tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85980110020008879312024-02-01T21:36:55.385-08:00Down Cobblestone RoadsAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-88488942567743582982011-06-12T10:46:00.000-07:002011-06-12T11:42:31.710-07:00Your Forever - Part 3<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And let me tell you, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">Grace is a good and beautiful master.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">His love heals and his hope reigns. He speaks the truth and the truth is what sets you free. He gives you enough room to breathe, allowing you to stand on your own two feet. But picking you up when you fall. Again and again.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">He never leaves and will never forsake you.</span></span> Blessing you when you least expect it and surprising you with his forgiveness. There is no way you can escape him. But you don't need to.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Alone, you are helpless, hopeless. Weighed down by fear of past mistakes. Even in this, he will guide you. Because this is your gift -your forever. You made your choice long ago and you still deserve the consequences of your mistakes. Because Sin is an evil and disgusting master. But you no longer have to follow him. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">In Grace you are free! </span></span>I would know, because so am I.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">"For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace."- Romans 6:14</span></i></div></div></div></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-25476285002242283252011-06-02T15:35:00.000-07:002011-06-02T15:36:31.152-07:00Your Forever - Part 2<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">I know</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">a secret.</span></span> Listen closely and I'll tell you. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Though Sin is your master and there is no possible way you can escape his chains on your own, there is a way. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">The Way</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">.</span></span> One way that changes everything. Summed up in a single, small word that means the world. That could become your new forever. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Grace.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Amazing, surprising, irresistible Grace. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Saving Grace.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Perfection paid the price that Sin was asking. Blood was shed and death was conquered to make way for life -your life. Life that is free from the disgusting evil that once held you captive. You have been given the key to your chains and it comes at no cost to you. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">You do not deserve this. </span></span>You deserve what Sin offers, because you already chose that. But now you have another choice. An important one. You have the opportunity to accept a new life, to accept <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">a new master.</span></span> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-45610485938221814292011-05-20T13:25:00.000-07:002011-05-20T13:25:32.561-07:00Your Forever - Part 1<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Sin is an evil and disgusting master. </span></span>Believe me, I would know.<br />
<br />
His looks deceive and his voice entices. He feeds you lines you want to hear and fools even the brightest of them all with his lies. He gives you just enough room to breathe, making you think he's gone and then he takes over again. And again.<br />
<br />
He never leaves. Following you at all times, sneaking up on you when least expected. When you think you're getting somewhere, he surprises you with new chains. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">There is no way you can escape him.</span></span><br />
<br />
You are helpless, hopeless. Weighed down by fear and the looming truth that death is surely coming. But even there, he will guide you. Because this is your curse -your forever. You made your choice long ago and you deserve the consequences of your mistakes. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Because Sin is an evil and disgusting master. And </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">you</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">... well, you follow him.</span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-68756094131852507732011-05-05T20:14:00.000-07:002011-05-05T20:18:20.302-07:00Dear Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDYHrb1j-JgJhlAbxrLKFNEHGpcl_ruIuIE8Yo81of8u6ZRtAF002TRjKT7MHuofKVy9OVP1hIdiNZEvBGAP3DoaEgr8UbcpO1ZF0XoSvtRhI3GswDDYC1hG-YZFp0u7d034lPgFICao/s1600/34290_539971103213_179202721_31790689_2517253_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
<img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDYHrb1j-JgJhlAbxrLKFNEHGpcl_ruIuIE8Yo81of8u6ZRtAF002TRjKT7MHuofKVy9OVP1hIdiNZEvBGAP3DoaEgr8UbcpO1ZF0XoSvtRhI3GswDDYC1hG-YZFp0u7d034lPgFICao/s400/34290_539971103213_179202721_31790689_2517253_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232; font-size: x-large;">Dear Summer, </span><br />
When I graduated last May, I had super high hopes for our friendship. We've always been close and I was ready to create even more memories together. And with the throw of my cap, two months in Slovenia, and plenty of time in the sun we did just that. But that was last year...<br />
<br />
This year, I thought things between us would be different. Let's face it, I'm growing up and I was afraid that with that truth the time was coming when the office would take the place of the pool and I'd trade in my flip flops for some heels. And maybe that day is coming, but I'm not ready to let go just yet.<br />
<br />
I may be in the "real world" now, but I wanted to let you know I'm still open to our adventures. I love eating ice cream with you -sitting outside, taking in the smells of freshly cut grass and backyard barbecues. I'm ready for the fireworks and road trips. Please work your free-spirited magic on the weather and I'll bring lots of sunscreen.<br />
<br />
Thanks for sticking with me through the years. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">I'm excited to see you again soon!</span></span><br />
<br />
Stay cool as always,<br />
AmyAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-68624124925200208712011-04-10T08:22:00.000-07:002011-04-10T08:22:52.414-07:00If You Were My HappySorry about not posting anything recently. I'll blog sometime soon, I promise. Until then, here's an old poem I wrote. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
If you were my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">king</span></span><br />
And I was your <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">queen</span></span><br />
We could be happy<br />
Just do as we please<br />
All of the world<br />
Would be ours to hold<br />
Best of all<br />
We'd never be alone<br />
<br />
You'd be the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">moon</span></span> in the night<br />
And I'd be the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">stars</span></span><br />
We'd be shining so bright<br />
As we drifted afar<br />
I'd be the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">ocean</span></span><br />
You'd be my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">shore</span></span><br />
With the tide coming in<br />
We'd be hard to ignore<br />
<br />
And I'd be the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">gold</span></span><br />
At the end of your<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">rainbow</span></span><br />
You'd be the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">horizon</span></span><br />
Down my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">country road</span></span><br />
Together we'd make<br />
The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">perfect picture</span></span><br />
Hanging forever<br />
On the wall in our home<br />
<br />
If you were my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">king</span></span><br />
And I was<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">queen</span></span><br />
We could be<br />
Happy...<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Happy</span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-30443023546065676432011-03-10T08:21:00.000-08:002011-03-10T08:39:00.268-08:00I'm the One Who...-brings a to-go cup of <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">soup</span> to work almost every day just because I'm lazy.<br />
-thinks <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">Disney Channel</span> is normally the best thing on TV... and is not afraid to admit it.<br />
-knows a Czech <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">Superstar</span> (that's right, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/noahscottellenwood"><span style="color: #990000;">Noah Ellenwood</span></a>!)<br />
-loses <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">MarioKart</span> races to 5 year olds.<br />
-reads bits and pieces of <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">10 different books</span> before actually finishing one.<br />
-is known to be <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">organized</span> even though my room is always a mess.<br />
-likes to <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">stay up</span> late unless I have to.<br />
-enjoys taking personality tests for fun, but hates being <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">put in a box</span>.<br />
-really wants to read<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #6aa84f;">Tara Leigh Cobble's</span></span> second book.<br />
-<span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">draws</span> hearts and stars all over notepads while on the phone or skype.<br />
-is extremely proud of the fact that I've never had<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #3d85c6;">wisdom teeth</span></span>. (My dentist says that makes me more highly evolved. Haha!)<br />
-hopes <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Walmart</span> will help bring <a href="http://see.walmart.com/magnum/"><span style="color: #990000;">Magnums</span></a> to the States.<br />
-could care less about doughnuts as long as I can eat <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">bagels</span>.</span><br />
-doesn't like to <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">cook</span> because I don't like to clean up afterwards.<br />
-has more <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">friends</span> in other states and countries than acquaintances in IL. (At least that's what it feels like!)<br />
-one time <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">hula hooped</span> for an hour straight.<br />
-prefers <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">water</span> over almost any other drink.<br />
-only sings when <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">alone</span>.<br />
-is still super psyched that I have my own <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">car</span>!<br />
-uses : ) and ; ) too often on chat just so people know when I'm <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">joking</span>.<br />
-always wants to <span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">travel</span>, even while I'm traveling. <br />
-sits <span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">cross-legged</span> whenever possible -it's more comfortable, I'm telling you.<br />
-has a bulletin board in my room completely dedicated to <span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">Europe</span>.<br />
-loves living close to a <span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">big city</span>.<br />
<br />
Who are you?<br />
<br />
~Also, a big thanks to <a href="http://www.jennybjones.com/2011/03/08/wednesday-and-stuff/"><span style="color: #990000;">Jenny B. Jones</span></a>. I totally stole the idea for this list from her!Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-62606223301063508952011-02-21T15:09:00.000-08:002011-02-21T15:09:36.009-08:00The Funnel Effect<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">"Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity." - Paul bragging about the Macedonian churches (2 Corinthians 8:2)</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_-BQ-2i5Y7_jagvsV_PmX6quZAWU3MNRFn-u9g6rD4I7nc7bZNUxbg8qt2hZdgnt69xvut-885mY9l0SZNO7z7DRSYgYpGvqcYNibFKV0vi1q3-hNgF_nwm1USVEnWO2RaqaIu4SEz0/s1600/funnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_-BQ-2i5Y7_jagvsV_PmX6quZAWU3MNRFn-u9g6rD4I7nc7bZNUxbg8qt2hZdgnt69xvut-885mY9l0SZNO7z7DRSYgYpGvqcYNibFKV0vi1q3-hNgF_nwm1USVEnWO2RaqaIu4SEz0/s200/funnel.jpg" width="189" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Considering all of the what ifs in life, I have never been through any trials I would dare call "severe." Not that my life has been a walk in the park -there have definitely been times when I've <i>at least</i> jogged- but when I look around at all the things other people deal with, I know I've been protected from a lot of pain and hardship. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And as much as I think and worry about money, I am far from living in "extreme poverty." I am the first to admit that I don't even understand what that phrase means. While I sit here in my comfy room with all of my unnecessary books and clothing, with a newly purchased car sitting in my driveway and an almost completely paid for college degree on my wall, I am well aware that my life is more in the category of "extreme blessing." </div><div><br />
</div><div>I've heard it said many times that because of what I have I should give -that God has given me so much so that I can give to others. It's a lot less often that I hear we should give out of what we don't have. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Yet this is what the Macedonian church did. Their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. This church didn't have the blessing of a cushioned life like I have. They were in the midst of trouble and were deeply struggling. But when they heard of a need, they were happy to give what they could -<i>more</i> than what they could -to help their brothers in Christ out. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And this church's example has me amazed these days. It has me wondering whether giving what we don't need away is really giving much at all. It has me slowly shifting my thinking. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Rich generosity is more than an overflowing cup of blessings where I keep what's in the cup and others get the extra. Instead, it's more like a funnel where gifts flow through my life and are passed on to others. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The Macedonians taught me that. Now I just pray that I can live it out.</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-25887428475595825442011-02-13T08:21:00.000-08:002011-02-13T08:21:39.839-08:00A Story On Smashing Idols<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifv5xEJi2DTDquogkAERjWC7lOSJSuigmVMXIAHITOkTKOGLjZR9idk8uY3oMXRBs_90d2ygStz_BFG-ITvapUp48HnHZfYAhjqeyoyLhVt1yivgaJN5Y_srwIxEEQmEwvQnlom7ZR3wE/s1600/Smashing+Idols.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifv5xEJi2DTDquogkAERjWC7lOSJSuigmVMXIAHITOkTKOGLjZR9idk8uY3oMXRBs_90d2ygStz_BFG-ITvapUp48HnHZfYAhjqeyoyLhVt1yivgaJN5Y_srwIxEEQmEwvQnlom7ZR3wE/s400/Smashing+Idols.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A girl. Standing with her head to the ground, looking at her shoes. She’s young, pretty, full of potential, or so they say. Then again, <i>They </i>say a lot of things. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The girl slowly raises her head and turns her attention to the bat in her hands. It’s normally used for entertainment purposes, but not today. Today, the girl has a different plan in mind. Something she needs to do. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yet They have crept into her head, screaming for her to walk away. So she stands for a minute before nodding with determination and heading into the factory.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The factory is a small, dark room within the girl’s own heart. But a familiar room, well kept and secret. She turns on the light and a flood of mixed emotions welcomes her in. The cogs, the fire, the metal, all glare back at her. Then she turns her attention to the mission, the reason she is here for this last time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She approaches the tall shelf with her prized possessions and her greatest joys. The Idols don’t look as shiny as they once were. She grips her bat and swings -as hard as she possibly can. Shattering of glass can be heard for miles. They surely know. But she doesn’t care anymore. </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-55601756797449686592011-02-12T10:32:00.000-08:002011-02-12T10:32:14.346-08:00Favorite Music Videos of the Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/3uZ9jcnr2F0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Bethany Joy is still one of my favorites. Wish she had a whole album out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/L64c5vT3NBw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is adorable!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ooTyuRd9zSg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you haven't heard of The Civil Wars yet, you're in for a treat.</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-27246821279492985622011-01-29T21:07:00.000-08:002011-02-04T13:20:04.395-08:00You are Here<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/53/181968080_5cd7af7788.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/53/181968080_5cd7af7788.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/timo/181968080/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Ti.Mo</span></a>!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I've always been somewhat fascinated by those mall maps that state <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">"You are Here"</span> in big letters with a star beside them or an arrow clearly pointing out your existence. Not over there, not that way, just here. Plain and simple. I like that feeling I get when I stand there looking at those information boards, because in that moment I have a sense of the bigger picture. Within the context of the mall, the chaotic comings and goings of busy shoppers, I know exactly where I am and why. For as long as I'm still staring at that map I have all the facts I could ever need.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Life isn't like that.</span></span></div><div><br />
</div><div>In life, I don't have that map. I wander around wishing I did. But let's face it, I don't always know where I'm going. I don't have the big picture I wish I had or the understanding of the context in the way I want. Instead, I find myself overwhelmed by the things I don't know. How my story fits into the lives of others. Where I am in the chaotic comings and goings of a world I don't comprehend. My decisions, talents, words, and actions are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">one big mess of lines</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span>-unfamiliar roads in a past, present, and future of which I am mostly unaware. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I can't always see where I'm going... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">I can't see where I'm going now.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span></div><div><br />
</div><div>But just because I don't have that map, doesn't mean there isn't one. I don't have the satisfaction of reading those letters that spell out three very comforting words -"You are Here." But I have something better:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"> the mapmaker</span> lovingly whispering what I need to know into my ear. </div><div> </div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-3387891608637052682011-01-23T20:32:00.000-08:002011-01-23T20:32:29.719-08:00If I Had it My Way...<div><br />
</div>~ Summer would be longer than the other seasons and winter would, of course, be the shortest<div>~ Books would always be free</div><div>~ Walking would be the required mode of transportation</div><div>~ Everyone would watch Chuck on TV</div><div>~ There would be no commercials on radio stations (so I wouldn't have to constantly flip between channels)</div><div>~ Oxford would be closer to home and I would have a tunnel to the Bodleian Library in my basement</div><div>~ Reese's Peanut Butter Cups wouldn't be bad for you</div><div>~ Exercising would always be fun and I would be able to swim, ski, skate, and surf whenever I wanted</div><div>~ Traveling would be like in the movies, where two minutes on the airplane would be enough to get you safely to your destination</div><div>~ I'd never forget my childhood</div><div>~ People would never have jobs that were purposeless, unless they loved them</div><div>~ There would be a Jamba Juice two minutes from me at all times</div><div>~ Schooling wouldn't cost so much</div><div>~ Learning a different language wouldn't be difficult and Google Translate would be more accurate</div><div>~ Coffee would taste better or no one would drink it</div><div>~ People would talk more face to face and less through technology</div><div>~ I would hear at least one funny quote from a child every day</div><div>~ People would wake up to a crowd standing in the room encouraging them, clapping for them and singing sunshiny songs to them every morning</div><div>~ Night would not come so quickly and you wouldn't be tired if you went to bed late</div><div>~ People would actually follow their dreams instead of just talk about following them</div><div>~ You would give gifts on your birthday and get them on everyone else's (like in the Shire)</div><div>~ Your tongue would turn the color of the food you were eating all the time, not only when you ate candy</div><div>~ Asking good questions would be less of a rare occurrence and really listening to the answers would be automatic</div><div>~ I would have gotten the musical gene so that I could actually play guitar by now</div><div>~ Going to laughing clubs would be a weekly requirement of life</div><div>~ People would think outside the box more or maybe the box would just be bigger</div><div>~ And I'd always have ideas for what to write on my blog</div><div><br />
</div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-16106758369243323122011-01-12T19:47:00.000-08:002011-02-04T13:56:49.640-08:00Travel Tip #961 - Giants<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Times;"><i><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">"</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">my problem</span></i></span></span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">my giant</span></i></span></span></div></div></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">just won't keep quiet</span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">she's first thing every morning</span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">to the last thing I hear every night</span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">but she can't be completely indestructible</span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">I only wish I could see how to defeat </span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">my giant" </span></i></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">- Stephanie Smith </span></span></div></div></div></div></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal;">There's a song I really like called "My Giant" (I would post a link of the song here, but it is no where to be found on youtube) which I discovered by watching one of my favorite movies in the world, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Kam-Heskin/dp/B0002ZH5PQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1294889615&sr=8-1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Pride and Prejudice: A Latter Day Comedy</span></a> (that's right, it's the modern mormon version that no one has heard of!) Totally worth it, trust me! Anyways, the song's chorus posted above always makes me stop and think about all the different giants we meet on the road to just about anywhere.</span></div></div></div></div></i></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">They show up and they are BIG!</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I posted about <a href="http://downcobblestoneroads.blogspot.com/2010/11/travel-tip-86-storms.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">storms</span></span></a> last time, which may seem kind of the same as giants. But the hard thing about giants, unlike storms, are that they move, they think, and they purposefully choose to be against us. Giants stand up and shout, "Fe Fi Fo Fum" or <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">"Who will dare to fight me?"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"> </span></span> They are proud, terrifying beasts that we allow to manipulate us, lie to us, and flat out scare us. Giants are the bullies of the journey -the crazy bosses, the abusive parents, the backstabbing friends, and the selfish spouses. They are the relationship problems that come with being human. They aren't the mountains we climb or the blizzards we get through, instead they are the enemies we have to deal with or the unhealthy fears and habits we must destroy. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">And giants seem indestructible.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"> </span></span>That's why they are giants and we are not. Because we, being the short little guys, tend to feel intimidated. There's no easy way to fight a giant in life. Basically, you just have to put your armor on, have friends to encourage you along the way, and have the faith that no giant is completely indestructible.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They may not all fall the way Goliath did, but <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">all giants can be defeated with the right stone.</span></span></div></div></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-24117616724604424502011-01-06T17:26:00.000-08:002011-02-04T14:02:07.087-08:00My Word -Fiducia<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small; white-space: normal;"><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">for I have put my trust in you. </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Show me the way I should go,</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">for to you I entrust my life. </span></span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">- Psalm 143:8</span></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZNYcGPK31Q4m_2l6bS63dEf8oHF2CQMP2EhBxzSCTTb7IV0kDqE7_xRhPGsykEOfhnzQoWDCAY17fRH0piMh_6X8Z1iLYkqsE4xQKw9Q6DpXM2kC2-_CmXKuiU8aVj4Lr3TGaZ3DDf4/s1600/eat-pray-love-movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZNYcGPK31Q4m_2l6bS63dEf8oHF2CQMP2EhBxzSCTTb7IV0kDqE7_xRhPGsykEOfhnzQoWDCAY17fRH0piMh_6X8Z1iLYkqsE4xQKw9Q6DpXM2kC2-_CmXKuiU8aVj4Lr3TGaZ3DDf4/s400/eat-pray-love-movie.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Maybe you’re a woman in search of her word. - Eat, Pray, Love</span></div></div></div></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div></span></span></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.8931161663495004" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the movie </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eat, Pray, Love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the Italians play a game with Liz (aka Julia Roberts) where they name a city and say a word that goes with it. This quickly transitions into talk about people’s words -the idea that everyone has a word in life, one that envelops their essence, meaning, or purpose. After saying her word is “writer,” the friends argue around the dinner table that writing is merely something Liz does, not who she is. Thus, it is declared that Liz is in search of her word. And it is not until much later in the movie, that she realizes what this word might be. </span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For those of you who are now curious, Liz says her word is “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">attraversiamo</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” which is Italian for “Let’s cross over.” Hearing this, got me wondering about what my word might be. Though I don’t know much about the Italian language, I do know it sounds cooler than English, so I did some research and came up with this: “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fiducia</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.” It’s an Italian word for trust, dependence, or reliance, having the same root word as the verb “to owe”, because </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">I</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"> want my word in life to mean “I put my trust in you.” </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"> </span></span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know why, but I’ve always struggled with trusting. I’ve been given so many amazing people in my life to encourage me to trust, that it hardly makes sense that I would have trouble. But I do. If I’m completely honest, I’m always afraid that people will somehow betray me -that they’ll leave. And that translates into fear of an even greater proportion -that one day God will leave me. That one day His love will no longer be everlasting, His forgiveness will no longer be free, and His plan for my life will no longer be one of hope and a future. </span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet God has been faithful when I have not.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Through many opportunities in life to trust, trust, and trust some more I’ve learned how to put my trust in the right things, the right people, and specifically, the One being who will never betray me. And I’ve learned that this act of depending on something outside one’s self; of owing someone; of confessing, completely surrendering, and believing wholeheartedly is more than worth it.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s so worth it, that even just the word </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">trust</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is important enough to base my life around. </span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Fiducia</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"> is my word. What’s yours?</span></span></div></div></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-29368423450020595122010-12-31T22:47:00.000-08:002010-12-31T22:47:08.747-08:00My 2010 Was...~ Playing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Quelf</span></span> and laughing harder than ever until 3 in the morning to begin the new year<br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">J-Term</span></span> roadtrips, hair dying, and some learning too with 1WO and my sis<br />
~ An ongoing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Fluxx</span></span> tournament (best card game ever!) with Hannah<br />
~ A <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">playlist</span></span> of B.o.B, Joshua Radin, Broken Bells, IYAZ, He is We, The Civil Wars, and Taylor Swift<br />
~ Midnight chats with God in the prayer chapel, walks around the loop, and dreams of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">future</span></span><br />
~ A week in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">paradise</span></span> with the family, wishing I had the life of a surfer<br />
~ Listening to awesome sermons at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Exit</span></span> and wanting to take that church with me back to Illinois<br />
~ Exploring more of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">passions</span></span> and gifts I've been given<br />
~ Watching Grayson Chance, Ellen, and auto-tuned videos on <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">YouTube</span></span><br />
~ Being <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">intentional</span></span> about friendships, building them up before leaving school<br />
~ Birthday dinners, forming nicknames, suffering in French, movie nights, Grille meals, bike rides, Walmart runs, hallway discos, "studying" in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Upland</span></span><br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Graduating</span></span> from Taylor with a BA in writing and a minor in psych<br />
~ Turning <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">22</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"> </span></span>-no question I'm an adult now!<br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">sLOVEnia</span></span> - teaching English, building relationships, and seeing the Holy Spirit work<br />
~ Obsessing over Lost's final season, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chuck</span></span>, and a bit of Heartland<br />
~ Getting good at the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">application</span></span> process<br />
~ Seeing Canada's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">parliament</span></span> buildings in person finally<br />
~ Eating my first <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">lobster</span></span> meal ever<br />
~ Discovering <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">pomegranates</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> </span>and loving them (weird, alien fruit)<br />
~ Waiting, waiting, and more <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">waiting </span></span><br />
~ Buying my first pair of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">skinny</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">jeans</span></span><br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Babysitting</span></span> as much as possible<br />
~ Dealing with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ong-distances</span></span> through many visits, phone conversations, skype calls, facebook chats, and the occasional sent package<br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Reading</span></span> <i>My Generation</i> by Josh Riebock, <i>The Hunger Games</i> by Suzanne Collins, and a bunch of books by Henri Nouwen<br />
~ Checking my <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">blog</span></span>'s stats way too often<br />
~ Getting a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wii</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span>for Christmas :)<br />
~ Celebrating the holidays with <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">family</span></span> in Canada<br />
~ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Toasting</span></span> in the next year with my sister, Anderson Cooper, and Pink's "Raise Your Glass" song<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">My 2011 is... yet to be determined. </span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-9085754724031511132010-12-20T20:37:00.000-08:002010-12-20T20:37:23.859-08:00Dear Santa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzR_JYSiJBe2TO2qeeyoUHd9JQtkbiGg2VtCzWHMq2pVBsKNBDTwXrMfuiqYjN2vQQolQZirXNVyObgNov5YMoDSpHwqFWRC-El46G8fVUlsf5g8yKSFzjUpc8XoMGYzj7O9adRxXlHA/s1600/Santa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTzR_JYSiJBe2TO2qeeyoUHd9JQtkbiGg2VtCzWHMq2pVBsKNBDTwXrMfuiqYjN2vQQolQZirXNVyObgNov5YMoDSpHwqFWRC-El46G8fVUlsf5g8yKSFzjUpc8XoMGYzj7O9adRxXlHA/s320/Santa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dear Santa,</span></span><br />
<br />
I've been thinking about the magic of Christmas this year. I'm sure many people write you regarding this very topic all the time, but please take off your boots, grab some of your wife's famous hot chocolate, and bear with me for a few minutes, because I've come to a realization.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry to tell you this, but Christmas is not about the North Pole's holiday cheer and fantasies. Being as wise a guy as I know you are, you've probably known this for quite some time. I guess it's me who took a little longer to figure out the real magic of Christmas.<br />
<br />
You see, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">I was never a kid who really believed in you</span></span>. Sure, I would pretend every once in a while, but I always knew deep down that it was all just that -pretend. And since growing older, I've felt that Christmas has lost it's magic altogether. It comes and goes; a day with a lot more build-up than seems necessary and not much of a climax (much like high school prom). I don't mean to sound like the Grinch, but that's how I've felt.<br />
<br />
This year, however, I'm determined to remember what I've really known all along -though Christmas is not about elves, flying reindeer, or even jolly old you, that doesn't mean it's not magical.<br />
<br />
Peace on earth may sound like a stretch in our society, but <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Christmas is still about miracles</span></span>. All because one ordinary day long ago, something extra-ordinary happened: God came to earth as a baby. The star shone, the angels sang, and the best gift ever was given to an undeserving, but very needy, world. That gift was given to me.<br />
<br />
So, thank you Santa, for keeping magic alive. Though you are far from the reason for the season, you do help put the wonder and awe into Christmas -feelings that really do deserve to be there.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Merry Christmas,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">Amy </span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-29485301923722592942010-12-12T21:23:00.000-08:002010-12-12T21:23:18.952-08:00Erase the GreyI decided to sit down and write a song today because sometimes I wish I was a musician. Don't ask me to sing this to you, but here's what came out :)<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Verse One</span></span><br />
Life is full of color<br />
That's what they say<br />
But some weeks I<br />
Can't see more than grey<br />
Black and white<br />
Has taken the place<br />
Of anything extraordinary<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Pre-chorus</span></span><br />
I'm dying inside<br />
Surrounded by the rain<br />
Don't know if I'll ever<br />
See clearly again<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chorus</span></span><br />
I'm longing for someone<br />
To take away this ache<br />
I'm looking for a way<br />
To break through this pain<br />
I'm hoping, I'm praying<br />
There's a reason for this day<br />
And that's when You<br />
Erase the grey<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Verse Two</span></span><br />
Clouds come and go<br />
They never stay<br />
When I've got You<br />
Blowing them away<br />
My heart is whole<br />
The world is okay<br />
Back to extraordinaryAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-90999106130225554002010-12-08T16:46:00.000-08:002010-12-08T16:49:39.966-08:00Long-Distance JesusAt times, my relationship with God feels a lot like a long-distance one. Not in a way that makes me bitter; God is still very much a part of my everyday life. Though I can't see Him, we are close. In fact, in some ways I feel that makes our bond even closer.<br />
<br />
But there are days, like this one, when <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I wish I had Jesus here in the flesh</span></span>.<br />
<br />
Days when I find myself jealous of the disciples and Biblical figures in the Gospels. While they got to hear Jesus' audible voice, I have to read His words on the pages of a book. While they got to look into His loving eyes that see their hearts, I understand the image without the physicality. And maybe most importantly, while they were able to literally hug Him, touch His robe, and feel His nail-pierced hands, I am left here with the knowledge that "feeling" doesn't always happen outwardly, no matter my longing.<br />
<br />
I can't help it. As a human, I am somewhat constrained to the material world. I hear, see, and touch on a daily basis, whether I'm fully aware of the acts or not. And I am realizing more every day that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the senses mean something -mean a lot. </span></span><br />
<br />
So, within this physical world I live in, I can't help but long for Jesus as a human. I cannot wait for the moment when the five senses are no longer constraints on my relationship with God. When I get to touch Jesus' human body myself. When I get to see with my own eyes the face of the One I was created in the image of. When I get to hear the words already hidden in my heart spoken by the One who said them in the first place.<br />
<br />
It'll happen one day. One day soon. Until then, I'm glad to know that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">long-distance relationships don't have to be distant ones. </span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-10763840539401458682010-12-01T19:02:00.000-08:002010-12-08T14:52:06.265-08:00Because I Want to Be A Secret Connoisseur Too<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 17px;"><i><br />
</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">"Bec</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">ause we have a moment here, let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur of 'last looks'. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks."</span></span></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> - Drew Baylor (aka Orlando Bloom) in "Elizabethtown"</span></span></i></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOEcT52TdehhksgetxhGvxcBoQcGsWYDpBG6yXagOVTSqL4GKObpzwq_S0JYUWm54rIQ43riOov_H4O0766r_fo15RywvHNdZPGuJXMKNZ5b90nZpAwRggkWb8FWDrTBPmRtvyKrK0CE/s1600/elizabethtown-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOEcT52TdehhksgetxhGvxcBoQcGsWYDpBG6yXagOVTSqL4GKObpzwq_S0JYUWm54rIQ43riOov_H4O0766r_fo15RywvHNdZPGuJXMKNZ5b90nZpAwRggkWb8FWDrTBPmRtvyKrK0CE/s400/elizabethtown-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">(Love this movie! Here's a pic from my favorite scene.)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">This quote came to mind today. Maybe only because in a moment of boredom, while riding a bus, I decided it was about time for me to watch that movie again. But also, it came to mind because I've seen these 'last looks' a lot recently -at graduation from Taylor, in Slovenia this summer, and even today when saying goodbye to close friends not knowing exactly how long we were saying goodbye for. My life, much like Drew's, could be summed up by the many last looks I've given and received throughout the years. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But looks like that can kill.</span></span> Last looks rip a piece of your heart out, never to give it back. They are sharp, scary glances that last a little too long, or maybe don't last long enough. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">And as I sat on the bus thinking through all of these last looks I've collected over time, I realized something -I don't want to be a secret connoisseur of last looks. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Instead, I want to collect 'first looks'. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Because unlike last looks, first looks are hopeful. Instead of causing pain, they glimmer with potential. Like when a perfect stranger takes notice of you for the first time and you see, as your eyes meet theirs, that there is possibility there. Or when you wake up in the morning, roll out of bed, and see the first human you make contact with that day and you know, even through the drowsy eyes and yawns, that this person loves you. And definitely when you say hello in person to a well-known friend for the first time in months and see that excitement that isn't there in a mere email or skype chat. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">So, I've made up my mind. I could be a secret connoisseur of last looks like Drew. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But first looks are more worthy of a collection.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; line-height: 17px;"><br />
</span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-43523547794898151312010-11-24T22:32:00.000-08:002010-11-24T22:33:48.165-08:00This is Not a Thanksgiving ListThankfulness is a funny thing. They say you don't know what you have until it's gone. And that may be true at times. But other times, it is overwhelming to think about all that you do have.<br />
<br />
I know when <i>I</i> think about what I have, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have a lot</span></span>.<br />
<br />
More than I need. More than I even want at times. More than I can add to a list to stick on a blog post to tell you what I'm most grateful for (though I thought of doing exactly that). Let's face it, a list wouldn't cut it.<br />
<br />
Because I have a life most people dream of having. I'm fed, clothed, sheltered, provided for. But more than that, I'm encouraged, challenged, motivated, comforted, and loved day in and day out. And <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">I have the Creator of the Universe willing and wanting to bless me</span></span>. <i>Me (of all people)!</i> <br />
<br />
So, I don't have a cute, little list for you today in honor of Thanksgiving. Instead, I have a short piece of rambling and a whole lot of awe for the One who thought to give me the things I wouldn't even consider ever putting on a list.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">HAPPY THANKSGIVING! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Hope you are overwhelmed with blessings today.</span></span>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-38468639842585541792010-11-17T22:12:00.000-08:002010-11-18T05:50:39.169-08:00A Story On Hope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62M-U0bJM1KvLulAUGndIP0JENM6Hgh5ouBxeodEC6_tLik05ARRLzKxJSIlxKiG7H5awueE_ecq9Gxl0qKFLx8PFsGzPCk7IhuT4hzdtdwRbASuhmZHRWJ3wSsGnyVQ_JIMkQxiEQ_k/s1600/hope2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62M-U0bJM1KvLulAUGndIP0JENM6Hgh5ouBxeodEC6_tLik05ARRLzKxJSIlxKiG7H5awueE_ecq9Gxl0qKFLx8PFsGzPCk7IhuT4hzdtdwRbASuhmZHRWJ3wSsGnyVQ_JIMkQxiEQ_k/s320/hope2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span id="goog_737986215">Her mind burned as much as her feet as she took step after painful step. The young traveler had all but given up any thought that her once upon a time could come to a happily ever after. Yet she continued walking. Because that's all she knew to do. Because everyone expected at least that much of her and she didn't want to let them down; she didn't want to let herself down.</span><br />
<br />
But it was dark -this road she followed.<br />
<br />
Morning was far out of reach. And she wasn't even sure if she remembered what it felt like. Long gone was the fresh air of a new day; the birds' songs and the sun's rays. All she had now was the cold of night and her desperate thoughts that burned, but did not warm her. <br />
<br />
Her bag, slung over her right shoulder, was heavy -full of useless boulders she was constantly throwing from her pack. It took all of her strength not to fall over. <br />
<br />
"Help me!" she yelled out when at last she stopped to gain her breath. She was shaking now and tears had formed in her eyes. "Help me," she repeated in a whisper this time. Not sure if anyone could hear her, or if she even wanted someone to.<br />
<br />
The traveler stood there, silently, for some time -lost in her fear and brokeness.<br />
<br />
But then something changed.<br />
<br />
She lifted her head slightly, wiped her tears, picked up her feet, and began to move again. Slowly, onward. And as she looked toward the horizon, she could just make out the sun beginning to rise in the distance. The birds would be chirping soon enough. She could breathe again. And she knew, with all her heart, that day was coming.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-11481620797751602092010-11-11T10:11:00.000-08:002010-11-11T11:12:29.981-08:00Travel Tip #86 - Storms<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” </span></span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">- G.K. Chesterton</span></span></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoJH-4bWa8QzI8gpHF_RkV9PDcSUKp1xEC83SmNgIvbLAP41Ke-tyKVWIx0YD-C4gkn81pXKPw_tBKmfviFPw5ambgFvJFAAvMT2i3hHGa_ZocG-3uh3h1Jg2o1fzKKauBgIj5xUKWRU/s1600/Cloudy+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoJH-4bWa8QzI8gpHF_RkV9PDcSUKp1xEC83SmNgIvbLAP41Ke-tyKVWIx0YD-C4gkn81pXKPw_tBKmfviFPw5ambgFvJFAAvMT2i3hHGa_ZocG-3uh3h1Jg2o1fzKKauBgIj5xUKWRU/s320/Cloudy+Day.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">(I'm obviously not a drawing master. But hey, I tried!)</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">I don't really understand the people who actually, truly enjoy rainy days. Sure, cloudy days maybe, if you happen to be in England or something and have an umbrella handy. But not rain and especially not storms! I don't think I'd mind if I never had to get caught in the rain again. No more sloshing through puddles in the wrong shoes. No more shaking my fist at the sky in anger. And no more pretending I can control the weather with my mind. (AND no more failing to control the weather with my mind.) It would be glorious. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">However,</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">life happens and sadly, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">storms come with the package. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;">But like Chesterton says, without rain there wouldn't be any rainbows. Storms in life are rough. It's easy to get your feet swept out from under you by high winds you didn't see coming or step in a problem puddle deeper than you expected. Without the storms, though, there'd be less smiles when the sun shines. There wouldn't be a reason to cling so tightly to hope or God's promises. Rainbows would no longer need to exist and we'd miss out on their beauty. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Besides, standing in the rain won't kill you -it'll only make you wet. </span></span></span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-36360918722669998702010-11-04T12:13:00.000-07:002011-02-04T13:44:00.049-08:00Life in the Corridor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhbNEJ8RKVQ1_wAFrjuDIBP8p0rCYJ6LPjxwO2mHecL6-jhnTljTUoqknsquiZtErTS4IQT7wNa-gKiSMgv5iYxSNXZA0gYbRegvftHylQCtBZhaJDXcxXL_GUWt6we1fH1wbHaQOX8w/s1600/locked-door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNhbNEJ8RKVQ1_wAFrjuDIBP8p0rCYJ6LPjxwO2mHecL6-jhnTljTUoqknsquiZtErTS4IQT7wNa-gKiSMgv5iYxSNXZA0gYbRegvftHylQCtBZhaJDXcxXL_GUWt6we1fH1wbHaQOX8w/s320/locked-door.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
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<br />
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<br />
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<br />
Life right now is like an endless corridor.<br />
On either side of me, as I walk down it,<br />
There are rows of doors, doors, and more doors.<br />
I grab a door knob, turn, and find that the door is locked.<br />
I try another,<br />
And it opens.<br />
So I walk through only to find another door.<br />
I open that one and find one more door.<br />
I continue opening doors until I open one to find<br />
A big, daunting door that's clearly locked.<br />
Tightly chained. <br />
Bolted shut.<br />
No key to be found.<br />
With a sign that says something like, <br />
"Turn around" or "Not this one -nice try though!" <br />
So I find myself back at the corridor<br />
Trying more doors,<br />
No end in sight.<br />
But I know that there<br />
Must be light<br />
At the end of the corridor,<br />
Though I can't always see it.<br />
And I hold onto this hope:<br />
That someday,<br />
Somehow,<br />
I will open one of those doors<br />
And find what I've been waiting for.<br />
And that will make it all <br />
Worth the effort.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-82114115494677958782010-10-28T20:42:00.000-07:002010-10-28T20:42:18.134-07:00Dear RealityHey Reality,<br />
<br />
I just wanted to drop you a note to tell you that you've surprised me recently. I don't know why, because I knew you and I were going to be hanging out a lot this year... I just pictured things differently. For one thing, I thought you would be nicer. Don't take this the wrong way, but sometimes it feels like you're more of a stalker than a friend of mine. You know I don't mind irony and sarcasm every once in a while and I appreciate your honesty and criticism. But do you have to be so brutal? I'm trying here! Can't you see that?<br />
<br />
I guess I just hoped you'd give me the benefit of the doubt. That you'd provide me with some tips on how to get a great job. Or that you'd introduce me to some good friends in the area. I know things take time and I'm willing to work at it, but you have to hold up your part of our relationship. I do want to be friends. You're humbling, you're challenging, you're adventurous, and I like that. Honestly.<br />
<br />
I want to make this work. Just go easy on me, okay?<br />
<br />
I'm still learning...<br />
<br />
AmyAmyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-90598629286761202422010-10-22T10:06:00.000-07:002010-10-22T10:16:32.115-07:0010 Places That Mean SomethingOkay, so I've done the whole listing off art/entertainment that means something to me, but I've never written a list of places that mean something to me. Since I do have some experience in this area and love to travel whenever I can, I say it's about time. In no particular order, here's the list.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVIdZW0LtJLhmcLa2oy2_OnvZsEbF-Pmb-zHMuaHBqdp8Tt7y-jPMioI5tpjTT7KBcsl1__1P45Tog-K5D70UVNo0zO6l4qDA8cHoxnWEKQfkUQMsM7Z9leSpD5DXTKiLANSHGJAaE14/s1600/DSCN0612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVIdZW0LtJLhmcLa2oy2_OnvZsEbF-Pmb-zHMuaHBqdp8Tt7y-jPMioI5tpjTT7KBcsl1__1P45Tog-K5D70UVNo0zO6l4qDA8cHoxnWEKQfkUQMsM7Z9leSpD5DXTKiLANSHGJAaE14/s320/DSCN0612.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ The Lower Camera Reading Room in the Bodleian Library; Oxford, England </span>With over 11 million printed items spread throughout nearly 40 different libraries around the area, I was in book lover heaven when I had access to this place for a month. Studying was no problem, though with so much to explore it was quite overwhelming. Sitting by the decorated windows, taking in the smells and sounds of European knowledge was amazing! Being there with new-found friends made it even better.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo2I5zsvgmWOpoIph8blzGUiTkVEPMPN8k3tCb0yfdnH-hZfJ9zOKS_ShXQown9kOTDueVvtQs5lJDHKwL7yKmMevAS2L6oof9GXH_wZKlw-ysg2iKhkQToBqhxUFdU8QurBCKVE8_dY/s1600/DSCN1071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo2I5zsvgmWOpoIph8blzGUiTkVEPMPN8k3tCb0yfdnH-hZfJ9zOKS_ShXQown9kOTDueVvtQs5lJDHKwL7yKmMevAS2L6oof9GXH_wZKlw-ysg2iKhkQToBqhxUFdU8QurBCKVE8_dY/s320/DSCN1071.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Road between Focus on the Family and MTI; Colorado Springs, Colorado </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">When I first got to the Springs last summer to intern for a month, I was nervous about driving. By the time it was over, the thing I was going to miss most was my morning drive along the curvy mountain roads of this gorgeous state. With the Weepies to keep me company and the ever-changing sky to amaze me, this place was in my thoughts long after I left it.</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiksKXVG9sUNiciFrVoI9pL-zYHRI3hxNDjMhfkwEJWZruQBxts5pd5riTkNHCy9vOIw7Xi1YR1tJlliODNGXGEz-ZJiBHF3WSUvhbJFgUhIoApswA8qFYdXMNa_4OZGPpQJlJX6Ga4OnM/s1600/35377_539975444513_179202721_31790759_5488819_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiksKXVG9sUNiciFrVoI9pL-zYHRI3hxNDjMhfkwEJWZruQBxts5pd5riTkNHCy9vOIw7Xi1YR1tJlliODNGXGEz-ZJiBHF3WSUvhbJFgUhIoApswA8qFYdXMNa_4OZGPpQJlJX6Ga4OnM/s320/35377_539975444513_179202721_31790759_5488819_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Schloss Heroldeck; Millstatt, Austria </span>A castle built in the early 1900s complete with a tower and gorgeous view of Lake Millstatt. Fill the place with Slovene teenagers and it's by far the coolest place ever for JV English Camps. And I absolutely adore the sparkling green, blue, and purple shingles on its rooftop.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLWXe5cOJ-ZOaXAAt9eMlGWCHOiSVkUcyycrLzngr2P0AYJgoMuwmY-8vPNLRVZEMIcuwQONSYohTrIhQuwgh1Kil6Nk19mc6ChjcNWZenfDUMVLMzzk1BHo7DSk0NlDbsg0HlC0OJTQ/s1600/30612_1318207992271_1142880075_30795340_1239299_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLWXe5cOJ-ZOaXAAt9eMlGWCHOiSVkUcyycrLzngr2P0AYJgoMuwmY-8vPNLRVZEMIcuwQONSYohTrIhQuwgh1Kil6Nk19mc6ChjcNWZenfDUMVLMzzk1BHo7DSk0NlDbsg0HlC0OJTQ/s320/30612_1318207992271_1142880075_30795340_1239299_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ First West Olson at Taylor University; Upland, Indiana </span>The saying is true, First West <i>is</i> best (not that I'm at all biassed)! But honestly, 30-40 college girls sharing life with each other is always cool to see. The late night dance parties, the discussions in the hallway, and the nickname shouting from across the wing all served as a fun reminder to me that life is better when you've got company.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5TkJmVfR3cQOJyiHF0s1ic9dMZZet_tfWAv-TofkOCNGes2j_GjzR2wUaCVS0jmetjnULQSgX7KTxmyluoCR6kFk6bZgs7T1wyxfFudt8WWA-JHdlXXXwzgmLAI5MaJl0cpiHy_EHjZI/s1600/hotel-malenovice1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5TkJmVfR3cQOJyiHF0s1ic9dMZZet_tfWAv-TofkOCNGes2j_GjzR2wUaCVS0jmetjnULQSgX7KTxmyluoCR6kFk6bZgs7T1wyxfFudt8WWA-JHdlXXXwzgmLAI5MaJl0cpiHy_EHjZI/s320/hotel-malenovice1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Josiah Venture's Main Training Center; Malenovice, Czech Republic </span>I've seen this place and JV go through a lot of changes in the past 13 years, but through it all one thing has stayed exactly the same -time with JV always feels like time with family. And that makes Malenovice a home away from home. From having Jacob's hat party, to watching Miss Congeniality in a closet-sized room, to many games of Star Wars mafia, to worshipping God alongside so many people I love, this place holds great memories.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45CmwmLsqI62ZJ0zI3Z4XEVWIuK5B_N93VbprvvgBmYZdo7tkvacsEzQ13PCkZl2PfEVcL51-SeRCvY5VGYxVk9GGGJ4MdEm5LIR-erdRLUOFnM4FfCRpyxZqo9WDNh0HetZxB6bk39A/s1600/storecouch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45CmwmLsqI62ZJ0zI3Z4XEVWIuK5B_N93VbprvvgBmYZdo7tkvacsEzQ13PCkZl2PfEVcL51-SeRCvY5VGYxVk9GGGJ4MdEm5LIR-erdRLUOFnM4FfCRpyxZqo9WDNh0HetZxB6bk39A/s1600/storecouch.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Kidsbooks Bookstore; Vancouver, British Columbia </span>I love visiting my relatives in BC and have to agree with my parents when they say if they could live anywhere in Canada they'd want to live there. Vancouver has everything, including beautiful beaches, mountains, and this specialty shop. It's the best children's bookstore I've ever been to and it keeps that Kathleen Kelly dream of owning my own bookstore someday alive.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhyphenhypheniSzh62yjoZAlyXrS5NL4qyYyqoG8X9r91jr1rxiDNaP4XmZudj8Mc-yv5S9zw7OcIILLh_UH4eAlYq_8fHAd6fXQoYW4AWfvXKaNMgztNH9IEBcJ_OSR0vUlRlvVnw3GU8Ti_BtrM/s1600/Jefferson+Pointe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhyphenhypheniSzh62yjoZAlyXrS5NL4qyYyqoG8X9r91jr1rxiDNaP4XmZudj8Mc-yv5S9zw7OcIILLh_UH4eAlYq_8fHAd6fXQoYW4AWfvXKaNMgztNH9IEBcJ_OSR0vUlRlvVnw3GU8Ti_BtrM/s320/Jefferson+Pointe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Clapping Circle at Jefferson Pointe; Fort Wayne, Indiana </span>This secret place, sadly no longer there because of a stupid potted tree, was a favorite spot my Freshman year of college. To me it symbolizes the spontaneity and fun of a lot of firsts in life on my own. If you were there, you understand, and if you have no idea what I'm talking about, you missed out.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45AQuwp6uJVth4Oxh3hyphenhyphenk9ttNCWIHteLqs4wFgQkmi5UirG2sgl9OkCX5Rolc3bBT4JiPTspG3HU71d0wyTqEBFeoGdqQA7pDGFA_yVYu9G1X7KMAnWV6uFxPal0ssriA8_I2aIFw79w/s1600/0mat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45AQuwp6uJVth4Oxh3hyphenhyphenk9ttNCWIHteLqs4wFgQkmi5UirG2sgl9OkCX5Rolc3bBT4JiPTspG3HU71d0wyTqEBFeoGdqQA7pDGFA_yVYu9G1X7KMAnWV6uFxPal0ssriA8_I2aIFw79w/s320/0mat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Schoolhouse; Kakolo Village, Zambia </span>Okay, so I've never actually been here, but I feel like I have been. Going to high school at Wheaton Academy taught me a lot that I'll never forget. Maybe the biggest lesson I learned though is how the least in life should be a part of my daily life as a Christian. The Zambia Project, raising money for this village, showed me the power of giving, compassion, and a life of love. Learning to live sacrificially for the sake of others less fortunate than ourselves and changing the world because of it is a lesson I hope I always remember. And who knows? Maybe someday I'll get to visit in person.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX3fvMUqc6dP37_FdJwVw0TZvXG0gQv7QRdvvnSM2Cr6r13yufBRZEtI5mlBGRFZKEl5EwKJ8XsqzV8JKEzPAfTS7gUhPFryvJRu8HmOS_eAYwaUZXPjawhAeYN7yE-9cJ0s3cRfnDQo/s1600/Surf's+Up.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX3fvMUqc6dP37_FdJwVw0TZvXG0gQv7QRdvvnSM2Cr6r13yufBRZEtI5mlBGRFZKEl5EwKJ8XsqzV8JKEzPAfTS7gUhPFryvJRu8HmOS_eAYwaUZXPjawhAeYN7yE-9cJ0s3cRfnDQo/s320/Surf's+Up.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ Ho'okipa Beach; Maui, Hawaii </span>In my ideal other life, I would totally be a surfer here. I'd drive a yellow jeep, own 15 different swim suits, and hang out with the local beach bums. Yeah, forget dreams of being a celebrity, I would be completely happy living in the sun, sand, and surf of this place. They don't call it paradise for nothing!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCv0JIMAd5NoDGeZgLGsg_7cUA-YvBWkJWeKVD6p40Z8A2ra6Vy49dsfw1k-FppLTAXTRQE2BzJDMhfhO31jrDEVVVhdshWC1D6ilB2CQSciO8qzWPPLd3DJBNPYxgspZD8HuXhbv8S4/s1600/n1271250025_30044008_608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCv0JIMAd5NoDGeZgLGsg_7cUA-YvBWkJWeKVD6p40Z8A2ra6Vy49dsfw1k-FppLTAXTRQE2BzJDMhfhO31jrDEVVVhdshWC1D6ilB2CQSciO8qzWPPLd3DJBNPYxgspZD8HuXhbv8S4/s320/n1271250025_30044008_608.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">~ My House; Carol Stream, Illinois </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Not everyone is blessed enough to be able to say, "There's no place like home" and actually mean it. However, I am. Through babysitting quite a bit recently I've gotten to see some other family's homes in the area and I am quite certain that mine should be everyone's favorite. The calming colors of the walls, the comfy couches, and of course my mom's hospitality and my dad's jokes make the place great. If you don't believe me, come visit!</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">And there you have it! What places are on your list?</span></div><div><br />
</div></span></div>Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8598011002000887931.post-13703419473203594902010-10-13T13:54:00.000-07:002010-11-07T15:49:52.247-08:00How I'm Like A HorseAnyone who knows me knows that I'm not a country girl. I prefer big cities and haven't ever spent much time on a farm. And if you happened to be in my beginning horsemanship class last year at Taylor when Shammy got spooked, you also know that I have personal reasons to dislike horses. Nevertheless, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">I have recently found myself enjoying the Canadian hit TV show, Heartland. </span>For those of you who have never heard of it, it's a modern family drama about a teenage horse whisperer (named Amy) and her life on a ranch in Alberta. Though I mostly like it for character development purposes, I have to admit it has also piqued my interest in rodeos and the different events that take place at them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgcyruFyQVCPF0216ji4ZEF9dMPOoRtnGvE2YcNrGquntCSqya2CIwyqQowUve291iDt22u5JCi1KCMxSZNtPC7FP-eih6Z4u3uAOJ-9XTGtM8qCpFTmWiDTsaqD6BtrX7RK8FNJ_ltk/s1600/da51633f3748e3af1183a3a2a3075a01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgcyruFyQVCPF0216ji4ZEF9dMPOoRtnGvE2YcNrGquntCSqya2CIwyqQowUve291iDt22u5JCi1KCMxSZNtPC7FP-eih6Z4u3uAOJ-9XTGtM8qCpFTmWiDTsaqD6BtrX7RK8FNJ_ltk/s400/da51633f3748e3af1183a3a2a3075a01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
One such event is the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">colt taming competition.</span></span><br />
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Basically, each competitor is given a wild colt and has a certain amount of time in a ring to tame it. They are given points for being able to saddle the horse, ride it, lead it over obstacles, etc.<br />
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When Amy attempts to tame a horse (which happens a lot in the show), <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">she does so by making the horse run around a ring for as long as it takes before the horse decides to "join up" with her in the middle of the cirlce.</span> Sometimes the horses are pretty stubborn and won't meet her for a while. Instead, they run around in circles, bitter that someone else wants control. Other times the horses will allow Amy to touch them, will meet her eye and sometimes even let her put a saddle on their back, but they throw her off and fight her if she gets too close or dares to try riding because of fear and distrust. It takes a lot of patience and compassion from Amy, but it is clearly a victory when she finally gets a horse to join up and partner with her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFExiYRgBAX9Ay2dT2oLTxEk7YozC25wPceHnvnusK-GqQ6Codf-MYubnjaUAP_-j_nhcwBC3PICA_Kf2o9FYxhPedmxzAdMrqOrtIpWY7D8B4K5ObY2uekLLqU6DwPzOVBwYzWMXS-o/s1600/08heartland4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQFExiYRgBAX9Ay2dT2oLTxEk7YozC25wPceHnvnusK-GqQ6Codf-MYubnjaUAP_-j_nhcwBC3PICA_Kf2o9FYxhPedmxzAdMrqOrtIpWY7D8B4K5ObY2uekLLqU6DwPzOVBwYzWMXS-o/s400/08heartland4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This process fascinates me and I wasn't really sure why until the other night when I opened my Bible to Psalm 32:8-9 and read, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">"The Lord says, 'I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. Do not be like a senseless horse or mule that needs a bit and bridle to keep it under control.'" </span></span><br />
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Though I'm not considered a "farm girl" in any sense of the term, my recent interest in Heartland, paired with these verses, made me realize that most of the time I am that senseless horse. Amy taming those stubborn, scared animals is a lot like what God wants to do for us. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">He calls us to "join up" with Him in the middle of the ring. He calls us to a partnership of trust and love where He'll guide us along the best pathway of life... if we let Him. My problem, like the untamed horses, is that I don't always want to give up my control. </span>I want to go the way I want to go -do the things I want to do. And I don't fully believe that anyone could know better than I do how my life should be.<br />
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Trusting is difficult, but just as the verse says <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">the alternative is senseless</span>. If you aren't the horse joining up with the Master in the center of the ring, living for the exact purposes you were created for in a harmonious partnership with one who knows better than you, then you're the horse running around the circle, wasting your energy on a life that will get you nowhere, while the kind Master waits patiently for you to come back to Him.Amyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04735913407923275399noreply@blogger.com0