<?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-8058111534973320880</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:10:22.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of Benjamin</title><subtitle type='html'>So Much Personality So Little Time</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-7716854222573080048</id><published>2009-03-27T12:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T12:35:43.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Year</title><content type='html'>A year has gone by, and all I can say is... I still miss you little man. You are and will always be my very best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/Sc0qOM9TuDI/AAAAAAAABmM/vHmA2UPyJPo/s1600-h/Feb+24+2008+041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/Sc0qOM9TuDI/AAAAAAAABmM/vHmA2UPyJPo/s320/Feb+24+2008+041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317953158479329330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is the song that has been playing in my head all day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Still Miss You&lt;br /&gt;by Keith Anderson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've changed the presets in my truck&lt;br /&gt;so those old songs don't sneak up&lt;br /&gt;they still find me and remind me&lt;br /&gt;yeah you come back that easy&lt;br /&gt;try restaurants I've never been to&lt;br /&gt;order new things off the menu&lt;br /&gt;that I never tried cause you didn't like&lt;br /&gt;two drinks in you were by my side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you baby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never knew til you were gone&lt;br /&gt;how many pages you were on&lt;br /&gt;it never ends I keep turning&lt;br /&gt;and line after line and you are there again&lt;br /&gt;I dont know how to let you go&lt;br /&gt;you are so deep down in my soul&lt;br /&gt;I feel helpless so hopeless&lt;br /&gt;its a door that never closes&lt;br /&gt;no I don't know how to do this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything&lt;br /&gt;move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to friends&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to myself&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to God&lt;br /&gt;I prayed liked hell but I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I tried sober I tried drinking&lt;br /&gt;I've been strong and I've been weak&lt;br /&gt;and I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I've done everything&lt;br /&gt;move on like I'm supposed to&lt;br /&gt;I'd give anything for one more minute with you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you...... yeah.... yeah.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-7716854222573080048?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/7716854222573080048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=7716854222573080048' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/7716854222573080048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/7716854222573080048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-year.html' title='One Year'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/Sc0qOM9TuDI/AAAAAAAABmM/vHmA2UPyJPo/s72-c/Feb+24+2008+041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-2394209372914380929</id><published>2009-03-12T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T16:05:05.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Verses to a Special Song</title><content type='html'>At Benjamin's funeral we sang I am a Child of God. That song will always have such a special place in my heart and always remind me of my blessed child. Today while I was reading a friends blog I found a link to another mom whose daughter just returned Home and I was so touched by these additional lyrics I had to post them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a child of God and He has called me home.&lt;br /&gt;My earthly journey's through but still, I do not walk alone.&lt;br /&gt;He leads me, guides me, walks beside me, helps me find the way.&lt;br /&gt;He welcomed me with open arms. I live with Him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a child of God and I have gone ahead.&lt;br /&gt;My earthly life was brief but oh, such peace and love you gave.&lt;br /&gt;You loved me, held me, stood beside me and though I cannot stay.&lt;br /&gt;You gave me much to help me and I live with Him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a child of God and I will wait for you.&lt;br /&gt;Celestial glory shall be ours, if you can but endure.&lt;br /&gt;I'll lead you, guide you, walk beside you.Help you find the way.&lt;br /&gt;I'll welcome you with open armsOne bright Celestial day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Donna Kulliard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-2394209372914380929?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/2394209372914380929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=2394209372914380929' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/2394209372914380929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/2394209372914380929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2009/03/more-verses-to-special-song.html' title='More Verses to a Special Song'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-7129810309272792366</id><published>2008-12-22T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T13:37:02.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Special Song</title><content type='html'>While on my misssion in Florida I had some talented sister missionaries that I served with, one was my trainer Sister Garrett. At the time she shared with me songs she had composed and recorded and I was in awe by the beautiful music with such touching lyrics. Recently I was thinking about these songs when I remembered one that touched my heart. The lyrics just really echo thoughts and feeling Richard and I have talked about a lot so I thought I would share them....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Heaven&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Composed by Erin (Garrett) Hatch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You used to be near to me, I wonder how you're doing for now you're home in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;So many things you gave me, but most of all you're memory is burned in me forever.&lt;br /&gt;What is it like to be surrounded by so many loving faces you've nit seen for sometime?&lt;br /&gt;No doubt you are progressing to higher grounds where you'll be found in God's kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;So when I hear a child sing and feel the peace surround me that must be like home in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;That is the key to where you'll be awaiting me in heaven, in heaven, I'll find you there in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When sunbeams fall from the sky and find me to dry my eyes&lt;br /&gt;I'll remember you in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;For God would not want me to spend all my life missing you&lt;br /&gt;for soon we'll be together.&lt;br /&gt;So let us rejoice on the friendship we have that&lt;br /&gt;we established on this earth and its built to last.&lt;br /&gt;Think happy thoughts on spending eternity with family and soon with me.&lt;br /&gt;So put a smile on your face and I will do just the same for&lt;br /&gt;I'll see you in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;That is the key to where you'll be awaiting me in heaven, in heaven, I'll find you there in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll see you again in heaven.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-7129810309272792366?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/7129810309272792366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=7129810309272792366' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/7129810309272792366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/7129810309272792366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/12/special-song.html' title='A Special Song'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-1851995754869468981</id><published>2008-12-01T01:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T01:20:42.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When Daddy Comes Home</title><content type='html'>There were many times when it got close for me to come home from work and Erin would call me and have Ben talk to me. Ben would always tell me that he could see me. "I see you" he would say and I would respond "no way, I'm not even close to the house," but he would still say "I see you". That was really fun to talk to him on the phone like that and to see that he was excited for me to come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-1851995754869468981?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/1851995754869468981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=1851995754869468981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/1851995754869468981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/1851995754869468981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-daddy-comes-home.html' title='When Daddy Comes Home'/><author><name>Richard Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08461179602047759372</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-4193733994797755330</id><published>2008-11-23T23:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T23:20:38.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dude...</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite memories is when Benjamin came home from being at the Alexanders home and he came up to me and put his hand in the air balled into a fist and said "Dude." It was so cute to see that he had learned to do the Rock. Whenever we would meet people Ben would always say Dude and would put up his hand. So heres to you Ben, " DUDE."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-4193733994797755330?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/4193733994797755330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=4193733994797755330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4193733994797755330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4193733994797755330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/11/dude.html' title='Dude...'/><author><name>Richard Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08461179602047759372</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-5373771890356741890</id><published>2008-11-12T21:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:46:52.025-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On All Fours</title><content type='html'>Well I remember when I would get home from work and would play with Benjamin many times would he want to jump on my back like he was riding a horse. I miss this activity with him, he would get the gigles and we would just have the greatest time trying to balance on my back so he wouldnt fall off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268060476872031426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRvpF6M7fMI/AAAAAAAAA9o/-zCaIJBA09M/s320/Spirit+of+Christmas+040.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268060457096962274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRvpEwiL4OI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/KvQZmKC0GYs/s320/Spirit+of+Christmas+038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268060467789216674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRvpFYXau6I/AAAAAAAAA9g/uckesOIWbZQ/s320/Spirit+of+Christmas+039.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-5373771890356741890?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/5373771890356741890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=5373771890356741890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/5373771890356741890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/5373771890356741890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/11/on.html' title='On All Fours'/><author><name>Richard Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08461179602047759372</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRvpF6M7fMI/AAAAAAAAA9o/-zCaIJBA09M/s72-c/Spirit+of+Christmas+040.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-4873728913950713463</id><published>2008-11-05T23:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T10:27:49.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Daisy</title><content type='html'>I was reading a blog from a lady whose daughter returned to heaven this summer. On it she was talking about how for each of her children she has found a flower that symbolizes them. Her dauther Camille, is her tulip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around and asked myself what flower reminds me of Ben and instantly I knew the answer....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRKinOKgidI/AAAAAAAAA74/keqpZl5aa1U/s1600-h/marguerite_daisy_b1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265449709050300882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRKinOKgidI/AAAAAAAAA74/keqpZl5aa1U/s320/marguerite_daisy_b1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I think of Daisies I think of how their simple beauty brighten up the world and bring joy to all who see them. Tonight I took it a step further and looked up the symbolism and it was just too perfect...innocence, youth, gentleness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yes, our Benjamin is a daisy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-4873728913950713463?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/4873728913950713463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=4873728913950713463' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4873728913950713463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4873728913950713463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/11/daisy.html' title='A Daisy'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SRKinOKgidI/AAAAAAAAA74/keqpZl5aa1U/s72-c/marguerite_daisy_b1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-4584305562592602760</id><published>2008-10-31T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T01:12:48.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Purple People Eater</title><content type='html'>As most people who know me, know very well that Halloween is my favorite time of the year. But I can honestly say that last Halloween was the best one I have ever experienced. To start Ben had his own pumpkin and rather than letting him carve it we allowed him to draw on it. Little did we know that this pumpkin was not his target. After about 10 minutes of carving our pumpkins Erin and I looked up only to see that Ben had completely colored himself purple. Erin and I just broke into a fit of laughter. Thank goodness for washable crayola markers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263227402115161682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SQq9b7stHlI/AAAAAAAAA28/QOBfMPsbsVE/s320/Halloween+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263227405038766274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SQq9cGlvyMI/AAAAAAAAA3E/lBbiTcLCE9s/s320/Halloween+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263227412760258242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SQq9cjWsZsI/AAAAAAAAA3M/Kg99rmS2Vts/s320/Halloween+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263227419937056034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SQq9c-FxpSI/AAAAAAAAA3U/3947yd860Aw/s320/Halloween+024.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-4584305562592602760?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/4584305562592602760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=4584305562592602760' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4584305562592602760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4584305562592602760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/10/purple-people-eater.html' title='Purple People Eater'/><author><name>Richard Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08461179602047759372</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SQq9b7stHlI/AAAAAAAAA28/QOBfMPsbsVE/s72-c/Halloween+003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-114709403528377696</id><published>2008-10-29T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T19:08:25.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hope You Dance</title><content type='html'>Benjamin loved to dance. Whenever music started he would be out in the middle of the floor dancing with the best of them. With two boys who are dance fanatics you can only imagine it was more than once a week that our living room was turned into a dance floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let us fool you though, this kid had rhythm and some great moves. His favorite move at all though was to "shake his booty" which meant putting his hands flat on the ground, sticking his butt in the air and bouncing it up and down. Richard and I would laugh every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was also quite the jealous little boy. If Richard and I tried to dance with eachother he would insist on cutting in. We would happily scoop him up and do a three-person slow dance or at othertimes I would get the boot and the two boys would dance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-114709403528377696?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/114709403528377696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=114709403528377696' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/114709403528377696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/114709403528377696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-hope-you-dance.html' title='I Hope You Dance'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-1051084051850174740</id><published>2008-10-24T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T12:31:25.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Remember.......</title><content type='html'>You know Erin and I decided this last sunday that we needed to post weekly our thoughts and memories of Ben and that in time it would become a tradition in our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what i remember is that when Ben was only 3-5 months old he would always fall asleep in the weirdest of places and in the most uncomfortable positions. I loved this the most because it was a time when i could just watch and enjoy his presence. Even when he was alive he grew out of doing that and i really missed that but now i really miss it everyday when i get to hold Eraleigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260804447217915858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iroiikYMso0/SQIhxZU4F9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/qQsY4rPHvYI/s320/DSCN2557.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260804456432328978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iroiikYMso0/SQIhx7pw4RI/AAAAAAAAAA4/a_bQsw0lCWw/s320/Benjmain918+169.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260804458612051138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iroiikYMso0/SQIhyDxczMI/AAAAAAAAABA/upZk5qPVIYA/s320/Benjmain918+227.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-1051084051850174740?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/1051084051850174740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=1051084051850174740' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/1051084051850174740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/1051084051850174740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-remember.html' title='I Remember.......'/><author><name>Richard Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08461179602047759372</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iroiikYMso0/SQIhxZU4F9I/AAAAAAAAAAw/qQsY4rPHvYI/s72-c/DSCN2557.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-6949731602258637293</id><published>2008-10-15T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T01:18:00.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother's Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SPWm5T9ljiI/AAAAAAAAAyo/jMrXdQoRF5I/s1600-h/p6100284.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257291643566263842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SPWm5T9ljiI/AAAAAAAAAyo/jMrXdQoRF5I/s320/p6100284.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought of you and closed my eyes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And prayed to God today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked what makes a Mother&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I know I heard him say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A Mother has a baby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This we know is true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But God can you be a Mother&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When your baby's not with you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, you can He replied&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With confidence in His voice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I give many women babies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When they leave is not their choice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some I send for a lifetime&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And others for a day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Benjamin was just so perfect&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was no need to stay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just don't understand this, God&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want my baby here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He meant the world to all of us&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I really need him near.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could show you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What your child is doing today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you could see his beautiful smile&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And with other children say&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We go to earth to learn our lessons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of love and life and fear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Mommy loved me oh so much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got to come back here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel so lucky to have a Mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who has so much love for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I learned my lesson very quickly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Mommy set me free.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss my Mommy oh so much&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I visit her each day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When she goes to sleep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On her pillow is where I lay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And whisper in her ear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mommy don't be sad today&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm your baby and I'm here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"So you see my dear sweet one&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your baby is okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your little Benjamin is here in My home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this is where he'll stay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He'll wait for you in heaven&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Until your lesson is through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And on the day that you come home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He'll be here waiting for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh the joy you two will have&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you embrace and hug so tight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'll never be apart again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And all will be alright.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now you see what makes a Mother&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's the feeling in your heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's the love you've had so much of&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right from the very start.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Anonymous&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;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-6949731602258637293?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/6949731602258637293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=6949731602258637293' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/6949731602258637293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/6949731602258637293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/10/mothers-love.html' title='A Mother&apos;s Love'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SPWm5T9ljiI/AAAAAAAAAyo/jMrXdQoRF5I/s72-c/p6100284.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8058111534973320880.post-4472221629424808425</id><published>2008-10-09T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T16:13:06.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Special Tribute</title><content type='html'>&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255291080474894242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SO6LZNr8H6I/AAAAAAAAAwY/fzGp5AdeBVg/s320/BENJAMIN0001+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do not stand at my grave and weep&lt;br /&gt;I am not here, I do not sleep&lt;br /&gt;I am a thousand winds that blow,&lt;br /&gt;I am the diamond glints on the snow,&lt;br /&gt;I am the sun on ripened grain,&lt;br /&gt;I am the gentle autumn rain.&lt;br /&gt;When you awaken,&lt;br /&gt;in the morning's hush,&lt;br /&gt;I am the soft uplifting rush of&lt;br /&gt;quiet birds in circled flight,&lt;br /&gt;I am the soft stars that shine at night.&lt;br /&gt;Do not stand at my grave and weep,&lt;br /&gt;I am not there, I did not die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8058111534973320880-4472221629424808425?l=flowersforben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/feeds/4472221629424808425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8058111534973320880&amp;postID=4472221629424808425' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4472221629424808425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8058111534973320880/posts/default/4472221629424808425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://flowersforben.blogspot.com/2008/10/special-tribute.html' title='A Special Tribute'/><author><name>Erin Lafleur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10173208926583534808</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SOULyOnY6xI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rJOjcZVmj8c/S220/Aprilpic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G9Wt9OhFCeA/SO6LZNr8H6I/AAAAAAAAAwY/fzGp5AdeBVg/s72-c/BENJAMIN0001+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
