It took forever for me to get control of the coughing. My lungs felt like they had fallen into the pit of my stomach. I felt so desperately ill I couldn't get out of bed. Instead I lay there praying to go back to sleep.
By 10 am I felt a lot better, but I am filthy dirty. When you need to layer clothes to keep warm it doesn't take long to feel and look "grubby."
Rio and Gracie played in the snow for over an hour. Throwing toys into the air ~ then losing them in the deep snow, running around leaving sprays of snow behind them. They had such fun and by noon they were back under the blankets taking a nap.
It's a dogs life.
The weather has been a simply glorious all day. Bitter cold, but magnificently beautiful. The crystal blue sky, the bright sunshine, and the crisp deep snow made this day so picturesque.
Yet it was a lonely day in this shed. But this is Christmas Day and no matter what anyone's circumstances or personal belief's you can't help but become immersed in the sacred classics.
A friend posted this wonderful poem written by Jill Briscoe:
What if the manger had been empty, and no angel in the sky
Had stopped to tell the shepherds that they really should pass by
A dark and humble stable where God’s glory shone around
And the Father’s precious only Son – a baby – could be found?
Then there’d be no heaven waiting, and no Savior’s arms held wide
To welcome His invited guests to come and step inside.
There’d be no heavenly Bridegroom, no glorious wedding feast,
No church, no heavenly family, from the greatest to the least.
If Joseph had been obstinate or Mary had said, “No”
If the wise men hated traveling and didn’t want to go,
If the shepherds there in Bethlehem kept quiet about it all
Would there be a Christmas story of a humble cattle stall?
If He who reigned in heaven, the King enthroned on high
Had been too busy making worlds to leave and come to die,
Or if all our pain and helplessness, our shame and our disgrace
Had triggered only justice, and no amazing grace.
There would be no friend like Jesus to calm us in the strife,
No saving free forgiveness – no second chance at life,
No gentle Holy Spirit to change us from within,
No overcoming power, no victory over sin.
So come with me on tiptoe and we’ll take you to the place
Where Jesus, baby Jesus lies, with tears upon his face,
Assuring us of gospel truth that in this tiny form
Within the hay – on Christmas Day – Redemptive Love was born!
Poem by Jill Briscoe
There has to be someone related to Robert &Sylve Huckins must have some means to reach them, if it be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins and get them to return ALL of the money they stole from us so that I can buy a home and get our lives back. I am begging anyone in this family for help.
I don't believe I have EVER witnessed any none violent crime that can be as devastating as stealing someone's home. I am walking in Dorothy McKeevers footsteps, day by day, month by month, year by year.
Liam Griffin, I sat in your law office with two witnesses as you gave me your promise, your guarantee, that our money would be returned before harm came to us.
Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins you were present the day I signed contract with your son. You walked out of the kitchen with Sylve Huckins and your son introduced me to you. He told you that I was the British horse trainer he had told you about, the one he was going to build the home and barn for. Why didn't you say something? There may be a rational and reasonable explanation but I have spent over 3 years, homeless, not understanding it. I understand it even less knowing that though I was a total stranger, both Dorothy McKeever and Sally Canning you KNEW, and you knew what your son had done to them and others.
Dr. Kenneth Ogilvie, I contacted you and simply asked for a reference, not knowing that Robert Huckins was your cousin. Robert Huckins had just stolen over $30,000 from the domestic violence shelter, HEAL, yet everyone was trying to hide it. There was a history of stealing large amounts of money. $65,000 PLUS from Nancy Canning. $89,000 PLUS from Dorothy McKeever, $45,000 from Francis McKinney. The list just goes on and on and on.
Because of Robert Huckins I ended up paying $140,000 to be homeless.. sat in the cold, emotionally, physically and financially broke. In the middle of a recession, with no way to recover the stolen funds.
Today Robert Huckins has his own home...
He also has OUR home.....
He also has a lot of people's money...
And his freedom.
Women are not banks or loan institutions. Women should not be the source of a retirement fund for people who don't want to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Holding women hostage while playing with the judicial system, a horrendous game of cat and mouse extending YEARS, with the victims whose very homes, families and stability are in jeopardy is cruelty, as cruel as a physical beating. It is financial and emotional RAPE. Homelessness is not justice. It is a slow, painful death.
Please, I beg with everything I have within me, please convince Robert Huckins to stop this torture and return the building fund he stole from us so we too, can have a home.
http://roberthuckinsvictim.blogspot.com/2011/12/white-nothing-but-white.htmlHark the herald angels sing, "Glory to the new-born king." Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled! ~ Charles Wesley