looked at her little face all lit up and smiling, I was so touched by her innocence, peacefulness and joy...and I thought, 'she's worshipping.'  I just let that sink in as I watched her.  Her joy brought me so much joy, and I imagined God smiling over her as He watched His perfect little creation praising Him in the way that only she knows how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How God must find so much joy in &lt;em&gt;our&lt;/em&gt; joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-5618776766612641724?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5618776766612641724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=5618776766612641724' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/5618776766612641724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/5618776766612641724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/05/baby-praise.html' title='Baby Praise'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-1376867601908548807</id><published>2008-04-22T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T18:39:18.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>REST</title><content type='html'>Bobby and I are attending a conference these next few days in Orlando.  It's a church planting conference, and there are about 3,000 people here from all over the country.  It's kinda cool to imagine that many new churches all across the U.S., but at the same time, it's a little scary because the last thing this country needs is another church.  Instead, we need people in love with God who are &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;being the church&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; in a way that others can't help but be drawn to Him.  So I'm hoping that these are the ones filling our conference seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it's a church planting conference, I decided to sign up for the series of sessions geared toward church planting spouses.  Upon entering my designated area today, I immediately began to make silent judgments.  Upon the opening of the session, I thought "And this is why I hate women's events" and I prepared myself for the fluff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, God had something else in mind for me today.  It appeared that by the end of the session, every word had been prepared for me.  You see, the entire message was about REST.  And if anything, my life lately has been nothing but UNrest.  I'm still in the process of figuring out balance, and I've been spinning in circles trying to do it all because every thing in my life to me is as important as the next, so to put one aside for another seems impossible.  Let's see, there's the baby, then there's the house, cleaning and laundry and fixing things and putting the toilet paper on the roll!, then there's work...and family...and trying to be a good friend...then there's, of course, the new church stuff, new people, launch team, core team...oh yeah, and then there's "quality time" with Bobby...and then I'm supposed to be in the mood for "lovin'."  Then on top of all that, I'm supposed to take care of myself...exercise, eating well, making sure I'm drinking my 8 glasses of water a day!  Then there are those things that I'd LIKE to do but are rarely squeezed in, like reading a book, working on my photo albums, or...I don't know...dreaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in all of this, where does God fit in??  Lately I've actually gotten a little peeved at God because in all the hustle bustle, He still expects me to chip away some time for HIM.  I know it's backward thinking, but that's how my unbalanced mind works sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today I was gently reminded that all things are out of whack unless God is placed first.  On the way to Orlando this morning I was telling Bobby that I feel like everyday I just go through the motions, that it's just the same things over and over.  Today I was told that "unless the Lord builds a house, its builders labor over it in vain" (Psalm 127:1).  The "house" I've been building is not the best that God has for me.  I hang onto and "white-knuckle" so many things in my life because I just need to feel like I have some shred of control over &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt;.  What I realized today is that if there's something that God asks for and I tell Him 'NO' -- I've found my idol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I hold so tightly to things when God truly WANTS to carry my burdens and truly WANTS me to enjoy life.  He never asks me to try to do everything, only to trust that He's got it covered.  Relax.  Take a breath.  REST.  And by the end of the session, I found that my preconceived judgments got washed away...because I had been crying through most of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-1376867601908548807?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1376867601908548807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=1376867601908548807' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1376867601908548807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/1376867601908548807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/04/rest.html' title='REST'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-6145076871295337012</id><published>2008-04-21T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T18:11:43.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working on Balance</title><content type='html'>So I decided that after six months of being with Annsley 24/7 that it might be good for me to go back to work part-time, just to get out of the house and have a little time for myself.  I hadn't planned to go back, but it worked out with Bobby being able to watch her, and I thought that picking up a couple day shifts wouldn't be a big deal.  But it turns out that it's taken a bit of adjusting on my part after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a couple weeks, and things have been ok for the most part...no casualties, everyone's alive and well.  The biggest tragedy is that Bobby took Annsley around town in a non-matching outfit with purple smoothie all down the front of her!  Yes, he fed her his smoothie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this morning I really felt it...as I rushed to get to work on time, I left my baby in Bobby's arms, whining and looking to me for comfort.  Bobby saw my face, but I choked back a tear, kissed her on the head, lied and said that everything was fine.  I walked the incredibly long walk out of the house and shut the door behind me.  And what followed behind was a whole day of guilt and self-doubt.  Did I make the right decision?  Am I damaging my child for life?  Am I being selfish?  I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what it comes down to is that I'm still figuring out balance.  There are so many new things in my life lately, and it's a lot to process.  There are so many things that I want for my family and myself, so much on my mind.  And I don't see it getting any easier any time soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to say that although I missed my baby so incredibly much, there was no greater feeling than seeing her again and having her look up at me and flash me that huge gummy smile :0)  Oh, I love her so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-6145076871295337012?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6145076871295337012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=6145076871295337012' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/6145076871295337012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/6145076871295337012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/04/working-on-balance.html' title='Working on Balance'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-2401081923672755375</id><published>2008-04-20T17:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T17:37:16.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kryptonite</title><content type='html'>So I'm coming off of being sick - and I mean violently sick - for the past couple days.  And something I realized is that when you're a mom, being sick is not just inconvenient, it's impossible.  There simply isn't time to be sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Bobby got sick first, I have to admit, I was less than sympathetic.  I attributed it to his constant IBS symptoms, and I passed it off as his 'lesson to learn.'  I was getting on him about eating food he knows will set him off....But then, 12 hours later, it hit me like a brick.  And it wasn't pretty.  What started as a merciless roll of my eyes became an apology and a plea to take the pain away.  Looks like the Chinese food attacked both of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, not only did I feel like I was just hit by a bus, but I was then overcome with guilt for not being what my baby needed.  Thank God for my parents who came and rescued her for the night, as Bobby and I were completely non-functioning.  But even though I knew it was best for her - and us - it ripped my heart out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the calling in to work the next day, followed by not being able to go to the dinner we had planned, followed by the house completely going to shambles.  Being sick requires time -and sleep - to get better, both luxuries that have become foreign to me, especially since little Annsley came into our lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I made it, and everyone is better and back on track.  Things I learned: 1) Be more compassionate about Bobby's intestinal issues.  2) Don't be so hard on myself - I'm not Superwoman and no one expects me to do it all.  3) I will not be eating Chinese food for a VERY long time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-2401081923672755375?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2401081923672755375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=2401081923672755375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2401081923672755375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2401081923672755375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/04/kryptonite.html' title='Kryptonite'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-5805476477142185386</id><published>2008-03-24T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T20:33:21.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Church!</title><content type='html'>I am constantly amazed by the people who make up what we have called Revolution for the last 2 and half years.  For those who may think that our generation has nothing to offer or is nothing worth writing home about, I encourage them to meet the people that I am proud to call my friends, my family.  I have never met a group who "get it" like they do...who are dreamers, fighters, givers.  I am so humbled.  And I don't think I even realized what I have until just recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight was the last Revolution service officially.  Emotions ran high as Bobby finished up what would be his last message taught here.  As I looked around at all those people, I suddenly felt so undeserving of their love and kind words.  Because there were many days when I &lt;em&gt;didn't&lt;/em&gt; want to be in ministry, that I &lt;em&gt;didn't&lt;/em&gt; support Bobby as much as I should have, that I was simply &lt;em&gt;negative&lt;/em&gt;.  There were many days that I just wanted to get away from "church" and be "normal" (whatever that means). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But once again God showed up for me when I didn't deserve Him.  My heart has softened in the last month or so.  It has been confirmed over and over that this new church is every bit my calling as it is Bobby's (thank you, Tim)...I was just a little slower in accepting this call.  I've realized that it's ok to be the backstage crew, or the one who hands the cup of water to the runner.  That it's not just ok, it's vital.  Because without those people, someone else would miss their cues...or be really thirsty.  I realized that I've missed out on doing my job to the fullest because I've spent a lot of time worrying or complaining or wishing I was someone else.  But I know now that I'm exactly who I need to be.  And I've realized that this isn't my only role, that I DO have so much more to offer.  I've begun to see myself in a different light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all this has happened, of course because God's awesome, but also by way of other people's words and belief in me.  It hit me just now that this is exactly who the church is supposed to be.  So edifying and encouraging, so brave enough to speak the Truth, that we love each other on to become who each of us was called to be.  To bring out the "God-flavors" in each other.  For each and every one of us to embrace our strengths--and weaknesses--and be the best we can be.  That's when we truly live.  Imagine a whole group of people who live this out every day.  Imagine a people truly &lt;em&gt;living&lt;/em&gt;!  Let's not miss out on what God has called us to do...to &lt;em&gt;be.  &lt;/em&gt;I'm certainly not going to miss out on any more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Revolution, for loving God by loving me.  Thank you for being the church.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-5805476477142185386?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5805476477142185386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=5805476477142185386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/5805476477142185386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/5805476477142185386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/03/church.html' title='Church!'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-7354892235883233915</id><published>2008-03-11T18:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T19:33:37.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Piece of Me</title><content type='html'>So Bobby and I are quickly approaching this new chapter in our lives. And as the plans for Element are continuing to roll out, some times I still feel like Bobby and I are not quite on the same page...Bobby's a much faster reader. But we're getting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in Texas, I was told something that made complete sense to me, but something that I had never thought of before. I was looked straight in the eyes by someone who had known me a matter of days, and he reminded me of a part of myself that had somehow gotten lost over the years. He told me he got the "hunch" that I had a go-getter personality, that I was someone who went after a challenge instead of backing away. Therefore, the fact that someone like me was pulling back from this church plant didn't quite add up for him. And that hit me like a brick. Where had that part of me gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying for years to be the "manager" of our marriage and now family because I believed that if I don't do it, no one will, and things will simply fall apart. My role as realist, as opposed to my idealist husband, has somehow forced me to automatically put up walls any time a new "dream" is brought to the table. So far, something new for us has meant a new hardship in our marriage, another opportunity for me to feel left behind. Just when I think I'm handling life, something new is thrown in the mix, usually a new endeavor on Bobby's part, and I'm left scrambling to catch up. And I guess it may be because I've never really felt that these were MY dreams, whether that's Bobby's fault, or whether it's self-imposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a big part of this new chapter is finding what part of all this is MY dream, my challenge, because in fact, it is. And then not putting up that familiar wall, but going for it. We'll be ready when we're ready. When I can muster up a little faith and run after all this, there will be no stopping me. I will be truly alive. It's a part of me I haven't seen in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Don't hate the realists. We're not Debbie Downers. We just keep things in perspective :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-7354892235883233915?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7354892235883233915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=7354892235883233915' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7354892235883233915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7354892235883233915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/03/piece-of-me.html' title='That Piece of Me'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-7373930836616871136</id><published>2008-03-05T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T13:50:03.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Called By Default</title><content type='html'>This past week was quite an adventure.  Bobby and I spent 6 days in Austin, Texas at a church planting conference.  And boy, where do I begin??  First of all, leaving Annsley behind at my parents was the hardest thing I've done in a long time.  So with those emotions already on the surface, we were about to face some other challenges upon our arrival in Texas...things that I will be downloading for quite a while (and as I have time to write it out).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the thing that stands out in my mind the most was how much emphasis was placed on our marriage.  Not just that a healthy marriage is important in ministry, but that it's absolutely necessary to be most effective.  I saw in a different way just how much my heart matters, and what I bring to the table is vital.  We had so much wise counsel from people who had never met me before this week, yet I felt like they knew exactly who I am...and who I had forgotten that I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love Bobby so much, but since the beginning of our ministry life together, I have felt like I've been riding his coattails, never quite having what it takes to be his partner in this journey.  Even though he's never deliberately made me feel that way, for years I have been exhausted trying to keep up.  And by not keeping up (and eventually not wanting to), I had begun to feel like the less "spiritual" one. I learned from some incredible people this week that what I have to offer to Bobby, and therefore our ministry, is priceless, that what I had been believing about myself was a lie, and that it is, in fact, OUR ministry.  I have been called by default :0)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were many things that Bobby learned about the way he was looking at me and us.  I think some things may have been a blow to his ego, but it was so very refreshing to have someone say to him what I feel like I've been screaming for years.  Suddenly, there was a fresh perspective for him.  He realized that he is not ready for this new adventure until we are BOTH ready, and we began to look at this church plant differently.  More to come...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-7373930836616871136?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7373930836616871136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=7373930836616871136' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7373930836616871136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7373930836616871136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/03/called-by-default.html' title='Called By Default'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-7845796174488270538</id><published>2008-02-10T14:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T14:35:55.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Crap</title><content type='html'>I've become increasingly frustrated with the "church" over the past few years.  I'm so burdened for families of ministry.  I've seen it over and over, the price that family members of ones in ministry have had to pay.  I can almost see Satan's sly thinking...let's see...adultery and sexual sin aren't having the same effect anymore...let's spice things and make pastors believe they're living above reproach by doing all the right things.  But, the key word becomes "doing."  In this case, too much of a good thing can be the most detrimental.  So many pastors are pouring so much of themselves into "God's work" that they're missing out on all the other arenas of life...namely their families.  I've seen it in families close by and around the country.  It's becoming an epidemic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the Enemy plays tricks on families in the meantime.  I've struggled so many times with feelings of being an unsupportive, almost un-Christian wife because I'd just like to have Bobby's body AND mind away from the church for 2 seconds.  Because I need more time and attention from my husband, I suddenly begin to feel guilty for standing in the way of "God's work."  And herein lies what has become my constant fight.  The moment I first chucked his cell phone across the room, I knew this was becoming a battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has to stop.  I don't want to be this person that I feel like I've had to be in order to force time together.  I know it's not the answer...But we're due for a change that's coming very soon.  It's time to do church differently.  It's time for families to rise up &lt;strong&gt;together&lt;/strong&gt; in ministry, not ride the coattails of their exhausted husbands and daddies.  It's time for balance.  It's time to know--and &lt;strong&gt;live&lt;/strong&gt;--the difference between &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt; and church work, because the line has become blurry.  It's time for &lt;strong&gt;marriage and family&lt;/strong&gt; to become priority.  This is the way God desires for things to be.  This is where we will begin to see success and blessing in ministry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-7845796174488270538?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7845796174488270538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=7845796174488270538' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7845796174488270538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/7845796174488270538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/02/holy-crap.html' title='Holy Crap'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-2692355557915301412</id><published>2008-01-31T09:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T10:33:18.262-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not</title><content type='html'>So I'm still trying to figure out how I fit in to all this church planting business.  My feelings of inadequacy are sometimes overwhelming and often more than I can bear without just crying.  People ask me if I'm excited, and it's hard to answer because there are so many more emotions involved that excitement often seems pushed to the bottom of the list.  I'm so proud of Bobby, but the fear of being left behind seems to drown out the pride.  At one point I felt so oppressed and anxious that I felt physically sick.  Add in a few postpartum ghosts that are still haunting me, not to mention sleep deprivation and an achy back, and some days I feel like a total mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fear of being left behind has unfortunately become a norm for me since Bobby and I have been married.  The church to me has become the "other woman."  Church and ministry have been our entire marriage, occupying so much of Bobby's time, energy and emotions that many days I simply felt like all I got were his "leftovers."  He poured so much of himself into what he did that there just wasn't anything left for me.  The first couple years of our marriage suffered immensely, and although it's gotten better, I still feel like I'm in constant competition with the church.  It's taken a toll on me.  And the thing that's most difficult is that Bobby's job isn't just a regular job...it's all wrapped up in "God's work."  It's so easy when things get frustrating to start blaming God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that Bobby's eyes have been opened lately.  He's beginning to understand what I've been crying over for years now.  I believe that we're at the beginning of something different for us, something that we AND the church have been wanting and needing for a long time.  I'll explain more soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-2692355557915301412?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2692355557915301412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=2692355557915301412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2692355557915301412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/2692355557915301412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/01/he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not.html' title='He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-8723294538843508339</id><published>2008-01-24T13:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T14:11:43.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy</title><content type='html'>I've never known such joy as I do now being a mommy.  Every day I stare into that little face and engrave that perfect smile on my mind's memory.  I never want to forget how my heart leaps every time she lights up and grins from ear to ear.  Those blue eyes are so sparkly, innocent and full of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lose all sense of things around me when I hold my baby girl in my arms.  As she falls asleep, she looks directly into my eyes, peering in the windows into my soul.  It's almost like she can read every thought in my mind, which at that moment is all about locking away this most precious memory.  She drifts away into sleep, knowing that she is safe; my eyes tell her that I love her more than anything in this world.  She makes the most gentle mmmm sounds, like she's saying 'I love you, Mom...I'm so thankful to be right here, right now.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know now that no one could ever love me like she does.  What a gift.  What a blessing.  What joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-8723294538843508339?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8723294538843508339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=8723294538843508339' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/8723294538843508339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/8723294538843508339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/01/joy.html' title='Joy'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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-5795569669741364552.post-622740613777652494</id><published>2008-01-21T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T11:26:27.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>(Not So) Great Expectations</title><content type='html'>As Bobby and I set out on this journey called church planting, I am reminded of all the things I hate about how church has been done and how I just wish things could look different.  Maybe my calling is to just look different.  I cringe at the title of "pastor's wife"...or maybe I cringe at all the stipulations that immediately attach themselves to it.  I'm working on letting go of the fear of not living up to what I think people will expect of me.  Can we just get real for a moment?  I don't want to lead women's ministry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone told me the other day that they remember when Bobby and I were just kids, just getting married, just beginning our lives together.  But - we still are kids!  And I certainly don't feel ready for all of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5795569669741364552-622740613777652494?l=jilltriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/622740613777652494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5795569669741364552&amp;postID=622740613777652494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/622740613777652494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5795569669741364552/posts/default/622740613777652494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jilltriplett.blogspot.com/2008/01/not-so-great-expectations.html' title='(Not So) Great Expectations'/><author><name>Jill Triplett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08910553204445495467</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></feed>
