tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70987696002286140762024-02-06T20:28:37.100-08:00OldestArrowRachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-80561352014713178822015-05-05T21:44:00.002-07:002015-05-05T21:49:43.720-07:00RememberingWell, it's been 3 months today.<br />
<br />
Three months ago today, I woke up around 3:30 AM in pain. Bad pain. I hurried into the bathroom, already fighting back tears, hoping I was being over-worried, that I was wrong. Then I saw it.<br />
<br />
If you had asked me before that second, "What's the worst moment of your life?", I would've had to think about it. Now, I wouldn't hesitate. The worst moment of my life was when I looked down and saw blood, and knew that my baby was gone. That knowledge slammed into me with such force, crushing breath and and tears and hope. I stood as if paralyzed, but I wasn't numb. The sheer weight of it all froze me into place.<br />
<br />
But, like all other moments, this one passed. I hurried to wake up my husband. I could barely get out the words, "I'm bleeding." I called my OB's office and got the doctor on call. He was very calm, but he knew there was nothing to be done. I already had an appointment at 9 that morning--it was supposed to be my first ultrasound. As long as the pain was manageable, and I wasn't bleeding too heavily, he advised me to wait until then. We called our parents, and Matt ran to QuikTrip to get some things for me. <br />
<br />
When Matt got back, we sat on the bed and sobbed. Matt prayed, "God... remember us." That's all he could say. We dozed off and on between 5 and 7, when we got up and headed to the hospital for my appointment.<br />
<br />
When we arrived, we were greeted cheerfully by the doctor's assistant. We quickly found out that the doctor on call had not notified my doctor about our situation at all. We were taken back to a room where an ultrasound tech half-listened to my explanations. She dismissed my concerns as if I wasn't smart enough to know what bleeding and cramps were. (In retrospect, I think she may have thought this would calm me down. It only served to infuriate me.) When she did the ultrasound, she seemed surprised. "Oh... You ARE bleeding heavily." I wanted to scream, "NO SH*T, SHERLOCK!", but my good-little-church-girl self kept me silent, and I settled for a glare. The tech said there wasn't a gestational sac, and after I changed, Matt and I were ushered into another room to talk to my OB.<br />
<br />
My worst fears having been confirmed, I grew much calmer. My husband, however, couldn't stop weeping. As I held his face in my hands, he confessed that all along he'd been hoping that the ultrasound would show our baby, still doing fine. He cried as we talked to the OB, and as the doctor's assistant ushered us down a back hallway so that we wouldn't have to walk back through the waiting room full of expectant mothers. He cried as we walked all the way out to the car, and when we got in he couldn't drive for at least 10 minutes. (Although several people told me it would be otherwise, my husband grieved over this every bit as much as I did. Honestly, most days I thought he grieved more.)<br />
<br />
We spent the rest of the day wandering around the Zona Rosa shopping area together, and had Chick-fil-A for dinner. Even though I was in pain, I really wanted to be around people, not shut up in our apartment any more. My mom and Granny drove up from OKC the next day. I was in a lot more pain the second day--I couldn't even get off the couch. My fantastic husband spent the whole morning cleaning our apartment for me, and my mom and Granny brought ice cream with them. The next day, I went to use the bathroom. I happened to look down, and... I saw my baby. It was the size of a chocolate chip, just like my pregnancy app said it should be at 7 weeks. I texted Matt to come in there with me. Neither of us knew what to do. So we flushed the toilet. I wish we hadn't--I kept picturing my baby in a sewer for days afterwards. <br />
<br />
I went through my miscarriage feeling like I should get mad at God at some point. The truth is, I never did. Honestly, I knew more than ever how good He is. I knew He could've changed this, that He could've saved my baby, and yet I never doubted His complete and utter GOODNESS. I know that sounds crazy. But it's just how it was. Several people told me how godly my response to all of this was. That frustrated me, because I wasn't trying to be godly. It was just that I KNEW, beyond any doubt, that God was/is unfathomably GOOD. I can't explain it any better than that.<br />
<br />
Although I was really hoping for a boy, Matt and I both have a strong feeling that this baby was a girl. As the weeks have gone by, I've found myself thinking of her as our sweet baby Remember. Because we will always remember her, and we know that God always remembers us. When the Bible talks about God "remembering" someone, it's not because He forgot them. His remembrance is the fulfillment of a promise. God will not forget my baby. He is not done with her, and he isn't done with us either.<br />
<br />
When we announced our pregnancy, one of my good friends texted me, "...You're bringing someone into this world that will live eternally. So y'all just added some eternal value to this world. How cool. Right?" I LOVE that. Even though we never got to meet her, our baby is alive right now. And we will meet that precious soul one of these days--the day when all wrongs are made right, when all things are redeemed. And we will know that, yet again, God has remembered us.<br />
<br />
<br />Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-18904127860304700192015-01-17T21:28:00.001-08:002015-01-17T21:28:21.237-08:00On Baby-Killing and Winning Arguments<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyone who knows me very well at
all knows that I love nothing more than a good old-fashioned intellectual
argument. I had a coworker in high
school that disagreed with me about virtually everything. Whether the topic was
evolution, welfare, or liberalism in general, we were almost guaranteed to have
polar opposite opinions. We’d
argue while making sandwiches and nugget packs, to the intense discomfort of
our conflict-shunning coworkers.
However, we were fast friends, and never let the conversation devolve
into the name-calling and vitriol that so often accompanies debates between two
strong-minded parties. I loved the
challenge to my worldview, and nothing excited me more than presenting a good
defense for my beliefs. I earnestly believed if you gave me a podium and a
microphone—or a webpage prominent enough—I could argue the opposition into submission.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sadly,
my earnest beliefs about the values of intellectual discussion with opposing
parties have been well and truly demolished since then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A perfectly-worded rejoinder is not all
it takes to shatter the walls of the opposition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not one person who disagrees with me about welfare, or gun
control, or abortion is going to be argued into agreeing with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even less likely to convince those in
disagreement is the name-calling, angry, sweeping generalization that passes as
debate in any squabble on a given social media platform.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">With
this in mind, I’d like to address my fellow believers, specifically those of
you that feel strongly about abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have seen more and more posts lately saying things like, “Abortion is
MURDER!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, “Abortion is killing
a baby!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, “It’s not tissue,
it’s a human being!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that
all of the people posting things like this are passionate about human
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that their hearts are
broken over the devastation that abortion brings into the lives of everyone
involved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I also know
that these posts <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">do absolutely NOTHING
to convince others not to have an abortion.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I believe they do nothing but <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">HURT the cause of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Think about this with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least <a href="http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.html#4" target="_blank">one-third of all American women</a> have had an abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
means 3 out of every 10 women on YOUR friends list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suppose that you are reading an article about late term abortions,
or<a href="http://www.buchholzins.com/cir/deaths.by.War.vs.Abortion.html" target="_blank"> how the number of abortions vastly surpasses the number of men killed in American wars</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This makes you
angry and sad, so you post an infographic or a status about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now one of your friends, one of those
33%, who has had an abortion, sees that status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or, a person on your friends list who 1)does not know Jesus
and 2)believes she is pro-choice sees that status.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do they perceive this status?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does a light bulb go off in their mind?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are they now open to the truth of how
God views human life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do they jump
on board the save-the-babies train?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>OR, does it make them angry and defensive? Does it make them absolutely
resistant to anything else you have to say on the matter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does it make them feel like you care
more about your cause than you do for them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this is far more likely, and a far more natural
reaction.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">Our
job as followers of Jesus isn’t to convince unbelievers that how they are
living is wrong.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 0.5in;">They already know
it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven
against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their
unrighteousness <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">suppress the truth</b>. <b><sup> </sup></b>For
what can be known about God <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">is
plain to them</b>, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible
attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">have been clearly perceived</b>, ever since
the creation of the world,<sup>[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=romans+1&version=ESV#fen-ESV-27935g">g</a>]</sup> in
the things that have been made. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">So they
are without excuse</b>. For although <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">they
knew God</b>, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became
futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.<b><sup> </sup></b>Claiming
to be wise, they became fools,<b><sup> </sup></b>and exchanged the
glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and
animals and creeping things.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b><sup> </sup></b>Therefore God gave them up in
the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies
among themselves,<b><sup> </sup></b>because they exchanged the truth about
God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the
Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.”</i> (Romans 8:18-25 ESV, emphasis
added)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scripture states that even unbelievers know God’s attributes
and nature. To know God’s nature is to know what is right. No matter how well an unbeliever
suppresses this truth, it is buried deep within themselves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have sat in a counseling room with many women who were
considering abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all had
different reasons to be there; they all had rationalizations about how
abortions might/would work best for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some of them ended up choosing life, and many walked out of that room
firmly set on having an abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, I looked into every single one of those women’s eyes, and I promise
you this: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">EVERY SINGLE ONE knew that
abortion was wrong.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the
women acting like it was a valid, reasonable choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They came up with their defenses and their rationalizations,
and made up their minds, but every single one knew down deep in her soul that
it was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They didn’t need me
to tell them that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed me
to love them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed me to
offer encouragement, and hope, and a listening ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed me to look at them and see them the way Jesus
saw them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I (or more
often, one of the other AMAZING clinic workers) was able to do that, the
defenses and rationalizations came crumbling down more often than not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We cannot, with our intellectual prowess, convince a mind
that has turned away from truth. But we can, by the grace of God, love a broken
soul as ours have been loved. And
that will advance the pro-life cause more than an infographic ever could.</span></div>
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Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-91809384804796053112014-01-21T19:15:00.000-08:002014-01-21T19:15:40.716-08:00On the Not-So-Subtle Art of Self-Presentation<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, I'm back! It's been an appallingly long time since I've blogged; something that will be partially explained by this post and partially explained by the fact that I was busy working and finishing up my Bachelor's degree (woo hoo!). Not that I have much more free time now, by any means--but I'm going to try to blog more anyway. Now, on to my thoughts for today:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We all have that friend (or, more accurately, those friends) on *insert social media site*. Ostensibly, they're posting about what's going on in their life--causes/organizations they volunteer for, church programs they're involved in, friends they hang out with, etc. With a cursory perusal, not much is different about their page than anyone else's.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, if you are friends with them long enough, you soon see a common thread winding through each and every post: Them. They're in every single picture. Everything they post has the words "I" or "me" in it. And they ALWAYS look good. Every photo is edited, every outfit coordinates, every post is flattering.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I got the opportunity to feed homeless people! Here's me posing with a homeless person!!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Here's my blog about my ideas!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I'm volunteering with *organization* to help with *cause*. Here's me volunteering!!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"At the gym. Here's me working out!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's my deal: People can tell why you're doing something. If every picture I post is of me, if every post has the word "I" or "me" in it, if my entire online presence makes me look super spiritual, super awesome, super crafty, super organized, other people will pick up on that. On one hand, it's incredibly easy to present myself as ridiculously organized, crafty, spiritual, etc. All I have to do is untag a few photos, edit some more, post something with a Bible verse in it--voila, I'm spiritual now! Internet presence is much more easily managed than real-life presence. However, if I'm image-crafting all the time, other people will pick up on that eventually. Let's face it--no one's hair is actually perfect every. single. day. (Neither is their Bible-reading, volunteering, nails...)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, we need affirmation from other people. W</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ho doesn't want to feel that other people care about what they have to say? A red notification bubble, a blue dot on Twitter, a blog hit--these are instant validation. However, if my goal in posting is to get notifications, shares, or blog hits--well, that's shallow and self-centered at best.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The line between sharing something you love and sharing something to make yourself look good can be really fine. So, how do I determine which one is my motive for posting/blogging? Am I writing this post for the right reasons? Am I trying to make myself look better than others? More righteous, more successful, more involved, more awesome, more Jesus-y than someone else? Because of these questions, I second-guessed myself on every post. It bugs me when others always post about themselves--is that something <i>I'm</i> constantly doing??</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*Scrolls down Facebook timeline re-reading posts*</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*Notices the irony of obsessing over my posts looking for self-obsession*</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a lot of thought and self-evaluation, I've come up with one conclusion and a few rules of thumb I've found myself operating by. First, the conclusion:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>~At the end of the day, I can't evaluate every single motive behind every single post/blog/video.~</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, with the Holy Spirit guiding me, I can get a general sense of the biggest motivation behind each post. I try to use this sense to judge whether or not something I'm posting is for self-promotion/presentation, or if it's something I genuinely think others will be interested in or benefit from knowing. As for other people's posts--it's still a pet peeve when every post I see is a photo of them, or makes them look really good, really spiritual, etc.! But, ultimately, that's not for me to control. I just click the "Hide" button and move on with my life!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now for the "rules of thumb" I try to use when I post. Actually, I guess these aren't rules as much as questions I ask myself:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>~Have other people expressed an interest in this in the past?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If yes, move on to next question; if no, it's probably for my own benefit. I already know it, so why post it?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>~Am I doing this out of a desire for other people's approval?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I said before, it's basically impossible for this motivation to be completely absent from a post. However, if I feel it's one of the main reasons I want to post, that's a problem, and I shouldn't post it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>~Does this make me look super-spiritual, or more successful/awesome/perfect than I really am?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This one requires a lot of help from the Holy Spirit to discern. There's absolutely nothing wrong with NOT posting all your dirty laundry online just to "be real". (In fact... PLEASE DON'T. That's another pet peeve for another day...) However, if all of my internet presence is used to create a Photoshopped, airbrushed image that in no way resembles the real me, that's a problem! I need to be able to laugh at myself. I need to be able to show that I don't have it all together. I don't wake up in the morning with perfect hair and a flawless face, put on perfectly coordinated clothes, and think, "Yay!!! I get to spend my day doing things for Jesus!!!" (I know, shocking. Sorry.) So, if scrolling down my Facebook makes you think I'm that person... <u style="font-style: italic;">I'm being dishonest</u>!!!!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's easy to just promote myself in everything I post. It's also easy to just never post anything because I'm afraid of self-promotion.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's hard to rely on the Holy Spirit. It's hard to discern the motives behind everything I post online. But I'm stubborn, and I believe that's God's best route for me in this situation. So, with His help, that's what I'll try to do.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(Look how spiritual I am! :P )</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-75320284601687666562012-04-11T21:12:00.000-07:002012-04-11T21:12:54.173-07:00Stealing His Glory<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:DocumentProperties> <o:Template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:Revision>0</o:Revision> <o:TotalTime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:Pages>1</o:Pages> <o:Words>415</o:Words> <o:Characters>2369</o:Characters> <o:Company>The King's College</o:Company> <o:Lines>19</o:Lines> <o:Paragraphs>4</o:Paragraphs> <o:CharactersWithSpaces>2909</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:Version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The gospel doesn’t start with “God loves you SO much…” The gospel starts with, “You, a petty, insignificant, limited human being, have spit in the face of the glorious King. You have rebelled against His perfect justice and declared yourself above His good commands. You are vile and putrid, and you should die in torment.” God did not send His perfect Son to suffer because you were worthy of His love. He didn’t send Him to die because you deserved forgiveness. He allowed His glorious Son to be mutilated, tortured, and killed because He is glorious, merciful, gracious, and GOOD. <b>The gospel isn’t about humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s about the Redeemer.</b> If the gospel starts with “God loves you”, then it is an incomplete and shallow gospel. As such, it will result in ill-informed, shallow followers who are more interested in getting what they want out of church than in glorifying God. We cannot de-emphasize sin in our presentation of the gospel. To do so is to lessen (steal from) God’s glory, holiness, justice, mercy, grace, and His redeeming work on the cross. It alters the very character of God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yes, the gospel ends with love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It ends with the highest, purest, most magnificent love there is. But the purity and magnificence of this love is highlighted by our utterly wretched state of rebellion against God’s holiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you lessen the sin, you also lessen the great love it took to conquer that sin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The gospel is not about us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not about humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s about God’s magnificence, His righteousness, His justice, His love, His perfection, His majesty, His redemption, His goodness, His grace, His mercy, His sovereignty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To God be the glory, great things HE has done.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But you have lifted up yourself <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">against the Lord of heaven</b>… And you have praised the Gods of silver and gold, of bronze, iron, wood, and stone, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">but the God in whose hand is your breath, and whose are all your ways, you have not honored</b></i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daniel 5:23, ESV, emphasis added.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And there you shall remember your ways and all your deeds with which you have defiled yourselves, and you shall loathe yourselves for all the evils that you have committed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And you shall know that I am the Lord</b>, when I deal with you for my name’s sake, not according to your evil ways, nor according to your corrupt deeds, O house of Israel, declares the Lord God</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ezekiel 20:40, ESV, emphasis added.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“<i>For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">This was to show God’s righteousness</b>, because in his divine forbearance He had passed over former sins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that He might be just and the justifie</b>r of the one who has faith in Jesus.</i>” Romans 3:23-26, ESV, emphasis added.</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-70759351817130849002011-12-12T17:39:00.000-08:002011-12-12T17:39:33.419-08:00On Being a LadyIf you know me at all, you know that I am obsessed with all things Grace Kelly, and all things from the 1950's. Women back then were so classy. They were ladies--something that we don't see much in our anything-goes-society nowadays. So, here is my list of what it takes to be a lady. Feel free to add your own requirements in the comments!<br />
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1. Encourage chivalry.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoDTeZPe-F4SXmRc1lHnQRTtYz8djkIMwDOqe7VgZmGZCHx_cXWybMwmTYGNGrZXaHLQifuMt7ELD4dxh550p03ED0vO9i1-Z3cS8NEPSQ7gP68nfQn_kVZtgOEB9FKb1jV6vblwV7J0/s1600/knight+on+horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoDTeZPe-F4SXmRc1lHnQRTtYz8djkIMwDOqe7VgZmGZCHx_cXWybMwmTYGNGrZXaHLQifuMt7ELD4dxh550p03ED0vO9i1-Z3cS8NEPSQ7gP68nfQn_kVZtgOEB9FKb1jV6vblwV7J0/s400/knight+on+horse.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I once read an article entitled, "Chivalry is Dead--And You Killed it, Ladies." While I don't agree that chivalry is hopelessly lost, it certainly takes effort to find these days. As a lady, it's your job to encourage chivalry whenever/wherever you encounter it. If a guy takes the time to do something nice for you, take half a second of your life and thank him. This doesn't just apply to your boyfriend/husband/significant other. If any guy holds a door for you, carries something for you, etc., then look him in the eye, smile, and say, "Thank you." It doesn't matter who the guy is--old, young, smelly, scary, cute, annoying, whatever. Take the time to thank him.<br />
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2. Dress like a lady.<br />
"Your dresses should be tight enough to show you're a woman, and loose enough to show that you're a lady."--Edith Head, Hitchcock's costume designer for Grace Kelly.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669411138/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="415" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/30821578669411138_XS0O6MKK_c.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://www.net-a-porter.com/product/163282" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">net-a-porter.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
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Here is a fact about the world: People are going to judge you by your appearance. No, it's not fair. No, it's not always accurate. But that's the way the world works--and it's not going to make an exception for you. If you dress like you're easy, the world is going to treat you as if you're easy. So, dress like you respect yourself. Dress as if you're priceless--because you are. <br />
My absolute favorite book on this topic is <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Keeper-Delicate-Power-Modesty/dp/0802439772/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323737863&sr=8-1">Secret Keeper</a></em> by Dannah Gresh. It's a little bitty book that is to the point without being at all legalistic-- which is hard to do when the topic is modesty. If you haven't read it, you need to. It's well worth your time.<br />
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3. Care about other people.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669461094/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/70861394106551485_ArM9tCwE_c.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://www.blogger.com/None" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">Uploaded by user</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
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I have a confession--I'm really bad at this one. I'm usually not rude to other people--I just ignore them. Ladies make time for other people. I've tried to adopt this mentality toward people that help me--cashiers, waiters, etc. I try to smile at them and ask them how they're doing. Just because they work at Wal-Mart doesn't mean they're not a real person! I really need to apply this to my family as well--just because I live with them doesn't mean I don't need to care about how they're doing.<br />
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4. Speak like a lady.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669469176/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="141" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/240661173807127475_vBnN1OR2_c.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?q=1+corinthians+13+4-8&um=1&hl=en&sa=N&tbm=isch&tbnid=bpTWCqRaewRmwM:&imgrefurl=http://carwil19.blogspot.com/2011/03/good-talks.html&docid=FZeMYlBVBq7ODM&w=400&h=282&ei=fzpsTvTfFOTnsQL7hazVBA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=514&vpy=269&dur=1778&hovh=188&hovw=267&tx=165&ty=95&page=1&tbnh=137&tbnw=195&start=0&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:16,s:0&biw=1366&bih=578" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">google.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
A true lady <em><u>never</u></em> stoops to being rude--but she gets her point across just the same. Ladies never swear or use crude language (which means I have to stop saying "crap" all the time... hmmm.) A lady is in no way a doormat--she commands respect in the way she speaks. This is where I have the most work to do. I'm brutally honest. I need to better learn how to speak truth without being harsh or ugly.<br />
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5. Wear pearls.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669357404/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="494" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/30821578669357404_1Jowe1AN_c.jpg" width="375" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://favim.com/image/157838/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">favim.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
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Ok, so wearing pearls doesn't automatically make you a lady. But in my experience, it definitely helps. <br />
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6. Carry yourself like a lady.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669404889/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="571" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/30821578669404889_RbTaxvXz_c.jpg" width="196" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2055766/Kate-Middleton-Duchess-Cambridge-voted-Britains-best-dressed.html" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">dailymail.co.uk</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
If you act like you're confident, you will become confident. If you walk like you're insecure, you will become more insecure. So smile. Walk with purpose. Hold your head high. Sit gracefully. Walk--don't clomp, shuffle, or strut. (However, skipping is allowed at appropriate times, as is dancing.)<br />
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7. Smile. Laugh. Enjoy life.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669406190/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/30821578669406190_pWjbr6fy_c.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://connielouwho.blogspot.com/2011/01/laughing-about-ourselves.html" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">connielouwho.blogspot.com</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
Being a lady does not mean you have no sense of humor! In every situation, there is something to laugh at. Look for it.<br />
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8. Love Jesus. Recognize who you are in Him.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669370437/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="458" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/30821578669370437_zoeoTwGc_c.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://www.blogger.com/None" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">Uploaded by user</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
Everything else flows out of this. And nothing else matters if this doesn't happen.<br />
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9. Raise your standards.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/30821578669453122/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/214272894740597174_TTFGlPZn_c.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;">Source: <a href="http://img263.imageshack.us/img263/1663/teachordaughters.jpg" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;">img263.imageshack.us</a> via <a href="http://pinterest.com/oldestarrow/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Rachel</a> on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div></div><br />
You are valuable. But if you don't act like it, very few people will treat you like you are. So raise your standards. Don't date guys who treat you like anything less than a princess. Don't do things that a lady wouldn't do. Be nice to people when you feel like being rude. Treat others as if they are ladies and gentlemen--no matter their age, appearance, smell, or status. If you can do this, you will be a lady.Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-83535522490786609892011-10-19T19:29:00.000-07:002011-10-19T19:29:02.240-07:00Many ArrowsAs most of y'all know, I'm the oldest of 11 kids. Yeah, yeah, I've heard all the jokes--multiple times. "Don't your parents know what causes that?" "Did your parents never watch tv?" "Must be cold at your house during the winter." They were funny at first, but now I just want to ask people, "Can you not come up with a more original response??"<br />
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I get it. Having a family that big is weird. Sometimes I will tell people that I'm from a big family and I can actually see them putting me in the box labeled "Crazy." At that point, I always say, very decidedly, "And I LOVE it." Then they move me from the "Crazy" box to the "Really Crazy" box. Which is fine with me. Because those people aren't hurting my feelings. I actually feel sorry for them. Narrow minds.<br />
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Here's the deal. My mom and dad used to buy into that worldview too. My mom had a very decided opinion about people with large families. "Those children are nothing but a number. There's no way their parents have enough time to get to know each one of them." My parents were going to wait and time their children so that they could give them "the best life possible." However, during their marriage counseling, their youth pastor, Jim Gibson, offered them a foreign--ok, let's just say crazy--point of view. He encouraged them to go to the Bible and look at God's views on children. How did He feel about them? What if God wanted them to trust Him with the number and timing of their children? After all, God is the Creator of life, the greatest blessing on earth. But my parents weren't willing to listen. Yet.<br />
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My mom was on birth control for around a year after she married my dad. But God began to change their hearts about having children. Every time the Bible mentions having children, they are portrayed as a blessing. In contrast, a barren womb was commonly believed to be a curse. (Now, I know that this was in the days where the more children you had, the more food you could grow. I also know that we don't live in those days anymore. But I don't think God's changed His mind.) So, my parents began to question. <b> God says children are a blessing</b>. Did they really believe that? Did they really, honestly believe God would only give them children to bless them? Kids are expensive these days!!! But<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">... Jesus said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj"> "Don't worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?'</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">For the idolaters</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">But seek first the kingdom of God</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you" (Matthew 6:31-33). Did my parents really believe that? If God gave them a ton of children, would He provide the money to clothe, feed, and educate them all??? How would they have time to spend with each kid? What if each kid wound up being "just a number"? Is it even possible to be a good parent with lots of kids?</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">And all the while God was saying, "Don't worry. Trust Me. Believe my Word."</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">Belief is never just in your head. <b>What you believe is shown in your actions.</b> Who and what you trust is revealed in what you do. My parents learned this. So, what were they going to do about it? </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="woj">They responded in obedience. <i style="font-weight: bold;">And God blessed that.</i> He blessed my parents with a lot of things--friends, a house, vehicles, income, food, clothing--but I promise you, if you ask them what the biggest blessing in their life is, they will tell you that it is their children. They love us. They support us. When I was in high school my dad came to almost every single basketball game, even though I "played bench" most of the time. When I was 6 they carted me and 4 other siblings to soccer practice, and never missed any of our games. They spend pretty much the whole month of December getting the perfect Christmas presents for every last one of us. My mom taught all of us to read, write, and learn. My dad takes a different boy to breakfast each Saturday, and a girl to lunch on Mondays. They are there for every single one of us. We're all different; we each present a special set of challenges. They're up to the task.</span></span></span><br />
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I've had people tell me, "You know, if there weren't so many of you, you could take a vacation every year. Go to Disney World or something. You could do a lot more." Do you know what pops into my head when I hear that? I hear, "You know, if Amy, or Caleb, or Michael, or Sarah, or John didn't exist, you could go on a lot more vacations. You'd get more Christmas presents if Bethany, Jacob, Andrew, Jared, or Joshua weren't in your life." <br />
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Guess what? I went to Disney World once. I was 17 and it took my family over a year to save up for all of us to go. It was absolutely fantastic. <b><i>But I wouldn't trade a single one of my siblings for it</i></b>. And, in order to have a so-called "normal" family, I wouldn't have to trade one sibling. I'd have to trade 8 or 9. No thanks. I'll take the craziness please.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qX8ZjUDYgQh4c0fFOXW43XsWt9NZFq82fXwsEhS96-0A8lh9SPEqTJteb82z6wcDBGNCfmgfOv6tqPqsSrPP35ZFt8mq9KTZZGMW1hsp1xkuEm44XovBl7_rAzfdeiWd32iLyS_3Fno/s1600/DSCN3931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qX8ZjUDYgQh4c0fFOXW43XsWt9NZFq82fXwsEhS96-0A8lh9SPEqTJteb82z6wcDBGNCfmgfOv6tqPqsSrPP35ZFt8mq9KTZZGMW1hsp1xkuEm44XovBl7_rAzfdeiWd32iLyS_3Fno/s400/DSCN3931.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All of us with my Granny and Papa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate." Psalm 127:3-5</i></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-82818720793093982072011-07-26T18:39:00.000-07:002011-07-26T18:41:15.493-07:00Guys 101: What My Brothers Have Taught Me About the Male SpeciesEvery girl should have at least one brother. I'm lucky--I have 7. They come in handy whenever you have something heavy that needs moving, or a lawn that needs mowing, or someone that needs beating up. They're also very helpful when it comes to decoding the male mind. Over the years I've learned a lot from my brothers about relating to guys. So, here are some of the things I've learned:<br />
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<i>(Note: I realize this list is made up of generalizations and that not all guys are identical. Nevertheless, I've found these things to be true for most of the guys I've interacted with. Cut me some slack y'all.)</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9JrAMc36w6ud12EdZvAYCPhokyGzOMMW_qtteFjD2VZxkrktIm1qkjMsLGz78A1zYj64B6HK9YvxM05qJIlfsTRqgWpecHdU_9Zu86ZcQsyALa40-u5zts5xP6rkBjqP_3fOlpm-qjQ/s1600/DSCN3136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9JrAMc36w6ud12EdZvAYCPhokyGzOMMW_qtteFjD2VZxkrktIm1qkjMsLGz78A1zYj64B6HK9YvxM05qJIlfsTRqgWpecHdU_9Zu86ZcQsyALa40-u5zts5xP6rkBjqP_3fOlpm-qjQ/s400/DSCN3136.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The males in my family, left to right: Daddy, Joshua, John, Jacob, Jared, Andrew, Caleb, and Michael</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
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*It's physically impossible for them to take a hint. Girls are always reading into things, so we naturally expect guys to do the same. But they don't. It's not that they're stupid, or that they don't want to "get" what we're trying to tell them. They just aren't mind readers. If you want something, you have to be specific and straight up tell them. For some reason, a lot of girls seem to think this is "unromantic." It's like they think, "If he loves me, he will KNOW what I want!" Not only is this unfair to guys, it also won't get you what you want. So, if you want that one thing for your birthday--TELL HIM. Don't make the poor guy agonize over what in the world he's supposed to get for you.<br />
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*It's not that they're unemotional. They just don't feel the need to broadcast their emotions to the world. Girls relate by communicating and expressing how they feel. Guys relate by... just hanging out. (As far as I can tell.) So, when they do express emotion--pay attention. It's important.<br />
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*Their taste in girls makes no sense to the female species. It drives me crazy. I will see a girl that I think is absolutely gorgeous, and my brothers will say, "Eh, she's all right." And I'll think, "What hope is there for the rest of us?!?" I've basically given up on what makes a girl pretty--there's no rhyme or reason to it as far as I can tell. Plus, it's different from guy to guy. One thing I do know, though...<br />
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*They hate tons of makeup. Now, they will TELL you that they hate <b><i>all</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> makeup. This is untrue. If you have no makeup on, they will comment on how tired you look. If you have on natural makeup--foundation that matches your skin tone, mascara, and light lipstick--they will think you're not wearing makeup. I've tested this theory on more than just my brothers, and it's never failed yet. But if you're wearing dark eyeliner, lots of eyeshadow, and dark lipstick, they think you look fake. (Or else, as Michael once told me, "You look like you've been punched in both eyes.")</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">*They actually have great fashion sense. Seriously. It all depends on how you ask them. If you say, "How does this look?", they will reply with "Fine" about 98% of the time. On the other hand, if you say, "Which shoes/skirt/earrings/top do you like better?", they will have a definite opinion--and in my experience, it's usually a good one! Just last week I was at camp, trying to decide which pair of shoes to wear with a dress. I ran down to ask John--I call him and Michael my "shoe gurus." He was standing with a fairly large group of guys, and when I asked him, they <i><b>all </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">proceeded to give me their opinion: My dress was more relaxed and "beachy", so I should stick with the strappy flat sandals instead of the heels. I ask my brothers questions like this allll the time, so it was cool to find out that it's not just them.</span></i></span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">*They have an opinion on </span>everything</i>. But they've also figured out that when a girl asks for someone else's opinion, she's really just asking them to agree with her. So they usually don't want to give their opinion, for fear that it's the wrong one. Because of this, I try not to ask for an opinion from a guy unless I'm actually ok with him giving his OWN opinion and not mine. If I want him to just agree with me, I'll usually say something like, "I need you to tell me that _______." </span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">*They hate drama. If you have a problem, and you approach them with it in a dramatic way, they shut down. This creates problems for both of you--you feel like he doesn't care, and he's irritated that you're making a big deal out of nothing. I think girls feel like they have to make everything look like a big deal, so that they can feel justified in dealing with it. After all, we'll feel like we're nagging if we point out a little problem right? But this backfires pretty badly. So, girls.... let's all just CALM DOWN PLEASE!!!! Haha.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">So, guys, are my brothers pretty normal, or have I picked up some screwball ideas about males from them? Girls, do you have any amazing insight into the male mind? Let me know!</span></b>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-82562595959321775992011-07-20T21:43:00.000-07:002011-07-20T21:46:17.241-07:00The L-Word, part 2Before reading this post, read part 1 <a href="http://oldestarrow.blogspot.com/2011/07/l-word-part-1.html">here</a>.<br />
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So, to love God, we have to obey Him. Everything we have must belong to Him. How does this translate into our everyday lives?<br />
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If you love someone, you begin to take an interest in what they enjoy. You love what they love. So... what does God love? What commandment does He <u>most</u> desire that we obey?<br />
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"One of the scribes approached. When he heard them debating and saw that Jesus answered them well, he asked Him, 'Which commandment is the most important of all?'<br />
'This is the most important,' Jesus answered: 'Listen, Israel! The Lord our God, the Lord is One. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is: Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:28-31)<br />
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So, if we love God, we'll obey Him... and the two greatest commandments are to love God, and love people. Ok, so the first part is a little redundant. We love God by... loving God. Duh Rachel. Great insight, I know. But what about the second part? How do we love people?<br />
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Galatians 5:13 tells us that we have been "called to freedom" in order to "serve one another through love." Service is a form of giving--just as Jesus gave to us by serving, we're called to love others by serving them. This means that their needs come above our own. We are to "outdo one another in showing honor." (Rom. 12:10b) This can be applied in pretty obvious ways--letting someone go before us in line, helping to clean up a mess we didn't make, opening the door for someone when their hands are full. But come on y'all. Even unbelievers do that stuff. Especially here in Oklahoma. So how do we, as followers of the greatest Servant of all, take it to another level?<br />
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What if we tried to work out our problems with people instead of gossiping about them to our friends? What if we actually "spoke the truth in love" instead of just coming and sitting in church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night? What if we set aside time to disciple younger believers? What if we found a spot where we could work, not for us, but for the Kingdom of God? What if we were patient with the people that irritate us most? What if we stopped thinking about ourselves so much and started seeing others as God's favorite people? God will use our simple, boring, everyday lives if we just give it to Him. Our only other option is to keep it and screw it up!<br />
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Like I said earlier, serving is a form of giving. Love, at its core, is giving. If there's no giving... it's not really love. Take marriage for example. If people get married to get the most happiness they can for themselves... the marriage fails. On the other hand, if both people want what's best for the other person, then they are willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. They spend time, money, and energy--because they love that person. So, if we want to love other people, the way God loves them, we have to give to them.<br />
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I'm what most people think of as a "broke college student." By American standards, I'm not wealthy. But if you take the average incomes of everyone in the world... I'm in the top 10%. That's right. A part-time bank teller makes more than 90% of the world. I'm rich. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I have WAY too many clothes. (God's been convicting me of this lately... I need to do something about that.) I eat fast food way more than I should. My point is this: God has given me an abundance of good things. I don't believe He intended these good things to stop with me. I believe He wants me to use the good things He has given me to love others. This isn't just a tithe. About 5 years ago, I came to the conclusion that tithing 10% is only the very first step. If I only let God have 10% of my check, that's all He can bless. The more I give Him, the more He can use me.<br />
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The final way that we can love people is the toughest one for me. If we love people, we will tell them about what Jesus has done in our lives. Yes, if we're serving and giving, people will see that and wonder why. They will see the glory of God in us. But it's our job to follow up on that by <b>telling</b> them about the One who has completely changed us. I don't know about you, but for some reason this thought makes me really uncomfortable. Probably because I'm afraid that I will not say the right things, and people will reject Jesus, and I will feel like it's my fault, that I did something wrong. But last week one of the speakers at Falls Creek told a story about a friend that really encouraged me. This friend felt like God had called him to share the gospel with at least one person every day for a month. He ended up witnessing to 30 people. Guess how many people rejected the gospel? My guess was about 24--I'm an optimist, I know. Know what the answer was? Three. That's right. Ninety percent of the people the man shared with accepted Christ. If we obey God, He will go before us. So we have no excuse not to share God's love with the people around us!<br />
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Most of us would say "Of course I love God!' But what if a random person watched everything we did for a week? What would they say we loved?<br />
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There is a small church that brings in its deposit to my bank. Sometimes I'm the teller that runs it. There are probably between two and three hundred checks in this deposit. I would be willing to bet that about 75% of those checks are for $25 or less. Maybe 20% are $10. So, if these people are tithing 10%... they are living off of no more than $250 a week--assuming they get paid on a weekly basis. Somehow I just don't believe that. And neither does the world. Our selfishness is equivalent to looking at a burning building and spitting on it, when the fire hydrant is only a few feet away. God deserves so much more than our leftovers y'all. He is worthy of everything that I have to give.<br />
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I've always said that I don't want a guy to say "the l-word" to me until he's ready to back it up with some commitment. As I told my dad, if a guy tells me he loves me after he's known me for a month or two, "He doesn't love me. He just thinks I'm really, really cute and he likes the way I make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside." Love isn't about feelings. It's about actions. "But God <b><i>proves</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> His own love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us!" (Rom. 5:8, emphasis added.) Jesus doesn't just get the "warm fuzzies" for us. He left unimaginable glory, came to a stable filled with straw and animal dung, healed the sick, fed the hungry, and reached out to the outcasts. Then He <i>allowed</i> Himself to be brutally beaten, mocked, spit on, and finally had iron spikes nailed to His hands and feet... <i>for us.</i> </span></b><br />
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That's love. <br />
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How dare we throw that word around so lightly.<br />
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Will you choose to love God?<br />
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<i>Here are some ways you can give and/or get involved with what God's doing in the world:</i><br />
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<i><a href="http://www.compassion.com/">Compassion International</a></i><br />
<a href="http://www.allthingsnewcampaign.org/testimony">All Things New</a><br />
<a href="http://www.toms.com/">TOMS</a><br />
<a href="http://www.imb.org/">IMB</a><br />
<a href="http://www.raphahouse.org/">Rapha House</a><br />
<a href="http://www.kidsagainsthunger.org/">Kids Against Hunger</a><br />
<a href="http://www.changethisworld.com/">ChangeThisWorld</a><br />
<a href="http://www.thetask.org/iwc">International World Changers</a>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-55468423420850295472011-07-19T21:12:00.000-07:002011-07-19T21:12:29.161-07:00The L-Word, part 1I was going to try to fit all of my thoughts in one post, but it turned out to be really long... So I will post part 2 tomorrow.<br />
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You know which word I mean. Love. We use it all the time. "I love ice cream." "I love the Sooners." "I love naps." It's a common word. People stress about who says it first in a relationship, and whether or not it's said too soon. I know someone who said "I love you" to a guy after <i>1 week</i> of dating. Little bit ridiculous. But anyway... what does the word "love" mean?? What does it look like to love our parents? Our siblings? Our coworkers? Our friends?<br />
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Today's culture would have us believe that love is what makes us feel good. "Being in love" is desirable because it makes us happy. Loving someone means that you want to bee with them all the time, that they make you feel good. (This goes for friendships and family members, as well as for romantic relationships.) But, this version of love is shallow and deceptive. What happens when a person you "love" has a habit that really grates on your nerves? Like biting their nails... or crunching on ice really loudly... or ALWAYS putting the toilet paper facing "the wrong way" on the roller? Or what if they just really tick you off? What if they hurt you? What if they betray you? Obviously, none of these things make you feel good. So, according to the world... you don't love them any more. Because they aren't giving you that "warm fuzzy" feeling. And that feeling is love... Isn't it?<br />
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Luckily for us poor screwed up humans, Jesus' view of love isn't nearly this shallow. His version of love is <i>selfless</i> instead of selfish. Jesus' version of love included a LOT of giving. In fact, He ended up giving His <i>life</i>, the most precious possession humans have (John 15:13). This concept of selflessness flies in the face of everything our culture tries to tell us about love. <a href="http://www.joshharris.com/">Josh Harris</a> writes, "The world takes us to a silver screen on which flickering images of passion and romance play, and as we watch, the world says, 'This is love.' God takes us to the foot of a tree on which a naked and bloodied man hangs and says, '<i>This</i> is love.'"<br />
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Oh, how He <a href="http://oldestarrow.blogspot.com/2010/09/prodigal.html">loves us.</a> He gave us everything, and we deserved none of it. So... How are we, as followers of Christ, supposed to respond to this love??<br />
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As humans, we naturally express love for something by worshipping it--by giving it worth. If you're a Sooner fan, this means you wear the crimson and cream, and you scream like crazy when OU gets a touchdown. If you're a Josh Turner fan (or whoever your favorite band/music artist is), you buy their album the minute it comes out on iTunes. If you're a COD fan, you stay up til 5 AM playing it. You devote a lot of time and energy to what you love--you give it worth. So how do we worship God? Well... what gives God worth? John 14:15: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments." So... WORSHIP IS OBEDIENCE. And obedience is worship. Nothing else counts as worship. If we raise our hands and sing and get all emotional over the worship music on Sunday mornings, and then don't tithe... we're not worshipping. If we only listen to Christian music but then refuse to admit we're wrong when we hurt someone... we're not worshipping. If we read our Bibles 364 days out of the year and then talk negatively about people we don't like... Yep, you guessed it. We're not worshipping. I Samuel 15:22 says, "Then Samuel said: Does the Lord take pleasure in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? Look: to obey is better than sacrifice, to pay attention is better than the fat of rams." God feels loved when we obey Him.<br />
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Now, I'm an oldest child. I've always struggled with obedience. And God's version of obedience is especially hard for me. You see, God almost NEVER tells me WHY He wants me to do something. He just says to do it. I really, really don't like this. I want to know why God tells me to do something, and I want to know exactly what's going to happen if I do it. But that's not how God works. We will never know <i>why</i> we are told to do something until we do it. "It's in the obedience that we find the why." (Andy Harrison) As <b><i>followers</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> of Christ, we are called to do "the next thing." We don't get to know the whole story, at least not right now. We're just called to obey him by taking the next step.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">And here's the thing: if you love God, you <i>want</i> to obey him. This doesn't mean it's easy--but the desire to do what God wants becomes the most important thing in your life. <a href="http://www.ednewton.org/">Ed Newton</a> says, "If you're trying to earn God's approval through obedience, [His commands] are burdensome. It's when you obey God because of love that His commands are not a burden." This makes sense. If a friend calls you randomly and asks a favor, chances are you're more than willing to help them out. If a random person walks up to you and says you <i>owe</i> them that same favor... you're not going to be as happy about doing it. You'll probably hate every second of it, and do as little as you can possibly get away with. If we see God as the big Rule-Maker in the sky, we're not exactly going to be looking for ways to show love to Him. But if we see Him as the Lover of our souls... then we begin to pursue Him with <i>everything </i>that we are.</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">If I'm going to show love to God... That means He gets everything. No "buts" or "exceptions." He gets my car, my friends, my clothes, my music, my computer, my Facebook, my relationships, my plans, and my paycheck. And anything else you can think of. God is worthy of <i>everything</i> that I have. A few weeks ago my pastor said, "If there's anything in your life that you wouldn't be willing to give up if God asked for it--it needs to go." Because if you're not willing to give something up for God--then what are you saying is most valuable to you?</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>"We love because He first loved us." 1 John 4:19</i></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"> </div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-10183146142724847252011-06-25T16:43:00.000-07:002011-06-25T16:43:26.894-07:00Random Stuff About MeHey y'all. It's been awhile. I have a few blog topics I'm semi-working on right now, but for today, I thought I'd do something a little different and post a few random facts about myself. You know, sort of like the whole Facebook "25 Random things" craze a year or so ago. Also, if you have any questions you'd like me to answer, or topics you think I should write about, let me know in the comments!! Please!!!<div><br />
</div><div>*My favorite flowers are daisies and roses. I can't pick between the two. But, I'm not a huge fan of colored daisies, only the white ones. Also, red roses are the BEST. Pink ones are ok, and any other color pretty much doesn't count.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOV4ZFHyC63rzXC_TGJccSKh8ka0r-AQ2XUAwhp4Z52lXRp70iisFrALhQAhbuaiQKtJJ3rpP7NhElRiAM_dnx6bi0AhDluCFQ5MjcDrPz9AqM6ylKUbAVkYzicxYoRJETpIj3FflHmyE/s1600/DSCN1877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOV4ZFHyC63rzXC_TGJccSKh8ka0r-AQ2XUAwhp4Z52lXRp70iisFrALhQAhbuaiQKtJJ3rpP7NhElRiAM_dnx6bi0AhDluCFQ5MjcDrPz9AqM6ylKUbAVkYzicxYoRJETpIj3FflHmyE/s320/DSCN1877.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
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</div><div>*I love to drive. If gas was free, I might just get in my car and drive all day.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*My favorite gems are pearls and sapphires. Diamonds are so cliche. Haha. Also, white gold is much classier than yellow gold.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxKVD-2CL_7cgKcZsTr0-Jax2OiW83l6aTlDWM2frRaNivn7wQYVfBI_gfcjv0a_wBG-lWZfCD0HWmbHDcVvuRQyBweK-3EwMz_1CDu2dCaFTtCmY6tcSgnYJvIbHngA9nmsFzS6iy6Y/s1600/Jade_White_Pearl_necklace_Sapphires_pendant_Earring.jpg_200x200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxKVD-2CL_7cgKcZsTr0-Jax2OiW83l6aTlDWM2frRaNivn7wQYVfBI_gfcjv0a_wBG-lWZfCD0HWmbHDcVvuRQyBweK-3EwMz_1CDu2dCaFTtCmY6tcSgnYJvIbHngA9nmsFzS6iy6Y/s1600/Jade_White_Pearl_necklace_Sapphires_pendant_Earring.jpg_200x200.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div>*I LOVE my middle name. Especially with my first name. "Rachel Elizabeth" means "God's consecrated lamb." How cool is that?? (This is one of my future blog topics.)</div><div><br />
</div><div>*My pet peeves: people who smell bad. People who aren't real. Gray areas. People who think they know everything.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*Things I wish I was better at: dancing. Basketball. Talking to people. Keeping my temper.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*One of my favorite things to do is walk around outside and just look around me. At night, during the day, in the city, or in my neighborhood--I love it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*I love singing, and I love to dance. I'm only good at the first one though.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*My favorite Disney princesses are Ariel and Aurora. (I'm really bad at picking just one favorite thing--not sure if you noticed that....)</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNNXfbOmUbg9zEyIJL61qQYHmcFOEhscP8B6Cy3Sexi9JyXENBzaAbiXrsrnwWpcvMU8ofne662hRDgzu5p9MmqXit0kop975SQ9iqIYTwa0tcLyfIK6PNVaczquwuvH88k09YgdP7jY/s1600/ariel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNNXfbOmUbg9zEyIJL61qQYHmcFOEhscP8B6Cy3Sexi9JyXENBzaAbiXrsrnwWpcvMU8ofne662hRDgzu5p9MmqXit0kop975SQ9iqIYTwa0tcLyfIK6PNVaczquwuvH88k09YgdP7jY/s320/ariel.jpg" width="294" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKohxf53GzFYTkLhGP-_8jUODXfk9GsaDIWvl33iW-lfFy1cLPIcGnKCK9PLvP_aVgiB705bvrH7VnAbglRwOeo4tst_iUQ2UeEhbW51CqXma1r0ymYjqIYnpi8s7W_-nCzgpQp3UggU/s1600/Sleeping-Beauty-disney-princess-203546_794_615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKohxf53GzFYTkLhGP-_8jUODXfk9GsaDIWvl33iW-lfFy1cLPIcGnKCK9PLvP_aVgiB705bvrH7VnAbglRwOeo4tst_iUQ2UeEhbW51CqXma1r0ymYjqIYnpi8s7W_-nCzgpQp3UggU/s320/Sleeping-Beauty-disney-princess-203546_794_615.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>*Favorite smells: cologne. (If you're a good smelling guy, you're automatically attractive. Seriously.) Bacon! haha. Clean laundry. Summer thunderstorms. Cucumbers.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*I love country music. All you people that hate it are just wrong. End of story. Haha.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div>*If I'm in the car and I know the words to the song playing, I'm singing along. Unless someone else is in the car with me. Then I have to remind myself to be quiet.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>*I <b>love </b>shoes. But, my favorite pair is my black Old Navy flip flops. Go figure.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*Someday I'm going to get an Australian terrier and name him Hemsworth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmwL_f8xCCAc271yG-IxHtosWwtVGCbtuB3_O2aVcnW4Gg3lv6cCas8El1AyC_8yqPLTtEnmpRNY7kSQCVaE0d9ilUBU9yqXdaP0sb2_iPnjehBsSsaH9Zfde9jq0Jnfk9KGgkSdC4ag/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmwL_f8xCCAc271yG-IxHtosWwtVGCbtuB3_O2aVcnW4Gg3lv6cCas8El1AyC_8yqPLTtEnmpRNY7kSQCVaE0d9ilUBU9yqXdaP0sb2_iPnjehBsSsaH9Zfde9jq0Jnfk9KGgkSdC4ag/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>*Boomer Sooner!!! and Thunder up!!! Other than that, I don't really watch sports.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYx8Pn9HLc19OVR__FVmWga64pNf5sSD-J180lxdPmSxNMLkoAsJEJcQhDW6ABnVQPR56N9jF_TzLenzYW2alZz8vg4LSZTC7TT-AYm4ljkI76cMB3rW5RdU1IM9tA4aBYdwbdTPfh8yA/s1600/EVTOKC_Thunder_NBA_BasketballOklahoma-City-Thunder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYx8Pn9HLc19OVR__FVmWga64pNf5sSD-J180lxdPmSxNMLkoAsJEJcQhDW6ABnVQPR56N9jF_TzLenzYW2alZz8vg4LSZTC7TT-AYm4ljkI76cMB3rW5RdU1IM9tA4aBYdwbdTPfh8yA/s200/EVTOKC_Thunder_NBA_BasketballOklahoma-City-Thunder.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssTIcW9mjJOmnOUKJaWo3InTCVB-MZOhP645ig3lxf72YsfLo9kJcSEulDAJdcSbyIO5xo8RA7jRP6KSTjP74eLCYROTlrMSUVUXKxtd_VVyWdK6RoKc3S9T_7C2paOf9xhqQBXAy8jg/s1600/20051228052457%2521OU-Logo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssTIcW9mjJOmnOUKJaWo3InTCVB-MZOhP645ig3lxf72YsfLo9kJcSEulDAJdcSbyIO5xo8RA7jRP6KSTjP74eLCYROTlrMSUVUXKxtd_VVyWdK6RoKc3S9T_7C2paOf9xhqQBXAy8jg/s200/20051228052457%2521OU-Logo.PNG" width="145" /></a></div><div>* I hate baseball. </div><div><br />
</div><div>*I worked at Chick-fil-A for over 3 years. When I quit, I swore I wouldn't eat there any more. Now it's my favorite fast food restaurant. Of course.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_FeBivUGMV0sKacsbsU5jLk5gQgrNyq6a6fNg7J4RGpv1DwRA5eF-U73de92r8J21S3DTp6o_7dJbfiiPvrTLPSE2Pv80URKoP0pgqn-XD2S9j_s2gh1NBJFrTc7iaY4x6ec8vbBZQM/s1600/chick-fil-a-original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_FeBivUGMV0sKacsbsU5jLk5gQgrNyq6a6fNg7J4RGpv1DwRA5eF-U73de92r8J21S3DTp6o_7dJbfiiPvrTLPSE2Pv80URKoP0pgqn-XD2S9j_s2gh1NBJFrTc7iaY4x6ec8vbBZQM/s320/chick-fil-a-original.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>*I should've been born in the 50's. People were so classy back then. I want to be Grace Kelly.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEIPrU8xqqEqIHv8eY_oX9py-ziIPYumfOEuOy1Q-ChKZehq8uq4khJW1f9Oi4buKgQY92_H9A-xMSs9ac3ZwAdPI952ExJyiRJnOPT568WAMtichsdGCoaY4UHrgX50NImCm6W6KwOU/s1600/grace_kelly_pearls_300x377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEIPrU8xqqEqIHv8eY_oX9py-ziIPYumfOEuOy1Q-ChKZehq8uq4khJW1f9Oi4buKgQY92_H9A-xMSs9ac3ZwAdPI952ExJyiRJnOPT568WAMtichsdGCoaY4UHrgX50NImCm6W6KwOU/s1600/grace_kelly_pearls_300x377.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-31270971853734356132011-06-06T16:45:00.000-07:002011-06-06T18:22:50.304-07:00Earning Approval<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So, I haven't posted in over a month. I fail at life. My excuse: for the past two weeks I've been enjoying my summer, and the two weeks before that I was taking finals and all that fun stuff.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You know, I’ve been doing the “Christian thing” my whole life. I grew up in church. While I’ve genuinely become a follower of Christ (You can read my story </span></span><a href="http://oldestarrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-story.html"><span style="color: #001ee6; text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">here</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">), it’s been a struggle for me not to be a sort of modern-day Pharisee. Paul says he was a “Hebrew born of Hebrews” (Phil. 3:5). Well, I’ve always been a “Southern Baptist born of Southern Baptists.” I was the kid who memorized the most Bible verses. I sang in the choir, went on mission trips, and when I got older I helped out in VBS and Awana. Now, I can honestly say that most of the time, I wasn’t doing these things just so everyone would look at me and say, “Oh, she’s such a good Christian.” I also knew that I couldn’t earn my way into heaven or anything like that—only Jesus’ blood is sufficient to cover my sin. But, at the same time, I never felt like God was satisfied with just me. I felt like I had to be the best at whatever I did, or I was failing God. I beat myself up if I was anything less than perfect—so, I beat myself up over everything.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I’m not sure why I did this. Maybe it was because I had a false salvation experience before I actually came to know Christ. So, I felt a kind of need to “prove” that my second experience was real. After all, when Jesus comes into your life he makes a change, right? And I became a follower of Christ when I was 9. It’s not like I had been on drugs, or sleeping around, or anything like that. I didn’t have a “cool” testimony where Jesus had completely changed everything about me. So, maybe I felt the need to do all these good things just to affirm that I was really a Christian.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As I got older, my love for Jesus grew. I started singing in choir and helping out at church because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to. But at the same time, I never felt like I was good enough. I just stopped trying so hard to be good, and just enjoyed myself. I did grow closer to God—I wasn’t backsliding or anything like that. I just always had this part of me that felt like God was never quite satisfied with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In February 2010, I was a group leader at my church’s DiscipleNow weekend. The speaker was A.T. Hargrave. During one of the sessions, he said something that shifted my own little paradigm. He was talking about how the Holy Spirit fills and guides us once we have chosen to follow Christ, and how our actions are supposed to reflect that. Then he talked about our motivation for acting as Christ would. Our motivation is supposed to be love, not obligation. We don’t need to earn God’s approval.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The way he put it was, “</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">God doesn’t want your works—before OR after salvation.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I thought, “Oh. I get it. That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” I’d been thinking that if I did enough, gave enough, said enough, then God would be proud of me. But He’s already proud of me. He loves me now, not after I’ve confessed every single sin I can think of. Not after I’ve led someone to Christ. Not after I’ve written a big check to my church. He loves me now. He’s proud of me now. And He </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">approves</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> of me now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">While that was a “stepping stone” of sorts in my walk with Jesus, it’s come up again and again. I’ve especially been dealing with it lately. This morning in my quiet time I was reading John 16. Jesus is headed to the Garden of Gethsemane , about to be arrested, tried, and crucified. So He’s giving His disciples as much information as He possibly can about what’s coming. He compares what’s about to happen to a woman in labor, saying “When a woman is in labor she has pain because her time has come. But when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the suffering because of the joy that a person has been born into the world. So you also have sorrow now. But I will see you again. Your hearts will rejoice, and no one will rob you of your joy. In that day you will not ask Me anything.” (vv. 21-23a).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then He tells them, “I assure you: Anything you ask the Father in My name, He will give you. Until now you have asked for nothing in My name. Ask and you will receive, that your joy may be complete.” (vv. 23b-24).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I paused after I read that. “Anything you ask… He will give you.” What did I want to ask for? I started crying as I prayed, “God, I know you love me. But I don’t feel like it. I don’t feel like I please you, or that I’m accepted by You. Your word says that I’m covered by Your blood, that I’m holy, and that You love me. Please just let me feel that God. I want to know it and not just keep telling myself it over and over. I’m asking this in Your Son’s name, God.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And then, a few verses later, I read this:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“For the Father Himself loves you, because you have loved Me and have believed that I came from God.” (v. 27).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And a few verses later:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Yet I [Jesus] am not alone, because the Father is with Me. I have told you these things so that </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">in Me you may have peace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have overcome the world.” (vv. 32b-33, emphasis added).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">God is so good. Did you catch that?? First, I got a word-for-word assurance that God loves me, not because of what I do, but because I have a relationship with His Son. Next, God says that He wants me to have peace. He doesn’t want me to live in doubt of Him and His love. He told me exactly what I needed to hear. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He is always faithful. And He accepts me just as I am, because I’m His child. No works necessary.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Apple Casual';"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-66650392101252271692011-05-05T19:06:00.000-07:002011-05-05T19:13:09.888-07:00Dialect VlogOk, this is yet another idea I stole from <a href="http://www.meandmysoldierman.blogspot.com/2011/01/dialect-vlog.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">meandmysoldierman</span></a>... It's a really fun idea! Here's the deal: you record yourself saying various words, and then answer questions. The answers to the questions will differ depending on where you're from. So... Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/HggbBOh_rVc/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HggbBOh_rVc?f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HggbBOh_rVc?f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Here's a list of the words and questions:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Aunt, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Route, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Wash, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Oil, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Theater, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Iron, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Salmon, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Caramel, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Fire, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Water, Su</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">re, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Data, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ruin, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Crayon, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Toilet, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">New Orleans, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pecan, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Both, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Again, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Probably, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Spitting image, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Alabama, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Lawyer, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Coupon, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Mayonnaise, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Syrup, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pajamas, </span>Caught</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call gym shoes?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you say to address a group of people?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call your grandparents?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 22.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What is the thing you change the TV channel with?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What do you call the thing women carry all their stuff in?</span><o:p></o:p></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-80388670876625110902011-05-03T18:33:00.000-07:002011-05-03T18:33:54.715-07:00Texting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><!--StartFragment--> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Texting—isn’t it weird to think that our parents never had it? It’s such a fundamental part of our culture now. If you don’t have it, you’re outdated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Texting is also controversial—people have all heard about texting during class, texting and driving, and even sexting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure I could fill several posts talking about each of these topics, but for now I’m sticking with a different angle—how texting affects our relationships (and also our time).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was a little late to the “texting party.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got texting the summer after I graduated from high school—about 2 years after most of my friends did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t text much at first…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiI1PlYVemiOyLAw_IOV4UPMnrHniRYm79-rpu7pkd8j2a2hEOegafIfsZtX0QRb5M2NsJNaFFo6GbhxNUvX5-8GRfpXXtBd8ARcfccX2gY7d2NU4V3eMssz8JfIRTjrqLPnBwt5U9pc/s1600/DSCN3784.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiI1PlYVemiOyLAw_IOV4UPMnrHniRYm79-rpu7pkd8j2a2hEOegafIfsZtX0QRb5M2NsJNaFFo6GbhxNUvX5-8GRfpXXtBd8ARcfccX2gY7d2NU4V3eMssz8JfIRTjrqLPnBwt5U9pc/s320/DSCN3784.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">(This is a highly professional graph I made at work the other day.)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then, I started talking to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Boy</b>, and the number of texts I sent/received looked like this:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxF-q-b5XJPzmmPX2jtfiMj2pAeLILnUvpalwU7NlqxVKsC15x0WCsNmMKwwUrhx298MbhYM6AOx0xo2AnksNq5FscQpmCv-qsDhge_kGaAXxJFGFBrZUS3TmjZT87ooo4DQZYNDmJZ0/s1600/DSCN3786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxF-q-b5XJPzmmPX2jtfiMj2pAeLILnUvpalwU7NlqxVKsC15x0WCsNmMKwwUrhx298MbhYM6AOx0xo2AnksNq5FscQpmCv-qsDhge_kGaAXxJFGFBrZUS3TmjZT87ooo4DQZYNDmJZ0/s320/DSCN3786.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(sorry, it's a little blurry. The note says, "Started texting Boy! :D")</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Boy</b> and I started dating…</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitERry88LDRG0eER3lYcKR8JhU5Wn-0uYP9FWdxW3Kxs8bHnlkEPL1KY5y6WJzJJyGn4mE06yWdnCX8LLwG7FZd57gUEq8FXqUQK5BqRQQvmdGNgyZSpwayDGGoN449f7ON8pCkU3pg2Q/s1600/DSCN3787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitERry88LDRG0eER3lYcKR8JhU5Wn-0uYP9FWdxW3Kxs8bHnlkEPL1KY5y6WJzJJyGn4mE06yWdnCX8LLwG7FZd57gUEq8FXqUQK5BqRQQvmdGNgyZSpwayDGGoN449f7ON8pCkU3pg2Q/s320/DSCN3787.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">…and then we broke up.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4i_IH7N0a7DAIwjNAi_FUJeU3ViwJHucRJJA4z3pwNRuKCf5X5sLmKjlPTQRdztk6OW3GjCvxwr_p6k_fSx9UYF8AMfz5nfwT8hCveWUwbPckP8j-aKenrOW0lW-f59fu9YaQK2Gin0/s1600/DSCN3788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4i_IH7N0a7DAIwjNAi_FUJeU3ViwJHucRJJA4z3pwNRuKCf5X5sLmKjlPTQRdztk6OW3GjCvxwr_p6k_fSx9UYF8AMfz5nfwT8hCveWUwbPckP8j-aKenrOW0lW-f59fu9YaQK2Gin0/s320/DSCN3788.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Seriously, I didn't text anyone when we first broke up. I didn't want to talk to anyone else, and I sure couldn't talk to him anymore. It was ridiculous, but more on that later...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not very long after the breakup, <b>Boy</b> and I talked about maybe, possibly getting back together, and my texts went up again...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2avQt-lBoWc4CzhLQKDEFj0htX8bucJzQtPvI3sa3q4ilwoBJKiJW6YC1T_SB2hjUmo7xiH4rku1e_6PDBh_xZgHZpZ2w7XiQV14SD4FbLMugDsM6c76-E2O-kDG0CeqjIqCwPf54gIE/s1600/DSCN3789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2avQt-lBoWc4CzhLQKDEFj0htX8bucJzQtPvI3sa3q4ilwoBJKiJW6YC1T_SB2hjUmo7xiH4rku1e_6PDBh_xZgHZpZ2w7XiQV14SD4FbLMugDsM6c76-E2O-kDG0CeqjIqCwPf54gIE/s320/DSCN3789.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>...But it didn't work out. Back down to (almost) zero.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBc9OadxIiXCB7g9Y522w2iMP5wPfKMre42NLG0Srl3ht9a9OXyYiMTrRlAoPBvaBgqRC86_VmpjVI2lII2oR-b1i_fs70zN6mVmoZaZURAAFHvFOiClhK-AcWkpxfATGa0jnEbQsfT0/s1600/DSCN3790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBc9OadxIiXCB7g9Y522w2iMP5wPfKMre42NLG0Srl3ht9a9OXyYiMTrRlAoPBvaBgqRC86_VmpjVI2lII2oR-b1i_fs70zN6mVmoZaZURAAFHvFOiClhK-AcWkpxfATGa0jnEbQsfT0/s320/DSCN3790.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> This is roughly how much I text now.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7Fg4j19bU7-MFfbyVu4r3q-IGVrIo6U7x_RbMRx6ROM3kY_w-M6gHtm3_i9K4fE_Uv7iKwZI2f_dRlxvZlPOg-GNy8wtCp0qjEq9Yh1_jSwmYPwkOEtII8UdSZrZgtUMWFRcnXUEHMY/s1600/DSCN3791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7Fg4j19bU7-MFfbyVu4r3q-IGVrIo6U7x_RbMRx6ROM3kY_w-M6gHtm3_i9K4fE_Uv7iKwZI2f_dRlxvZlPOg-GNy8wtCp0qjEq9Yh1_jSwmYPwkOEtII8UdSZrZgtUMWFRcnXUEHMY/s320/DSCN3791.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> And here's the whole graph:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Yb4clBVjwF4h9iFxOtQOvWR5GXrs-dvzX7M03S-E27fjb1AV-FnHFhRxAxFltDRy3lcf87vjKo3HCdgffAsWQGTHyRzKGNBGPUlpSz5Mur-WVr7yVg6aesPJsJKwPdczDl_enES2L8Q/s1600/DSCN3792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Yb4clBVjwF4h9iFxOtQOvWR5GXrs-dvzX7M03S-E27fjb1AV-FnHFhRxAxFltDRy3lcf87vjKo3HCdgffAsWQGTHyRzKGNBGPUlpSz5Mur-WVr7yVg6aesPJsJKwPdczDl_enES2L8Q/s320/DSCN3792.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok, I know my graph is corny/dumb/whatever. But it was my life, and I learned a few lessons from it..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">First of all--and this might not apply to anyone but me--for awhile I let my worth be determined by how many texts I was getting, and from how many people. When I first broke up with <b>Boy</b>, I wasn't getting any texts, and I felt like no one in the whole world cared about me. Which is ridiculous. But I totally bought into that lie <i>because</i> I let my value be defined by how many people wanted to talk to me. According to Christ, my value lies in the fact that I have been created by God and redeemed by Christ's blood. I have to remind myself this; not only when I'm not getting texts, but also on days when I mess up, don't feel pretty, say stupid things, and don't measure up to other people's expectations of me. On days like that, I have to remind myself that not only am I a princess, but God Himself <b><i>chose</i> </b>me! So, the fact that I don't get a lot of texts means nothing at all...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Second, <b>Boy</b> and I texted about <i>everything</i>. We rarely talked on the phone, and our face-to-face communication was even more limited. Now, for the first part of our relationship, we were roughly 1500 miles apart because I was going to school in New York. So, a lot of the communication <i>had</i> to be over text. Plus, texting is just easier when you're busy. Still, it got to where we were a lot more comfortable texting each other than we were talking to each other. It was so bad, that whenever I was with him, I would think of something and then think, "Oh, I'll text him about that later." How sad is that??? I would be willing to bet that over 85% of our fights happened over text. This is one of my biggest regrets about that relationship. I've made a rule that in my next relationship, and also when talking to my friends, <i>anything</i> important--good or bad--will be said face to face. If that's not possible, I'll call them. One of the flaws of texting is that it's black-and-white--there's no tone of voice, or facial expression/body language, so it's a <b>lot</b> easier for misunderstandings to occur. This caused a lot of fights in the relationship. Lesson very much learned.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, that's my point of view on texting. What's yours??</div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-33283597074568788582011-04-18T21:34:00.000-07:002011-04-18T21:34:00.469-07:00GivingSo, God has been working on my heart about going on a foreign mission trip for awhile now. I've loved mission trips ever since my first one in 7th grade, but I've never had the opportunity to go out of the country, to another culture. It always seems like the money just doesn't work out.<br />
I feel really blessed, because I've been taught from an early age that my money belongs to God. When I got my first babysitting job in 7th grade, 10% went to the church. My parents told me that's just what you do with your money, and surprisingly, I never had a problem with it. They told me that God blesses faithfulness in giving, and I believed them. Ten percent wasn't much anyway...<br />
Then, when I was about 16, I got my first job. Minimum wage was $5.15 then, and I worked maybe 8 hours a week. I was going to play basketball at CHA, but since I was a homeschooler, it was going to cost me around $300. Plus, I was going to get my license soon, which meant paying for insurance as well. My parents wanted me to save about half of everything I earned (for college, a car, etc.), so I didn't have a lot of "extra" money. Then, my junior year, I took economics with Coach Kufahl at CHA. At the very beginning of the semester, we read a little book called <i>The Treasure Principle</i> by Randy Alcorn. The book talked a lot about investing long-term--as in, eternally. God will always provide enough for our needs today; we just need to trust Him with our finances, and focus on the Kingdom of God rather than getting a pile of "stuff" for ourselves.<br />
As I read, I felt God speaking to me. I had really been stressing about how much basketball and my insurance was going to cost, and I had no idea where that was going to come from. I knew God was telling me to trust Him with my hard-earned money. I also knew that this trust couldn't just be words--I had to back it up with actions. I felt like I needed to start giving an extra 5% along with my regular tithe. Now, I know that doesn't sound like much, but to me it was a huge deal. I prayed about it and asked God to confirm this if it was what He wanted. (Funny how I have no problem rushing into something <i>I </i>want, but if it's something I think God wants--I'd better take my time and make sure!) The next morning, my quiet time was about the rich young ruler (Matthew 19:16-30). So, that was settled.<br />
I gave 15% of my next paycheck. That week, I found out that someone (I still don't know who) had completely paid for my basketball. I also found out that my car insurance was going to be half of the original estimate. I relearned an old lesson--If we are faithful, God meets our needs.<br />
At the beginning of this year I read <i>Crazy Love</i> (Francis Chan) and <i>Radical</i> (David Platt) within two weeks of each other. Now, both of these books are pretty challenging on their own, but together... whew! My budget, and my life, got rearranged again. Reading these, I decided that when I die, I want to be remembered for how I gave. Not as far as big numbers go--God doesn't need my "millions" or my "thousands" or even my "dollars." He wants my heart, my time, and my love. Sure, that includes my money. But it also includes my car, my phone, my computer, my education, my clothes--all my stuff. He has given me each of these things in order that I may bring Him glory with them. I want to be someone who gives out of everything I have been given. And part of that means giving of myself and going out to love His people. So, I'm probably going to be rearranging my budget again very soon, so that I can start saving for a mission trip. God will provide--He always has and always will. Could y'all pray that I will be completely obedient to everything He wants me to do? Thanks :)<br />
<br />
<i>"No one can settle how much we ought to give. I'm afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare."--C.S. Lewis</i>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-45158340696675180912011-04-12T18:49:00.000-07:002011-04-12T18:49:34.417-07:00Stuff in My PurseI stole this idea from <a href="http://www.meandmysoldierman.blogspot.com/">meandmysoldierman</a>, but I happen to know that she got it from someone else so I'm sure she won't care! Basically, what you do is take EVERYTHING out of your purse and take a picture of it--you can't leave anything out and you can't add anything. I'm one of those girls that carries everything in my purse--or if it won't fit, I carry it in my backpack (like, say, deoderant). So...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRc4Qy-D0XxYOHfHrEm3V4RoAzXerP_wGH4TvVmXfU1MEO4KqFi3lX_n2zXRl5bD98lotFt8O6Xlu6xlteBlOx9kfSMh3AfavrSVp5okShDZCUYUoTXxvcKoPmOLGbBhgNeYxEcqKVnA/s1600/DSCN3781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRc4Qy-D0XxYOHfHrEm3V4RoAzXerP_wGH4TvVmXfU1MEO4KqFi3lX_n2zXRl5bD98lotFt8O6Xlu6xlteBlOx9kfSMh3AfavrSVp5okShDZCUYUoTXxvcKoPmOLGbBhgNeYxEcqKVnA/s400/DSCN3781.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is my purse. My wonderful brother got it for me for Christmas. I told him I wanted it to be a color that went with a lot, and that it shouldn't, under ANY circumstances, be brown. He did good :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjmZJuUNbdAYJRKcBMFTlv2kFV-ekClEwB48n1X3Kmj1kGoP0fHgHYeHfxUno6KULg9tAbY8L_GEhRgFSGXUKd2XrcMl0ae17U7xwYAuA-PWxAu6oAQyUzJFDFgkmbzeCkW7RG2reO1Q/s1600/DSCN3776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjmZJuUNbdAYJRKcBMFTlv2kFV-ekClEwB48n1X3Kmj1kGoP0fHgHYeHfxUno6KULg9tAbY8L_GEhRgFSGXUKd2XrcMl0ae17U7xwYAuA-PWxAu6oAQyUzJFDFgkmbzeCkW7RG2reO1Q/s400/DSCN3776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These are my "absolutely necessary no matter what" items. Keys, cell phone, Burt's Bees, and sunglasses. And, it HAS to be Burt's Bees--it's the best!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCsYok9xDV_PPvmKRFhJFZ29ZxoLNBlOWYH6n50g0aN8kg3jbkG6ePzedwjF4xAGzkPPL88B0JWS-m21FQ0FuycAAdAF_fjqDAJT3j_Cb3AkWpRMOZlEgglx7OggNLzsT4ZxCR2UnQTc/s1600/DSCN3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCsYok9xDV_PPvmKRFhJFZ29ZxoLNBlOWYH6n50g0aN8kg3jbkG6ePzedwjF4xAGzkPPL88B0JWS-m21FQ0FuycAAdAF_fjqDAJT3j_Cb3AkWpRMOZlEgglx7OggNLzsT4ZxCR2UnQTc/s400/DSCN3777.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Glasses--I hate them but I need them. Cheap hand lotion--NOT scented--not sure why, but I've never liked the scented kind. Orbit--normally I like the sweet mint or the peach, but WalMart was out of both, so I got the whitening kind. Wallet--crammed full of ids, my debit card, random business cards, and gift cards with like 37 cents left on them. Notepad--I'm a list-maker.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyqcgAYAD2_kjJrQUgep5ulPw7wWSTSr5MtMBxqjUoW2f21ToAtnQ8w9LJcSJKmvA6NYA3eWCRsyAAek8_yVUGQUKApKD3GE2lTxybmh4lJS6ubn8WBmObabTRoB3n9a1f1ZSXM2DoVY/s1600/DSCN3778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEyqcgAYAD2_kjJrQUgep5ulPw7wWSTSr5MtMBxqjUoW2f21ToAtnQ8w9LJcSJKmvA6NYA3eWCRsyAAek8_yVUGQUKApKD3GE2lTxybmh4lJS6ubn8WBmObabTRoB3n9a1f1ZSXM2DoVY/s400/DSCN3778.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Drugs--Advil and Tylenol, I keep them in 1 bottle because it saves space. More Burt's Bees--I'm telling you, I'm an addict. Checkbook--I'm like the only person I know that's under 30 and writes checks. Calendar--I don't use it much, but you never know. Camera case--usually the camera's in it, but obviously I had to take the picture with it. Pens--Between my purse and my backpack, I could probably supply a good-sized classroom with these.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1SF7c_I6fttYMNTjAF_YuHln9-g0Vq6XI4DJ7IdTTkCKz8YstwCtXoP7chTfUvb0clK30Xr0FGTsfgE5IUxdYKFKdgU6EIa6SYRkGV7YMcwY0oz3VJN9VRrMcaR63FCqtdhBYydjNRI/s1600/DSCN3779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb1SF7c_I6fttYMNTjAF_YuHln9-g0Vq6XI4DJ7IdTTkCKz8YstwCtXoP7chTfUvb0clK30Xr0FGTsfgE5IUxdYKFKdgU6EIa6SYRkGV7YMcwY0oz3VJN9VRrMcaR63FCqtdhBYydjNRI/s400/DSCN3779.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nail file/case, mascara/eyeliner, a compact mirror, my flash drive, and yet another notepad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC7dGt7aho95RF0aA5hcBiLOSyvVTHZ9C3k89dzuDU0rkd8QS8YS_bh0DHpuL8zrAIu96h08fhyphenhyphen_AjmcgGyrp76omDsMmhSAOqVgd_T2OgQjY329_X4JOq3bn52OMxZS1Ko0VnwsKBHs/s1600/DSCN3780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwC7dGt7aho95RF0aA5hcBiLOSyvVTHZ9C3k89dzuDU0rkd8QS8YS_bh0DHpuL8zrAIu96h08fhyphenhyphen_AjmcgGyrp76omDsMmhSAOqVgd_T2OgQjY329_X4JOq3bn52OMxZS1Ko0VnwsKBHs/s400/DSCN3780.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lip cream (it's like a cross between lipstick and lip gloss), makeup compact, case with random lip glosses and eyeliners that I never really use, a couple of emergency tampons, glasses cleaner, cuticle gel, and nail strengthener. (I basically only use the last 2 things when I'm bored in class! haha)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well there you go... everything in my purse! Girls, what do you carry in yours that I don't? </div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-50949729675652727942011-04-07T21:04:00.000-07:002011-04-07T21:04:56.201-07:00Catching Up...Hey guys! School has been crazy busy, so of course blogging is the first thing to go when it's time to prioritize. This isn't going to be a long post (and possibly a not very coherent one either. I've gotten about 5.5 hours of sleep the past couple of nights). My Daniel diet went pretty well--most of the recipes I made were really good. My favorite was a stir-fry, which I made again with chicken after the diet officially ended. I took pics so I might put it up here sometime in the future. (I'm thinking that between now and the 2nd week of May I probably won't be blogging more than 1 or 2 times a week, if that. Stupid school!) <br />
Speaking of school... I enrolled at MidAmerica last week, and surprisingly, I'm excited about it! I found out that pretty much all I have left is psych classes... 55 hours of them. So, about 2 more years, which is what I expected. I'm REALLY excited to be going back to a Christian school. My experience with public college hasn't been horrible, but it was NOT academic at all. I don't want my education to be boring and easy. I like a challenge. Maybe that's weird, but that's who I am. (And, I know a big part of the problem was the fact that I went to a 2-year college instead of a 4-year college. The expectations are a lot lower.) That said, MidAmerica is quite expensive, and I'm not sure where the money is going to come from! Your prayers for God's provision would be greatly appreciated!<br />
To be honest I wasn't looking forward to enrolling in another school. I was seriously considering just taking my associate's degree and running with it. But I'm not sure that's what God wants for me, and when I went to enroll at MidAmerica, I felt a peace, and even enthusiasm, about going there. At this point I'm leaving it up to God--if He wants me to go, He's got to provide the money. (And if it would be necessary to take out a loan for school... I'm taking that as His "No." I know most people would disagree with me on this but I have several strong reasons for thinking this way... future post possibly??)<br />
All right, well that's what's been up with my life lately. Hopefully I will post again soon!Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-8176453471445280812011-03-20T18:50:00.000-07:002011-03-20T19:41:49.153-07:00Daniel Diet--Making Chapattis<div style="text-align: left;">So for the next 2 weeks, starting tomorrow morning, I'm going on the Daniel Diet. If you haven't heard of it, it's the diet that Daniel and his friends went on in Daniel 1:8-16. It's basically fruit, vegetables, and water. You can't have anything refined, anything with yeast, or anything with added preservatives. No meat or animal products are allowed, and no sweeteners of any kind--not even honey. So, yesterday I went to Wal-Mart and basically bought the entire produce section. (I'm really busy with work and school and church, so I'm trying to pre-make as many meals as possible.) Last night I made chapattis, aka Indian flat bread (to be honest, I'm not sure if that's American Indian or actual Indian flatbread! haha). The recipe is really simple,and they're actually pretty good!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>First, you start out with 2 1/2 cups <b>whole wheat</b> flour and a pinch of salt. At first I tried to sift mine but that doesn't work so well with the whole wheat and I'm pretty sure it's not necessary anyway.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbn5O93KhKN0NHewDPpTs_VGILgO6fcHr1EbbSnfuMvx2o-pDEGv1m9XL5GpPv6TS39M2pC3D6QsDsbx1LPzyat27jAKFPzoTqUG7eUqHqcso3Ehiw_2R-abCRWqsgBIo9P0pZhxzUzwE/s400/DSCN3688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586357410585099986" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Next, add water to the flour and mix with your hands until a soft dough forms. The recipe calls for 2 cups of water but I used around half that much. Knead the dough for 5 minutes, cover with a wet cloth, and refrigerate for an hour.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7uEQcTZUy_QGwGQ4yaLcHf2XAa2QnKnoHr5Fh4x48BYLiRkLGfrU8MroxoMVo93TW0JQDm-nFmOcjAhM-_8udjZNX8mUwJTYeJe0lUOP-jg-gyG2vrv81DnGVCZa6Y-4KRkb24uYsVE/s400/DSCN3691.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586356747028912322" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Heat a cast iron skillet on medium high heat until very hot. (My mom's cast iron skillet was in the attic and I didn't feel like getting it, so I used a regular nonstick skillet. It worked very well.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah8rbm2w_hHNklRpYJ92loMvcBBqvOgaJvP2FuAJs-CdVYwhGZxaqi7lGiq05TzBhZ5lPsK0UuqLDUEvLwBbeQsIXEJuQklqrfkTbMu3LLuruERks05x_cmsIJ0l-q8lsCjk2U3I2sAc/s400/DSCN3689.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586355728031239906" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Pinch off a little over 1/2 of a handful of dough, round it and roll it out. I rolled mine out pretty thin but I think you can make it thicker; you'll just need to cook it longer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcqqrW7rO0v1nOESYdDBzV1Lm81SD0zKFf0tLMVSpd6x61q65qiohg5mcv3tJE0PfOuGD3BzchHWbcwjKt3ZvlGv0uhsWf7BSsGEDiw-5EeUa3y7LI2qyUA8t4OPJdZOTzAvFboxz-U0/s400/DSCN3690.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586354536662426066" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Place a chapatti in the skillet; cook for 1 minute. Flip and cook the other side for 1 minute, pressing with a towel until the chapatti turns brown. (I skipped the towel because I forgot about it--I'm not sure what it's supposed to do anyway??) Since mine were pretty thin, I wound up cooking them about 45 seconds each side. I had it down to an art--I'd throw a chapatti in the skillet and have another rolled out by the time it was time to flip it.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh96FJIpfzZK8aZyLkwVidWOyijgce-bBzFLj4XIhEN_2N7xxFSXDLinYRtheCy00g65Fl7ZsT7CMMPLml_DEgJuui0PBQdBEBaJCiEwmd6aoS2gkK5dWrsAz5fc7paNs1THKXd3QrFEZ8/s400/DSCN3692.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586353509133914866" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGiXAxwZDA46siH7RxMkfhJ2GGA4u3Z4D5i2GnECll07nAx7Xs4IAGnbD6hmbg6jWevFeSMhnBQArDiCvMF_wTE7ErafmhVWUrAU1qeQnChViWQsZPJOW-zDd7RAOQUIXl5umjWx48ig8/s400/DSCN3693.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586351542805356722" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">My first attempt; I cooked it about 30 seconds too long, so it's a chapatti cracker...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD76CIj97q7E0lDeLnv2q1TUqVp1zhW5SOnrNTA7braJeVcFXd1844H00-UQfeTk4RTaNQLgcHK7pGzUQIIbEPG4ouFCcDljH8BVyNmAfdg_X4Yr-JP6_EAVrbC-4eV31HXLDoQkow4cA/s400/DSCN3695.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586351534454087666" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">This is more the right... consistency? Is that the word I'm looking for? Haha.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBc81c5zvRmdp15MrQlU9wX_20SQs67YtMGUDAUrqWN4yfj0ObVtXyChPl2CKXVZSg43wxrqlxcxGKGVvieS9rEt4XyLHJp69JqfNc8hZULrKIFHEvvXMoN1kRhqswx7OG69kV8SH-Mfo/s400/DSCN3697.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586351532502239378" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My plateful of chapattis! The recipe says it makes about 10; mine made 15. (I think that was because I rolled mine out pretty thin.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-36934260821617915212011-03-17T16:38:00.000-07:002011-03-17T17:23:18.587-07:00Favorite Places in NY, part 3: Central Park<div style="text-align: left;">Of all the places I went when I lived in New York, the one I photographed most is Central Park. Whenever I had an afternoon of free time, I loved to walk from 34th St. up 5th Ave to Central Park and "play photographer." Here are some of my pictures--hopefully they'll give you some idea of what it's like, because it's gorgeous!</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 335px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCnMOkXycP33TEeFVrVQLGnmSIBq5VaJqe7nL9SvGQ4vPHIONoDq1w0Rf-DLrVa6J-etlEctRYc6oC0Q6T3VMl9-fjQoYwUZI_ts6_PbHO7g9fDUrb3A4uuDUrgHDT4_vF7dg6aHOJsA/s400/DSCN0344_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200847637976210" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">My favorite bridge.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5espfYPrCyyNoijEDM10DLB1SYugD__1gEF1LCORzMkVbeHiNKNQHO6Zzn9BV8SvcFwy6nLY2p1TNnvyah1OeCBcOYHHqU0TLfy2RKYr8L3cACrasWAXwvygoPO6fu8k-9BSfPww2U9U/s400/DSCN0327.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200839328744146" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sheep's Meadow. (No sheep, just lots of people.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4C2wbuMkelRGQh2xVksEZEGA54Az4FxE2wku1WM7JRvt5VNC-f5qGu09mw4RpeAEjHZTguSnW07fJO9Ef72RtDiU37xiA1e-HdYbtVYUZfCVNW8jQBm3aNSkdfJBhfqFC0E4BdoAclqU/s400/DSCN0323.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200832746391426" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzVlrggPeznR-uWbomeMWIAtxDIZBzrrygH6aHeO1_l6TsL-qRt4zSJpgEUkcb3xrUfH6HZg6YtySGX6BtxMQFr2V9HKiQGNogo_dGHiJ8YbFrDabr9jL50mgaoBzq_Qx3duht89pP58/s400/DSCN0648.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200013294937218" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9IRhzvcuEzIBb4Kk5a8ngglmC-8VNkAW5w2bP-OzG1_YYFKIgwV6Lc9UpiBvbFRvvrthbSHRZtu383ffGV04CQWtu8JuOdkDM7rY4EjqqBeOfZ06jPfBSIH_rzw-YGHFVLIZQ8XraUs/s400/DSCN1707.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200005162761218" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The Carousel. It's over 100 years old. Yes, I've ridden it--I'm 6 at heart.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_eLAGSUHgFXcLA3kDFa3qSKIRcYnqbCW3LbekiySsdEuAgjuJ6Oo12RNNkJYLcBij8rjXdG5oeMtloP3uJdDyBhNLfiuFHJu8wbKTzA8ausw2FXKMtpyFSXYb9hteH8xh8chv4Xz8lw/s400/DSCN1670.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585200003799948418" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Bench. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauRnJtBY9g5Q2KwSVDx-2iFA_tagxRjbZ0H3amn1E192c1s0AaFSAN3zuCgTgxq8gOyytqE_5r9pZF6pJMW4RTSPBPwc62-E2OEPN52M8Qj1Jz0SNTHsLzNfApajDVWV9IJaoWBXk9X4/s400/DSCN0661.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585199993643234098" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVOUul7WarrI0ZNCg6IEn14-dri142nBOBgAUCYK98qo_EXnHY1icO4jM2Wmlk02yK_FhIyDBXDC4KY24uBjNmkobCBJQiMfeufyTSdNJF7XTyqBNEaAyQSL89FDsusrY8SVLWmr_gLU/s400/DSCN1679.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585199991003327170" /></div><div><br /></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-72220443773049502372011-03-15T19:32:00.000-07:002011-03-15T20:05:37.896-07:00Favorite Places in NY, part 2<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ok, so VBS is making me miss the city, big time... I've got to head up there sometime soon!! Here are some more of my favorite spots:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQ1f1NUCIOCQ16cPx1Gs0P-vWyIYz2GW3BzbPq8aEZxsJyvKbSbERbesbJ4Ita5fWLcsN24I3rY80sCfY1dooyY8gnVxUxKCTjMdlJLCLTWkh0IgG92TNYgxtz63NFkCcrmg0g7iRHqI/s400/DSCN1580.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584505778549175570" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">St. Paul's Cathedral: This is right across from Ground Zero. The graveyard is really cool--most of the graves are at least a hundred years old. It's a very pretty spot.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsu089741c9qrwPX2_r4dghOPntOq6PAC-3l3-p9zYsl3xCRHrxEsRUG5wJr3UOcUjLTxGIIodxsVX_d7_HrXZEqDCda-XnaEClDcKMkZwPN3CVPqYzPGgmQXbPNghsEVLtOGLs-2vqRE/s400/DSCN1552.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584504652739677746" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The Majestic Theater! <i>Phantom of the Opera</i> plays here; it's the longest-running show currently on Broadway. (And, in my opinion, the best!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZG3b7IB8geip-uBc0KlbQbMWGBReGZtHhLmafienakmBo5JjmArjH4YC20NqSi9CEm2Iu8TxBUqf_GIk4immJ6rExYIMJBYQ6PGq76dVJbthvC1_S4xwYkqI6gRXY0l_X1fKUccTlKgY/s400/DSCN0835.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584504646699709170" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Most of the stores on 5th Ave. decorate their windows for Christmas. This is a snapshot of one of the windows at Lord & Taylor's. They were all breathtaking.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqq4yEKf3NXcxxm0iZAOpnY8L3RmhKyCjbjvtO54yJ5pIswuKBIMeYEpusxRlV9kp7wgaOaYp18YLsq7CWROyyuYJjDocjd6AmBRejmSiHJHEIr08ciIuBBI6XVhJqMNJNTryzwzXMghA/s400/DSCN1859.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584504638593047778" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Union Square. Almost every Saturday there's a farmer's market. You can buy all kinds of things--produce, of course, but also art and clothes and such. There are also street musicians all over the place.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsK6vd1Pq9_6NmXbZabgzAf85oU6GaPWXscM6xDJs96CbW7uloNRkOCgoVeXlcZuayrYHFvqoRj60mrJwadezbXccckIc8n2SlbVOF0uYDOS1O4Q7mIDQdoXFxFs8mNNiOpJ2qFKOdXc0/s400/DSCN1608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584504629102791826" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Brooklyn Bridge! My favorite bridge, and one of my most favorite places in the city. It's especially gorgeous at night--when you walk out on the bridge and look back, the whole skyline is before you, all lit up and reflected in the water.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAQnLSnShZxWB-2ycEDPEu13fNIARlcKJHgwj74gkFQ-3W9SqcSMiKk2IpiJTv_nbDv9vRWLsJ6Q2E6JX7B7nWW_PyAFS_7UwfbbQcQf2QbRPbr5D-A9CgIXd3vOy-GZ1fKWtL0zE4NtQ/s400/DSCN1571.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584504624217220754" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The Empire State Building. I went there every day for school, and lived less than a block away. This building epitomizes NY for me. This picture was taken from the roof of the guys' apartment building.</div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-38919207561316269062011-03-10T21:45:00.000-08:002011-03-10T22:30:30.836-08:00Favorite Places in NY, part 1<div style="text-align: left;">It's almost Spring Break!!! I'm sooo ready... even though all I'll be doing is helping with Vacation Bible School and working. But, on the bright side, I'll have no homework and no classes, so that's exciting. The theme for VBS this year is the "Big Apple Adventure", so I'm sure it will really make me miss New York :( I'm ready for a trip back there! Here are some pics of my favorite places--This is going to be a 3-part post (with 1 section reserved for Central Park, my absolute favorite place in the world).</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe8Ebadph5DF52uLES3WSjrDLGHO7CUdvVOyQqoO-rqzGuqh-O7_Ha4RHJ05R55oG3eKwXPqzWyIrsI4bFYqoPI2PnSB1nQzO9BcUvsO4e-s9MXQMOefLRRftHz5XKbLoavVB2pJ_kow/s400/DSCN0144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582705380770016706" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Times Square--it's crazy, but that's why I love it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnAXdm9_ROmP4uQs4WPPfLuK8RRYOHy85Lyxj-xzstgsfhOA3HkESZOJh0ZgCYYPQMlbvgTyN3ublOrCjFzWI8QfHaE_GKYFpyyu4VaWqq92GNKh9HnBczKyFzj3culvVqAcVO0OV0DQ/s400/DSCN0293.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582705372357616066" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">This was taken from the trolley/lift from Roosevelt Island to Manhattan.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGrTWpCVtUpVYBDDUeG6XmJgD1r1lAJFwc81vu69FbmZsbiqj8uYE96sgU7VdNWJP4YE1HNC8g4LrlqiPhbchA58mqHVbmdIDUc-vDT9aJ-QZRLfjHitcvJiKpiVRGHZtOSviGEdCaeY/s400/DSCN0723.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582705371460834514" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Powder puff football on Roosevelt Island--great memories :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjo9NbaFEhS9mgCgOxUtLbXGFMoy5KDaLGYozenJdD_sDASFy8Lu04YstjBfcCKZ5FtXCjSncyOYgTvHP1Jq1aqrS6pPMVbKt4lmSjNrU5fo49ciQ9XqrNetM6RZeUz7Q5bUvpPY-KfbI/s400/DSCN0414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582702421260588674" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Herald Square. My apartment building is just to the left of this pic.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRr_Q_ByrTF7WAzZ9SyY4eX7_0sFj_HSEBLZmvZSY9iMaZHoMK0csrmm9glc0NH4G9dXwcj10_d203LSM-izwBX9u-yCffNuR634W7CGBMcrjIKiho8vh13yYEkrQfQVsUkXCD31buwE/s400/DSCN0494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582702418960556354" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Columbus Circle</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjml6frDMIMe2bWZesKuz4kkktWNEBRlL3jh9ZF82rKFqTLqPA4_aJy5JMJyklGS8ujvQW6Qym_18v6eBfzBV2Aafnz7mh3SFRZYPLZhsEHig5bJi-POG80TC9JPi4FNxvivIfuOxmT71o/s400/DSCN0541.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582702416563049362" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Madison Square Park/the Flatiron Building. There are random little tree houses all through this park--just for decoration.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicHoYujzFUgUX8eLDXaaE3N5cAK7aX3A6OuBLVryHet6_a70mpwTjDo3oWebqZVnIIamR0BvPu7bhvP4Cxt3WjDDFXiyPsK_TVYzZPRSDED2KYZ-4rmToUkpDsKn2wMt1tVBJmLiNnhg/s400/DSCN0571.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582702407118348706" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The East River. I came here when I really needed to see the sky.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AWNRA8cFaPp5fb5H8rcotA-0FmtcNCfJSlFtPsOkhAKdmJHMTyXToFFs2dlunGd_oXGX6N1mWO_0o9hR8GAmaceUqJje3u8Dl4lRUdyK0xmjI9qnF1-KpLvS2VhzU5D8Oslv1Y3F-Ac/s400/DSCN0629.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582702403560123042" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Bryant Park. Every winter they pull up all the grass (not shown in this pic) and make it into an ice skating rink, and every spring they re-sod it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-48360617968503845532011-02-25T18:23:00.001-08:002011-02-25T18:23:27.796-08:00My Story<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Ok, school is killing me right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have had zero free time lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m actually rebelling against doing homework right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So anyway…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last night I was talking with 3 very close friends—my sister and two “adopted relatives.” (If you know my family at all you know that we have about 10 of these.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As we were talking, I realized that I had never heard their testimonies, and they had never heard mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>(Of course, I’d heard my sister’s, and she’d heard mine.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So we went around the table and each gave ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a really bonding experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I think it’s kind of crazy—and really sad—that we can hang around with our closest friends all the time and they still may not know the story of what God has done in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So… here’s my testimony, the story of how God has rescued me and forever changed me:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I was 6, my great-grandpa died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone told me that he was in Heaven now, because he had Jesus in his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you didn’t have Jesus in your heart, you went to a really bad place called Hell when you died. I didn’t want to go to Hell, so I walked down the aisle at church one Sunday morning and asked Jesus into my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My life didn’t change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I remember not long after that, my mom told me that I needed to be reading my Bible every morning to hear what God had to say to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I told her I didn’t like reading my Bible—it was boring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She told me that the Bible was God’s word and that if I was God’s child, I should want to hear what He had to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That made me really mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Who was she to question my salvation??</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fast forward 3 years: June 25, 1999.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a Sunday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>During the service, I felt God telling me something:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was not His child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>(I really can’t explain how I knew it was God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But it was completely unmistakable.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This made me mad, and I spent the whole service, especially the invitation, telling God that He was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had “asked Jesus into my heart” when I was 6, so I was going to heaven no matter what. I spent the whole afternoon mad and depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That night, we went back to church for our annual “Starlite” crusade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was rainy, so instead of being outside we had to have it in the auditorium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This was the night that would change my life forever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When the pastor got up to speak, I was riveted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I felt kind of betrayed, like he had read my mind and found the one weakness in my argument with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He preached about repentance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Over and over again, he said that word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Repent. Repent. Repent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had grown up in church, so I knew what it meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>To “repent” literally means to turn around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s walking away from the wrong choices you’ve made, and saying “Never again.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As the pastor spoke, I realized: I had made wrong choices, choices that hurt God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had broken His laws without even caring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I had never, ever told Him that I was sorry, or asked Him to forgive me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I deserved Hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’d spent my whole life in church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was a “good kid.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So I thought that meant I deserved Heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I deserved a relationship with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I deserved to be alone with my mistakes for eternity—without God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>(Side note: That’s what Hell is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s not a place of fire where Satan is king.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s a place of complete darkness and solitude and utter loneliness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Anyone who says “Oh I’m going to Hell because that’s where all my friends will be” doesn’t have a clue what they’re talking about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Humans were created for relationships, and Hell is a place with no relationships whatsoever.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I knew that I had to ask God’s forgiveness for everything I’d done to hurt Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So when the pastor began to invite people forward, I went to my mom and told her I needed to be saved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She was surprised but went down with me—as well as my brother, who also decided that he needed to be saved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I went down and spoke with a counselor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I honestly don’t remember what they said—I already knew what I needed to do, and I was impatient to “officially” pray and tell God what I needed to tell Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As I told God that I had broken His rules, and hurt Him, I felt something indescribable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I felt His forgiveness washing over me, like the waves in the sea, cleansing and restoring and redeeming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">He is the giver of peace that passes all understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No matter how far we’ve run from Him, how hard we have fought against Him, He’s always reaching out to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He’s always longing to pour His incredible unending love over our miserable selves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is the Peacemaker, the Restorer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He is the glorious King of the universe, and He left that and became a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He was brutally beaten and mocked by the insignificant little creatures that He made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He allowed them to drive iron spikes into His hands and feet, and hang him naked on splintery beams in front of a jeering mob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He took everything that I deserve, all of my punishment, and bore it all—so that I wouldn’t have to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He loved me that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He took more than a bullet for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He took Hell itself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Because of this, He deserves all my praise, all my obedience, all of my love, and all of my life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“For You have made me rejoice, Lord, by what You have done; I will shout for joy because of the works of Your hands.”—Psalm92:4</p> <!--EndFragment-->Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-69952334164748948182011-02-15T18:21:00.000-08:002011-02-15T18:45:48.908-08:00My Ideal Man<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">All right, I’ve totally failed at my goal, which was to blog every day of February. Oh well...</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So, since yesterday was Valentine’s Day (and also because I couldn’t really think of anything else to write about), in today’s post I’m going to describe my ideal man. This is a list of things I came up with about a month ago. Most of the things on here are, of course, utterly unrealistic—there are only two things on the list that are non-negotiable. (I also doubt very seriously that any guy who met all the qualifications on this list would even consider dating me! Haha) That being said, I do have a list of things that I feel like are necessary in my future husband, and it is VERY different from this one! So…. Enjoy!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My ideal man would have…</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1.</span><span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The love of Jesus.</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3tfdkNsW27Iwt-8QKQOr7J2aPjnElmSYXrxKeMCKum7f3QxCjc6wZdTvi6_1BzMd8lb5E1bghAp6fhdF077egu-zcrV9RwCa2ChHWZX07ivBfAAvaDG9bUyEZiHcSQV3MQRQU9OEDH4/s400/9908_06_2---Wooden-Christian-Cross_web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574111668729030386" /><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:0in;mso-add-space:auto"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This is the first non-negotiable. My man has to have this in 2 ways. First of all, he has to have experienced the love and salvation of Jesus, and given Jesus control over his life. Second, he has to be doing his best to show that love to others. I recently bought Ed Newton’s series “Be the One.” In it, Ed says, “Your man can’t just be showing selfless love to you. He has to be showing it to everyone around him.” I love that, because obviously a guy is going to be unselfish toward the girl he likes/loves. The real test is how he treats everyone.</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:0in;mso-add-space:auto"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2.</span><span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The character of Mr. Darcy.</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChFOlsyaeXSI3XUG6zV0-SD-NaWanc_Kyls-0V1cHLus9dpml1XTD9CYvR3Mj0w1slV0BLZ5zjEZh5-WtpzW8UpDuaPlvKjCCg9C4adKMzoSGMIUORHmoGZCoZrfn93XFmtMnpTg8gMk/s400/mr-darcy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574111668185937346" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(and, just fyi…. Colin Firth is, and always will be, the ONLY Mr. Darcy. Also, this screenshot is from the EXACT moment of my favorite part of the whole movie.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I honestly didn’t realize how awesome Mr. Darcy’s character was until I had already read the book (and seen the movie) about 20 times. He treats others with respect. He has complete integrity, and doesn’t allow anyone else to take the blame for his own actions, even when other people’s actions have caused at least part of the problem. He does not belittle others, even when everyone around him is doing so. He is considerate of others, even when it puts him at great inconvenience. He is more than fair to someone who tries to cheat him. When he is wrong, he accepts correction and tries to make things right. He is a truly good man, a gentleman in every sense of the word. This is my second non-negotiable (and, if the first is met, this one follows naturally).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3.</span><span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The manliness of Aragorn.</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67SMImkRq-DwjfcNBlnqw9k4c5gJH57ATiytD84iAI4RKKZMwi8Z-zqu3m9ImmwEYbCkcLK52jE848vgpKfQSXLigYPTUwQVTg0MOsLt3uHUluAOKCXNMRp9_6nlQA6xcYNU2OOXlqII/s400/25jldw1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574111661830237682" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When Lord of the Rings first came out, almost all of my friends had a crush on Legolas/Orlando Bloom. I’ve always thought Aragorn was the best. He protects the weak. He’s a strong leader. He’s humble. He has unbelievable courage. And…. he has amazing facial hair! (That’s always been a weakness of mine..)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">4. The looks of Channing Tatum.</span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLV69dgJiTgBDtl5OGcp1TH9BctreslRfwxIHQkJGs2xQIx2au0DB1NqvsuKNLpgLFjPunQSV4t2BgZ6Dk47mMUBearslkH6X0cA68eCFK91g8-68w441ClkBcnzm1rGbTYAJviMkyHk/s400/5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574111659275284210" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ummm… I think that picture about covers it. Oh, and he has REALLY nice arms. (Another weakness…)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">5. Robert Downey Jr.’s sense of humor.</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOAQfjBF7K6_ajRGASiq5pVwKnn8WqQub5MQjKx7WpPuRoTm_FPUwe0A87DiBStcUcA3TMa-ZgESw1EW13WcAG8fzZ444Y7HfuGrQnNTCLpZirHdFaYOjQwtKKouObbs-I_K0weoHAFY/s400/robert_downey_jr_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574111054574365442" /><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:0in;mso-add-space:auto"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Iron Man 1 and 2 are favorites of mine, as is Sherlock Holmes. I love his quick wit. Also, as my sister says, sarcasm has always been my family’s “language of love.”</span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:0in;mso-add-space:auto"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left:0in;mso-add-space:auto"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">6. Josh Turner’s voice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p> <img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 394px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVK_UvyOfs5yUSdH_o5igAaj8qawVaeyx7Kw_q7Fk3OdrgnV4pm1pg76etA5QMKaGwGU6_OhMYxCMf6-rA9Y3mWi5zxvhzmuRHVWpovEJuFZp8_eavyjz1E6ImlJv6Y00XpydrKXUXm4A/s400/Josh%252BTurner%252BHaywire.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574110719831348386" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Oh. My. Word. The man can sing. I could listen to him forever.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">7. Harrison Ford’s…. sexiness (for lack of a better word).</span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 372px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibyj5iKBV8sBA143aKbc93KRz16tv1w96JrkDHY7_hKIBViAFAmEBqWSWhkum6gByTf1SipjfSFPY0dmCOhEK-PUfEmneWi5NYMqTc7mypjP3QXpnlto2dZMV95avHqSqwKBZgn64Sylo/s400/hford.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574108451397418018" /> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I fell in love with Harrison Ford watching Star Wars as an 8-year-old. He’s my “old man crush.” Indiana Jones, Sabrina, Star Wars…. He’s just so attractive. I can’t even explain it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So there you have it. I’ll admit parts of it are silly, and unrealistic. But… that’s why it’s an ideal and not an expectation. What about you? What’s your ideal man (or woman) like? Comment and let me know!</span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-43323240781979976842011-02-02T16:50:00.000-08:002011-02-02T16:51:15.483-08:00Thoughts on Love<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I was listening to the radio, and Billy Currington’s song “Must Be Doing Something Right” came on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’ve heard this song a thousand times, but this time one of the lines caught me: “Don’t know what I did/ to earn a love like this/ but baby I must be doing something right.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Whoa, hold on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Love is earned?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You give me what I want—happy feelings, a feeling of importance, physical pleasure, whatever—and I’ll give you love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And if you don’t…No love for you buddy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sounds like a job: do the work, and you’ll get paid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you don’t perform well, there’s always someone else willing to take your place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So is that what love is? Just give-and-take, tit-for-tat? I think most people in our culture would say it isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They would say love is a feeling you have for people you care about; it’s an emotion—the “warm fuzzies” or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But think about this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If someone—sibling, coworker, boyfriend, wife, parents—if they irritate you, how do you feel about them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Do you feel loving?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Or do you feel like yelling at them, slapping them, ignoring them, hurting them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I don’t know about you, but I feel more like screaming at them and hurting them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So then, if love is a feeling, then it isn’t there all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sometimes it can go away for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Why is this?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">People are hard-wired to be selfish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We want what we want, when, how, and where we want it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So when things don’t go our way, we don’t usually respond very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, taking this into consideration, consider love as a feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If love is a feeling, then we love people when they make us feel good, and love stops when they make us feel mad, upset, sad, insecure, or unimportant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, love is the reward they get for making us feel good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Did you catch that? It’s a reward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s payment for doing something for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">earned.</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, while most people would say that love isn’t something you have to earn, they treat people around them like it is.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Obviously I disagree with this definition of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then what do I think it is?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Well, as a follower of Christ, it’s my job to search for God’s definition of love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Here are some ways God defines love:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Love is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">patient</i>, love is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">kind</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Love <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">does not envy</i>; </p> <p class="MsoNormal">is not boastful; is not conceited; </p> <p class="MsoNormal">does not act improperly; </p> <p class="MsoNormal">is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">not selfish</i>; is not provoked; </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">does not keep a record of wrongs</i>; </p> <p class="MsoNormal">finds no joy in unrighteousness [righteousness is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">being right with God</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s not, as some people think, following all the rules.], </p> <p class="MsoNormal">but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">rejoices in the truth</i>; </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">bears</i> all<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> </i>things, </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">believes</i> all things, </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">hopes</i></b> all things, </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">endures</i></b> all things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><u>Love never ends</u></i></b>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">1Corinthians 13:4-8a</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">[This is Jesus talking to his followers]</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“As the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Remain in My love</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you keep My commands you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commands and remain in His love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have spoken these things to you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">so that My joy may be in you</i> and your joy may be complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is My command: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">love one another as I have loved you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>No one has greater love than this, that someone would lay down his life for his friends</i></b>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">John 15:9-13</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, according to these verses… love isn’t actually an emotion at all. It’s giving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s serving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s uncomplaining, unselfish, patient, and hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It sees the good in people and ignores everything irritating, petty, and mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Love is caring about other people more than yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Love is when someone gives up what they want so that someone else can enjoy it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><u>Love is a choice.</u></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">God didn’t have to save us from our pathetic, miserable, twisted existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He did not have to give us sunsets or friends or hot fudge sundaes or music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He didn’t have to give us talents and abilities and opportunities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He did not have to send his Son to die an unspeakably cruel death so that we could be right with/ have a relationship with Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>For that matter, Jesus did not have to be beaten and mocked and stripped and nailed to a cross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><u>But He chose to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Because He loves us.</u></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And we are called to love others like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We are called to give everything away, to God and to the people around us. Yet, we find it hard to let someone else go in front of us at the checkout line in Wal-Mart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What a shame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By choosing not to love as God loves, we’re only making our own lives more miserable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ironic, isn’t it?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“Dear friends, let us love one another, because love is from God, and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The one who does not love does not know God, because God is love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>God’s love was revealed among us in this way:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>God sent His One and Only Son into the world so that we might live through Him.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>1 John 4:7-9<o:p></o:p></i></b></p> <!--EndFragment-->Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-69043982859629060552011-02-01T13:57:00.000-08:002011-02-01T14:46:59.881-08:00Oklahoma Sky<div style="text-align: left;">I was looking through my photos to see if I could get any blogging ideas from them. And I noticed that I had a lot of pictures of the sky. That is my absolute favorite thing about Oklahoma (although the wind is a close second--yeah, I know, I'm weird). The sky is so wide open here. It's like a big canvas that God totally redoes every single day--sometimes, every minute. When I lived in New York I missed it, and I'd walk down to the East River just to get a glimpse of it. So, here are a few (not all) of the pictures I've taken of the Oklahoma sky.</div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrM4y9b4knUzX-VWdX3zS1JzSOLUrxHaLpUt1fmIs9q0o2eRzaCE4g_fgXHhKFBg3Z5jYCreelddfF212l9oqqwneaDLYfLXZGRu_1WUqCejcTkS2GlpB-pXRJmCMCgTgT62hfKTHxPsk/s400/DSCN3250.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568854378855128114" /><div><div style="text-align: center;">just after a thunderstorm</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_11CMvKleRcTPxmgSNUPwEhbalf-aTBpgEqAnMUlu-Nwsjm1cCCW_aVdmPrUbZgK0iZ0KMwZLdKBxWwgwAVAou-8F6qKg0Ws38FEOExwIJj6zq8Y-yf7R6AEOsxbbbcCUJb92O3GpU60/s400/DSCN3332.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568854368542802594" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunset from my front yard</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzz6MlOVviQQo7Fnpoz92OWLsrlQbGsUZbFDL75c5-8k7j15slCnHYWV9n6HIAoqkOoNv5130QPa4C2mCqBT-BpiqYFsZZS-aK_H-Y_2IDYrsgHDfljy5Q1pITCLrUZQhy7EwNo38TdYM/s400/DSCN3337.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568854367839250018" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqi1D9pD1fiGIbNUga8b4Oj2EDYcuOUfUHME3slrGbgAw0uBgg88n57jKP6eQuORpe1NtScgNd6Yiik98KdMBU53ohPO8pdVir0gLvkmXRQXmh9kXbvKQ5c2_j1FjlVHM2RE5CdvIQwx4/s400/DSCN3675.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568854361677803074" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Taken in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Haha.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4EJx-DGWj9bLZT58Jl_6t_hYUMjxiEuPVQztjEIjh4f4hrDKLfFKArVffmg-3ZzEHZiv5-r6gh82NTr6Yzfe0jVBP0nC7EY1nmt-QSU_wKnh9Mh5rIt8jLgDGEmJ8bwDkOAVmQdQxXk/s400/DSCN3334.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568852763735888434" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8eO-CWws3qYHl5yC-bsJMZ1btNbLh6K8RO0yD8bJDu8xMj2SWTeZcTWa8flXM6QnleixrxIaCdydRGVxYwTgMbR1ccuj3jR9Yrx6ricoftvSeSzIttAydTp_6JP7oRwnNw4Olhti4W8/s400/DSCN3353.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568852759748613442" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunset from my front yard</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYxKuWKjArW0sxqRADottczEybWVaJoYFSiq3V6FDFVhKStKfQkJIBzsgAioqpTXZVQSJvMGFmg5x6Esh2KjsdVPi74CrJ0gOMI8ApEW6SkszAeoSXsVIVxwcPeAJx2jIM1AICgRTtlv8/s400/DSCN3426.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568852753504396898" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xvwMuoOuHO_KA7GKlFP9GEPAY5zk9Rpa2tTeTesj8TmGCBG1opmCgQBVOnOGmZ4aAWwBMEaTah-nsdJesXj0QAclabFLbAuN2CRnH-7RPhC1QVgQpIJoHujuCzNT_xzb_Mlv2yuDg8c/s400/DSCN3252.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568852752771090962" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKjXGBnmIWCM8bkZzGUZTFaArrJDI-rdTta5Jpg4BYjyHjBtBM13TeAAQ8x4QRqlSe5iNRQ6LJNzNRVCLKIRrCi_Bf214h95WDJr0fH1vANN13VoT74PAMqt6iBLBKjtWgzDyRp7sh8g/s400/DSCN3465.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568851437781417762" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJwikkQxhivkjO4XKEy04TohsgPfd_5_3xc0IOIwNDi8msEm1rWWWaTlTyREtICjHNNt5UvlCA9NJkB8J33C6IrhNj08cIAx9djbAwff_sKPcVsEBgbvQb916NlJbRLZsgO4k7Bskk93E/s400/DSCN3207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568851431769800818" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDDh4hBftryGxfCdnWlDFn_OiMrG6_zHlMdbYQDYuEjiKCsqhhJ9oTsK-_9sbORAbLRGGinT5NQxzGGH-9Wdj8-Hb7EALhNXsqjK-hlh59hyphenhyphenkFvTXsw9VTpIMZasu7l520wJ3YhTJZco/s400/DSCN3340.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568851433234878370" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3xkAenLnaRcri59D92-eg96WgLgwPVrrgy83MugCN5j6ghw2pLwp9bLtnmGjXPSveAJNnyOwt9_fL65LLq1EjGOOnCcOX10aDcvCjrnXfeMK8cAaC2W6blVqGgLUVoHX0AZOQyvun5M/s400/DSCN3249.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568851427264726434" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Another picture after a thunderstorm (I think it's the same storm as above.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmnaMe1oJfSqDHvQLz-FLTRi13CMhgRM5VNuC5p2trGG47WXrf79IA6XJM8rSfXUcSOGKp3Dg-dcW8Oc8J1dR0dxsCu01F_VuOBih6FGmSSSN9592jemZj-DspefVfDXP3oeks2OCIiI/s400/DSCN3354.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568849801032337170" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">This is my laptop background.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIGK1gQljeQ8v_Pm_ugbh9kNUKUMkSVdYJDBV9nLcNOA_udT4xhoick3WvSbm0DfaatkcbseKAFGNtKiBTYRJAB7o2qmQod7KTXi3k3U0wKFOj6hOuXCWlaIqVzz-Eu9QTWxMtdlY3mA0/s400/DSCN3559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568849794465647762" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Taken at Ray Trent Park.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXhXF3BBlcLog8W6nOJMDMZxlexRZ64q7zLNQheODGI8uUmsylthvRjyt7ahRhcsJBoO1ymirhIksOnWE2evWHhthX-gsRrT-TPJvNAOIqp1aVjeh6LFTge8EW72riJgHzflabsknGTo/s400/DSCN2959.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568849791005384482" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Taken last spring.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzKj6LBUxvzj6909o43WI_bbjx9QTrLJZd3-8bBo5CPrTy2x1p18AlXqqZr1IGPouFJ7Eg3Ff7QIjmuCvxU91tECIM4MqzhPyt4l86lJwyg-ZjUtN8GgvC4nMUd0PSA-6HhHcAvGOvYM/s400/DSCN3214.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568847756105486018" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunset--again, from my front yard.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVaq-UmKAXll_sbn8bcimuzTP0DOH64S6T40FZs2FWv0btopQ2KN-YZAsWHx_vH9-0CmgmduBqpvDKpLujmOv5ac6_OF8KeJ4_gdi6dwWktI3mH7MeMsYYzAcpfmgVTJHarbj6AkTVfgo/s400/DSCN3512.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568847761662870642" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicyGIZsVhS0WhB003KMgWtdgh3-R6nBSqt4ATiRI7KMa4gwriK4CLAftO_cUbcuaWFjoKQPGXbiN92CQ395q73Bnf480defSTEqtyD7bp54SlQFjxUgq9xwgC-3shQRLbxezrl9DI9ukY/s400/DSCN3199.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568847746253911986" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Sunset at the pond behind my church.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSPIdXKF66kqoDR6WWdQ7OCxOdos6_ZlAYm2zHTsYZNiOYWeB78aABVM46ys4Rw6FkTVO-EMKktpDJphB9IwbJo9859rZMVsEm8n65KURIajmwXkZ3LXRZg6MpEoZvZb3nTTExp-VeRg/s400/DSCN3329.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568847744382713106" /><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3wdj_18vnRNMfdbAcqZTaWkphsbSieipgUlmzFxoZNX3Hzy4gzN8ewFYqGqhlGXJg7-LzFXIvcDvsfaUTvuTIoTplx72oeE4slGQpy2BeDwW5Styg980t8TeW8P_ElDqxjngGNLnaAI/s400/DSCN3205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568846237880355794" /></div></div>Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7098769600228614076.post-8539473098763376072011-01-31T19:34:00.000-08:002011-01-31T19:52:11.677-08:00Boycotting Chick-fil-A? Seriously?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Ok, so apparently gay people are now boycotting Chick-fil-A because they served their sandwiches at a Christian marriage conference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They’re saying “If you’re eating Chick-fil-A, you’re eating anti-gay.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Come on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You’ve got to be kidding me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>First of all, Chick-fil-A serves sandwiches at ALL KINDS of events—from football and basketball games to normal school lunches to all kinds of conferences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They are a business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They want to earn money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Second of all, Chick-fil-A is, and always has been, a company founded on Christian values.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They’re closed on Sundays, and they try to put Christian business principles into practice in their stores.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So why is it a huge surprise that they’re providing food at a Christian-sponsored event??<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And, why is that seen as anti-gay?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s not like they’re saying, “Oh you’re a lesbian? I’m sorry, you can’t eat here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Plus, if gay people boycott Chick-fil-A, they are only hurting the workers—some of whom are gay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And finally—good luck convincing people not to eat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There’s a reason they have a literal fan club.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>These people will dress in cow costumes or wear pajamas or camp outside of a new store for 2 days just to get free Chick-fil-A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>That’s some serious dedication. Eat Mor Chikin y’all!</p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYY1mwgQjDpcFnbsUKBnaLJuAyzD4lzlwz9zB-KRXAw6kvEn_I1UX1pWvN4twDHkd_EVJ8QgtxWU4CtO-jhtJVA_OYEf5cN3JMp47aSHlPeDI5YlFElNBD57R9NZIrJYh5R9oULphYRuo/s320/6496_103242189361_846849361_2016593_2099024_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568561003839412850" /> <!--EndFragment-->Rachel Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10728117592888352410noreply@blogger.com2