<?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-5521919242355038195</id><updated>2012-02-01T17:36:47.818-08:00</updated><category term='Bliss'/><title type='text'>Paying Attention As Life is Lived</title><subtitle type='html'>By  Teresa Hucko</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>112</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7930758066260045928</id><published>2010-09-12T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T13:56:27.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show and Tell: tatted up!</title><content type='html'>As this student came forward to do her show and tell, I saw no items in her hands.  She then proceeded to show the class her various tattoos.  This does not technically meet the criteria I had given for show and tell, but I decided to allow it.  (Since more than half of my students have tattoos, I really wanted something that I knew had been brought from home)  However this student was new.... She explain how she had been  "put out" of her home  Her last conversation with her mom ended up with her mother shouting  " I wish you were dead"  Then a physical confrontation followed.  &lt;div&gt;Each tattoo represented a different sibling, she missed her brothers &amp;amp; sisters.  This generally well spoken, lively, diligent, new  student picked show and tell to become vulnerable.  I guarantee there is no one in her home reminding her to do her homework.  The insight one can gain from show &amp;amp; tell has been amazing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7930758066260045928?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7930758066260045928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7930758066260045928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7930758066260045928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7930758066260045928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-and-tell-tatted-up.html' title='Show and Tell: tatted up!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7596842918312326021</id><published>2010-09-12T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T13:47:15.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell:  The necklace</title><content type='html'>This show and tell involved a beautiful  silver cross necklace.  As my student held her precious possession she explained ... "In life there are times when one has to pawn jewelry, to eat or survive but no matter how bad it gets I will never pawn this necklace"  I thought how such a young girl already knew about pawning items.  &lt;div&gt;She then went on to say how there had been several Christmases and birthdays that her mother was unable to purchase her any gifts,  however, she said, she was fine with that because she had received this special necklace.  Then she explained how it was a git from her mother, and to her how it represented  a mothers love...at this point another student pipes in " Wow, the last time I saw my mother she said she wished I was dead...."  The class gasped....  Another memorable show and Tell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7596842918312326021?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7596842918312326021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7596842918312326021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7596842918312326021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7596842918312326021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-necklace.html' title='Show &amp; Tell:  The necklace'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4967271664934665007</id><published>2010-09-04T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:45:12.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: He's shot!</title><content type='html'>As a teacher I shouldn't have favorites but I do... I just hide it.  This day one of my favorites was giving her show &amp;amp; tell.  We have a history, I taught her last semester and I have seen her come such a long...long way.  She has transformed from a very ADD / foul mouthed student to my number one helper.  Tough girl from a tough neighborhood already living a tough life.&lt;div&gt;She brought an obituary from her cousin.  Same age as her.  They were raised together and living in NY.  They had gone to a party at her request.  While there her cousin was shot in  a gang related incident.  He died in her presence.  She shared that she felt it was her fault because she asked him to go to the party.  As a result of this incident (her words)  She was shipped to NC to live with other family members so she would not be around that gang.  She has never mentioned a mom.  Only a dad in NY and Aunts here.  The one year anniversary is approaching for both the death &amp;amp; his birthday.  She is planning to travel to NY for his birthday celebration..as all the family will be gathering together to remember him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I assured her it was not her fault.  If the gang had something against him, they would have approached him one day or the next.  I know she said, but I still feel guilty.  "Be safe" I said... "It's good you are here" I encouraged her to make wise choices if she goes back for a visit.   Again... I am given many reasons to pray,  and pray I will do!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4967271664934665007?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4967271664934665007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4967271664934665007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4967271664934665007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4967271664934665007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-hes-shot.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: He&apos;s shot!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4529544225520238532</id><published>2010-09-04T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:30:20.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: I-pod</title><content type='html'>I have one male student.  For his show&amp;amp; Tell he brought an I-pod.  At first I wanted to correct him, as I-pods are not generally allowed on school property.  Then he said... wait Mrs Hucko, this is a real show &amp;amp; tell.  &lt;div&gt;He then proceeded to tell how his Father gave him the I-pod as a special gift two days before he was deported!  He said his father has been gone now for 3 months.  No family n Mexico has heard from him nor has anyone in the US.  This was unusual for his dad because he was always in touch and part of the family.  He is very worried about his father being detained or shot at the boarder.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the students was not really understanding and asked "Why was he deported?"  My student looked at her and quickly replied, "because he was illegal"  then she asked him, "Are you legal?"  "No" he replied.   Then he added,  I am jut hoping to hear from my dad soon.  The class clapped and he sat down. Wow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4529544225520238532?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4529544225520238532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4529544225520238532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4529544225520238532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4529544225520238532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-i-pod.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: I-pod'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2792456947093081522</id><published>2010-09-04T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:22:41.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Baby!</title><content type='html'>One of my students brought their 1 yr. old baby boy for show and tell.  Mom is now 16.  She shared about her c-section birth, his name, weight, favorites... He was so happy and so good!  She passed him around just like a baby doll.... from person to person so everyone in the class had the opportunity to hold him... he never cried.  &lt;div&gt;Meanwhile she took questions from the class. Grandma watches him during the day, it's hard for her to have any social life now, etc  then the following exchange took place:  "What is the hardest thing about having a baby now?"  Her response: "When his daddy stopped talking to me around Christmas time"  "He has nothing to do with me or his son"  Then after a brief exchange one of the stundents replied ... that's what all our daddy's do... they all leave us!  How sad.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, we all enjoyed the special visit from this little blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2792456947093081522?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2792456947093081522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2792456947093081522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2792456947093081522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2792456947093081522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-baby.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Baby!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1799786476096651901</id><published>2010-09-04T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:07:28.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Book of Poems</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia"&gt;I have a  rather difficult, aloof student. She always boarders on a disrespectful attitude. She is quick tempered and does not respond well to structure or rules of any sort.  She definalty gives off a "stay out of my way" temperment.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia"&gt;However,  as she took center stage for Show &amp;amp; Tell she became alive and had outstanding presentation skills... I was shocked!  Miss personality! She had brought a book of poems that she had written.  The girls wanted her to read one... she was more than happy to share.... but as she flopped open the book her demenor instantly changed.  It was a heart-wrenching poem of loss and death... death of siblings...father..mother... cousins...and friends.  After she read the poem she shared that she (at age 16 or 17) has lost 20 family/close friends.   The room was silent.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia"&gt;I complimented her on the quality of her writtings and encouraged her to continue to write.  She quicly took her seat in the back of the room and as she did her "wall" surrounded her once again.  But for a brief moment... in show &amp;amp; tell of all things she let us peak behind that very hard exterior...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1799786476096651901?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1799786476096651901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1799786476096651901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1799786476096651901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1799786476096651901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-book-of.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Book of Poems'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-621226844882728676</id><published>2010-09-04T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:01:47.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Porcelain Bunny</title><content type='html'>A rather shy young lady brought a cute porcelain bunny for her show &amp;amp; tell.  With her head hung down and her soft voice she shared her story.  As she spoke it was completely silent... the rest of the class wanted to know her story as well&lt;div&gt;This bunny was a gift from "one" of her step-fathers.  He had come into her room at bed-time and gave her the bunny.  He knew she always wanted a real one and he was sad that they were unable to ever give her one.  He wanted her to know that she would always be special to him and if she ever doubted that, she would have this bunny to remind her.  The next day he left her mom.  She has started a bunny collection now.  Then she sat down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-621226844882728676?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/621226844882728676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=621226844882728676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/621226844882728676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/621226844882728676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Porcelain Bunny'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8644884862338769311</id><published>2010-09-04T11:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:47:10.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Three Funerals</title><content type='html'>This particular day involves three young ladies with their show &amp;amp; tell.  The first girl stood in front of the class, then began to cry.  She was sharing the obituary of her Grandma who had died this past summer.  She "stayed with" Grandma.. and she misses her very much... The class clapped &amp;amp; I thanked her for sharing.  &lt;div&gt;The next student, a rather bubbly girl, quickly comes forward for her show &amp;amp; tell.  Then suddenly she burst into tears and keeps repeating I cant talk, I can't do it...  I quickly stood by her side and told her I would help.  I  unrolled the T-shirt she brought.  On the back was a R.I.P. with dates  on the front was a mans face.  She shared this was a picture of her father who had died in a motorcycle accident four months ago.  The family had  T-shirts made to wear to his memorial service.  She misses him very much.  Again The class clapped &amp;amp; I thanked her for sharing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last student sharing for the day came forward... She quickly said "I can't do this!" and turned her back to the class.  Again, I immediately stood beside her.  She took out a poem and began to read it.  A love-letter from her boyfriend.  Then she shared how he died this past summer of a heart condition.  Again, the class clapped &amp;amp; I thanked her for sharing...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As she took her seat I overheard one of my students say " Man... when it's my turn for show &amp;amp; tell I'm bringing a happy one!"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am amazed as these girls choose to share such intimate stories with their classmates and me. But I sure do pray for them now on a regular basis.  Oh... the experiences I am having with Show &amp;amp; Tell!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8644884862338769311?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8644884862338769311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8644884862338769311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8644884862338769311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8644884862338769311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-part-3.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Three Funerals'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3656653972134717987</id><published>2010-09-04T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:47:42.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: The Christmas Card</title><content type='html'>The class was in aww of a beautiful handmade card that one of the young ladies brought for her show and tell.  She shared how it was originally a food container box covered with  white paper. The person who made the card had no access to construction paper.... and my student was very proud of his ingenuity and the overall quality of the card&lt;div&gt;The intricate hand drawing was of a beautiful African-American baby girl,  all done with colored pencils. It had to take many hours.  She read us the poem on the inside of the card, an original, beautiful poem from a father to a daughter, no matter how old she will get, she will always be "his little girl"&lt;div&gt;This hand made card was her Christmas present from her Dad in prison.  He has been incarcerated since she was in 6th grade  (she is now a senior)  It has been well over a year since her last visit, and she has no idea if or when he will be released.   But she wanted to share with the class,  that she will always be "His little girl"&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/5521919242355038195-3656653972134717987?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3656653972134717987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3656653972134717987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3656653972134717987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3656653972134717987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-part-2.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: The Christmas Card'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2484502938124594248</id><published>2010-09-04T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:48:13.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Introduction</title><content type='html'>Each day three to five students will be sharing a show and tell until everyone (36 students)  in two classes has taken a turn.  I totally expected a variety of stuffed animals or electronic gadgets however peppered in with those items have been items attached to heartbreaking and unbelievable stories.  By far the most common item has been obituaries....  Grandmas, Mom's, Cousins... Dads..... &lt;div&gt;What has taken place for most of the students is a window into their life where they are freely sharing their heart ache with the entire class.  After the show &amp;amp; tell time we continue with our scheduled classwork, but often my heart is aching for theses young lives who have experienced so much.  At the end of the day I sit... grieved....for this pocket of society.. for this generation... and I am challenged to speak words of hope to those who will hear.  The following will be the stories of our Show &amp;amp; Tell&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2484502938124594248?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2484502938124594248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2484502938124594248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2484502938124594248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2484502938124594248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/09/show-tell-in-high-school-class-part-1.html' title='Show &amp; Tell in a High School Class: Introduction'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1657638639761392447</id><published>2010-08-26T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T12:48:54.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Show &amp; Tell:  Baby oh Baby!</title><content type='html'>I gave the first homework assignment... Bring something meaningful for show-n-tell.  I proceeded to do a meaningful show-n-tell example.  We then discussed the benefits of this type of activity in the classroom.  For a grade the students have to sign-up for a day to bring their show-n-tell.  I had three of my students ask if they could bring their babies for show-n-tell!  I can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1657638639761392447?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1657638639761392447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1657638639761392447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1657638639761392447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1657638639761392447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/08/show-tell.html' title='Show &amp; Tell:  Baby oh Baby!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7105057204296977395</id><published>2010-08-26T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T14:37:22.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How many siblings do you have?  Easy question?</title><content type='html'>In one of our get-to-know-you-games the action was to  "stand if you have more than 6 siblings" I then proceeded to ask the students standing, how may siblings they had.  One had 10, another 6, then when I asked the next girl standing she said, "I have no idea" and tried to count, then she said; "just take my word for it I have a lot! "  Then another student suddenly stood up.  As I looked her way she began to explain... I didn't know you meant my siblings from both my parents!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7105057204296977395?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7105057204296977395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7105057204296977395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7105057204296977395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7105057204296977395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-many-siblings-do-you-have-easy.html' title='How many siblings do you have?  Easy question?'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3397769480481765957</id><published>2010-08-26T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T14:37:48.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Full time ministry?</title><content type='html'>I got a call a week and a half before school was to start for CMS... asking me to sub!  The teacher I was filling in for last semester was going to be out for a while, a couple of days later I found myself at new teacher training meetings, unpacking boxes, moving a classroom, and welcoming students at orientation.  It's the strangest thing!  Here I am, technically only a sub, now with a computer log-in, keys and pretty much functioning as a full time teacher.  No loner referred to as a "substitute" but now an  "interim teacher".&lt;div&gt;I have several of the same students from last year (in the Early Childhood II  class) well as a whole new class of girls.  Most are from tough neighborhoods and have experienced tough circumstances, and I will be spending "quality" time 5 days a week trying to make a little difference  (Please pray I have wisdom)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My classes are  basically training young ladies for a future in jobs such as day care &amp;amp; child care.  Setting up nurseries and environments for young children  ( I think I am qualified for this one)  I  kind of stumbeled into this job, I thought it would be a good fill-in until I could find a full-time ministry job.... Hmmmm I wonder when that will be!&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/5521919242355038195-3397769480481765957?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3397769480481765957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3397769480481765957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3397769480481765957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3397769480481765957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/08/full-time-ministry.html' title='Full time ministry?'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8033698456694689637</id><published>2010-07-07T20:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T20:58:11.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Final thought on Haiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVGPWiNenI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ry80J-fi6_g/s1600/IMG_0351.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVGPWiNenI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ry80J-fi6_g/s320/IMG_0351.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491372550209239666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my first time to this island nation, but I hope it is not my last.  The needs are great. I saw their palace, the equivalent of our white house, in ruins.  There is a shortage of food, water and housing.  The government is not their provider, and they know that well.  I was awe struck at the dedication of the missionaries that I was privilege to sere with. Some have  ministered in this country for 20 years.   While they have seen very little progress in the county, their "wins" are many.  Their focus has changed greatly since the earthquake from that of discipleship to that of relief efforts.  But the earthquake has brought a strange blessing as well.  Equipment!  Equipment that had been desired for many years was finally able to be purchased with earthquake relief funds.  In addition many teams are coming and the church has doubled in and lives are being changed.  &lt;div&gt;Each morning I ate fresh fruit and watched boats on a crystal clear ocean.... each night I jumped in that clear water and was refreshed from the heat.  I sat on a rocky beach and watched the most spectacular sun-sets.  There is such beauty amongst the rubble... smiling faces... encouraged believers... dedicated missionaries.  I believe this is a strangely beautiful time for the country of Haiti as God's presence is certainly residing there amongst his people as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8033698456694689637?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8033698456694689637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8033698456694689637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8033698456694689637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8033698456694689637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/07/final-thought-on-haiti.html' title='Final thought on Haiti'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVGPWiNenI/AAAAAAAAADg/Ry80J-fi6_g/s72-c/IMG_0351.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8660392148570558692</id><published>2010-07-07T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T21:02:24.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School Days...in Haiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVNVzIl02I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/moX1QhOs66g/s1600/100_6115.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVNVzIl02I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/moX1QhOs66g/s200/100_6115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491380357547021154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVNVaC5iNI/AAAAAAAAAEI/DYtgYcAUfgk/s1600/100_6114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVNVaC5iNI/AAAAAAAAAEI/DYtgYcAUfgk/s200/100_6114.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491380350812260562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVBVVZexKI/AAAAAAAAADY/RAqUCKX1DJ4/s1600/100_6137.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVBVVZexKI/AAAAAAAAADY/RAqUCKX1DJ4/s320/100_6137.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491367155425264802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School was cancelled for several weeks after the earthquake.  Therefore, school is still in session in Haiti.  I was privileged to speak at two school assemblies.  When we pulled up to the "school"  I was amazed at what I saw.  A series of tents under shade trees.  The school building was too damaged to hold classes.  Chalk boards were  screwed into a "former"  exterior wall, the desks were as primitive as  I have seen, the floor dirt, but the children full of smiles as we entered this maze of tents!  The administrator quickly greeted us in his perfectly pressed dress pants, shirt and tie.  The children were all in beautiful uniforms sitting in a most respectful way.&lt;div&gt;I had so much fun! We laughed, sang, encouraged them in God's love, taught fire safety and of course handed out candy and limited supplies.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These were the blessed ones.  Over half of Haiti's children do not get to attend school.  While public school technically does exist, one must have uniforms &amp;amp; shoes and transportation to attend.  This is near impossible for many Haitian children.  However, again... THE CHURCH...has stepped in to educate, to provide shoes &amp;amp; uniforms and give a future &amp;amp; a hope....  Jeremiah 29:11  I am so blessed to be part of "THE CHURCH"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8660392148570558692?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8660392148570558692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8660392148570558692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8660392148570558692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8660392148570558692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/07/school-daysin-haiti.html' title='School Days...in Haiti'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVNVzIl02I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/moX1QhOs66g/s72-c/100_6115.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8849116459157154567</id><published>2010-07-07T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T21:04:56.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clean Water</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVOQ_Ja8XI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NDYuiDxUKpo/s1600/100_6105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVOQ_Ja8XI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NDYuiDxUKpo/s200/100_6105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491381374384009586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVOQQBLCzI/AAAAAAAAAEY/PBIQFQFuQhI/s1600/100_6092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVOQQBLCzI/AAAAAAAAAEY/PBIQFQFuQhI/s200/100_6092.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491381361732946738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a young woman emerge from her tent after a brief rain shower.  She was holding a water pitcher in her hand.  She then began to scoop the water off the top of the tent that was caught in a small intentional fold.  This water was precious.  She poured it into a large bucket.  Earlier I saw small children being bathed by the roadside in small trenches that again held water after the rain.  I take clean, fresh water for granted... but when you don't have it,  life is consumed obtaining it  We were able to hand out hundreds of very simple water filtration units.  They were so lightweight that any of us ladies were able to carry them and put them together.  With simple care, they last a life-time!  It was such a privilege to be part of a blessing and to literally give a cold, clean cup of water!  Matthew 10:34&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8849116459157154567?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8849116459157154567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8849116459157154567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8849116459157154567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8849116459157154567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/07/clean-water.html' title='Clean Water'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVOQ_Ja8XI/AAAAAAAAAEg/NDYuiDxUKpo/s72-c/100_6105.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2802351375388923215</id><published>2010-07-07T19:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T20:41:57.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Services!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVI-9rb9OI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cxv69-ZoJ6o/s1600/100_6059-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVI-9rb9OI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cxv69-ZoJ6o/s320/100_6059-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491375567194027234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always loved going to church.  I especially enjoy the opportunity to worship with those of other cultures.  I would not be disappointed this Sunday.  Five hundred lively congregants sang of their hope in God and while I didn't understand the words the tunes of the hymns were familiar. I could sing in english as they worshiped in Creole.  This is a little taste of heaven.  I was so struck at how beautiful the people were.  They live like refugees, many in tents, yet they put on their Sunday best for the Lord, dresses and suits, hair fixed  smiles wide.  They rejoiced as the offertory was played and gave what they could.  The walls were literally plastic wrapped about four feet high leading to open air with a poles supporting a hot tin roof.  Sunday school begins at 6:00 am...yes that's AM... this is in order to beat the heat.  A "lovely" out-house is located near the rear of the "facility"  This sure is a wonderful reminder &amp;amp; challenge to be grateful and not complain.  When we are hot, we crank up the air... Oh the words of Paul ring in my head..."   ...for I have learned to be content what ever the circumstances... Philippians 4:11&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2802351375388923215?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2802351375388923215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2802351375388923215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2802351375388923215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2802351375388923215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-have-always-loved-going-to-church.html' title='Sunday Services!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVI-9rb9OI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cxv69-ZoJ6o/s72-c/100_6059-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6728730479663806102</id><published>2010-07-07T17:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T20:40:55.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Haiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVIuriDEMI/AAAAAAAAAD4/xHvTNA6MB6A/s1600/100_6049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVIuriDEMI/AAAAAAAAAD4/xHvTNA6MB6A/s320/100_6049.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491375287444902082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVIQKrSMJI/AAAAAAAAADw/zq-5lX4AAtA/s1600/100_6206_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVIQKrSMJI/AAAAAAAAADw/zq-5lX4AAtA/s320/100_6206_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491374763229196434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The airport was the most basic airport I have even seen.  One I would expect in a remote area of Africa not in the capital city of a nation.  Customs and luggage were located in a metal warehouse building.  These are clear signs of a country in disarray.  While I have been in  more congested traffic I have never traveled on roads in such bad shape.  We literally bounced as if on an amusement park ride and it took hours to go small distances... again this is the capital city, not the outback of Australia.   As I watched out the window, tents were everyplace... along the side of the road, a-top a pile of ruble, in the fields and on the mountain sides.  Random port-a-jons dot the landscape again, this is not the  national park in the Grand Canyon  it is a capital City... This is Haiti.  It has been 7 months since the earthquake, however, the progress since that time has been slow.  The challenges are many.  I am amazed as I see white vehicles passing in all directions.  Theses are the vehicles that bring hope.  Samaritans Purse, Convoy of Hope, and even the UN. If it were not for the Christians, this country would have starved and much more life would have been lost as the basic shelter and needs have been supplied by people of God.    God's word in action... Matthew 25:35&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6728730479663806102?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6728730479663806102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6728730479663806102' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6728730479663806102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6728730479663806102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-is-haiti.html' title='This is Haiti'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/TDVIuriDEMI/AAAAAAAAAD4/xHvTNA6MB6A/s72-c/100_6049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8341426620052174751</id><published>2010-06-16T03:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T03:32:25.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-texting</title><content type='html'>In a standard form I was going through the students had to write in their hobbies.  I found it so interesting the overwhelmingly,  the majority of the students listed "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;" as a hobby!  (Here all along I just thought it was an annoying form of communication)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8341426620052174751?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8341426620052174751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8341426620052174751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8341426620052174751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8341426620052174751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/06/observations-of-high-school-sub-texting.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-texting'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5069930666397918442</id><published>2010-06-16T03:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T03:29:05.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-last day</title><content type='html'>Because I did a long term "sub" job I actually worked until the last day of school.  Making sure grades were in and packing the classroom.  This is not the norm for subs.  As I was going through the students projects and papers and saying my goodbyes, I was very grateful for the opportunity I was given.  I don't really know if the girls will remember me, or if I make any real difference in their lives  but I will remember them and they did make a difference in mine. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Their challenges were so vast   I find it necessary to step out of my bubble and into different worlds, and  right here,  down the road... 10 miles or so... a very different world from mine exist.  It sure does challenge my thinking and my reasoning but most of all it has challenged my prayer life.  Because in the end, that is the only thing meaningful I can do for theses students who are now out of my sphere.&lt;div&gt;As hard as they were.....I will miss them.  I am grateful I was given the opportunity to make theses observations of a High School sub.   And I move on to my summer role....being the Mother of a soon to be bride&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/5521919242355038195-5069930666397918442?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5069930666397918442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5069930666397918442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5069930666397918442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5069930666397918442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/06/observations-of-high-school-sub-last.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-last day'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8376328540412573315</id><published>2010-06-16T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T03:12:11.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-It's all in the name!</title><content type='html'>I found it ironic that the History teachers name is "Betsy Ross"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8376328540412573315?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8376328540412573315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8376328540412573315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8376328540412573315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8376328540412573315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/06/observations-of-high-school-sub-its-all.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-It&apos;s all in the name!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4060268587993635473</id><published>2010-05-14T17:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T18:24:08.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-driving with no license!</title><content type='html'>After asking several of the students about their week-end plans, I learned some were picking up others for various activities.  I asked when they got their license.  They sheepishly smiled and began to admit one by one that they didn't have their license!  Some had permits, others had nothing.  Yet they were taking parents' cars and picking up other students! Yikes! Any lecture I began to give was falling on deaf ears, so I won't bore you as well with those details!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One students said her parents were out of town...in fact out of the country...and she needed to drive herself around.  Another student admitted taking the car keys without permission.  Her single, exhausted working mom was sleeping. While yet another English-second-language-sweetest-girl-you-would-ever-meet, took one look at the test and said she couldn't comprehend it, so she left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had remembered one gal talking about her plans to get her license, as I looked at her and asked if she got hers? She quickly pulled me aside.  She said she wanted to chat "privately"  Her step dad is a drug addict.  He makes promises to her younger siblings and gets their hopes up... but then he doesn't show for days disappointing everyone. She went on to explain how she and her mom try to protect them.  This step dad was like a dad to her.  And even though she knew better, she too got her hopes up... he promised he would take her to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DMV&lt;/span&gt; to get her license.  She waited all day, another no show.  As she shared this with me, It was apparent it wasn't just her younger siblings who had to deal with the disappointment of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-kept promises.  "I just drive without one" she stated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So all of us trained, licensed drivers out there.... be careful!  I have learned there are more unlicensed teen drivers on the road than I was aware of!  Just another &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;scary &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;observation of a High School Sub!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/5521919242355038195-4060268587993635473?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4060268587993635473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4060268587993635473' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4060268587993635473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4060268587993635473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/05/observations-of-high-school-sub-driving.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-driving with no license!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4380301427997551276</id><published>2010-05-14T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T18:28:33.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-pregnant...again!</title><content type='html'>This morning, before class began, a young lady asked how long someone could wait before they could get an abortion.  The bell rang and students began to file in,  we had a brief conversation, but I knew I would need to revisit this question.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Class had gone particularly well.  After our quiz we played an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;EOC&lt;/span&gt; review game.  The students were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;squealing&lt;/span&gt; like little girls, shouting "Bingo" and excited to win prizes, then with about 20 minutes left, one young lady, who was &lt;b&gt;happily playing the game,&lt;/b&gt; abruptly gets up and announces she is leaving!  After firmly telling her she can't just walk out of class, she picked up her purse and stomped out of the room.  I was totally bewildered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the story began to pour out from the other girls.  She had received a text (I didn't notice her looking at her phone)  her DAUGHTER was taken by her FOSTER parents to another location.  This teen mom was heading to the bus station to go find her daughter.  To complicate matters,  (As if they needed being more complicated)  she found out she is pregnant...AGAIN!   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"That's why I was asking you about abortion this morning, Mrs. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hucko&lt;/span&gt;, for her!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The story, as told to me, goes something like this....   This pregnant 10&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade student lives in foster care with her 2 year old daughter.  She has no support from family and her child's daddy is in jail.   If she has the new baby, she believes her 2-year old will be taken from her and placed in a different foster home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With issues like this, no wonder her grades are poor, her attitude is edgy, her attendance is sporadic and her behavior can be exhausting! How can a &lt;b&gt;child&lt;/b&gt; think about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;EOC's&lt;/span&gt; when they have no family to live with, and two children to think about.  It took all my will power, to not stop then &amp;amp; there and have the entire class pray for this young lady (But, I can't do that)  However, I certainly began to pray silently from that moment on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We resumed our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;EOC&lt;/span&gt; Bingo game,  the girls squealed once again, as they picked  "fabulous" prizes such as a notebooks, bubbles or markers.   As I reflect on the day, I am struck by the  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;extremes&lt;/span&gt;.... the simple joy of playing a child's game mixed with the overwhelming issues of complicated adult life....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was ready for the bell.  It was hard to remain up-beat and light hearted with such heavy issues going on in the shadows.  I really hope she comes back to class.  I'd like to talk with her before summer break. My goal.. is to spread hope.... in hopeless situations and this situation certainly calls for that. For now, I just pray and thank you for your prayers for the students of this High School Sub&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/5521919242355038195-4380301427997551276?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4380301427997551276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4380301427997551276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4380301427997551276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4380301427997551276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/05/observations-of-high-school-sub.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-pregnant...again!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5612183440979382843</id><published>2010-04-30T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:02:43.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>observations of a High School Sub-@#!&amp;%</title><content type='html'>I have been teaching a  class called early childhood development to a tough group of kids.  I have spent several weeks with them now, and we have made great progress.    We have been talking about positive &amp;amp; negative reinforcement.  I decided  to show the kids a practical application of this method to achieve desired behavior.  I have been addressing the "language" in this class.  So I told my students that if the entire class could make it through an entire block without ONE swear word I would bring in Krispy Kreme donuts.  (and I had to explaine it was what I considered as a swear word!) Anyway.... a few students were not paying attention.  At this point my one male student pipes up   "d!@#%it class listen to Mrs. Hucko I want those donuts!"   I'll let you know when...or if they finally earn the sweet treat, until then I try to keep a straight face on the outside while I am laughing  (or some days crying) on the inside!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5612183440979382843?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5612183440979382843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5612183440979382843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5612183440979382843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5612183440979382843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub_148.html' title='observations of a High School Sub-@#!&amp;%'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1915277074656950146</id><published>2010-04-30T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T18:47:41.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-rabies!</title><content type='html'>While escorting a special needs gal to the water fountain she began to explain to me why she was so thirsty.... " It's a side affect my rabies"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1915277074656950146?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1915277074656950146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1915277074656950146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1915277074656950146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1915277074656950146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub-rabies.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-rabies!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8369945741050090028</id><published>2010-04-30T18:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T19:07:02.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>observations of a High School Sub-invisible friends</title><content type='html'>I was in the computer lab with a group of special needs kids.   A sweet autistic student was rocking back &amp;amp; forth playing his computer game.  When I went over to check on him he told me the following:  "  I'm playing this game better than my imaginary friends"   My response... well ok!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8369945741050090028?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8369945741050090028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8369945741050090028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8369945741050090028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8369945741050090028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub_30.html' title='observations of a High School Sub-invisible friends'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3377698952849727121</id><published>2010-04-27T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T20:50:47.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>observations of a High School Sub-Positive Reinforcement</title><content type='html'>We were discussing the benefits of positive reinforcement vs. negative reinforcement.  As an example I brought a $5.00 McDonald's gift card attached it to some decorated construction paper and taped it on the board.  I have a student who can't seem to go 4 sentences without using a swear word... great heart...terrible mouth!  I have heard the "f" word to the point I barly flinch... and if you know me... that would seem impossible.  Anyway, I have addressed the language "consistently"  but she would giggle and say it was "Impossible Mrs. Hucko!"&lt;br /&gt;The challenge... get through the entire double block...3 hours... without ONE swear word &amp; the gift card was hers.&lt;br /&gt;And much to my surprise &amp; hers, she did it!  When the bell rang this sweet, tough, girl smiled ear to ear as I handed her the gift card then to  she hugged me... a very heart felt hug &amp; thanked me.  I told her I was proud of her &amp; now that we know she can do it, I expect her to continue this becoming behavior.  I look forward to seeing how this goes.  &lt;br /&gt;My only fear is that the rest of the girls will beef up their language with the hopes of the same challenge!  Oh well....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3377698952849727121?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3377698952849727121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3377698952849727121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3377698952849727121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3377698952849727121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub_27.html' title='observations of a High School Sub-Positive Reinforcement'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-9179042644395018394</id><published>2010-04-27T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T20:33:11.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-Arrested</title><content type='html'>I had a tough day yesterday with my class. Some of them were really off kilter... and we had been making such progress.   They were not engaging and disrespect had to be addressed.  I was really hoping for a better day today.  And actually, the girls were all very good.  In fact we had a great day together.   But I was missing a few.  I found out they had gotten into a fight after school yesterday and they were arrested.  My heart sank. &lt;br /&gt; I guess they were off kilter all day &amp; night...knowing this fight was coming!&lt;br /&gt;Theses girls have so many strikes against them, one of the students arrested is already a mom and she is only in the 10th grade... that's right I said 10th grade!  Their social skills are so underdeveloped.  I hope they get to come back to school, I don't want my last day with them, to really be my last day with them.  However, they will continue in my prayers&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-9179042644395018394?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/9179042644395018394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=9179042644395018394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9179042644395018394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9179042644395018394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-Arrested'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8386201103901479133</id><published>2010-04-06T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T21:47:34.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: Addresses!</title><content type='html'>I have now checked off another item from the never ending to-do list.  The save the dates have been mailed thus the tedious task of collecting the addresses and working on the guest list. Those who have planned a wedding know how "fun" this process is. Cutting &amp; Adding.  I still can't blog about it as these are the things that can cause a divorce!  After typing most addresses twice for reasons I won't admit to because you will question my IQ... I was so ready to put the guest list / addresses away for awhile... at least for Spring break... but this was not to be....  &lt;br /&gt;When I went to order the invites I found out they would actually print the addresses on the envelopes for me.  Yea!  However, they needed the addresses in Excel &amp; I had them in Word!  I had no idea how to import the file so thus I began re-typing all the addresses (yet again)  into the correct format!   Well over 150 addresses going to over 25 different states, all needing to be completed before the end of the week.  As I sit by the computer I comfort myself by munching on Baked Lays, cookies &amp; chocolate covered pretzels!   This will only complicate the next item on my list....  finding the mother-of-the bride dress!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8386201103901479133?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8386201103901479133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8386201103901479133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8386201103901479133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8386201103901479133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-addresses.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: Addresses!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6191599188396847635</id><published>2010-04-03T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T16:44:40.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-Young Grandma</title><content type='html'>Last week in class I was mentioning about my daughters upcoming wedding.  I said something to the affect that she would be a young bride (21)  That's not too young!  Several girls responded.  Then they told me the following:  "I have an aunt who had a baby at age 12 then that baby then had a baby at age 15...making the Aunt 28 when she became a Grandma."  WOW!!! &lt;br /&gt;So in the end I guess it is just perspective....but any way you look at it 28 is way too young to be a Grandma!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6191599188396847635?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6191599188396847635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6191599188396847635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6191599188396847635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6191599188396847635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/04/observations-of-high-school-sub-young.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-Young Grandma'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6352806340366876646</id><published>2010-03-27T13:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T13:13:52.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>observations of a High School Sub-mamma's cooking</title><content type='html'>I was having a conversation about our favorite home cooked meal.  One young lady, shared with me that she really missed her mamma's cooking.  I asked who she was living with and found out she "stays with" her aunt.  She went on to explain that her mama just wasn't good for her.  She described going to her &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Grandma's&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to see her family.  "Crack on the counter and weed on the TV, they don't even try to hide it!"  I told her I was glad she had her aunt to "stay with".  She said she was too,  but she missed her mamma's cooking.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God...I pray for your dear sweet children....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6352806340366876646?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6352806340366876646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6352806340366876646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6352806340366876646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6352806340366876646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/03/observations-of-high-school-sub-mammas.html' title='observations of a High School Sub-mamma&apos;s cooking'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6359779094606869257</id><published>2010-03-27T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T13:03:04.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-steeling</title><content type='html'>During a recent conversation one girl proudly announced, " I ain't never stole anything my entire life,  if I want something I tell my brother and he steels it for me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6359779094606869257?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6359779094606869257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6359779094606869257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6359779094606869257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6359779094606869257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/03/observations-of-high-school-sub.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-steeling'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2338491729218432605</id><published>2010-03-27T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T12:59:58.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-We were robbed!</title><content type='html'>In study-hall one of the students shared with me that they were robbed.  When I asked  what was taken? she replied, " two cartons of orange juice and a package of cheese!" before I could reply, a young man in the back of the room spoke up... "You weren't robbed, your neighbors were just hungry!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2338491729218432605?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2338491729218432605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2338491729218432605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2338491729218432605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2338491729218432605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/03/observations-of-high-school-sub-we-were.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-We were robbed!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6436916031445034750</id><published>2010-03-10T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T18:54:29.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: Date Change!</title><content type='html'>After carefully laying out monthly plans of a thorough to-do list, I was thrown a curve ball.  "Mom, what would the possibility be of changing the date.. From October  to August! I literally felt my heart skip a beat...   "I thought you always dreamed of a Fall wedding?"  Well... I did  she responded but, financially it would be better for our FASFA if we were married before the semester began.   I understood that...in fact I understood that &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;back in January &lt;/span&gt;when she set the October wedding date.  I talked till I was blue in the face about having an August wedding or a Christmas wedding... I said over (and over again)  how difficult it was going to be to be married mid semester.   But at that time, The mother of the soon to be bride was unable to convince the dreamer of another season.  However I underestimated the  influence of FASFA, Fiancee &amp; Finance! Tonight I will re-write my to-do list.  They will be a little longer than they once were However I will do all I can to enjoy the process because  now I am the Mother of a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;sooner &lt;/span&gt;to be bride!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6436916031445034750?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6436916031445034750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6436916031445034750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6436916031445034750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6436916031445034750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/03/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-date-change.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: Date Change!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8011425094785087572</id><published>2010-02-22T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T18:51:34.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-Conversation Starters</title><content type='html'>I have three basic lines when I engage a student in a conversation:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1.  How many brothers &amp; sisters do you have?&lt;br /&gt;2.  What are your plans after High School?&lt;br /&gt;3.  Every tattoo has a story, tell me yours.....  (lots of interesting tattoos in High School!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I recently asked a young lady the easiest (or so I thought) of the three above questions.  How many brothers and sisters do you have?  Her response was,  "On my mom's side or my dad's side?"    On my Mom's side I'm one of five.  But on my dad's side I'm not sure.  She began to name various names while tapping her fingers.... then she stated "I do know I have 17 brothers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...I was speechless!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8011425094785087572?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8011425094785087572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8011425094785087572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8011425094785087572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8011425094785087572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/02/observations-of-high-school-sub.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-Conversation Starters'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1326337690025695211</id><published>2010-02-15T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T13:00:27.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-Three Pee Sticks!</title><content type='html'>"I took three pee sticks... and I'm pregnant!"  Announced a young 11th grade girl today during English class.  I decided I would take a few moments with her.  I asked how she felt about being pregnant.  Her response was full of excitement and future dreams. This will be the first grandchild on both sides!  She has the support of her family and prenatal vitamins... how much better can it be?!!&lt;br /&gt;However, she let it slip, that the boyfriend is not happy.  He is not even in NC anymore.... but he is going to return &amp; provide a home for them before the baby comes. She certainly has dreams of living with her boyfriend and raising their child together.  My heart ached for all she didn't know, all she was going to miss, for all the disappointments coming her way.&lt;br /&gt;She is due in August. She will not return for her senior year... a GED is her main goal now.  But truth be told, I don't think it is really a priority,it is just what she knows to say.   I encouraged her to continue her education and explained how it will open doors...But I know.... a High School Sub has no influence.  All I can do is pray... and pray is what I shall do this week as a High School Sub.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1326337690025695211?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1326337690025695211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1326337690025695211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1326337690025695211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1326337690025695211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/02/observations-of-high-school-sub-three.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-Three Pee Sticks!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4363200599117032090</id><published>2010-02-03T19:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-03T20:22:41.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub-Dance with no shame!</title><content type='html'>The highlight of my day came during PE class.  I was an aid in an EC room.  I was delighted when I walked into the  practice gym and saw the kids dancing.  The joy on their faces as they &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;danced with no shame, as if they were the only ones in the room!&lt;/span&gt;  One student was completely shut-down  the entire morning, but there he sat, rocking, smiling and singing to the music.  Around him were the downs students dancing, a blind girl swaying, and the students in the wheel chairs singing all the words and moving their arms to the music.  If theses students, with all their challenges can find the joy in the dance, how much more the rest of us should be challenged to put on some music and just dance!  Ecclesiastes 3:4....a time to dance!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4363200599117032090?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4363200599117032090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4363200599117032090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4363200599117032090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4363200599117032090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/02/observations-of-high-school-sub-dance.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub-Dance with no shame!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3934940154524833395</id><published>2010-01-23T09:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T09:36:00.589-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School International Cooperation</title><content type='html'>Today was the end of the semester.  It was officially a testing day but,  it should have been referred to as  "Watch a Video at School" Day!  However, I greatly enjoyed a conversation with a young lady during lunch.  She is of Vietnamese background.  Her mother and her aunts own a local nail salon.  Recently between customers they have been totally engrossed in a soap opera...but not just any soap opera.  This soap opera truly took International co-operation!    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her Uncle downloaded and recorded the program off of the Internet.  He lives in &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;New York.&lt;/span&gt;  He then mailed the DVDs to his sisters in &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Charlotte&lt;/span&gt;.  He has sent over  200 hours (that's right...200 hours.. of the downloaded soap to his sisters.)  As it was explained to me, the soap is all &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Korean &lt;/span&gt;actors, performing an &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;American&lt;/span&gt; script and dubbed into &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Vietnamese!&lt;/span&gt;  It took me a few moments to process that!   &lt;br /&gt;Again, I learned something new as I am enjoying my "Observations as a High School Sub!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3934940154524833395?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3934940154524833395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3934940154524833395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3934940154524833395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3934940154524833395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school.html' title='Observations of a High School International Cooperation'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7455852481566288057</id><published>2010-01-13T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T20:29:20.622-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- Death by Chapped Lips</title><content type='html'>While subbing in a 3rd grade classroom a student approached me with an &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;emergency! &lt;/span&gt; He had chapped lips!!  He then went on to give me a detailed explanation of why he needed to go to the office to call his mother to bring him chap stick.... "People can die from chapped lips"  I tried to calm him concerning his fears however, he then went on to explain that he saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel about a person who died from chapped lips! I am no match for the Discovery Channel.  I sent him to the office.  (Sorry office girls!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7455852481566288057?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7455852481566288057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7455852481566288057' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7455852481566288057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7455852481566288057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub-death.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- Death by Chapped Lips'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-945142580004821483</id><published>2010-01-11T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:41:59.264-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- Collecting Papers</title><content type='html'>I made another "rookie" mistake while subbing.  I asked the student to pass their papers forward and I would collect them.  It was taking them forever.... Then I noticed, they were copying the answers from the papers as they were passing them forward.  When I said..."Hey,  you are copying answers!"... they looked at me and literally said "So?"&lt;div&gt;Next block I went to each desk and collected the papers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-945142580004821483?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/945142580004821483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=945142580004821483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/945142580004821483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/945142580004821483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub_11.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- Collecting Papers'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5913096886714080492</id><published>2010-01-11T21:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:37:05.155-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: "Our Wedding"</title><content type='html'>When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Alysse&lt;/span&gt; and I were driving together in the car, I remarked about how great something was going to be at "Our Wedding!"   She burst out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;laughing&lt;/span&gt;.  Mom, you just called it "Our Wedding!"  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Oooooops&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5913096886714080492?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5913096886714080492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5913096886714080492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5913096886714080492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5913096886714080492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-our-wedding.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: &quot;Our Wedding&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8986441876761386829</id><published>2010-01-11T21:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:21:06.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: "The to do list"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Alysse&lt;/span&gt; was sharing the progress of the wedding plans with her fiance', Harry.  We have booked the venue &amp;amp; ordered the wedding dress!  His response was, "You pretty much have the wedding planned!"  He has NO idea.... &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before she boarded the plane we compiled an extensive "To Do" list.  When I say extensive... I mean EXTENSIVE!  It was 4 pages long.  This list was broken down by items to be accomplished by the end of each month from now until the wedding.  We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;literally&lt;/span&gt; have 98 items on our "to do" list!!   This is the difference between the men planning a wedding and the daughter &amp;amp; her Mother of the soon to be Bride!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8986441876761386829?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8986441876761386829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8986441876761386829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8986441876761386829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8986441876761386829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-to-do-list.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: &quot;The to do list&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1239895888171999381</id><published>2010-01-11T20:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:09:32.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: "The Venue"</title><content type='html'>Today Alysse had to fly back to school.  We  had two items on our "to do" list for Christmas break, the dress &amp;amp; the venue.  We accomplished them both!  After calling several locations, looking countless hours on line and visiting four locations, we made a decision.  We picked The Ballantyne Resort...It is BEAUTIFUL!  It had everything we were looking for and more.  However, I had to share all the research with "The Father of the Bride"  I laid out my comparison worksheet explaining all the details.  His eyes  just glazed over.... I kept showing him all the money we were going to save by choosing various options....  All he saw was the money we were going to spend!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/5521919242355038195-1239895888171999381?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1239895888171999381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1239895888171999381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1239895888171999381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1239895888171999381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-venue.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: &quot;The Venue&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1917103466826791605</id><published>2010-01-11T20:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T21:42:45.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- Christmas Song Pictionary</title><content type='html'>OK, OK... this is an rookie mistake... what was I thinking???&lt;div&gt;When playing Christmas Song &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Pictionary&lt;/span&gt; with 9&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade students, make sure you remove the song title "The Nut Cracker"   (I couldn't get to the board fast enough to erase that visual!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1917103466826791605?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1917103466826791605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1917103466826791605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1917103466826791605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1917103466826791605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- Christmas Song Pictionary'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4856231183624536576</id><published>2010-01-11T20:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T20:50:28.902-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- cell phones &amp; prison</title><content type='html'>I generally learn more when I sub than I present to the students.  I recently learned the following information while subbing: &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A young lady was explaining that her sister was mad at her because she missed her phone call from her boyfriend in jail for the week-end.  She then went on to explain that cell phones are not able to receive phone calls from jail.  Then another girl quickly commented, "No that's not true... My daddy's been in  jail for 10 years  and he calls my cell phone, You just have to call your provider and get a special code"   The first girl responded, "That's good for your dad but it's not worth going through all that for the occasional weekend jail stay"......I hope I never have to use this new knowledge!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4856231183624536576?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4856231183624536576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4856231183624536576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4856231183624536576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4856231183624536576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub-cell.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- cell phones &amp; prison'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7479579937895785110</id><published>2010-01-11T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T20:34:43.425-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- my cuffs!</title><content type='html'>I was subbing in a double block High School class (That's 3 hours!).  The class only had 8 girls. We had approximately 45 minutes worth of work, but no problem... girls can talk!  During the conversation, I overheard one gal say "Man, they made my cuffs too tight!"  Another girl commented "They did that to me when I got cuffed as well!"  Girls!  I asked, Why did you get cuffed?  One young lady went on to explain her poor judgement in stealing from a grocery store.  Then the other girl offered her story.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a shooting in her neighborhood, when she heard the shots she took off running.  The cops thought she knew something and pursued her.  When they caught up with her, they cuffed her &amp;amp; took her in for questioning.  I asked, "What happened to the person who got shot?"  Her response, "Oh, he was shot 5 times, he died".  "Did you know know him?" I responded.  "Yeah...I knew him and the shooter, but I didn't tell the cops who the shooter was."  Everyone was listening....  I responded. "That must have been traumatic for you"  "Ma'am", she said, "It should have been traumatic, but in my neighborhood that is just the way it is!"  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Charlotte, not New York City, Yet this is a very real part of Charlotte, the city I live in.  There are so many needs around us if we just stop and notice.  This is not my side of town, not my neighborhood, yet, this is still my city.  My heart went out to this young lady.  When I think of her, I pray for her.    Our world needs Hope.... (Romans 15:13)&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/5521919242355038195-7479579937895785110?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7479579937895785110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7479579937895785110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7479579937895785110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7479579937895785110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub-my.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- my cuffs!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3444402152422820001</id><published>2010-01-06T18:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T20:39:10.758-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother of a soon to be Bride: "The" dress!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I have had an exciting holiday break with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Alysse&lt;/span&gt;.  Right before she came home for Christmas break her boyfriend proposed.  After quickly asking if he had her fathers' permission, she excitedly exclaimed Yes!  The date was set for October and I became the &lt;i&gt;"Mother of a soon to be Bride!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;This entire break has been filled with organizing the wedding plans!  She &amp;amp; I quickly decided the two items on our agenda for Christmas break was to find a venue and find a dress.  It is amazing how much time can be spent on appointments and information gathering to accomplish theses two goals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After years of collecting Bridal magazines and countless hours of watching "&lt;i&gt;Say Yes to The Dress!"  &lt;/i&gt;It was our turn to share in this special shopping spree! After a quick stop at a large Bridal store, we headed downtown for our appointment at a specialty Bridal shop.  It was a fantastic experience from start to finish... All the dresses looked fabulous on her from the Kenneth Pool to the Modern Trousseau...  each dress had an individual name! Once purchased the brides name is sewn into the dress in blue and a sketch of the dress is drawn by the designer and given to the bride.  Wow!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Then it happened, they put her in "The" dress "The" perfect dress!  It really was just like it is on those TV shows!  I teared up and she exclaimed, "this is the dress, I LOVE it!"  She was breathtaking... my baby, now a soon to be bride, beautiful beyond words.   Then the price tag... we left without the dress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;More appointments were made and dress shops visited, but none of the dresses lived up to "The" dress.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Alysse&lt;/span&gt; was a good sport, maintaining a great attitude... but as we looked back at the pics, and talked through the styles, we kept going back to "The" dress.&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I have never experienced an attachment to any piece of clothing, it is just a dress.  When I purchased my own wedding gown, I found it at a side-walk sale for $99.00, no alterations needed, and I gave it no more thought.  I liked my dress.  I remember really liking my veil.  My sister-in-law wore my dress when she married my brother and my veil was worn by a total of three different brides. We sure got our $99.00 out of my purchase.  Practical. That was who I was... Practical.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Now here I am 28 years later,  drawn to such an impractical purchase. But... it really isn't just a dress it is "The" dress!  No man, (no husband, or father of the bride) can truly understand I am sure.  But a mother and daughter sharing this time together, we get it.  She wants to look and feel stunning for her day, not just for her guest, but for her husband to be.  It's not a dress, it's a memory... a moment....  And that is what I cherish now, the moments and the memories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;OK, OK now I am justifying this impractical purchase.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Amazing blessings came our way.  A dear family friend DONATED the photography!  The wedding was moved to a Sunday, a great savings!  Another connection and tweaking got us an incredible savings on catering... and this list of some practical choices combined with incredible, surprising blessings continued.  Monies were moved and subtracted from various columns in the &lt;i&gt;wedding budget &lt;/i&gt;(I'll write another blog about this word...&lt;i&gt;wedding budget&lt;/i&gt;, because it is really just a word)  However, truly, the amount we were saving was well more than the extra amount we would need to pay for "The" dress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Alysse&lt;/span&gt; and I had lunch at the Red Bowl today... a fabulous Chinese restaurant in Charlotte.  She has a little less than a week left before she returns to Missouri for school. We have a contract in front of us for an incredible venue..(yet another soon to be written blog)  Just for fun I always open my fortune cookie, it read: "Seize from every moment it's uniqueness, especially this week."  We then headed down town to the speciality bridal shop.  You guessed it... we ordered "The" dress!  She must have thanked me a hundred times.  We certainly did seize a wonderful moment.  I am sure there will be many more wonderful, frustrating, exciting, practical and impractical moments as I live life this year as  t&lt;i&gt;he mother of a soon to be Bride.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/5521919242355038195-3444402152422820001?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3444402152422820001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3444402152422820001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3444402152422820001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3444402152422820001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/mother-of-soon-to-be-bride-dress.html' title='Mother of a soon to be Bride: &quot;The&quot; dress!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-844627770780655110</id><published>2010-01-04T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T20:37:17.607-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Observations of a High School Sub- inclement weather</title><content type='html'>I was called to sub on the last school day in December.  It was a cold  rainy / snowy day.  The following announcement was given over the intercom:  "Due to inclement weather all after school activities have been cancelled, with the exception of Drivers Ed!"  What more can I say??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-844627770780655110?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/844627770780655110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=844627770780655110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/844627770780655110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/844627770780655110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/observations-of-high-school-sub-entry-1.html' title='Observations of a High School Sub- inclement weather'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3306228316397452478</id><published>2010-01-04T16:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T16:56:10.584-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Blogging!</title><content type='html'>It's been forever since I have blogged, not because I haven't' had anything  to write about, but quite the opposite, I didn't know what to write about first!    So I didn't write at all, big mistake!   In addition to Hope Church responsibilities I began subbing as a High School teacher for Charlotte schools.  I will certainly have some blogs entitled "My Observations as a Sub!"   My daughter also became engaged, so I am sure I will have several &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;entries&lt;/span&gt; as  'Mother of the Soon to be Bride"   I also signed up for a class at our local community college and have tons more going on.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sooo&lt;/span&gt; I know if I am aware of my surroundings I will have many interesting stories to share and life lessons to learn... Back to Blogging for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3306228316397452478?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3306228316397452478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3306228316397452478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3306228316397452478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3306228316397452478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2010/01/back-to-blogging.html' title='Back to Blogging!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1405521421713738901</id><published>2009-10-29T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T12:50:49.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainbows</title><content type='html'>When was the last time you experienced the aw of a rainbow?  On my last visit with my mother-in-law it had been raining.  She was weak from the chemo and most of her hair was gone.  The color of her skin had a translucent sheen.  As we sat in the kitchen, one of us noticed a beautiful rainbow forming.  My sister-in-law, mother-in-law and I gathered around the large picture window and just stood together, speechless at it's beauty.   It was the most vibrant rainbow I had ever seen.  The rainbow arched up behind the barn over the lake and into the woods.  We savored that moment, knowing that God was in control in the middle of the storm. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At this point, I would like to be able to write about a miraculous recovery, we prayed, we believed, but the storm was in God's hands.   It was the last visit I had with my mother-in-law, my next trip to Ohio would be for her funeral. And while we mourned her loss we have great peace knowing she is with our heavenly father.  I imagine her looking out at God's indescribable beauty in heaven, speechless, healthy and enjoying the beauty of it all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't understand storms, I appreciate the beauty of a rainbow, and in truth I love the sunshine.  As I write this blog it is raining and gloomy outside, but weather changes and the sun will shine.  However, today, I'm going to find an umbrella and simply enjoy walking in the rain, keeping my eyes prepared for a rainbow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In Genesis 9 the rainbow is a sign given from God to confirm a promise. I thank the Lord for his many promises  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1405521421713738901?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1405521421713738901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1405521421713738901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1405521421713738901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1405521421713738901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/10/rainbows.html' title='Rainbows'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6058923845662903997</id><published>2009-10-07T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T10:09:01.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Crazy Love</title><content type='html'>As I was reading my Crazy Love book I was struck by a sentence on page  60.  "So why, when we constantly offend Him and are so unlovable and unloving does God persist in loving us? "   I spent the afternoon on Monday at the hospital.  A dear girl, that I know loves God, made some poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;decisions&lt;/span&gt;.  A mixture of alcohol and drugs was still working their way from her system, the consequences of this action are greatly affecting her immediate and long term life plans.  However, I still see a loving God, protecting and pursing His child. As I work to remind her of this immense love, I recognize the undeserved love I also receive, and poorly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;reciprocate&lt;/span&gt;.  I may not be making the huge self destructive mistakes of this young girl, but my attention at times to my spiritual life is almost an afterthought.  It made me think,  Am I offending God?  I probably put &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; time and effort into my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;earthly&lt;/span&gt; relationships, making sure I don't offend those around me, but I never thought about offending God.  And yet I feel his love and His pursuit of me, I am so grateful for this Crazy Love that God has for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6058923845662903997?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6058923845662903997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6058923845662903997' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6058923845662903997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6058923845662903997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/10/more-crazy-love.html' title='More Crazy Love'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7045444882329078321</id><published>2009-09-23T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T22:19:21.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Beach house can be a "spiritual" desire!</title><content type='html'>All of my close friends and family know I have a great love for the beach.  I have always dreamed of owning a house at the ocean.  The beach always decompresses me.  My absolute favorite place to do my personal devotions is on a balcony overlooking the ocean. How someone can believe there is no God yet be surrounded by nature at it's finest and not see the hand of God always befuddles me!  In my heart of hearts I have often thought, I will never really live at the beach because I would want to spend all of my time there and God has other designs for me,  however I think I am reconsidering that train of thought.  It is never wrong to long to be at a place that draws one into the presence of a Holy God.....is it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romans 1:20  For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky.  Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities - His eternal power and divine nature.  So they have no excuse for not knowing God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our Hope Groups we have begun a study called "Crazy Love"  based on a book by Francis Chan. Chapter one does a great job of pointing out the awesomeness of God through nature.  You can go on line and view an "Awe Factor" video at www.crazylovebook.com  Enjoy!  Worship!  Admire YOUR Creator!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7045444882329078321?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7045444882329078321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7045444882329078321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7045444882329078321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7045444882329078321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/09/beach-house-can-be-spiritual-desire.html' title='A Beach house can be a &quot;spiritual&quot; desire!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-37678840648922357</id><published>2009-08-07T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T21:18:00.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello's and Goodbyes!</title><content type='html'>In a few hours I will take my daughter to the airport.  She will be flying 1,000 miles from NC to her school in Springfield, MO.  I will try very hard not to cry at the gate, but I doubt I will be successful.  Our summer with her went soooo fast.  The "Hello"  was followed by summer plans of beach trips, shopping, movies and late nights eating cheese &amp; crackers while watching a little too much of the TLC channel.  We lamented over Jon &amp; Kate, laughed at Bridezilla and became experts on "What not to Wear!"  Our "Goodbye" will be accompanied with hugs and the knowledge that we will see each other again in a few short months.  My mind will be reeling with unspoken thoughts of a list of reminders...that I dare not speak of one more time...because if  I do I risk the "evil eye" followed with a sigh and a "I Know Mom"  So I will make an effort to not nag at all in the morning.  (After all we do talk on the cell phone daily, there will be plenty of time for those reminders later!) &lt;br /&gt;I think the anticipation of the shared moments, a shared future, is what makes a hello sweet and the gratefulness for those moments along with the unknown of what happens when we are separated that can make goodbyes bitter sweet.  &lt;br /&gt;WE CAN NEVER REALLY HAVE A HELLO WITHOUT A GOODBYE.&lt;br /&gt;We need to embrace both!  And that is what I choose to do!!   "There is a time for every event under heaven..." Read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-37678840648922357?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/37678840648922357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=37678840648922357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/37678840648922357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/37678840648922357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/08/hellos-and-goodbyes.html' title='Hello&apos;s and Goodbyes!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5720137946398450543</id><published>2009-07-13T15:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T16:55:36.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unplanned Events</title><content type='html'>Just when I thought life was calming down, a series of unplanned events took over! A funeral &lt;br /&gt;-an unplanned event -A dear saint that I worked with for many years went to be with the Lord.  I went to her calling hours on Friday night.  And while we will miss her she was so ready to join her Savior in heaven. This was followed by dinner with old friends&lt;br /&gt; -an unplanned event -I spent a fantastic 3 hours evening with pastor friends that I used to serve with.  We talked about the past &amp; the future and laughed &amp; laughed,  it was great medicine for the soul.  As I was leaving I got a phone call that my husband, Greg was in an accident on the farm. &lt;br /&gt;-an unplanned event- This began a long chain of phone calls and updates.  There was an explosion on a burn pile Greg was tending.  He was transported from one hospital to another one, that was a burn center.  His lungs were clear and all burns are second degree.  It could have been much worse.  He is very blessed.  However, he will be uncomfortable for a while. As this unplanned week-end continued, I found myself on  a plane headed for Ohio.  Then a long drive the next day back to NC (Greg can't drive due to the pain meds)  &lt;br /&gt;A planned event -My daughters boyfriend had flown into town from Kansas City.  I had planned events for us to do to get to know him better, groceries were bought for special meals... (now all going uncooked) as the unplanned quickly took over the planned. &lt;br /&gt;A planned event -I had plans for church, guest coming, a missions presentation to give... again the unplanned took over the planned...   &lt;br /&gt;-an unplanned event- I took a nice nap today (I very rarely nap)  It was a welcome unplanned event! &lt;br /&gt;I am thankful that I can trust in the Lord who knows all of my planned and unplanned events and gives me strength for all of them!   Read James 4:14.... How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5720137946398450543?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5720137946398450543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5720137946398450543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5720137946398450543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5720137946398450543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/07/unplanned-events.html' title='Unplanned Events'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1127551008620522624</id><published>2009-07-05T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T22:29:53.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Sorts!</title><content type='html'>It has been a strange week.  After returning from three back-to-back trips I find myself a bit out of sorts... &lt;br /&gt;Today I had less things to take to church than any other Sunday since we began Hope.  I usually trudge in with 2 pull along crates, clothes etc.. Today I had only a couple of folders and can you believe I forgot 1/2 of them at the house!  It was also my first Sunday after our move from the theater at Hope church to the school.  I didn't know where anything was.  Everyone did a fantastic job while I was gone, but still I'm out of sorts.  &lt;br /&gt;Right before my travels I had to put our dog of 13 years to sleep.  And as much as I thought I was prepared it was still hard.  I have found myself all week looking at the door waiting on my dog, but she is not here... Out of sorts.... &lt;br /&gt;After no TV for at least 2 weeks, I think it is all a bit depressing!  Four celebs died while I was out of the country, scandals hit the news and John &amp; Kate are separating!  And I am out of sorts...&lt;br /&gt;Greg is out on a trip, my air conditioner broke and Alysse started a big project upstairs and we have been painting and re-doing furniture and the upstairs  feels like a bomb went off  My home is out of sorts  &amp; so am I ...&lt;br /&gt; A lot happened in a few days.  I know I will get back into the swing, but for now I am out of sorts. I talk a lot about unconditional love, grace &amp; mercy (for others)  But I must admit, I am a performance driven gal  and  I am so glad that the Lord loves me when I'm on my game and when I'm simply... out of sorts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1127551008620522624?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1127551008620522624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1127551008620522624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1127551008620522624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1127551008620522624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/07/out-of-sorts.html' title='Out of Sorts!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8476279958742131574</id><published>2009-06-29T03:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T03:47:54.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chow!</title><content type='html'>You know you are in another country when… a group of 11 enter a crowded church service and the entire first row jumps up and insist you take the best seat in the house….  You watch 10 people hop into a small 4-seater cab…  When a pedicure cost $6.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hola!  Sunday was our last day in Ecuador.  Today brings a full day of travel.  Sunday we had a wonderful time shopping, having lunch on a river bank walk, playing cards and a sweet, sweet time of communion as a team with our missionary host.&lt;br /&gt; However, one highlight was being able to attend a large Ecuadorian church.  We listened to 1,000 voices worship followed by an anointed message on “Turning your problems into opportunities.”  This message touched me deeply.  As the pastor spoke (and I understood bits and pieces!) all I could think about was the various communities I had visited and how hard it has to be to stay positive, yet this was a very uplifting and joyful Sunday celebration from the music and dance to the words that were spoken.  Our sprits joined in even if we didn’t speak the language and the presence of God was thick around us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asked to say a few words to the congregation.  With the help of The Holy Spirit (and my trusty interpreter!) I greeted the congregation and explained we were from a church called “Hope” Our goal is to bring hope to our Charlotte, NC Community. What a privilege and a joy to be in their country bringing hope to the boys &amp; girls of Ecuador as well.  Every Sunday at Hope church we have a scripture that is a blessing that we pray over our people as they exit.  (I went on to read that scripture as a blessing over this church body as well.)  Ironically, it was probably at about the same time that our Pastor in Charlotte was reading this scripture over our Hope Church… Isn’t it wonderful that we are all part of the same church body! How God must love Sunday’s as he receives the praises from people of many lands and languages&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romans 15:13 I pray that the God of hope will fill you completely with joy &amp; peace because you trust in him.  Then you will overflow with confidence hope, through the power of the Holy Spirit.&lt;br /&gt;Chow….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8476279958742131574?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8476279958742131574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8476279958742131574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8476279958742131574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8476279958742131574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/chow.html' title='Chow!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5106005943406789206</id><published>2009-06-27T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T23:39:45.642-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipation!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkcQJQ9HWcI/AAAAAAAAABo/R6ZIAkybgaU/s1600-h/4860_96461834453_531384453_1825615_3313608_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkcQJQ9HWcI/AAAAAAAAABo/R6ZIAkybgaU/s320/4860_96461834453_531384453_1825615_3313608_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352264433509292482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you are in another country when... You eat at a high end restaurant over looking the ocean and a dog runs in and out and curls up by your table... you see guards, traffic patrol and various men walking around with machine guns... some people burn their yards rather than mow them! (I know several of you have had that thought at one time or another!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hola!  I had been telling the team that I had a special surprise for them on Saturday. Some team members tried to pry it out of me all week long, but I had fun keeping this surprise from them.   Watching their The anticipation of the surprise day was fun!  Finally last night the word was released:  Whale Watching!  I wanted to reward them with a fun, fun day.  And it worked!  We had a fantastic time that included whales, water and a fabulous restaurant spot overlooking the ocean.  This team has worked so very hard this week with NO complaining and I so anticipated sharing this time with them.&lt;br /&gt;Our heavenly father is also planning a special blessing for His "team members" One that we are in anticipation of, but really can  not imagine how wonderful it will be.  As his tired servants are rewarded.  Oh, how much fun I have anticipating what that day will be like.    And I imagine the Lord is anticipating it with great joy as well.   Chow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5106005943406789206?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5106005943406789206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5106005943406789206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5106005943406789206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5106005943406789206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/anticipation.html' title='Anticipation!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkcQJQ9HWcI/AAAAAAAAABo/R6ZIAkybgaU/s72-c/4860_96461834453_531384453_1825615_3313608_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1606311695198951864</id><published>2009-06-26T21:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T23:00:33.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dessert... my favorite part of the meal!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkW1eftuKDI/AAAAAAAAABg/TXRG3Bo19ok/s1600-h/100_5087.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkW1eftuKDI/AAAAAAAAABg/TXRG3Bo19ok/s320/100_5087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351883267713673266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you are in another country when... you count iguanas during car rides, the goats are on leashes but the dogs run free, you see a baby crawling on a dirt floor with chickens walking around him inside a small home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hola!  Have you ever made a special dessert that came out just perfect?  As the cook you may even taste tested it.  However, the best joy comes when you get to serve the dessert to your family and friends.  Hoping that they like it as much as you do.  Waiting for their expression as they exclaim "This is sooooo good"  That is the feeling that I have as a missions team leader.  Of our 6-person team only 2 of us had done missions trips in the past. As we shared our memories from the week, I know each team member is forever changed, touched and challenged by their experiences this past week. Today was our last full day of ministry and many laughs were shared, hugs were given and photos were taken.   I so enjoyed watching each team member inhale this "dessert" set before them, and I could tell each of them thought is was "one of the best desserts they had even eaten."  Hopefully, we will all be able to taste it again someday, but we will have the memory of the flavor to enjoy for a lifetime.... Chow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1606311695198951864?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1606311695198951864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1606311695198951864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1606311695198951864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1606311695198951864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/dessert-my-favorite-part-of-meal.html' title='Dessert... my favorite part of the meal!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SkW1eftuKDI/AAAAAAAAABg/TXRG3Bo19ok/s72-c/100_5087.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1066893081829582692</id><published>2009-06-25T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T21:03:38.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Greatful!</title><content type='html'>You know you are in another country when...you are told to shake your shoes &amp; clothes before wearing them in case a scorpion crawled in, the dogs are thinner than the cats,  and you watch a funeral procession complete with men carrying a casket walking through the city streets about 5 miles to the cemetery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hola, Today we were in the poorest of the poor communities in Ecuador.  Along with doing our program twice... (half the kids go to morning school and the other half to afternoon school)  between the two programs we helped in the soup kitchen and fed  approximately 60 children.   I received more kisses in this one day than probably in the past couple of months combined.  We loved on dirty babies and scared children, then we left them in their  impoverished community, returned to our beautiful surroundings, took a dip in the pool, showered and then went out for  fruit smoothies  and pizza.  How can I wrap my mind around a day like this?  While I can go to bed clean, full &amp; refreshed there are so many children hot, dirty and hungry.  We can never understand the unfairness of life.  However, I can be grateful  for the life I have been priviledged to lead.... Chow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1066893081829582692?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1066893081829582692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1066893081829582692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1066893081829582692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1066893081829582692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-know-you-are-in-another-country.html' title='Be Greatful!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-9000278906804040321</id><published>2009-06-24T22:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T23:34:38.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Indescribable</title><content type='html'>Hola!  You know you are in another country when... You can't rinse your toothbrush in the sink... when cows freely roam along the roadside... when a drive thru is a man in the middle of the road selling bags of cut up fruit or cold bottles of water!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week ago today I was blessed to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon the sight was truly indescribable.  Greg &amp; I took several pictures but it just cannot capture the beauty of it all.  That is how I am feeling at this moment about my day.  I do not have the vocabulary at present to explain it, even though I try.  My next thought is: about this time last week I  was walking through the Las Vegas Strip where people were mindlessly inserting  coins into slot machines hoping to strike it rich.  Sad thing, is from where I stand today, they are rich, very rich according to the standards of 75% of the world and don't even recognize it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We painted at the orphanage then did another kids' program for the boys, we then went to another location and did our 2nd day of programs for them.  The smiles and hugs and kisses were endless, they were so happy we had returned.  They knew all the songs and clapped as the van approached.  When we left I gave the Pastor a stack of color sheets.  He was very excited, We had given the children crayons.  He announced to the boys &amp; girls as they left,  "Come Sunday, we have color sheets from the Missionaries",  "Remember to bring your crayons!"  And the 150 boys and girls will do just that!   What they accomplish with no supplies is truly amazing.... no it's indescribable!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-9000278906804040321?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/9000278906804040321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=9000278906804040321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9000278906804040321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9000278906804040321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/indescribable.html' title='Indescribable'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6375693151981678893</id><published>2009-06-23T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T22:42:08.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who needs a building to have church?</title><content type='html'>Hola!  You know you are in another country when... You can't flush toilet paper, Five lanes of traffic fit on a road made for three, and you watch the garbage being picked up by a man on a bike, he would carry one large  black bag then several minutes later return and carry away another one until the entire pile had been removed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many countries are full of extremes and Ecuador certainly fits that category.  The host home we are staying in is very nice (even by American standards) the gated community is complete with armed security &amp; a beautiful tile pool surrounded by tropical plants.  After our team meeting we had time for a relaxing hour of swimming and tanning, then the vacation ended and the missions' trip began!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first stop today was at a boys' orphanage.  The children range in ages from 5-12.  The circumstances that lead to their arrival is unspeakable.  They attended our program in their very best clothes, as they were informed that we were taking their pictures.   Their housemother did not want them to play or get dirty until the shot had been taken.  We had a fantastic program, made crafts, took pictures and then "tried" to play dodge ball.  Please note the word "tried" Every time a boy got a ball they immediately began to play futball (soccer!)  We will return to this location tomorrow to paint, do another program and make frames for their pictures.  However, the most important thing we are doing is giving one on one, kind touches and hugs to loved starved boys (Oh how I'd like to put one in my suitcase!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our next stop was at a "church"  This church was one-year old, about the age of Hope.   When we arrived the Pastor was in the process of standing on a "stick ladder" hanging a beautiful silk backdrop.  What makes this interesting is the church consists of a water dispenser, outhouse, back wall, and partial tarp roof. (They knew their priorities, in that heat you need water, and of course a bathroom!  No walls, no floors, no roof!  I had picked up a couple of paint tarps in the States, and I was glad I did.  The neighboring home brought over several plastic chairs and we put down the tarps, music began to play and over 120 boys and girls jammed into a space no bigger than my garage.   Again the team did a great job and we left with lots of kisses and hugs.  We will return to do another program their tomorrow with a surprise.  We have given gifts at every location but we have clothes for these children in addition to those gifts tomorrow.  When you see a group of people reaching an entire community with so little resources, it sure makes one hesitate to complain about any of our facilities or setup and teardown. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heat was intense, we returned hungry, dirty (very dirty) and oh... so tired,  but it is a good...good tired.  Chow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6375693151981678893?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6375693151981678893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6375693151981678893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6375693151981678893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6375693151981678893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/who-needs-building-to-have-church.html' title='Who needs a building to have church?'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7502552681317110911</id><published>2009-06-22T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T23:56:24.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanut butter, Pinwheels &amp; Prayer</title><content type='html'>Hola! You know you are in another country when peanut butter is $8.00 per jar and gas is 1.49! Considering the average wage is 1.25/hr that means one would work  just a little more than 6 hours for one jar of peanut butter!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning we had a great team devotion and then drove about 1 1/2 hours to a village by a river.  The small church had 65 kids gathered for the special surprise promised by their pastor...us! While the program went great &amp;amp; we had a blast, the first day of ministry can often mean adjustments to the plan... such as:  Why did we think we could explain to the boys &amp;amp; girls how to make pinwheels in Spanish? Most of the team couldn't even explain it to each other in English!  (needless to say, we will be bringing home several pinwheels) Another funny glitch was during the game time.  While Greg was giving the explanation of "capture the flag" one little guy ran, grabbed the flag, and yelled, "I won".   All the boys laughed.  Then the game proceeded to be a free-for-all wrestling match...time for a new game.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever seen a magnet on a desk with a box of paper clips?  That's what it looked like when team member Krystal started handing out dimes, a huge circle of kids uncontrollably drawn to her, we knew Krystal was in there.... someplace!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were priviledged to spend this evening with over 50 area pastors.  They traveled, mainly taking busses, from a radius of 2 1/2 hours.  They do this every Monday night.  No one is in a hurry for the service to start or end.  For them it is all about relationship and time together.  Most of their churches can not support them, so they all have side jobs as well.  I had the priviledge of being their guest speaker and encouraging them in their calling. God gave us a wonderful service together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hundreds of pictures were snapped, our day was filled with hugs, laughter, smiles and heat.   Today was a great day and the best thing is I know that it will be followed by another one! Chow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7502552681317110911?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7502552681317110911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7502552681317110911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7502552681317110911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7502552681317110911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/peanut-butter-pinwheels-prayer.html' title='Peanut butter, Pinwheels &amp; Prayer'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5826595459356554049</id><published>2009-06-21T23:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T21:46:18.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Were Scanned at the Airport!</title><content type='html'>Hola! It is such a blessing to be a part of the first ever "Hope Missions Team"    Our day started with the team meeting at 7:15 AM in the Charlotte airport  (currently it is 2:30 AM so I hope this blog makes sense!)  It was a smooth day of sitting, eating, playing cards; listening to I-pods, and of course talking and texting on the phone until the last minute! &lt;br /&gt;A new experience for me was being scanned at the Ecuador Airport before we were allowed to enter the country.   Due to the swine flu, they had each person stand in front of an infra-red scanner of some sort, it could tell if you had a fever.  Just watching it made me need to cough!  What if they thought I was sick and I wasn't, my tired brain was on overload!&lt;br /&gt;I know we are going to have a great week of adventure as we bless the boys &amp; girls, our missionary host and each other.  Keep watching the blog as I will share our daily adventures...Chow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5826595459356554049?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5826595459356554049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5826595459356554049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5826595459356554049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5826595459356554049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/06/we-were-scanned-at-airpot.html' title='We Were Scanned at the Airport!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4085581431706692139</id><published>2009-05-21T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T19:45:05.838-07:00</updated><title type='text'>28269</title><content type='html'>What is 28269?  The zip code of Hope's  new location....Mallard Creek Elementary School!  Moves have many adjectives used to describe them:  exciting, exhausting, packing, loading, dings &amp; scratches, decisions, joy and a lot of pizza!  All of theses can be used to describe this move as well.  I look forward to making this move with my Hope Church Family.  It is certainly a part of a bigger plan that God has for us.  How fun it is going to be to look back six months from now, as we settle into our new community, and see that plan continue to unfold before us.  I don't think we can even begin to understand the plans God has for 28269!  Matthew 5:14-16&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4085581431706692139?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4085581431706692139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4085581431706692139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4085581431706692139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4085581431706692139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/05/28269.html' title='28269'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7636439802166186249</id><published>2009-05-12T09:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T19:01:39.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Village</title><content type='html'>I had a wonderful Mother's Day.  Hillary Clinton once said it takes a village.  There is a lot of truth to that statement.  We met two close families for lunch after church.  All the kids (now adults)  actually came home, except my son.  It was so great seeing everyone, but it quickly became apparent that lunch was not going to be long enough for our daughters and plans were made to meet back later in the evening for pizza and games.  Peer pressure was administered and those planning to leave for their various apartments across the state were convinced to stay until Monday.  When we met back, the setting was ideal, as we sat on a beautiful porch, three moms and 5 daughters, the weather outside was perfect.  The girls were laughing as they reminisced about the past and told of future plans.  They were all completely comfortable with one another, I recognized the rarity of the moment.  I caught my friend with a tear slipping from her eye, she  looked at me and said "Isn't this wonderful?"  and it was.  All these young women, no conflict, easy, fun.  (It wasn't always like that when they were all running around and in elementary school!)  The noise level was still considerable, but totally enjoyable.  I am so glad that we are part of this village.  Colossians 2:2&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7636439802166186249?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7636439802166186249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7636439802166186249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7636439802166186249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7636439802166186249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-village.html' title='My Village'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3513928026370391656</id><published>2009-05-02T08:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T08:48:29.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5K- It was hard!</title><content type='html'>Last Friday I ran my first 5K, it was hard! My only goal was to  not walk at all, I made my goal, but as I stated earlier " It was hard!"  Even though I had been preparing, working out 5 miles most every day this past month, it was actually harder than I anticipated.  Isn't that just like life?  We can prepare for many races:   parenthood, retirement, marriage, ministry, careers but they are often harder than we anticipated.   The scripture has allot to say about perseverance, hanging-in-there, finishing the race....  I know when I rounded the corner and saw the finish line my stride had a new energy, friends were cheering me on.   We also have a God who is cheering us on, giving us cool cups of water, and rejoicing with us.  While life can be harder than we anticipated, even when we prepare, remember we have a God who strengthens us for all our races, we are not alone.  Hebrews 12:1-2...Let us run with endurance the race set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3513928026370391656?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3513928026370391656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3513928026370391656' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3513928026370391656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3513928026370391656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/05/5k-it-was-hard.html' title='5K- It was hard!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6999722832954406565</id><published>2009-04-18T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T11:12:55.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to You....de-ja-vu</title><content type='html'>I just celebrated a birthday this week.  I had a great day &amp; ate b-day cake, my favorite dessert!  Funny but true, for 8 months this past year I thought I was the wrong age!  I told several people I was 47 when I was only 46.  So this birthday was like de-ja-vu for me... after all I lived most of last year as 47.  In my twisted way of thinking (see if you can follow this thought- it is challenging)  I thought I would continue on with the wrong age until 49 and then fix it..... staying 49 for two years!  I thought that was an awsome plan!  However, when I explained this plan to Greg... well lets just say, he thought I really was suffering from dementia!  So...  47 it is.  (Proverbs 16:31)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6999722832954406565?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6999722832954406565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6999722832954406565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6999722832954406565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6999722832954406565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/04/happy-birthday-to-youde-ja-vu.html' title='Happy Birthday to You....de-ja-vu'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6578205709471282628</id><published>2009-04-09T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T23:00:44.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Easter Dress</title><content type='html'>I always loved seeing the little girls come to church on Easter, so proud of their pretty new dresses.  We had a family in our church who had three daughters.  Their mother always made them spectacular Easter dresses.  You can imagine my joy when early one spring she came to me and wanted to bless me by making my daughter an Easter dress. This would become my all time favorite dress.   With her help, a pattern was picked and material was decided upon.  Alysse would occasionally go to their home for measurements.  Initially this dress seemed like any other... that is until the very end.  When others would have been done, and would of had a nice solid dress, this seamstress kept going.  She added a special eyelet peek-a-boo  slip, a matching hair bow, trimmed socks and even a matching purse with a little bunny!  The collar was full of special details.  This was no longer an ordinary dress, it was an extraordinary ensemble.   What made this dress go from ordinary to extraordinary was all the little details added at the end.  This concept continues to challenge me.  I want to go from ordinary to extraordinary and I know it is in the details.  The small stuff that adds up.  The little extras that are performed when others finish their job.  Jesus lived the life of an extraordinary example for us.  Always going the extra mile, loving the unlovable, showing kindness to the ungrateful.  Help me Lord not to be satisfied with the ordinary but to pursue the extraordinary!  (Read: Matthew 5:38-48)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6578205709471282628?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6578205709471282628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6578205709471282628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6578205709471282628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6578205709471282628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-dress.html' title='The Easter Dress'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8512114576219557058</id><published>2009-04-08T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T17:25:14.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>King Tut!</title><content type='html'>I recently went to the King Tut exhibit in Atlanta.  I was in Awe!  One thing that really stuck with me was the fact that as soon as a person became Pharaoh or King they began making preparations for their after-life.  They would have miniature items of people &amp; things prepared to be buried with them.  They believed these items would come alive or magically become the appropriate size once they passed and would be of great use to them.  They also had elaborate jewelry, golden masks, containers &amp; jars and the list goes on and on.  While I think their  belief system was greatly flawed it does make me think!  I  can be so caught up in the here and now that I rarely think about the after-life.  Am I truly preparing to live this eternal life I so greatly believe in?  After all,  I will only be on Earth 100 years, just a blip compared to eternity!   Am I generous, faithful, forgiving, and full of grace?  Help me Lord to store up true treasures.  Matthew 19:21&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8512114576219557058?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8512114576219557058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8512114576219557058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8512114576219557058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8512114576219557058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/04/king-tut.html' title='King Tut!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-9156937484824840432</id><published>2009-03-31T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T13:09:50.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yea for cross generational friends!!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday a friend came to help me with a home improvement project. I am turning my son's old bedroom into a guest space / exercise room.  However, the current condition of the room is beyond bad.  Somehow, it became the, I- don't- know-where-to-put-it-I'll-stick-it- here room!   As we carried boxes, moved furniture &amp;amp; prepped the room to paint, we chatted non-stop.  She is an extraordinary young girl, just searching for God's perfect will for her life.  The neat thing is I am old enough to be her mother- but ours is a cross generational friendship.  I so enjoyed getting her perspective on issues and I so value any time we can spend together.  I love to hang-out with people from every generation, I can gain such value and wisdom from the varied perspectives.    By the time the walls were spackled to prep for painting we laughed as they were totally polka-dotted! I will say my dreaded project was off to a fantastic start.  Have you ever noticed how some projects don't even seem like work when you do them with a buddy.  Now who wants to come help me finish??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-9156937484824840432?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/9156937484824840432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=9156937484824840432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9156937484824840432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9156937484824840432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/03/yea-for-cross-generational-friends.html' title='Yea for cross generational friends!!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5672188334878574331</id><published>2009-03-19T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T01:02:36.432-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My 100th Birthday!</title><content type='html'>March always means getting those important tax documents together, filing away last year and vowing to be more organized for the current year.   As I was gathering this information I kept coming across various stashes of cards... thank you cards... birthday cards... friendship cards... farewell cards...  get well cards... cards that over the past few years I just could not part with.  So, I gathered them all and placed them in a large file-storage box of their own.  The box is labeled "My 100th Birthday Party Decorations"   I know it is silly, but I have always said I was going to live to be 100!  I told my daughter, of my special box,  I knew she would laugh.  Her responsibility at my party is to decorate my room with all my cards and read them to me one by one.  "Mom" she said, "do you know how old I will be....73!  My eyes won't be able to read all those cards!"  Sure you will, you will have some great glasses or eye surgery by then.  Now, in my closet is a box that for the next 50+ years I will continue to add more memories to.... cards &amp;amp; color sheets from grandchildren not yet born... cherished words from friends &amp;amp; family who would have gone on to be with the Lord....  It will be full of laughter &amp;amp; tears &amp;amp; evidence of Gods continued faithfulness.  What a great 100th Birthday I am going to have.  Now, I guess I should go back to organizing those, not-so-important tax documents.  No one will want to read those in 100 years!   Psalm 34:12  Who is the man (or woman) who desires life, And loves length of days that he (she) may see good?  I am!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5672188334878574331?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5672188334878574331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5672188334878574331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5672188334878574331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5672188334878574331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-100th-birthday.html' title='My 100th Birthday!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6585478182007301175</id><published>2009-02-11T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T15:56:44.962-08:00</updated><title type='text'>5410 Jimtown Rd</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;My last visit in Ohio I drove by my child-hood home.  It looked bad.  I think it looked nicer when I lived there... but I am not sure.  When I told Greg what happened ironically he said 'The only thing that can help that house is a good fire!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I learned last night that my childhood home burned down.  I couldn't help but think back to my days growing up in that house.  I was  around 4 yr. old when I moved in and lived there until I was married.  It was an old house, coal furnace, brown shingles and the floor was so uneven that we could drop a marble and it would roll from room... to room... to room... until it would finally rest under the couch or in a corner.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was only a two bedroom home (better than the one bedroom we moved from!)  My brother and I- yes I said &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;brother-&lt;/span&gt; had to share a room! He was 19 mo. younger than I. When we reached Jr. High age the conflict was massive- we pushed every stick of furniture we had back to back- then we nailed a sheet to the ceiling to create a separation and thus created our "own" bedroom.  However, we could still lay in bed at night and talk with one another, and we did. After a few years my dad built some walls and  nailed some paneling up.  This created two very tiny bedrooms and a hall  (To this day I have never seen smaller ones!) The register was in the hall- so neither room had heat!  But we were so happy to have bedrooms with doors!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I began to expand my friendships beyond my family I noticed most people did not live like we did.  Our home was very clean &amp;amp; always had fresh paint.  It was inviting with sturdy furniture. But if trying to explain that you shared a bedroom with your brother wasn't bad enough we didn't have kitchen cabinets!  And I was so embarrassed to have my friends over.  A large metal sink with a free standing stove- metal table &amp;amp; chairs and one tall white cabinet that held all of our dishes &amp;amp; food.  Everything wobbled- (remember the floor!)  This was the 70's not the 50's!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was entering High School the "Big Re-model" took place!  We were getting a whole new kitchen, cabinets, counters &amp;amp; even a dishwasher!  the floors were being fixed and to top it off we got shag carpet for the living room!  Not to mention a shower in the tub- my parents must have gotten quite a loan because they purchased a color TV as well to watch our three channels on.   Oh the luxury!!  A furnace &amp;amp; siding was installed a few years earlier.  I thought it was the most beautiful home! My ultimate dream of getting to move into a double-wide trailer was no longer necessary!  Now it would be acceptable for my friends to see, and I had friends at the house all the time.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I look back,  as an adult, I see how very little material things we really had-we always bordered on the poverty level- we were the working poor.  But we laughed and played and sang and loved in that house. We cried and mourned and struggled as well... but I choose to remember the former. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Many hours were spent on the porch swing- every boyfriend I ever had swung with me on that swing! many deep conversations with mom took place late into the night on that swing... one of the last memories of my Dad is he &amp;amp; AJ swinging together.  That house is truly only a memory now. - I talked with my brother today- he too was sad- he said, "We really can never go home again" and that is true.  But I am grateful that I got to grow-up in such a "beautiful home" It never really is about the "house"  &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/5521919242355038195-6585478182007301175?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6585478182007301175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6585478182007301175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6585478182007301175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6585478182007301175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/02/5410-jimtown-rd.html' title='5410 Jimtown Rd'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-4856272051013100107</id><published>2009-02-10T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T20:24:11.940-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Setter to Coach</title><content type='html'>I got to go to Springfield, MO this past week for a conference.  While there I stayed over &amp;amp; spent time with my daughter in college, Alysse.  She is coaching a club volley-ball team.  On Saturday her team was playing.  It was sooooo strage watching her as "Coach Alysse"  I was used to seeing her in the role of  "setter"  - but as her parent I see how "Coach" really fits her.  Isn't it great that our heavenly father see's our changes &amp;amp; growth for the future as well.  Peter was a fisherman.... Paul was a tent maker....  David was a shepherd....  Matthew was a tax collector...  and just like the Lord saw who they would become he see's that in us as well.   Humm.... Father, what do you see for me??     &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-4856272051013100107?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/4856272051013100107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=4856272051013100107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4856272051013100107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/4856272051013100107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/02/setter-to-coach.html' title='Setter to Coach'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2149359817432832011</id><published>2009-01-10T20:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:56:05.859-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 39- Final Bliss...Lets share the bliss!</title><content type='html'>I began my series on "Bliss" by sharing about an unexpected final cup of coffee I got to share with Alysse when I took her to the airport after Thanksgiving break.  The ticket agent offered to give me a pass to go to the gate with her. I never knew that was an option.  I went to the airport again this past Thursday.  A  dear friend was flying in from Abu Dhabi.  She &amp;amp; her husband had a layover and I went to pick up some of their luggage and bring them coats while they were in the states. They got off their international flight and had to be re-ticketed to continue on to New Orleans. We have kept in regular contact through skype- but it was great to see them in person.  The same ticket agent was working.  I did NOT ask him for a pass- I had already asked another agent and was turned down.  He walked over to where we were and his first words were "Tell me your story."  As we did he quickly offered a pass.  I graciously accepted.  Then I told him he had given me a pass at Thanksgiving and that I was blogging about bliss.  I explained how I had  blogged about him! How his generosity allowed me a final cup of coffee with my daughter.  He said it's the little things, like that extra time that makes a difference in our days. It turns average days into good days!   He was so happy to hear how he had made that difference for me- and now he was doing it again.  I was able to enjoy a nice 2 hour lunch with my friends.  They will be back in a week- but still it was an unexpected moment of bliss.  However, this ticket agent  challenged my spirit.  There is a wonderful scripture that says something to the effect that when it is in our power to do kindness to someone- we should do it.  I want to be a person this year that provides opportunities of bliss to others.  When it is in my power to do so, I don't want to let the moment pass or by being so busy or self indulged that I don't recognize the opportunity.   It is a good challenge for me for 09 and I challenge you to do the same.  Let's spread moments of bliss to as many as possible.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2149359817432832011?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2149359817432832011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2149359817432832011' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2149359817432832011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2149359817432832011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-39-final-blisslets-share-bliss.html' title='Bliss # 39- Final Bliss...Lets share the bliss!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3268533333073775930</id><published>2009-01-10T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:16:16.014-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #38</title><content type='html'>Returning home.  Sharing one final lunch with Alysse before taking her to the airport.  Getting all the Christmas decorations down and the house clean.  Getting back into our routine and knowing I am so blessed&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3268533333073775930?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3268533333073775930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3268533333073775930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3268533333073775930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3268533333073775930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-38.html' title='Bliss #38'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-886426020389115631</id><published>2009-01-10T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:10:16.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #37</title><content type='html'>At the reception I danced with my brother to 'We Are Family"  I love my brother.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-886426020389115631?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/886426020389115631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=886426020389115631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/886426020389115631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/886426020389115631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-37.html' title='Bliss #37'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2091386402670998411</id><published>2009-01-10T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:06:40.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #36</title><content type='html'>With the wedding being over 600 miles away from Charlotte we did not expect anyone to make the trip.  But we were wrong.  Two of my dear friends &amp;amp; their husbands came from Charlotte.  WE had friends and family from WI, PA, OH, NC, SC, IN  How blessed we were.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2091386402670998411?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2091386402670998411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2091386402670998411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2091386402670998411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2091386402670998411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-36.html' title='Bliss #36'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5059754906751964350</id><published>2009-01-10T19:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:02:16.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 35</title><content type='html'>As I was sitting at the reception AJ walked behind me, gave me a quick kiss on the top of the head and kept going.  We had really spent very little time together  the past few days, as you can imagine the busyness before the wedding,  But it was his way of acknowledging me.  It was very sweet.  For me it was a moment of bliss!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5059754906751964350?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5059754906751964350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5059754906751964350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5059754906751964350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5059754906751964350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-35.html' title='Bliss # 35'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3918862065458300413</id><published>2009-01-10T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:58:16.095-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss 34</title><content type='html'>I am sure every parent feels unexplainable emotions when their child gets married.  It is an ending and a beginning.  The end of  being an active parent and the beginning of enjoying our adult relationship.  As AJ &amp;amp; Joelle  shared their beautiful vows- vows they wrote for each other-  I was not sad at all.  AJ was SO happy.  This has been his dream for many years, as I watched his dream become a reality it was bliss... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3918862065458300413?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3918862065458300413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3918862065458300413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3918862065458300413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3918862065458300413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-34.html' title='Bliss 34'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1742304063969607076</id><published>2009-01-10T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:52:36.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #33</title><content type='html'>I looked from Aj to Aysse- as she saw AJ's tear,  tears began to escape from her eyes as well.  She was happy for her brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1742304063969607076?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1742304063969607076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1742304063969607076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1742304063969607076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1742304063969607076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-33.html' title='Bliss #33'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2516273763143225129</id><published>2009-01-10T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:50:48.885-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #32  "The Tear"</title><content type='html'>I watched a tear escape from AJ's eye as he saw his bride walk down the isle &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2516273763143225129?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2516273763143225129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2516273763143225129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2516273763143225129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2516273763143225129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-32-tear.html' title='Bliss #32  &quot;The Tear&quot;'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-445584620699036848</id><published>2009-01-10T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:47:52.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 31  3AM</title><content type='html'>About 10 guys went out after the rehearsal dinner for a "Bachelor Party"  AJ lived with 3 other young men for the past 4 years.  They were all in attendance.  They had decided to sleep in the same room one last time together.  When they retunred to the Hotel it was about 1:30 AM.  I know this because we were in the room next to theirs.  The noise &amp;amp; laughter emitted from that room lasted for hours!  It reminded me of  one of the many sleep-overs AJ would have while growing up. Usually about 3AM I would lose patience and stomp in his bedroom and warn them to quiet down and go to sleep...  But this night I just laid in that bed and listened to the noise, one last time.  I knew it would be one of the many thing I would actually miss.  I am thankful for that one final moment.   Bliss...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-445584620699036848?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/445584620699036848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=445584620699036848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/445584620699036848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/445584620699036848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-31-3am.html' title='Bliss # 31  3AM'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7287462361403709813</id><published>2009-01-10T19:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:36:20.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 30</title><content type='html'>At the rehearsal dinner AJ surprised his groomsmen (and me!) by giving them each swords as his thank you gift.  Not plastic toy swords but real swords!  Then he gave his Dad &amp;amp; Mr. Fenton canes, not just regular canes but canes that contained a dagger!  My memory immediately flashed back to the time when theses men were boys playing together with plastic swords and now here they were all grown men, professions, still together and still getting excited over swords!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7287462361403709813?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7287462361403709813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7287462361403709813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7287462361403709813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7287462361403709813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-30.html' title='Bliss # 30'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-9108056985020342186</id><published>2009-01-10T19:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:27:17.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #29</title><content type='html'>Greg gave the most beautiful "blessing" at AJ &amp;amp; Joelle's rehearsal dinner.  He talked about "that look" that I give him... not the bad one-- the good one...  and how it was his prayer that Aj &amp;amp; Joelle would share many of those wonderful "looks" together through out their years of marriage.  I am not doing it justice but it was a beautiful moment and i am sure I was giving him "that look" at that very moment. ... Bliss&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-9108056985020342186?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/9108056985020342186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=9108056985020342186' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9108056985020342186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/9108056985020342186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-29.html' title='Bliss #29'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7205826316688341730</id><published>2009-01-10T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:22:01.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 28</title><content type='html'>Bliss # 28  All our immediate family made the trip to Florida for AJ's wedding.  He had his sister, all his Aunts &amp;amp; Uncles &amp;amp; first cousins &amp;amp; Grandparents.  Everyone traveled... from 600-1,000+ miles.  What a blessing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7205826316688341730?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7205826316688341730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7205826316688341730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7205826316688341730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7205826316688341730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-28.html' title='Bliss # 28'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6782643869586410451</id><published>2009-01-10T19:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:17:42.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #27</title><content type='html'>Bliss # 27  Laughing so hard on New Years Eve with my sister-in-law that we couldn't even drive.  After an unusual series of events that included the police shining a spot light on us (We didn't know the beaches closed at dusk-oh well)  It will certainly be a New Years that we will remember forever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6782643869586410451?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6782643869586410451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6782643869586410451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6782643869586410451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6782643869586410451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-27.html' title='Bliss #27'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2851260275206475708</id><published>2009-01-10T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T19:13:16.225-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 26</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Bliss #26    Taking my 14 year old niece to the ocaen - her first time ever- then later in the week &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;     my 17 year old newphew- For his first time ever.  They immediatly responded WOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/5521919242355038195-2851260275206475708?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2851260275206475708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2851260275206475708' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2851260275206475708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2851260275206475708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2009/01/bliss-26.html' title='Bliss # 26'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3564450276197958607</id><published>2008-12-26T08:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T08:27:22.909-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 25</title><content type='html'>Christmas night- Alysse meets me at the door.  She has been in the house almost 72 hours!  For her that is probably a recent record!  Of course it took her getting her tonsils &amp;amp; adnoids out.  Mom, please lets go to a movie!  She certainly can't drive... her meds make her loopy (or as others say loopier-than-usual!) so out the door we went to a late night movie.  While the movie was very average... I did enjoy spending this time with Alysse... Bliss&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3564450276197958607?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3564450276197958607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3564450276197958607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3564450276197958607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3564450276197958607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-25.html' title='Bliss # 25'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5211677942081491807</id><published>2008-12-26T08:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T08:22:50.101-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #24</title><content type='html'>Games!  Christmas evening Aj &amp;amp; I went to a friends home and played games. (Greg stayed with Alysse as she rested)  We have shared over a decade of holidays.  The level of comfort is equal to that of family.  Once we finished playing the conversation went from the past fun we all shared to our current &amp;amp; future plans. Theses-once kids- now adults -sharing life together as well.  I am so thankful that God has put meaningful relationships not just for me but for my family as well to share our  lives with. Bliss...     &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5211677942081491807?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5211677942081491807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5211677942081491807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5211677942081491807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5211677942081491807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-24.html' title='Bliss #24'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-3126961113371471525</id><published>2008-12-26T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T08:12:33.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss # 23</title><content type='html'>Christmas... My family is together, we are all healthy, we have no regrets with each other, nothing unsaid... true love, fondness and acceptance of each other and more importantly each one  serving and loving the lord.... this is Bliss&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-3126961113371471525?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/3126961113371471525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=3126961113371471525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3126961113371471525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/3126961113371471525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-23.html' title='Bliss # 23'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-5568385082295521206</id><published>2008-12-26T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T08:09:04.475-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bliss'/><title type='text'>Bliss #22</title><content type='html'>Every Christmas Eve we have gone out to dinner then to church as a family.  Afterward, we each take a turn  "toasting" with eggnog and then we open Christmas stocking presents.  This year was a bit different.  Alysse was unable to go out, since she had her tonsils out the day before.  Aj &amp;amp; I went to church together then drove through a McDonalds to take food home!  Alysse tried to enjoy her milkshake.  The only egg-nog I could find was a soy substitute- yum!  But... it was still such a fun night.  The unique gifts the kids put in everyones stockings- made us all laugh.  The "bliss" was that we were all together.  Freely talking about the very real fact that this part of life is changing.  The traditions and days they take place may need adjusting- we may not be together on the 24th like we always have been in the past,  but it ok, because I have no doubt that we will have many special times together and we will create new traditions. And when we are together there is tons of laughter and love.  However, this year I will follow Mary's example and hide theses memories in my heart.  Bliss... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-5568385082295521206?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/5568385082295521206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=5568385082295521206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5568385082295521206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/5568385082295521206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-22.html' title='Bliss #22'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-2424657304840158152</id><published>2008-12-24T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T10:17:28.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #21</title><content type='html'>Last night I sat in the basement with my complete little family of four.  We watched "Elf" and laughed together.  I savor these moments with both kids living so far from home.  I totally recognized the "bliss" of the moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-2424657304840158152?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/2424657304840158152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=2424657304840158152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2424657304840158152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/2424657304840158152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-21.html' title='Bliss #21'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1569344526372728375</id><published>2008-12-22T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T16:18:30.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #20</title><content type='html'>Today, Alysse &amp;amp; I had lunch with two family friends.  We rode the lynx downtown and ate soul food at "Mert's" Yum!!!  then we walked around "uptown"  It was great fun!  Thank you lord for the Bliss of sharing time with friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1569344526372728375?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1569344526372728375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1569344526372728375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1569344526372728375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1569344526372728375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-20.html' title='Bliss #20'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8263577092511310683</id><published>2008-12-22T06:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T06:15:28.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss 19</title><content type='html'>Being able to cook &amp;amp; host and evening for my new "staff" family at Hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8263577092511310683?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8263577092511310683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8263577092511310683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8263577092511310683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8263577092511310683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-19.html' title='Bliss 19'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7728742598391805880</id><published>2008-12-22T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T06:14:32.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss 18</title><content type='html'>Laying in bed until 8:00- knowing the house was clean, the shopping was done, the groceries were purchased &amp;amp; the laundry clean!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-7728742598391805880?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7728742598391805880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7728742598391805880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7728742598391805880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7728742598391805880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-18.html' title='Bliss 18'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-8959902819551790179</id><published>2008-12-22T06:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T06:13:21.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #17</title><content type='html'>Making "Buckeye's" with Alysse- even though it blew my diet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-8959902819551790179?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/8959902819551790179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=8959902819551790179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8959902819551790179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/8959902819551790179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-17.html' title='Bliss #17'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-6915820090341588190</id><published>2008-12-16T20:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T20:25:56.864-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #16</title><content type='html'>I spent 90 minutes stretched out on the couch enjoying the lights on the tree, the fire roaring and completing a challenger Sudoku- bliss!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-6915820090341588190?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/6915820090341588190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=6915820090341588190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6915820090341588190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/6915820090341588190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-16.html' title='Bliss #16'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-7588918821415083415</id><published>2008-12-03T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T10:37:29.547-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss #15</title><content type='html'>15-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I sat at the kitchen table last night with a friend of over 20 years, we drank hot chocolate&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and shared openly with no judgements.  "Bliss" is the feeling I had, as I thought about our&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;enduring friendship, it is rare gift. &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/5521919242355038195-7588918821415083415?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/7588918821415083415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=7588918821415083415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7588918821415083415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/7588918821415083415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-15.html' title='Bliss #15'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-842040663310276739</id><published>2008-12-01T19:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T20:05:22.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss 01-14</title><content type='html'>01- &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The feeling I had when Greg &amp;amp; I handed a lady &amp;amp; her daughter at the bus station a Harris &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Teeter gift card from Hope Church the day before Thanksgiving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;02-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Joelle (my future daughter-in-law) choosing to fly in and spend Thanksgiving with our &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;family&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;03-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Wednesday night the feeling I had as I said goodnight to my children- it makes me feel &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;complete when they are home sleeping in their beds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;04-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;underbaking the cookies the way Aj likes &amp;amp; eating them warm with a spoon together&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;05-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I was sitting in the dining room and listening to the "kids" at the "kids table" in the &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;kitchen on Thanksgiving Day- (6 "kids" ages 19-23 all traveled in from various colleges &amp;amp; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;careers)who have spent at least 12 years of Holidays together&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;laughing and talking above &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;one another catching up, completely comfortable life-long friends &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;06-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Looking at the houseful of company for Thanksgiving- knowing I was blessed to have each &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;person in my life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;07-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Eating at Olive Garden, as a new-soon to be family of five&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;08-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Taking in a movie- even one I would never choose to watch (While I dislike 007)- I like &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;going to the movies as a family&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;09-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Spending hours shopping the outlets with Alysse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Falling asleep on the couch with Alysse &amp;amp; Brittany, the fireplace glowing and an old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;movie on TV- fun night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Hearing familiar laughter from the basement as Alysse's HS friends came to watch a movie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The joy as we all visited an old family friend in her 80's- we prayed as we left, she cried, so &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;proud of AJ &amp;amp; Alysse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The fun of watching Aj get blessed as he was given a 7ft Christmas Tree that played music &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp; rotates! He was pumped!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14-&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Without asking the ticket agent gave me a pass to walk Alysse to the gate at the airport- &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;we shared one final cup of Starbucks before she boarded her plane&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-842040663310276739?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/842040663310276739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=842040663310276739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/842040663310276739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/842040663310276739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/bliss-01-14.html' title='Bliss 01-14'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5521919242355038195.post-1822364349047136338</id><published>2008-12-01T19:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T19:36:55.261-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to miss the "bliss"!</title><content type='html'>Our church has started a new series this month called "Bliss"  I feel challenged to look for and give the Lord honor for 100 "blissful" moments as they pass through my days this Holiday season.  I will be posting those simple joys as I recognize them throughout the following weeks.  I am doing this more as a record for me. (They may not be too interesting for anyone else to read!) However, I challenge you to look for your "Blissful" moments this season.  To me, this will  be like little Christmas gifts that I will be unwrapping from my heavenly father...... I can't wait to unwrap these gifts!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5521919242355038195-1822364349047136338?l=teresahucko.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/feeds/1822364349047136338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5521919242355038195&amp;postID=1822364349047136338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1822364349047136338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5521919242355038195/posts/default/1822364349047136338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teresahucko.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-dont-want-to-miss-bliss.html' title='I don&apos;t want to miss the &quot;bliss&quot;!'/><author><name>Teresa Hucko</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02375433971789894712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wJR23Ti_A7Y/SszpHMIVJhI/AAAAAAAAABw/WSWGgkX-DPg/S220/100_5306.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
