tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78356284460631545402024-02-07T00:53:17.117-08:00Not So Random BabbleI hope to be tommorow what I am not today.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-8490601219173845732011-04-16T15:56:00.000-07:002011-04-16T16:52:10.557-07:00Stars that fade.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/old%20people" target="_blank"><img src="http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f87/xdancr92x/oldpeoplelove.jpg" border="0" alt="old people dance love Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I do my internship at an assisted living, Morning Pointe. I love going there. The residents are so kind and love<br />talking to anyone who will listen. And I always love to listen. They have awesome stories. This past Friday I went <br />to The Lantern unit-which is where they keep their alzheimer's patients. I was interviewing a woman on her marriage because <br />her 68th wedding anniversary was coming up. And she was fine, the alzheimer's must have still been in its early stages. As the woman and I were having a perfectly rational and lovely conversation, I saw one of the women sitting at the table with us trying to steal another man's twinkie. And another woman rolled up to me in her wheelchair and kept asking me for a telephone book. It went something like this:<br /><br />Elderly woman: I need a phonebook. Do you have one?<br /><br />Me: um. No. I'm sorry.<br /><br />Elderly woman: I need to call my church so they can pick me up. Do you have one?<br /><br />Me: A telephone book? No, I don't.<br /><br />I turn my head and resume my interview with the lucid woman. <br /><br />Elderly woman: Hey. Hey! I need to tell you something. <br /><br />Me: Yes?<br /><br />Elderly woman: Oh, forget about it. [She then bursts into tears.]<br /><br />At this point I have no idea what to do. So I continue my interview. Everyone else at the table is ignoring her crying and<br />so is all the staff so I decide to do the same. I felt bad. <br /><br />Elderly woman: [interrupting again] I need to tell you something. Do you have a telephone book?<br /><br />Me: I'm sorry. I don't. Let me finish talking to her and then I'll talk to you, okay?<br /><br />Elderly woman nods her head and then her shoulders start to shake and she places her forehead on the table. Sobbing. <br /><br />When I asked the woman I was interviewing, what was the first thing that attracted her to her husband she said, "He's was tall. And good looking. I like tall men." Don't we all. <br /><br />After I finished talking to her and told the other woman who was having random spurts of sobbing that I had to go, thank you for talking to me and no, I don't have a telephone book. I left. <br /><br />The woman I interviewed was fine. She answered all my questions logically and she had a good memory. The other people at the table on the other hand were definitely not all there. And this poor woman who for the most part was fine was placed in the same alzeihmer's unit as them. Wouldn't that make her crazier, quicker? <br /><br />Then, as I went to the other unit where the people have no alzeihmer's, I saw Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans is a really big guy. He's about 6'2 (and that's after being stooped with age) and he has a healthy appetite. He was also a pretty big deal architect. He even helped design a lot of Southern and he is still razor sharp in his intellect and humor. Mr. Evans is a capable man, a man of consequence. His wife is at Morning Pointe with him and they love each other dearly. They're a sweet couple, they even told me they can adopt me and I can be their daughter. They're cute. <br /><br />Anyway, Mr. Evans was standing outside his room with his head bowed, his frame covering the whole door. He just stood there like a huge, sad, immovable tree stump. He had all the bearing of being the largest of all the oak trees back in his day but it was like his leaves had all fallen off and someone had taken to chopping him up to half his size. You could still get the sense of what he once was but it was an echo, long gone, about to fade. And when I saw that, my heart broke for the second time that day. Is he even aware that he's fading? He's a smart man. I'm pretty sure he knows. <br /> <br />When I've spoken with him his wit and intelligence shine through and I think to myself if it wasn't for his stroke he wouldn't even need to be here. But then when I saw him standing in front of his door like some great fallen giant I wondered if it was the place that he's in, a place designated for the old and fading, that is urging his demise into impressions of what he once was. I don't know.<br /><br />Like that other woman I was interviewing. Would she become more ill, quicker because she was surrounded by it? Would Mr. Evans become a shadow quicker because of where he was at? Because everyone around him is doddering and ancient? Because he had no one to talk to about precise lines and arches? <br /><br />After months of going to Morning Pointe I spotted a new couple and I asked the husband how long they had been living at Morning Pointe, he said, "Oh, I don't live here. I'm just passing through." But when we are passing through (which we all are) wouldn't it be nice if we could thrive instead of just survive? How do you do that when your body and mind betray you? How do you keep the fight if all your tools are rusted?Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-19201006874099689952011-04-14T20:17:00.001-07:002011-04-14T20:17:36.143-07:00So cute and funny!<br /><br />http://wimp.com/outsmartingchild/Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-17125340817900017772011-04-11T12:25:00.001-07:002011-04-11T12:29:08.966-07:00So I already broke my vow to blog everyday. I suck. Anyway, I'm uber busy the first half the week so I will be blogging more later. Promise. Check out this blog. http://thepioneerwoman.com/<br /><br />She blogs regularly and basically, lives the life that I want. <br /><br />Hope your Monday isn't too manic.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-30396213174034737802011-04-08T15:55:00.000-07:002011-04-08T16:03:17.590-07:00I'm tired. I can't think.<br /><br />I'm only blogging right now because I said I would blog everyday.<br /><br />Why did I say that again? I don't know. <br /><br />This is a blog entry. I have kept my promise. <br /><br />I used to be a serious blogger. I loved blogging. <br /><br />What happened? When did I stop wanting to share?<br /><br />Why did I stop wanting to share? Hopefully, that'll change soon. <br /><br /><br />P.S. You guys should check out Mumford & Sons. They're pretty awesome. <br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/mumford%20and%20sons" target="_blank"><img src="http://i1218.photobucket.com/albums/dd407/xXlonley_soulXx/Band%20Pics/MumfordAndSons.jpg" border="0" alt="Mumford And Sons - Sigh No More Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a>Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-90565979637795524382011-04-07T19:01:00.000-07:002011-04-07T19:03:53.652-07:00So Cute!!<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/x4BK_2VULCU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />Maybe over the weekend I'll come up with things to say.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-66303204742220301732011-04-06T18:08:00.000-07:002011-04-06T18:12:51.371-07:00I have a problem.It's sad when the most productive thing I do in a day is shower. <br /><br />Any tips on overcoming procrastination?<br /><br />Its become a serious problem. I need help!!<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/procrastination" target="_blank"><img src="http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f79/angelicanrose30/procrastination.jpg" border="0" alt="procrastination Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a>Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-49196444238132625122011-04-05T12:08:00.000-07:002011-04-05T12:26:09.504-07:00lovely.So I have decided that I need to blog everyday. Even if it is nonsense. Even if it's just a sentence. Even if I have nothing <br />to say. And so I begin. <br /><br />I saw these and even though they are expensive, I saw them and I want them. They're ceramic mugs. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhGCeQadUtvWjtM-xDS5aCI2oF28yzmkFamimjPzemOHcywy8CuI6M3-gOg4RIEWCcrs2zDK4JxHphM7FGhPZ_FG1jEpqQKg7MdDbe9v5BNspcnrVDhuH06PIVsu0zOavBV9r7XROnvpw/s1600/il_fullxfull.210312884.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhGCeQadUtvWjtM-xDS5aCI2oF28yzmkFamimjPzemOHcywy8CuI6M3-gOg4RIEWCcrs2zDK4JxHphM7FGhPZ_FG1jEpqQKg7MdDbe9v5BNspcnrVDhuH06PIVsu0zOavBV9r7XROnvpw/s320/il_fullxfull.210312884.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592181779282844962" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2h4CLwsTRDWbQypFO2GpSD7fmv0RSJaLETDCoQRWG4AFQBIyHssdsVdj5p3_DOd6Tfdr2dwSLWqX9krqpp3wNIeT2csO42lxLGrmUQd-wnlOPRLD7g4Hqglwdpha34WbOsVHpMXWMdTM/s1600/il_fullxfull.216802543.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2h4CLwsTRDWbQypFO2GpSD7fmv0RSJaLETDCoQRWG4AFQBIyHssdsVdj5p3_DOd6Tfdr2dwSLWqX9krqpp3wNIeT2csO42lxLGrmUQd-wnlOPRLD7g4Hqglwdpha34WbOsVHpMXWMdTM/s320/il_fullxfull.216802543.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592182136922450898" /></a><br /><br />Here's the link where you can buy them.<br />http://www.etsy.com/listing/62173895/ceramic-eco-friendly-travel-mug-buds-and<br /><br />They're eco-friendly and beautiful.<br />And you can have them specially designed.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-73314548932957531392010-12-12T18:05:00.000-08:002010-12-12T18:09:41.707-08:00A brief hello...goodbyeHellogoodbye's new CD is sooo good. Check it out. http://www.myspace.com/hellogoodbye<br /><br />That's it.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-26163987913511797842010-10-17T13:43:00.001-07:002010-10-17T13:44:11.749-07:00LiteratureIt's amazing to me how something could be in method a masterpiece but in conclusion completely erroneous.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-485834064074376232010-09-16T13:10:00.000-07:002010-09-16T13:28:21.390-07:00to make sense of nonsense is nonsensical<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/gnomes" target="_blank"><img src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y16/ghettosmellypoop/GNOMES.jpg" border="0" alt="gnomes Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />So I haven't blogged in a while. My 5 faithful followers have ceased to be faithful because of my lack of blogging and now I roam the blogosphere, alone. Alone, alone. All alone. But I guess it's not a bad place to be considering I can have run on sentences and make sentences that are weird such as: When is the extravaganza at the sea port with the gnomes and chickens? Henry is nonsensical and his skin is incandescent and the monsters under his bed like the smell of the fungus cream he applies to his feet every night at 9:22pm. <br /><br />See? <br /><br />But I guess the point of blogging is to have my words hit the eyes and minds of my reader. So I will cease to talk about<br />toe jam and gnomes and will eventually write something with a few good sentences in there. <br /><br />Just not today.<br /><br />Nope. Not today.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-6169209333568149392010-05-01T13:06:00.000-07:002010-05-02T14:26:38.104-07:00<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/forest" target="_blank"><img src="http://i726.photobucket.com/albums/ww268/craziechick_91/forest1.jpg" border="0" alt="forest Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I burst through the water and gasp in the air around me. My breath shudders as water droplets drip from my hair and slip past my arms. My body is cold and I can't control an involuntary shiver. I wrap my arms around myself to collect some warmth. And although my body is freezing and my teeth are chattering my heart is so warm I feel as if it's going to burst right through my chest. I feel as if at any moment my chilled body will be consumed with the heat from my heart. I will be warmed from the inside out and the heat that suffuses my heart, my soul, will consme me utterly and completely. I am happy; soul-stirringly, jump for joy, tears of happiness, happy. <br /><br />Before I stepped in the water I had stripped down to nothing, feeling embarrased, feeling as if I should cover myself up. But now with the trees looming above me and the sunlight peeking through their dense leaves I realized that that was the only way I could have gone to Him. Naked. Completely naked. It seemed right, somehow. <br /><br />I had placed a clean set of clothing on top of a log and I put it on. After, I built a fire and placed my old set of clothes in it. I layed my pallet on the ground and rested on it. The stars winked at me and I sighed contendly. Up there, past the stars and the clouds, past the planets and their moons was my home. My real, true home. But the King of that Kingdom was closer still. He wasn't millions of miles away, was in fact much closer. So close that I felt His voice reverbarate within me and comfort me. I felt His touch and His calming presence. So this is what it meant to be born again? To feel clean, content, and yes, even righteous. <br /><br />I am a new creation, I thought. I felt my mouth widen to a smile, from ear to ear in sudden joy, Oh the possibilites! <br /><br />It wasn't until the next morning when I was washing my face did I remember to look at my hands. I dropped my hands slowly from my face and hesitantly, fearfully, I looked at them. They were clean. I sobbed with joy and relief. <br /><br />Just yesterday, before my baptism, they had been stained red. I had almost peeled my skin off in my desperation to remove the stain, the evidence, of the murder I had committed. They had been stained all the weeks and all the months I languished in my depression and self-hate. But now, as if by magic, they were clean. I bore no evidence of my crime. But I knew it had not been magic, it hadn't even been a miracle. It had been love. Love, which had erased the proof of my sin and the guilt of my conscious. Love, as it were, had set me free. <br /><br />And so now my Father's name is synoymous with Love. They are one in the same. And His son Yeshua, whom I murdered, I feel His love even now as I pen this. I feel it wash over me, wave upon wave. His acceptance of me, His need of me, humbles me to my core. I was once a lost sheep but my Sheperd recovered me. He rejoiced in finding me. I was once lost but now am found.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-10170843310214015022010-04-09T20:59:00.000-07:002010-04-09T21:31:10.028-07:00Clasped hands and solid feet.I have a confession to make. One that shames me and sadden's me. For the past six months the Father and I haven't exactly been on the best terms. Well, He's always been right there, I'm the one whose taken one or two or 50,000 steps in the wrong direction, which is any direction not directly attached to Him. <br /><br />My heart aches for the time I've wasted in my grumbling and anger and laziness. For the past couple of months my heart, my body, and my mind have felt like they've been in a big plastic bag. At first the bag is roomy and isn't really that stifling but each day I spent away from the Father the bag would close in on me. Each day it grew tighter and tighter until finally I reached the point where I was suffocating because I wasn't abiding in the Father.<br /><br />So what did I do? I reached for His hand, His beautiful hand. And He pulled me from my miry pit and set my feet on solid ground. I can breathe again. And the relief of it is indescribeable.<br /><br />I imagine that in my walk with God I will go through more dark times. Times where I don't feel like working things out, times where I'm angry at God and think I know best. But I am heartened and ecstatic that my Father, the King of the Universe, takes the time to knock on the door of my heart every day. Today, today, and today I'm letting Him in.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-3388251666713033382010-03-07T18:31:00.000-08:002010-03-07T18:32:17.150-08:00..."...the material, the story is there: it exists. You find it; you mine it out; you carry it up in buckets or in teaspoons, lay it out upon the table, push around the potsherds, ponder where they fit; fragments of gold leaf, bone, corroded flesh, the rim of a cup in buff grey or brilliant green, a knot of hair and faded threads, or on exquisite glass vessel entire . . . There is a story here, but it is up to the writer to make it whole." <br /><br />— Ursula le GuinDelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-26967619820216122302010-01-18T20:27:00.001-08:002010-01-18T20:30:51.443-08:00. . .<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/question%20marks" target="_blank"><img src="http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w267/Bleach-ScreamYourHeartOut/question-mark.jpg" border="0" alt="question marks Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I can't wrap my head around feeling both needed and irrevelant. It's odd.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-30265486692441923952009-10-11T12:51:00.001-07:002009-10-11T13:07:25.214-07:00my teeth are showing.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/sunshine" target="_blank"><img src="http://i350.photobucket.com/albums/q421/illacrosse95/Sayings/sinshine.png" border="0" alt="Hello Sunshine Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a> <br /><br />God, I'm happy today. <br /><br />I'm sure it has a lot to do with Relient K. <br />It's hard to feel bad for a man's breakup when it produces such great music. <br /><br /> <a href="http://photobucket.com/images/relient%20k" target="_blank"><img src="http://i262.photobucket.com/albums/ii100/agustin19/relient_k.jpg" border="0" alt="Relient K Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a> <br /><br />The sun is shining in Florida. And although I miss the coolness of Tenn. and the visible changing of the seasons there is something to be said of having the sun shining all day, everyday. <br /><br />My mom is dusting off her fall decorations and it makes my heart exceedingly glad to see new wreaths grace the doors of my house. <br /><br />There are countless other reasons why there is a smile plastered on my face but I won't try to analyze why. I'll just feel it through. <br /><br />God, I'm happy today.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-17186974868292885722009-10-08T09:23:00.000-07:002009-10-08T09:45:01.010-07:00Rembrandt knew a good thing.I don't have time to write because I have to get ready to take care of twelve 4yr old brats, their really cute brats however, and I love them desperately. Anyway, my fingers were itching to write something so I had to give in to the urge. <br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/images/rembrandt%20the%20return%20of%20the%20prodigal%20son" target="_blank"><img src="http://i471.photobucket.com/albums/rr78/loki98632/rembrandt-return-of-the-prodigal-so.jpg" border="0" alt="Prodigal Son Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />When I saw this painting my heart started beating faster and I felt tears pricking my eyes and I know it's insane but I even felt an urge to utter a profanity. How could this painting evoke so many different physical and emotional reactions in me? This painting was Rembrandts take on the Biblical story of the prodigal son. And when I saw it I felt the son's dirty feet and bald head, I felt his shame. And then suddenly I felt the father's embrace and I was overtaken by his simple, grateful acceptance. <br /><br />Rembrandt conveyed the moment between father and son, between us and the Father beautifully.<br /><br /><br />I won't get into the jealous brother who looks particulary evil in the background, that's for another time. :]Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-67995190952873817672009-09-22T10:10:00.000-07:002009-09-22T10:52:17.980-07:00Two hands = A Lot.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/van%20gogh" target="_blank"><img src="http://i298.photobucket.com/albums/mm266/bazjah/vangogh34.jpg" border="0" alt="Starry Night Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />Sometimes you read something and it commands your attention. The way the words fit together tilt your world and then you realize, you know, that this is magic. And it all happened with the stringing of a couple of words.<br /><br />Sometimes you hear a song, whether it be classical, folk, rock, anything and you are forced to take a step back and wonder at the perfect rightness of it. The lyric choice put together with certain violin strings, or the play of voice as it smoothes over the guitar, just explained a bit of life to you. It made things clearer.<br /><br />Sometimes you see a painting and you hold your breath. Because this painting, this canvas that made sense of someone's brush strokes speaks to a part of your heart you never knew existed. And suddenly something has broken free and your a different person than you were before you saw the painting.<br /><br />Humans have this glorious ability to create. We muddle through life and in a moment of God given clarity, you get it. Or at least you create what you don't get and even if by the end of your creation you still don't get it, the process has helped you. For centuries poets, writers, painters, musicians, sculpters, have brought clarity to the world and if not that, they have given us beauty. Whether it was beauty that scared you or beauty that enlightened you, they have given us an insight into the human soul. <br /><br />Let us not hide our hearts from beauty, from creating, from each other. Our Father gave us hands, and hearts, and minds so that we might share them with each other. Don't be afraid to create. To share. To muddle through the world, even if it's with interpretive dance. :]Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-80639296126426987532009-09-18T09:00:00.000-07:002009-09-18T09:33:24.380-07:00A looong time coming . . .<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/the%20journey%20of%20desire" target="_blank"><img src="http://i266.photobucket.com/albums/ii251/elyong2008/Post%20Content/Journey.jpg" border="0" alt="The Journey Of Desire Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I'm reading this book by John Elderidge about Desire, it's about searching for the life you've only ever dreamed of. There are two words that for me, describe Elderidge's work perfectly, insightful and humble. While reading this book it's actually been book imitating life, or vice versa. <br /><br />For a couple of months life hasn't been going my way. I won't bore you with the particulars but it's been an uphill climb for a while, and I've been struggling with every step. Just like everything in the world my emotions through this time have come around like a process. It's like I know how I'll react before I even finish with the trial. <br /><br />First, I'm fine. Upbeat even. Then there's acceptance, complacency, hope, complacency again and finally there's anger - at God. The last couple of weeks have been filled with me barely talking to Him and feeling guilty about it and then being angry at Him because He won't talk to me. But then I ask myself if He did talk would I listen? Unless there were a parting from the clouds and a booming voice that called out my name, probably not. And even then I'd probably ask for backup evidence. Apparently I need help with the whole faith thing. <br /><br />That's why my God. My Savior. My Friend and Redeemer decided to reach me through a book. Mr. Elderidges' book. I woke up in the morning and after making some coffee decided to lay back and read some of the book. <br /><br />Elderidge was writing about how sometimes it feels as if God is our enemy, how all the plans we make for ourselves are thwarted. And then he gave instances in which we would feel that, like not being able to find a job or a mate etc. And every one of the instances he provided was something I'm struggling with right now. Points of contention between God and I. And I knew. I KNEW. That God was speaking to me. Through the pages of a book that wasn't even the Bible. <br /><br />And what I realized is this: We humans desire SO many things. Whether it's relational things or material things, whatever. And as the book says we supplant those desires with things that we think will fill us but never will. So in order to save us from empty lives God stands in the way sometimes of what we supposedly want so that we can realize that what we truly want will always be ours, A life with God. Now, I am a firm believer in God giving you things you want. Whether it be wisdom, or battle victories whatever it is God, as your Father He wants to please you. <br /><br />But when we are separated from God we can't see Him through the filmy confusion of our desires. But once we are connected to God we see Him. Our focus isn't on what we want because He assures us we will have everything, "Ask and you will recieve." Our focus is on God and He, as cliche as it might sound, is our everything. <br /><br />Besides, all the things we want, all the blessings and gifts we yearn to recieve, how much better to recieve it when we've been looking to God to satisfy everything. We aren't weary from trying to accomplish things ourselves, because we've been too focused looking at God. <br /><br />So don't deny yourself desires. That is exactly the opposite of what Jesus preached when He came down to earth. He wants us to desire what the world says is impossible, streets of gold, travels across the universe, mansions prepared by the Master Architect. And yet, He will meet your earthly desires just because He loves you THAT much. Just look to Him to fulfill you and lavish you with wonderful things, don't try to do it yourself.<br /><br />"Thy hand unloved its pleasure must restrain, <br />Nor spoil both gift and child by lavishing too soon."<br />-George MacDonaldDelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-11153517123770673172009-08-21T21:17:00.000-07:002009-08-21T21:23:45.293-07:00G. K. C.<a href="http://acts2fellowship.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/chesterton.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 353px; height: 450px;" src="http://acts2fellowship.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/chesterton.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />"Comradeship and serious joy are not interludes in our travel; but . . .rather our travels are interludes in comradeship and joy, which through God shall endure for ever. The inn does not point to the road; the road points to the inn. And all roads point at last to an ultimate inn, where we shall meet Dickens and all his characters; and when we drink again it shall be from the great flagons in the tavern at the end of the world."<br /><br />-G.K. Chesterson in <em>Charles Dickens</em>Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-30935539684656037382009-06-27T13:33:00.000-07:002009-06-27T13:35:27.448-07:00"One simple truth, however, will always remain: You cannot give what you do not have. Unless we make sure that we have a living relationship with God, we cannot hope to lead others to that same experience." -SSNETDelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-86632475613869510992009-06-21T20:36:00.000-07:002009-06-21T21:09:25.945-07:00carriages and white weddings<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/weddings" target="_blank"><img src="http://i410.photobucket.com/albums/pp190/FindStuff2/Families/Weddings/weddings.jpg" border="0" alt="weddings Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br /><br />I've always been in love with love. When kids use to sing to me "ohh, you and [insert any male name] sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love then comes marriage then comes the baby in the baby carriage." I used to pretend to be annoyed and would try to make them stop but inside I reveled in the fact that yeah, someday I was going to have marriage and then a baby carriage. <br /><br />This summer I'm going to two weddings I bought my dress for another wedding next year and I am talking about one with a cousin of mine which will most likely happen next year as well. I'm up to my neck in weddings. I love weddings. I love the dresses and flowers. The vows and all the rituals that come with it. But I can't help but have fallen a bit out of love with weddings. And the sad thing it's not just with weddings but with love as well. Romantic love. I've seen it done wrong and turned into something so ugly a million times. I've seen promises made and then irrevocably broken. I feel as if the whole union and idea of marriage is in a bubble and everything and everyone is just throwing everything they've got at it. And my God, I'm just looking at it and sometimes my heart squeezes and I feel like I can't breathe because I don't think it will be able to last through the night. <br /><br />I know that when your eye is focused on God and you marry someone who has their eye focused on God you actually have a chance at being happy. But so many things in my life have made me so cautious of it I feel like the risk will be too great. Is marriage worth it? I mean, do nuns actually have a good thing going when they pledge themselves as the brides of Jesus? <br /><br />I know I can't do that. As Paul so eloquently puts it, "if you burn with passion" get married. The thing that confuses me is that I KNOW Christ is my everything. And I know even if I had the best marriage in the world I would be lacking if I didn't have a relationship with Jesus. But why then, do I want someone so badly? It pisses me off to be honest. It's like some innate weakness in me that I can't shake. No matter what I do, no matter how awesome my life turns out to be if I don't get married I know I would feel as if something was missing in my life. It might not make a big hole but it would be a wound that would never properly heal, that would still after years and years give me twinges of pain. <br /><br />So what does this mean? I want to get married but I'm so scared of getting hurt I approach most guys with a ten-foot pole. What does that make me? Where does that leave me? <br /><br />Alone. For now I guess. And the ironic part of all this is that I want to be a marriage counselor. Go figure. <br /><br />But the good news is that I've had a chat with God about this. Me and marriage that is. We've had many chats. And the conclusion that I've reached is this . . . be patient, it's coming. So I won't lose my faith in marriage because I know that if I do it right, the God way, it will be the biggest blessing I'll ever receive. <br /><br />All right God. I'm waiting for the one you have for me. But in the meantime I'm gonna have an awesome time praising You in my singleness. And when loneliness comes creeping over my shoulder, I'll drop-kick it. And maybe write a crappy poem too.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-63892372967253399722009-06-12T12:57:00.001-07:002009-06-12T13:03:24.819-07:00Duplicity.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/jars%20of%20clay" target="_blank"><img src="http://i483.photobucket.com/albums/rr191/rmholyoak/JarsofClay.jpg" border="0" alt="Jars of Clay Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I have nothing. But even though I have nothing I will give you something.<br />This something is a song by one of my favorite bands, Jars of Clay. <br />I think this song is beautiful and it makes me ache for the same thing they're singing about. <br /><br />Two Hands<br /><br />I’ve been living out of sanity <br />I’ve been splitting hairs and blurring lines <br />I am a house that is divided <br />In my heart and in my mind <br />Chorus* <br />*I use one hand to pull closer <br />The other to push you away <br />If I had two hands doing the same thing <br />Lifted high, lifted high* <br /><br />I have a broken disposition <br />I’m a liar who thirsts for the truth <br />And while I ache for faith to hold me <br />I need to feel the scars and see the proof <br />(Chorus) <br />And if we just keep digging we can reach the foundation <br />Of our souls <br />And if we just keep cutting all the chains from our hearts <br />We’ll lose control <br /><br />And it feels like giving in <br />It feels like starting over <br />It feels like waking up, and you know it’s coming <br />It feels like a brand new day <br />Open your eyes <br />(Chorus) <br />Lifted high, <br />Lifted high,Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-34275642544147114732009-04-19T15:49:00.000-07:002009-04-19T15:51:50.266-07:00rush of air.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/photography" target="_blank"><img src="http://i0006.photobucket.com/albums/0006/findstuff22/Best%20Images/Photography/photography1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="photography Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />I want to be in that balloon, floating away. <br />I can't wait to be done with school. It's sucking the life out of me. <br />Pray for me. I'll pray for you.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-747344620569390722009-04-06T08:32:00.000-07:002009-04-06T08:33:02.087-07:00woe is me.Oh Jesus Christ I believe. <br /><br />Help my unbelief!Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7835628446063154540.post-12003964834497814542009-03-25T22:06:00.000-07:002009-03-25T22:19:30.919-07:00progress indeed.<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/obama" target="_blank"><img src="http://i311.photobucket.com/albums/kk458/broadszenvy/OBAMA/obama.png" border="0" alt="obama Pictures, Images and Photos"/></a><br /><br />O President. I would believe you if you told the truth. <br />But considering you ran on hope and I know I can only have hope in my Savior,<br />that was my first clue. <br />You say things you don't mean. And make promises you can't keep.<br />I know it's what you all do but what about those who did place their hope in you?<br />Now I must pay for babies to be murdered in the name of science. <br />Benchmarks fill my taxes of which you said you wouldn't sign. <br />O President. The feat you accomplished was great. <br />But you tarnish your win with lies and deceit.<br />Thank God I placed my hope in Someone I can believe.Delyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01728595825210846336noreply@blogger.com0