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Other than the Thanksgiving card yesterday, this is my first post here since wishing my and my husband’s eldest son, Joshua, a happy birthday this past August 10. I don’t want to miss the opportunity of wishing a happy birthday to our youngest son, Matthew Tohline Calhoun, and use the same article to announce an upcoming change to Reflections From a Cloudy Mirror


So why does it say Happy Birthday to Levi in the article’s title? Because my Dad called him that after the Disciple named Matthew, the tax collector who dropped everything to follow Jesus. In Hebrew, Matthew’s name is, you guessed it, Levi. My eldest brother’s wife, my first sister-in-love, is named Kay. My Dad called her “Potassium!” He was funny that way. If you don’t know why he called her that, look up potassium on a periodic table of elements. If you ever wondered where some of my quirkiness comes from, look no further than my father.

Matthew has delighted us from the day he was born, and he has not stopped. He was the second child that I gave birth to, and it was he that taught me something I have been unable to forget: children are born with a fully developed personality. I think part of me had always thought that parents give birth to these little tiny beings, and their personality is formed by the way they are raised. When Matt was born, I knew instantly that here was a totally different human being from his older brother. It was through Matt that I learned that children shape the parents, far more than parents shape the children. Good thing! I don’t think I could ever have dreamed up a more wonderfully funny and intelligent person than Matt. He has made us laugh since the beginning, and has also been the delight of his brother Josh, who was always Matt’s favorite audience. I am giving Matt the gift today of not relating some of my favorite Matthew stories. He has always hated to be around me when I get going. But trust me, he has been a very witty comic since day one. Some day, when he is not reading, I will tell you a story or two. What I do want to say, and will say, is that even beyond the fact that he gifted his Dad and me with the most beautiful granddaughter ever, named Zoë Alyson Calhoun, he has been a constant source of pride and abundant joy, every day. I do not begin a day nor end one that I do not give thanks to God for allowing us to have this wonderful person in our lives. I haven’t posted a photo of Zoë lately, so to close this section of the post, here is one I took of her just after her fifth – 5th! – birthday on September 7 this year. Those of you who have followed my blog since before she was born, can you believe she is already five years old? She is another reason we give thanks every day.

Zoë Alyson Calhoun, Age 5

Zoë Alyson Calhoun, Age 5


Zoë Alyson Calhoun, Age 5 with her Daddy, Matthew Tohline Calhoun, now age 36!

Zoë Alyson Calhoun, Age 5 with her Daddy, Matthew Tohline Calhoun, now age 36!


Now I want to share with you, that beginning in 2016, Reflections From a Cloudy Mirror will be undergoing some changes.   There will be a new format, and shorter posts, made up primarily of my poetry and short stories, and maybe a rant or two on occasion, if the spirit moves me!  The address will be the same, so if you are already a follower, you don’t have to do anything to stay in the loop.  If you are not a follower, then why not? Come on and celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in my blogging life. I might have a new title, haven’t decided yet, but I am setting a goal to post twice a week.  Since the last couple of months of 2014, and for most of this year, health reasons have kept me from posting regularly.  I have been doing a lot of writing, however, and I am looking forward to sharing with you some of the fruits of my labors.

You might hear from me again closer to Christmas here at RFACM, but if not, I wish you all the joys of the season of Advent and celebrating the birth of Jesus. But please know that there is one thing that will not change:

I will always wish for you all the overwhelming joy that comes with living in the abundance of enough. . .