<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:55:48.819-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rants, Raves &amp; Ramblings</title><subtitle type='html'>Take a deep breath - you're about to see into me</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-3890451844351431950</id><published>2008-12-11T23:56:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:04:43.715-06:00</updated><title type='text'>3AM</title><content type='html'>...Ok, not really. But nearly-ish?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Why am I still awake? I spent the evening hanging out with an amazing new friend. (The wife of one of David's best friends.) Though the words "girls' night out" always send a shiver down my spine, I am &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; glad I went! I cherish the time we had together tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Whilst out, I realized that, as of today, David and I have been together for three months. May I just say: I love him. I was told an unbelievably endearing tale of him tonight. Apparently on the night that we first met he was ecstatic. I fell so much more in love with him after this story. ...Partially because this was how I felt, too. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  As much as I don't want to be "that girl," I have to say that I truly never imagined I could love someone so much. How pathetic is it that after only three hours with my new friend I was anxious to get back to my fiance?! I absolutely cannot wait to begin our Life (singular) together. Um...thank you for reading my pathetically mushy rant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-3890451844351431950?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/3890451844351431950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=3890451844351431950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3890451844351431950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3890451844351431950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/12/3am.html' title='3AM'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4859963857718795432</id><published>2008-12-01T22:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T23:09:11.143-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Going To The Chapel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/STTC5UrhWYI/AAAAAAAAAYA/zzOy3yIOGOw/s1600-h/311830-R1-10-11_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275055353617275266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 216px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/STTC5UrhWYI/AAAAAAAAAYA/zzOy3yIOGOw/s320/311830-R1-10-11_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm engaged!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you hadn't yet heard, David Franklin proposed to me on Thanksgiving Day - in front of both of our families and several close friends. It was such an amazing day, one of the happiest in my life. Immediately after dinner, David stood up and said that he had been talking to his dad recently and he had said that when you really love someone, you can't live without them. And then he turned to me and said, "Emily, my love, I can't live without you anymore." He got down on one knee, and asked if I would marry him. I was so overwhelmed I couldn't do anything but nod &lt;em&gt;yes&lt;/em&gt; frantically. And then he gave me a sparkly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David and I met and began dating on September 11&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;. We hit it off famously and saw each other several times in the next few weeks. Three weeks in, David had a major motorcycle accident through which God very graciously spared him (us) with only injuries to his hand. This was very frustrating since he is a phenomenal (and I do not say this lightly or with bias) musician, but he worked through it with much grace and strength. Because of these circumstances, however, we spent much more time together than most couples do when first dating and quickly realized that we were more than well suited for one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has been so good to the both of us. He has made it abundantly obvious that we are ordained to be together in this time. We have many mutual friends, worked next door to each other for six months, have crossed paths several times without meeting - until now, the appropriate time. Both of our families are ecstatic, and we have been so thankful for the support and encouragement of our friends. I am so indescribably overjoyed to be writing this! I can't wait to write more...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4859963857718795432?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4859963857718795432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4859963857718795432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4859963857718795432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4859963857718795432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/12/going-to-chapel.html' title='Going To The Chapel'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/STTC5UrhWYI/AAAAAAAAAYA/zzOy3yIOGOw/s72-c/311830-R1-10-11_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4927447088015731214</id><published>2008-09-18T01:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T01:46:14.677-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Breath You Take</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;  I sell children's clothing for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Nordstrom&lt;/span&gt;. Most days I absolutely love my job, and some days..well, it's the best form of birth-control. It's not complex, it's not that difficult, and I meet a lot of really interesting people. On some days, my job is surprising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This afternoon, a lady whom I would guess to be in her fifties and two children came into my department. Justin was about seven years old and Taylor was probably thirteen. Susan, the older woman with them, was their cousin I later found out. When I walked over to ask them what I could to help them, I was told that they needed to find an outfit for Justin to wear to their father's funeral. I was momentarily stunned, but collected myself quickly. They wanted something nice, but casual. It was a memorial service, they later corrected, and would be a very casual affair. It took much time and effort and thinking on my apartment, but I managed to find the perfect outfit, which he absolutely loved. It was a pair of Lucky jeans and a very cool rocker T-shirt and a black sport coat. Susan informed me that the kids' grandfather had just passed away seven months ago, and Justin wanted to wear the sport coat because his dad had worn a sport coat to his father's funeral just months before. It was all I could do to not break down in tears in the fitting room.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  I couldn't stop - can't stop thinking about how calmly these children were handling the memorial service for their father. Their cousin informed me of how he died outside the children's presence, and I learned that they really had no time to prepare for his death. I realized that I literally cannot imagine how I would react if I lost one of my parents. It made me realize, too, how frequently - and selfishly - I take my family and their health for granted. Our life and our time on this earth is so unbelievably precious - and we piss it away like we'll live forever. We go to bed assuming that we'll wake up in the morning, place all our money on next week and not one of us is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;guaranteed&lt;/span&gt; the next hour. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  So I go to bed tonight hoping. I hope for tomorrow. I hope for the opportunity to again tell my parents and my brother and sister that I love them. I hope that am constantly reminded that each moment is a &lt;em&gt;gift&lt;/em&gt;, and that I treat it accordingly: with thanksgiving, with respect..and with joy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;  "And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; &lt;em&gt;and hope does not disappoint&lt;/em&gt;..." - Romans 5:3-5&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4927447088015731214?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4927447088015731214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4927447088015731214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4927447088015731214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4927447088015731214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/09/every-breath-you-take.html' title='Every Breath You Take'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6829809368179749930</id><published>2008-09-02T16:39:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T16:54:31.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayers appreciated</title><content type='html'>First off, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;thank you&lt;/span&gt; to all of my dear friends who have been praying for me and my family these past two weeks. I cannot begin to tell you how coveted those prayers have been and continue to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Two weeks ago began a very concerning and difficult time for my family and I, the details of which I can't really go into. Suffice it to say that we have had to deal with some extremely personal and painful issues. We have been and continue to pray that the entire truth will be revealed so that we will be able to appropriately address the problem areas and begin healing. Continued prayer in this area is greatly appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I also ask for your prayers for myself. This has been an extremely difficult and emotional time for me. I am seeking out those wiser than me in knowing how to handle this and to begin moving on, but in the meantime am still struggling. I have been very grateful for the support and the distractions that I have been given, the love and care that has been shown to me, the offers of help and prayer. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I humbly beg your continued prayer and thank you for being such wonderful and uplifting brothers and sisters in Christ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6829809368179749930?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6829809368179749930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6829809368179749930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6829809368179749930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6829809368179749930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/09/prayers-appreciated.html' title='Prayers appreciated'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4353606710160503784</id><published>2008-07-05T22:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T23:01:18.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Be True To Your School?</title><content type='html'>I'm at a really weird place in my life. New job, new roommate, new decision. &lt;em&gt;Do I stay in school?&lt;/em&gt; I'm reminded of an Eddie Izzard bit, where he asks, "Tell me, what do you want to &lt;em&gt;do &lt;/em&gt;with your life?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  All of my family has given me their blessing to stop. See, I've been in college for the last six years now. And no, I still don't have a degree. Life has come at me too fast with too many curve balls, and I've had to take much more time off than I ever thought I would. Car accident, financial struggles, the simple joys of trying to support myself &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; go to school (not always as possible as some would lead you to believe..), managers who renig on their promises, etc. While I have watch those who graduated high school years after I did graduate from college my frustration has mounted.&lt;br /&gt;  I finally voiced this frustration to my Grandma on Mother's Day, when she asked me what I wanted to do*. I think she talked to my parents because shortly thereafter, my Daddy told me that I had their blessing to quit school. My entire life, I had been told that I &lt;strong&gt;needed&lt;/strong&gt; to get a degree because I would need it for my own personal satisfaction/I couldn't get anywhere in life/I would regret it for the rest of my life... Now, my father told me that this was a new era, that school wasn't for everyone, and that they - he and my mother - were proud of me and the opportunities that I already have in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So what do I do now? I have been in school off and on, as work has allowed, for the last six years this fall. Work and school has been my life..but at that, it's mostly been work. I have a promising career at Nordstrom now, a company which only promotes from within. And I know what, ultimately, my long-term goal is for life. I want to be a housewife. Yes, judge me. My life's dream has always been to eventually be a stay-at-home mommy. For some reason, it's taken me a few years to realize/remember this. And I want to bake. I don't care if it's just for my family, for my friends, or if I have a small little company from my home. I don't know how grand or realistic the latter is, but I know the former is what I want. And I don't need a degree for either of those goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So. Where does this put me? I still want to go to college as my work schedule allows me to take language classes (French!). But do I want to do that this semester? Or do I want to have a season completely free of the pressure I had placed on myself for school? I had a co-worker ask&lt;br /&gt;me today what I wanted to be "when I grow up." I looke at her with surprise and thought, &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;am&lt;em&gt; a grown-up!&lt;/em&gt; So maybe that's the key. Maybe I don't need to figure out what to do with the "rest of my life." Maybe I'm already in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*PS, &lt;strong&gt;please&lt;/strong&gt; (and I say this in all sincerity) if you are a friend, do not ask me this question for at least another year. I've met my quota and am tired of the looks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4353606710160503784?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4353606710160503784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4353606710160503784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4353606710160503784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4353606710160503784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/07/be-true-to-your-school.html' title='Be True To Your School?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-1261376008000077935</id><published>2008-06-21T23:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T23:49:05.941-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been A While</title><content type='html'>..Since I posted. I'm sorry. So what's happened in the past..um..over a month?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I have a new job! I now work in the Kids Wear department of Nordstrom (at Stonebriar Center).  I was officially offered a position on May 12th and have loved every day (um, well, liked) since. I work with awesome people and a great manager. God has truly blessed me by answering this prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I traded in my golden locks for auburn! About every three months, I get the urge to do something really different with my hair. So there you go! I went darker in the sumer. I'm such a rebel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Um...there's more, but my mind's gone blank and I'll have to write more later. Anyway, that's a brief update for those (one) of you who wanted another post :cough&lt;em&gt;hypocrit&lt;/em&gt;cough:.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-1261376008000077935?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/1261376008000077935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=1261376008000077935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1261376008000077935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1261376008000077935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been A While'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-8041676931306977307</id><published>2008-05-17T21:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T21:59:45.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Day's Night</title><content type='html'>This has been a rough week, to say the least. I've had ups and downs, been all over the map mentally and emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday, I went for a 'job fair' at the Frisco Nordstrom at 10:00am. By 11:30 I was done, by 5:00pm they called and offered me a position in the Infants &amp;amp; Toddlers department. I, of course, accepted. Praise God for that long-awaited answer to prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That same day, at about 2:00pm, I received a phone call from my friend Jason. Jason's brother, Bradley, had become ill the night before and when he could not stop throwing up, was taken to an urgent care facility Monday morning. Once there, they discovered his creatine level was a 7 (supposed to be 1 or lower), and rushed him to the Emergency Room. Details are still sketchy - we're waiting to hear the results of the autopsy, but I do know that Jason received a call from the doctor who was working on his brother to let him know that his heart had stopped, they were still working on him, but it "didn't look good." Jason, who had been out at my parent's house (he is basically the older brother I never got to have and calls my family "Family Two"), rushed to Love Field to fly home to Houston. At about 3:00, he received a call saying that the doctors had been unable to resuscitate Bradley. He was twenty-seven years old. This has been a week when I've been unsure whether the ridiculous amount of empathy I have is a good thing or bad, as I have felt so much pain and sadness for the Moores and their loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the week was spent in training for the new job, at the NJCAA Men's National Tennis Championship (held at CCCC), at work, or just going crazy. Yesterday morning my mom, sister and I drove down to Houston and made it just in time to check into our hotel and grab some dinner before the viewing. The funeral was today and after the interment and lunch at the church, Daddy, sister and I drove &lt;em&gt;back&lt;/em&gt; home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of today has been spent in tears. I passed exhausted days ago and now just want to crawl into bed and stay there for a week. My last day of training tomorrow prevents that from becoming a reality. Ah well. I'm glad for the job, for sure. And I'm preemptively thanking God for the sweet, sweet sleep I'll get when I finish writing this. I ask you to &lt;em&gt;please&lt;/em&gt; keep the Moore family in your prayers as they begin this week learning how to live life without their Bradley. Thank you Amanda, Darrell and Denver for checking to see how I was doing this week. Your calls and prayers meant the world over to me. So now I think I'm going to lay my head down on my pillow and sleep till tomorrow is here. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-8041676931306977307?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/8041676931306977307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=8041676931306977307' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8041676931306977307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8041676931306977307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/05/hard-days-night.html' title='Hard Day&apos;s Night'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-3147622350966628869</id><published>2008-05-05T14:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T14:36:23.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Song</title><content type='html'>I want to be able to write all that I'm feeling and have been experiencing these past weeks, but I think instead I'll just give you the lyrics to four songs that have become my own story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A thousand times I've failed&lt;br /&gt;Still your mercy remains&lt;br /&gt;And should I stumble again&lt;br /&gt;Still I'm caught in your grace&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades&lt;br /&gt;Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In my heart, in my soul, Lord I give you control&lt;br /&gt;Consume me from the inside out Lord&lt;br /&gt;Let justice and praise become my embrace&lt;br /&gt;To love You from the inside out&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your will above all else, my purpose remains&lt;br /&gt;The art of losing myself in bringing you praise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades&lt;br /&gt;Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In my heart, in my soul, Lord I give you control&lt;br /&gt;Consume me from the inside out Lord&lt;br /&gt;Let justice and praise become my embrace&lt;br /&gt;To love You from the inside out&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades&lt;br /&gt;Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame&lt;br /&gt;And the cry of my heart is to bring You praise&lt;br /&gt;From the inside out Lord, my soul cries out&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From The Inside Out&lt;/strong&gt;, Joel Houston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I once was fatherless,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A stranger with no hope; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your kindness wakened me, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Awakened me, from my sleep&lt;br /&gt;Your love it beckons deeply, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A call to come and die. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;By grace now I will come &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And take this life, take Your life.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sin has lost it's power, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Death has lost it's sting. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From the grave you've risen &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Victoriously!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Into marvelous light I'm running, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Out of darkness, out of shame. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;By the cross You are the truth, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are the life,&lt;br /&gt;You are the way&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My dead heart now is beating, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My deepest stains now clean. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your breath fills up my lungs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now I'm free. Now I'm free!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sin has lost it's power,&lt;br /&gt;Death has lost it's sting.&lt;br /&gt;From the grave you've risen&lt;br /&gt;Victoriously!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Into marvelous light I'm running,&lt;br /&gt;Out of darkness, out of shame.&lt;br /&gt;By the cross you are the truth,&lt;br /&gt;You are the life,&lt;br /&gt;You are the way &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Marvelous Light&lt;/strong&gt;, Charlie Hall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Woe to me I am unclean &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;A sinner found in Your presence&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I see you seated on Your throne&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Exalted, Your Glory surrounds You&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Now the plans that I have made &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fail to compare when I see your glory&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ruin my life the plans I have made &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ruin desires for my own selfish gain &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Destroy the idols that have taken Your place' &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Till its You alone I live for, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You alone I live for. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holy Holy is the Lord Almighty &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holy is the Lord! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holy Holy is the Lord Almighty&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holy is the Lord! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ruin my life the plans I have made&lt;br /&gt;Ruin desires for my own selfish gain&lt;br /&gt;Destroy the idols that have taken Your place&lt;br /&gt;'Till its You alone I live for,&lt;br /&gt;You alone I live for. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ruin Me&lt;/strong&gt;, Jeff Johnson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Finally content with a past I regret &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For once I'm at peace with myself &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've lived in this place and I know all the faces &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Each one is different but they're always the same &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They'll never allow me to change &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There comes a time in everyone's life &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When all you can see are the years passing by &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I have made up my mind that those days are gone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Stopped to fill up on my way out of town &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I had to lose everything to find out &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm movin' on &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm Moving On&lt;/strong&gt;, Rascal Flatts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-3147622350966628869?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/3147622350966628869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=3147622350966628869' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3147622350966628869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3147622350966628869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/05/your-song_2840.html' title='Your Song'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-7163471193059813117</id><published>2008-04-19T10:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T23:15:39.948-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Drained</title><content type='html'>I want to blog, to write all of my thoughts out and help you to understand all that has been going on in my life these past days...But I find that when I try I cannot. I haven't the words, nor the clarity to sort out the thoughts wrestling one another, each fighting to be foremost inside my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am clinging to one verse right now: &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="sup" id="en-ESV-28852" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed" &lt;/span&gt;- 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Lord, help me to own this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please pray for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-7163471193059813117?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/7163471193059813117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=7163471193059813117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/7163471193059813117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/7163471193059813117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/04/drained.html' title='Drained'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-148787653936879907</id><published>2008-04-06T20:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T21:22:02.718-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Have To Do Is Dream</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had a dream that threw off the rest of your day? I did last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream with my Grandpa in it. I've only had about three of them since he died of Parkinson's three years ago. They've ranged from ok to not so great - this one was horrible. He was dying all over again; thin, suffering, an old and withered shadow of the great man he used to be. My Grandma was trying to get me to spend time with him again, but this time it was because she didn't want to be there. In my dream, my Grandpa was dying and my Grandma didn't want to deal with it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;In my dream, I was sitting by his bed, holding his hand and he grabbed one of my fingers. It was all he could do. And now, in my waking, it's like I'm going through it all over again. Sitting by his bed, watching him, willing him to move, to speak, to open his eyes, to respond. I'm reading to him, singing to him, talking to him, wondering all the time if he really does hear. I'm telling him that he can let go - hating myself all the time - that he doesn't have to keep his promise anymore and that I love him. The sitting, the praying, the waiting - waiting for God to let my Grandpa to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him so very much. I miss his laugh, I miss his hugs, I miss the way his calloused fingers felt holding my hand. I miss the smell of his shirts, I miss walking the beach looking for seashells, I miss being greeted with a loud "Hullo, Emily!" It hurts. Three years later, it still hurts. It still sucks that he's gone, still sucks that he had to suffer, still sucks that my Grandma is now alone, just...&lt;em&gt;sucks&lt;/em&gt;. And it still doesn't make sense. I still have the images clear as the day they happened of his body lying in the bed the morning he finally went home to God, of the crowded waiting room before the funeral, of the casket at the interment when I finally realized that my Grandpa was &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; coming back. Most clearly, though, I remember sitting in my grandparents' bedroom on the floor, facing their bed and just thinking how wrong it all was. The house was never supposed to be empty, my Grandma was never supposed to be alone. He was never supposed to leave us. He promised me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm jealous of those who can cry and still look pretty. I know that right now my face is red and puffy, but that's ok. Because in a short time, I'll look fine again and I'll continue to live my life as I normally do. In a little while I'll go to bed and dream new dreams that will not have my Grandpa in them. Life tomorrow will begin anew. My Grandpa will still be gone, and it will still suck - some days more than others - and I will still be waiting for the day when I am taken up to heaven and will see him crouched down again, waiting with a big hug and a "Hullo, Emily!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-148787653936879907?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/148787653936879907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=148787653936879907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/148787653936879907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/148787653936879907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/04/all-i-have-to-do-is-dream.html' title='All I Have To Do Is Dream'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-2365937301519808017</id><published>2008-03-28T22:22:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T22:30:25.415-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favorite Things..</title><content type='html'>Now include &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-22tC5fQyI/AAAAAAAAAR4/jWQdwtbydR4/s1600-h/logo.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182999631161672482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-22tC5fQyI/AAAAAAAAAR4/jWQdwtbydR4/s320/logo.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. I stopped in today on a wonderful tip from a new cookbook. Wanna see the treasures I found? &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-228C5fQzI/AAAAAAAAASA/aLFqt02OTVE/s1600-h/pens.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182999888859710258" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-228C5fQzI/AAAAAAAAASA/aLFqt02OTVE/s320/pens.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These lovelies allow you to ice with perfect detail! Just stick them in hot water for five minutes, snip off the tip and ice to your heart's content! They look beautiful and taste fantastic, too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-23Oi5fQ0I/AAAAAAAAASI/HoY7NRaq-78/s1600-h/sprinkles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183000206687290178" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-23Oi5fQ0I/AAAAAAAAASI/HoY7NRaq-78/s320/sprinkles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh-so-pretty sprinkles. For cupcakes that look like they've been dusted with sparkles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really want to become a professional cake-decorator; can you tell? I can't wait to upload pictures of my finished product....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-2365937301519808017?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/2365937301519808017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=2365937301519808017' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2365937301519808017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2365937301519808017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-favorite-things.html' title='My Favorite Things..'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-22tC5fQyI/AAAAAAAAAR4/jWQdwtbydR4/s72-c/logo.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5649193522270650469</id><published>2008-03-21T08:23:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T00:29:52.235-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What A Beautiful Day</title><content type='html'>Check out &lt;a href="http://darrelldbarnes.blogspot.com/"&gt;Darrell's blog &lt;/a&gt;to see how my fantastic day went down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SV_i5fQdI/AAAAAAAAANw/DEOk-brci0A/s1600-h/IMG_0621.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180430390315139538" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SV_i5fQdI/AAAAAAAAANw/DEOk-brci0A/s320/IMG_0621.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darrell surprised me by taking me to the Inwood - awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SWRy5fQeI/AAAAAAAAAN4/STqSDkI3I98/s1600-h/IMG_0626.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180430703847752162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SWRy5fQeI/AAAAAAAAAN4/STqSDkI3I98/s320/IMG_0626.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He made me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-O4Li5fPiI/AAAAAAAAAC8/QQ6UTKnjMGc/s1600-h/IMG_0617.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW0y5fQfI/AAAAAAAAAOA/evy2wrBYgx8/s1600-h/IMG_0633.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180431305143173618" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW0y5fQfI/AAAAAAAAAOA/evy2wrBYgx8/s320/IMG_0633.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having so much fun at the Nasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1C5fQgI/AAAAAAAAAOI/YVIoYIUYO4U/s1600-h/IMG_0650.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180431309438140930" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1C5fQgI/AAAAAAAAAOI/YVIoYIUYO4U/s320/IMG_0650.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has fantastic ideas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1C5fQhI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/95cGQa3wAR0/s1600-h/IMG_0651.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180431309438140946" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1C5fQhI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/95cGQa3wAR0/s320/IMG_0651.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1i5fQiI/AAAAAAAAAOY/HLUdr5rQY5g/s1600-h/IMG_0671.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180431318028075554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1i5fQiI/AAAAAAAAAOY/HLUdr5rQY5g/s320/IMG_0671.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1y5fQjI/AAAAAAAAAOg/P6746VAm1VM/s1600-h/IMG_0701.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180431322323042866" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SW1y5fQjI/AAAAAAAAAOg/P6746VAm1VM/s320/IMG_0701.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're pretty much ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SX6C5fQkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/zFup37RcT_Q/s1600-h/IMG_0722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180432494849114690" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SX6C5fQkI/AAAAAAAAAOo/zFup37RcT_Q/s320/IMG_0722.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at my place...doing nonsensical things..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SX6C5fQlI/AAAAAAAAAOw/xowcYU6r7U8/s1600-h/IMG_0719.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180432494849114706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SX6C5fQlI/AAAAAAAAAOw/xowcYU6r7U8/s320/IMG_0719.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SYoi5fQnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/7HUQrxh2f7c/s1600-h/IMG_0732.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180433293713031794" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SYoi5fQnI/AAAAAAAAAPA/7HUQrxh2f7c/s320/IMG_0732.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny story...I don't think he knew I was trying to bite the finger that was in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SX6S5fQmI/AAAAAAAAAO4/Y5Mvbp4oK0A/s1600-h/IMG_0732.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5649193522270650469?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5649193522270650469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5649193522270650469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5649193522270650469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5649193522270650469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-beautiful-day.html' title='What A Beautiful Day'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/R-SV_i5fQdI/AAAAAAAAANw/DEOk-brci0A/s72-c/IMG_0621.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5032229440004507505</id><published>2008-03-15T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T22:36:33.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Song</title><content type='html'>God sang me a Love song tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my hair cut this morning (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;yay&lt;/span&gt;!) after my mile-long skate as soon as I woke up (&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;baaad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; idea, I felt ill when I finally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;collapsed&lt;/span&gt; on my couch at home again). I got to relax for a bit before heading out to church, where it is my weekend to serve on the A/V team. Turns out that I wasn't sent the email that told me I didn't have to be there until 3:30, instead of the normal 2:30. With the extra hour I had time to just sit in the sanctuary, while Lee set up the sound, and journal and pray. I'll be honest - it was the first time in a long time that I was just...&lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was finally time to start practicing, I made my way up to the sound booth and then noticed the set list for the weekend. It was the first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;acoustic&lt;/span&gt; set we've had since I started attending two and a half years ago, I think. Among the five songs &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bleecker&lt;/span&gt; chose to sing were my two absolute favorite songs: &lt;em&gt;You Are The Light&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Before The Throne&lt;/em&gt;. And just in case that wasn't enough to get my attention, God had one more trick up His sleeve to stir my heart. We had a guest guitar player (for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;acoustic&lt;/span&gt; set), and, while going through the sound check, he just started playing. The song was gorgeous, and sounded a lot like the music from &lt;em&gt;August Rush&lt;/em&gt;. And all of a sudden, a Voice whispered to me, &lt;em&gt;This is for you. This song is for &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. I was overcome with Love, peace and tears as my Savior showed me how much He loves me. My favorite songs, a beautiful guitar piece and the peaceful setting of the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit in my living room now, sipping my glass of wine and watching Justin Chambers propose to Jennifer Lopez in the background, I am still overcome with an overwhelmingly peaceful joy. My God loves me. He is not a distant stranger Who does not know my name, but a doting Father who wants to protect me and display His Love and Grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not to us,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Not to us,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But to Your Name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be all glory,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be all honor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To your Name, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Forever&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5032229440004507505?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5032229440004507505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5032229440004507505' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5032229440004507505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5032229440004507505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/love-song.html' title='Love Song'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-187768225613760932</id><published>2008-03-15T02:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T02:15:57.244-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Hate That I Love You</title><content type='html'>It's odd to hear birds chirping outside at this hour. It's odd to be awake at this hour on that note..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The opposite of Love isn't hate; it's apathy.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Hate requires a level of effort that you would only devote to something you truly care about.&lt;/em&gt; My Daddy told me this many times growing up. I think he is a very wise man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-187768225613760932?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/187768225613760932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=187768225613760932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/187768225613760932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/187768225613760932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-hate-that-i-love-you.html' title='I Hate That I Love You'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4496218676020923135</id><published>2008-03-09T23:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T23:44:50.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stay Awake?</title><content type='html'>Wide awake though sleep-deprived..Listening to the rain outside my window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided someone must have prayed for me to learn patience. If I find out who it is, I will most assuredly punch them in the face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4496218676020923135?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4496218676020923135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4496218676020923135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4496218676020923135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4496218676020923135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/stay-awake.html' title='Stay Awake?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5300432090523271505</id><published>2008-03-05T22:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T23:30:06.644-06:00</updated><title type='text'>He Rose</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;He rose, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus, He rose&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My life's been forgiven&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This world holds no bounds&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He rose,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus, He rose&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My life's been redeemed, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;This prisoner set free&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Death, where's your sting?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause He rose...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Jeff Johnson "He Rose"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So beautiful, so true, so stuck in my head for the past six hours. So many random thoughts going through my head right now...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Friends episode where Joey loses an eyebrow is one of my favorites. "It's like a baby caterpillar chasing its momma!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I &lt;strong&gt;hate&lt;/strong&gt; when I go to the grocery store and get home just to realize that I should have checked for, say, sugar. Gr! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I ♥ Steven Wonder.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't decide if I'm going to grow my hair out for the first time in a while...or keep it short. Help?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This winter had been refreakingdiculous. Don't get me wrong, I love 72-degree weather and I absolutely &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; snow. I just can't take both &lt;u&gt;twice&lt;/u&gt; in the same week! Texas SUCKS. Not gonna lie, though. I think it's totally cool that God seems to have said, "No, I haven't forgotten your snow. Here it is!" How fantastic is a God that created snow because He knows how much I'd love it! Give me winter, or give me death!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Monday night, I met two of &lt;em&gt;the &lt;/em&gt;coolest little boys! Braxton was three and MacGuire ("Mac") was nine months. SO cute! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want to go to the aquarium. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think watching the stars from the roof of the Orange House is one of my new favorite things to do. 'Tis fantabulous. But only with certain people...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am totally freaking stoked about this Friday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;  Aren't you glad I shared?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5300432090523271505?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5300432090523271505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5300432090523271505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5300432090523271505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5300432090523271505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/he-rose.html' title='He Rose'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4099189783906214847</id><published>2008-03-01T19:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T20:08:27.112-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ride</title><content type='html'>First off, I love Amanda. The time we spend together is always a blessing and a joy to my heart. I was talking to her on the phone yesterday, and something she said really struck me. She and I are both going through very interesting (and often difficult) times in our lives right now. We've both been faced with decisions, joy and unexpected change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regarding one of the changes (unfortunately unpleasant), Amanda said she felt like she was on her favorite roller coaster. She said that she would always get on the ride with great anticipation which would quickly change to dread as soon as it began. As soon as the cars began to move, she would panic and wonder, &lt;em&gt;What have I done? I should never have gotten on this!&lt;/em&gt; A knot in her stomach, a scream rising in her throat, the ride would take off. The rush, the movement, the unexpected turns and twists, the drops, the peaks, going forward and then backward. And then it was over and she was back on solid ground. Her heart racing, she wanted to do it all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much like life is this? We make a decision and suddenly we're swept off our feet, rushing forward or backward, up and then down, going straight or weaving, not knowing what comes next. And then it's over and we can step back and look at where we are. We decide that it was one of the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unintelligent&lt;/span&gt; things we've ever done, that the terror of it all simply was not worth it; or we decide that it was the greatest decision we ever made and that the temporary fear was greatly outweighed by the final joy. Or maybe our breath is so taken away that we need some time to understand what just happened and decide whether or not we enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look at my life, I'm unsure what kind of ride I've had so far. Twists and turns, highs and lows, reaching a peak and having just seconds to catch my breath and see what lies below. Have I spent more time going backward or forward - and which has been more productive? Have I ridden with my eyes shut tight or tried to see what was coming and what has passed and tried to comprehend both? I don't know the answers to these questions. I do know that the best part of this ride is still to come. I have so many decisions facing me now and still ahead of me, decisions that will shape and change my life forever. And so I brace myself, and hold my breath...and do my best to enjoy the ride while it lasts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4099189783906214847?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4099189783906214847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4099189783906214847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4099189783906214847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4099189783906214847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/03/ride.html' title='The Ride'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5207343461296148618</id><published>2008-02-27T22:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T22:30:03.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>J-O-Y</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;  I think too often I base my attitude on circumstance. Too often, I let the finite and temporary effect my mood or outlook. Why do I do this? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Last week, for example, was a roller coaster of emotion. I got good news, then bad; something given to me, then something taken away; fun new memories made and painful memories recalled. Throughout, I should have been joyful, but I am sad to say I wasn't. It was as basing my mood upon the wind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whatever&lt;/strong&gt; my lot, Thou hast taught me to say&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It is well, &lt;strong&gt;it is well with my soul&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;  Where are these words in the throws of my sadness? Where are they in my joy, for that matter? Why do I only focus on them in the times that it's convenient for me? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;  This week has been fantastic so far. I have been doing well at school; work is fine; I have had the immense privilege of spending time with an absolutely amazing friend. But if that all changes tomorrow, will I still remember that my God is in control? Will I praise Him &lt;em&gt;no matter what&lt;/em&gt;, or will I question His judgement? I wish I had more answers than questions. I wish I could, in all faith and honesty, promise you that right now begins a change. But that's between my heart and God, isn't it? I hope that this begins something new. I pray that this is a turning point. I can tell you that I will definitely be seeking God in the coming days and weeks like I haven't been in past months. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blessed be Your name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When the sun's shinging down on me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;When the world's "all as it should be"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blessed be Your name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And blessed be Your name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;On the road marked with suffering&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Though there's pain in the offering&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blessed be Your name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every blessing You pour out &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'll turn back to praise&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And when the darkness closes in, Lord&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Still I will say...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;Blessed be Your name.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5207343461296148618?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5207343461296148618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5207343461296148618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5207343461296148618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5207343461296148618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/j-o-y.html' title='J-O-Y'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6174638854987146409</id><published>2008-02-10T09:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T10:39:23.931-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All You Need Is Love</title><content type='html'>What most would call coincidence began a conversation last night that I hope to never forget. I walked by Josh, the Village's custodian, who pointed at me with his huge grin and then started laughing. "I have had that song stuck in my head all day," he said, pointing to my &lt;em&gt;all we need is love&lt;/em&gt; t-shirt. "I can't believe it! And it's so true! All we really need is Love."&lt;br /&gt;  Josh then proceded to tell me a strange series of events from his week, which at first seemed completely unrelated. Taking flowers to his wife at work, his friend Alex's help, Mariah Carey's &lt;em&gt;Always Be My Baby&lt;/em&gt; heard on the radio. The simple words on my shirt were a credo he'd decided to try to live out this past week, and a song that he'd been singing all about the church as he cleaned. Alex walked in and joined me in listening just as Josh was telling me about him. I'd been humming Mariah Carey's song since Wednesday when Andy played it at Joe's. Funny coincidence. I was completely intrigued and absorbed in Josh's tale filled with rabbit trails and non-sequitors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  About mid-narrative, Josh was relating his experiences in a tense seminary classroom and explained that he always picked up other's tension. He'd been told it was a 'gift' but seemed slightly less than excited about it. I could relate, and explained that whenever someone around me cries, I cry. It's a wonderful 'gift', I sarcastically told them. "Jesus cried." He said it so matter-of-factly, but I'd heard it so many times before that I blew it off at first.&lt;br /&gt;   "I cry at Disney movies," I laughed. "I'm talking &lt;em&gt;Ice Age&lt;/em&gt; when the tiger died! I teared up! And it's a Disney movie, ok? I should've realized they're not going to off a main character and yet I cried."&lt;br /&gt;  "But Jesus cried too! He cried when He was on his way to see Lazarus," Josh said getting excited. "Jesus was going to see Lazarus, and &lt;em&gt;He knew&lt;/em&gt; He was about to raise the guy from the dead! And He still cried!"&lt;br /&gt;  I'd never thought of it like that before. I'd heard many times that "Jesus wept." Shortest verse in the Bible, right? (If you grew up in a Southern Baptist church, you knew that and tried to use it to cheat several times.) But I'd never understood it the way Josh did. You see, Josh had no idea that the last few months have been filled with a constant struggle to allow myself to be emotional. Since my childhood, I have fought desperately, even prayed to make my heart numb. I've never shared this publicly before.  I think those who know me well know that I have huge passion and genuine care for all whom God has placed in my life, and it was never in this area that I struggled; I have always cherished the heart God gave me for others. It was my own pain and personal heartache that I wished to never feel. A common emotion, I'm sure but I' had taken it to extremes in recent years. I had become solely analytical in matters of my own heart and did not even realize it until someone helped me to see it two months ago.&lt;br /&gt;  Josh did not know this, could not know this, could not know the impact a simple aside in his tale would have on me. A simple 'coincidence' and I walked out with a completely different thought pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love, love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love, love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love, love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There's nothing you can do that can't be done.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's easy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can make that can't be made.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one you can save that can't be saved.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's easy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is all you need.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is all you need.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can know that isn't known.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing you can see that isn't shown.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's easy.All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is all you need.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All you need is love, love.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love is all you need (love is all you need).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6174638854987146409?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6174638854987146409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6174638854987146409' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6174638854987146409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6174638854987146409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-you-need-is-love.html' title='All You Need Is Love'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5710389904645400122</id><published>2007-12-13T13:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T13:34:52.188-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To Whom It May Concern</title><content type='html'>It has come to my attention that a few people were seriously offended by my previous blog. While my intention was never to hurt anyone, nor to attack or "call out" someone personally, I must say this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  When I write, I do it for &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; sake. I have never written anything with malicious intent. I consider my writings to be equal to that of a newspaper column (though not on par, as far as talent goes). What I write is my opinion, and only that. An &lt;em&gt;opinion&lt;/em&gt;. To be completely fair, one could take offense to anything written by any person. Whether or not it is beneficial to become so upset by something is another issue. The problem I was addressing was not electronic invitations, but rather how they are enabling our society to continue to completely disregard their fellow man. I will not apologize for this, and will continue to instead attempt to call attention to this fact. What I wrote was not wrong; it is unfortunate that what I said was misinterpreted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  To those whom I have offended - if you even read this (or if things can again spread through the rumor mill to you) - I hope you know that I am sorry that what I wrote affected you so, and that it was never my intent to hurt you. In fact, you did not even cross my mind when last I ranted. I wish that you could have the courtesy to have come to me and told me yourself that what I said had upset you or at least responded to the apology written to you. I think that things would have been resolved differently. It saddens me to think that something so trivial could end a friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5710389904645400122?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5710389904645400122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5710389904645400122' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5710389904645400122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5710389904645400122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/12/to-whom-it-may-concern.html' title='To Whom It May Concern'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-7244248888999091428</id><published>2007-12-09T08:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T10:08:04.307-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome To The Wonderful World Of Evites or "How My Generation Seems To Have Lost The Ability To Respect Anyone But Themselves"</title><content type='html'>I am ashamed to say that I belong to a generation of completely self-absorbed slackers. It used to be that when an event was going to take place, the host would send out invitations in the mail. Not email. Via the postman (remember him?). When one received said invitation, one was obliged to respond "si vous plait" (didn't even know that's what RSVP stood for, did you?), yes or no. "Maybe" was not an option. If one was not completely sure that they could attend the event, they would inform the host of the possible conflict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Now, I welcome you to today's world of online invitations. Response optional. If you're unsure you want to attend you can&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;choose &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maybe&lt;/span&gt; is a magical option that allows the invitee to make absolutely no commitment whatsoever! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maybe &lt;/span&gt;enables you to say you're not sure that you'll be attending the event because you're waiting to see if you will be offered a more enticing option for that date. And do not try to deny that you've done that; I've actually heard some admit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  But wait, the hosts are not excluded from my soapbox. Oh, no! They, too, are enabled and allowed to be completely slovenly and tacky. Why go to the enormous effort of tracking down all of those addresses? Why add the stress of using a pen and stamps? Why exert yourself when you're already going to all the trouble of allowing people into your home? I was appalled, thoroughly and absolutely taken aback, this year when I received a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;wedding invitation&lt;/span&gt; via Facebook! And this, mind you, was after I received an electronic invitation to help the bride-to-be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;make &lt;/span&gt;the physical invitations! What on earth have we come to? I understand that wedding invitations can be expensive - don't think that I'm oblivious. Also do not think I'm disapproving of the request that friends help make the invitations; it's a large undertaking, I know. I am stunned that someone would actually use something as cheap and impersonal as an electronic invitation for one of the biggest days of their lives, and disgusted that people actually responded with a "maybe"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am astonished by the absolute lack of respect for others. Are my peers really so completely selfish, so totally absorbed in their own lives that they cannot make a commitment and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hold to it&lt;/span&gt; for someone else? Yes, I occasionally use electronic invitations. I use Facebook and Evites to try to gather friends together for events. But it saddens me to know that I cannot, nor can anyone else, rely upon these at all - because the majority of the people who will receive them will not give what should be the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;common &lt;/span&gt;courtesy of a serious commitment. And do not think that this issue stops with Evites. This absence of respect shows itself in the failed commitments to call, falling through on appointments (be they lunch dates with a friend or prioritizing everything before time for our Creator - that means that He deliberately &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;made&lt;/span&gt; you with the purpose of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;glorifying Him&lt;/span&gt;, by the way), and so much more. So. Here are the options we have: We either grow the heck up and act like the adults we claim to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;or&lt;/span&gt; we stop relying at all upon electronic invites. Personally, I hope to see more people giving an actual commitment and showing the lost art of respect for the person going to the effort of hosting an event. I hope to stop seeing so many God-awful Evites. I hope you know that if you ever send me an invitation via &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything &lt;/span&gt;but "snail" mail for a graduation, baby shower or wedding that I will not be there. I hope that this might be at least a small step towards stepping outside of ourselves and realizing that there is more to this world than just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;us&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-7244248888999091428?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/7244248888999091428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=7244248888999091428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/7244248888999091428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/7244248888999091428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/12/welcome-to-wonderful-world-of-evites-or.html' title='Welcome To The Wonderful World Of Evites or &quot;How My Generation Seems To Have Lost The Ability To Respect Anyone But Themselves&quot;'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5152164212320484630</id><published>2007-11-07T21:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T22:06:21.880-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby, It's Cold Outside!</title><content type='html'>Ok, not really quite 'cold' yet, but close enough for me! I love this time of year more than any other. The trees are turning, the weather is cooling, and what I like to call the "Fall Phenomena" is raising its beautiful head. I...am baking! I don't know what it is about this change in the temperature, but it has some sort of unexplained reaction with my body. The lower the degree outside, the more food appears in my kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the first wave. I decided I really wanted fudge, but unfortunately it was that fourth batch for me. Every fourth batch turns out just a little different than it should be. Still edible, but..different. Ah well. Then, after a quick venture to the grocery store for greens to make a fresh salad and yeast, I made a salad, chicken tetrazzini and &lt;em&gt;focaccia &lt;/em&gt;bread -- from scratch! The bread was my crowning achievement, I'm not going to lie. I'm still beaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, today at work, I read the newspaper. Did you know the Taste edition of the Dallas Morning News comes out on Wednesday? I didn't! I now have an amazing recipe for sugar cookies that involves sour cream (I'm quite curious to see how those turn out!) that will be saved for another day. Aaaannd...A beautiful Classic Coconut Cake with White Mountain coconut icing. Also, I made Monkey Bread for breakfast tomorrow! They're right, this is the most wonderful time of the year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  If I hadn't left my camera in West Texas, there'd be pictures...So. Who wants to be my friend? ;o)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5152164212320484630?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5152164212320484630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5152164212320484630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5152164212320484630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5152164212320484630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/11/baby-its-cold-outside.html' title='Baby, It&apos;s Cold Outside!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-8000813452586091583</id><published>2007-09-27T10:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T10:22:31.838-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons From Jeremy: Part 2</title><content type='html'>Jeremy overcomes fantastic odds in his optimism and pursuit to follow God’s will for him. You see, Jeremy was born twenty-five years ago with cerebral palsy. His left arm is constantly bent inward, he walks with a severe limp, it is often difficult for him to say the words he desires and more frequently difficult to understand him, and he does not always have control of all of his motor functions. To the simple passer-by, Jeremy seems to be merely another young man with special needs. To those who take the time to speak with him, Jeremy is an invaluable treasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy’s overwhelming joy in telling me of God’s revelation to him left me stunned. I had so many questions swimming through the murky mists in my head. I had misjudged him, and for that I could not be more sorry. I had pitied Jeremy, been sorry for what his life must be like; sometimes I had avoided him in order to maintain &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; comfort zone – the absurdity of that is shameful. The reality was this: Jeremy should pity me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hesitated, but decided to ask anyway, “Do you ever get frustrated by it all?” Oh yes, he said. He gets frustrated and lonely, but he knows he has a purpose in it all. “God uses my handicap for a purpose,” he said excitedly. &lt;em&gt;Purpose&lt;/em&gt;. He said that word over and over again with such elation and hope. Not just in spite of circumstance, but &lt;em&gt;because&lt;/em&gt; of it, Jeremy could encourage those around him like no one else could. Suddenly, my health issues and life problems seemed so minor and embarrassing. While I was complaining about minor daily frustrations, Jeremy was living each day to the fullest, loving everyone with whom he came into contact literally as Jesus would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To live life as Jeremy does! What an idea it is, what a goal to which we can aspire. What lessons there are to learn from one whom the world deems to be worthy of its pity. The truth of the matter is that Jeremy should be envied by us all. In spite of pain, in spite of misfortune – if there really is such a thing – he ‘presses on toward the goal’ that God has put before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, he becomes frustrated – but he does not let that deter him or slow down his mission to live his life for the absolute glory of God. With his big smile, he removed his ball cap and told me again how he just tries to impact the lives of the people God puts in his life. He told me that before he approached me for the second time, he had been about to go elsewhere but God told him to not leave the area. Apparently, he said, he was supposed to talk to me and he hoped that he had encouraged me. With tears in my eyes and a huge smile on my lips, I told him that he’d never know how much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-8000813452586091583?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/8000813452586091583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=8000813452586091583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8000813452586091583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8000813452586091583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/09/lessons-from-jeremy-part-2.html' title='Lessons From Jeremy: Part 2'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-8016607864547051601</id><published>2007-09-26T14:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T20:24:10.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons From Jeremy: Part 1</title><content type='html'>Jeremy told me I looked pretty Monday afternoon. I had just come from my tennis class and looked a sight, but I thanked him for his sweet words anyway. I know he didn’t remember me, but we’d met many times before. I met Jeremy about four years ago, while taking classes at the McKinney campus of Collin College. I hadn’t been back on that campus in at least two years, so some time had passed since last we saw each other. I smiled at him as I went to change out of my tennis clothes and into something presentable to the general public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t see him when I came back out, which honestly made me breathe a small sigh of relief. I made my way up to the second floor and curled up on a couch to read Pride and Prejudice. About an hour passed, and I stepped out of the world of Elizabeth Bennett long enough to realize I was hungry and wanted a snack. The vending machine on that floor was never all that good, so I went back downstairs to the intimidating row of glass machines offering anything and everything a junk food addict could want. This row was not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for the indecisive. As I qualify for the latter category, it took me a minute to decide what I wanted. I was making my selection when Jeremy ambled up to me. “You changed,” he said with a question in his voice. I told him I had, that gym shorts were not my favorite. He asked me how I liked tennis, and I told him that it was fun but that my skill is still sorely lacking. After a second of awkward silence, I said, “Jeremy, right?” I reached out for his hand and introduced myself, knowing that he didn’t remember the last time I had done this. With a huge smile, he gave me his hand in return and told me he was very glad to meet me. My car had been taken to the shop earlier that morning, so I’d been planning on returning to my couch to read some more until my ride came, but Jeremy asked me what I was doing so I told him I was going to one of the tables by the door and he followed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we sat we talked about nothing in particular. Jeremy asked me if I worked and where; said he would have to come visit me at the restaurant, and told me he’d been working at Old Navy for the past seven years. He’d also recently started working at the hospital, which piqued my interest so I asked him what he did there. I nodded yes when he asked if I knew what prosthetics were, and he told me that he does physical therapy with patients who have new prosthetic appendages. When he found out that we both serve on the media teams at our churches, I could see the excitement in his face as he gave me a high-five and asked how long I had been saved. When it was his turn to talk again, he expressed his joy at being a Christian and knowing his purpose. He had discovered his purpose years ago, he said, one day while crying out to God. God had told him that his purpose was to talk to everyone he came across and try to encourage them. He said that he knew that God used him to impact the lives of people around him, and that even if he ever only impacted one person, he had done what God asked of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;...To be continued...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-8016607864547051601?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/8016607864547051601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=8016607864547051601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8016607864547051601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8016607864547051601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/09/lessons-from-jeremy-part-1.html' title='Lessons From Jeremy: Part 1'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5631158554429479565</id><published>2007-09-10T21:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T23:31:13.597-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I allowed to be honest?</title><content type='html'>How honest am I really allowed to be online? I feel abandoned. On June fourteenth, I went to the ER for chest pains and palpitations. The following weeks and months have been my own personal hell filled with...silence. I have been exhausted, in pain, and unable to drive and live as I used to. I have received a couple emails from my homegroupies; phone calls from Andy every couple of weeks; Amber, Amanda, Drew, Darrell, and Dominic have called me once or twice each to see how I'm doing; a handful of people (most of them distant friends) have written me on facebook or myspace; Mandy and Josh (in the short time that I have known him) have been indescribably encouraging in emails; Danny has offered to meet me half-way to hang out and Kevin (whom I met a only month ago) has offered to come all the way out to me to take me to civilization. Jason has come to see me several times (which has meant the world over to me) and I have heard of Andy, Amber and Mike actually asking others to pray with them for my health - for this I am the most grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Time&lt;/em&gt;. My love language is time. Whether it's a simple note when I log online, a five minute phone call or (the absolute best) getting to actually hang out, it's how I give and receive love. I have heard so many wonderful stories of community at the Village. Time and again I have heard how much it has meant to those in need to have friends to support them through their rough times. I have always done my very best to be there for anyone and everyone - whether they were going through a good time or bad. Distance is no matter for me, as I've always had to drive ridiculous miles just to go to work or the grocery store. Not for the sake of having a favor returned, but because I care that much for everyone I have the privilege of meeting - it's how God wired me. Time is such a simple such and ridiculous concept. We place so much value on it and yet not enough.&lt;br /&gt;And yet when I have a time of need...I'm alone. Unless I can come to them, my friends have seemingly forgotten me. The funny part is, when I actually try to call the people who have told me countless times that I can call them to talk when I need to, I usually get a voicemail or a promise for a return call - which may or may not actually happen. Matt constantly preaches the need to actually make an &lt;em&gt;effort&lt;/em&gt; to create community. It will not happen on its own. I think I can say with all honesty that I have done everything within my power to do this. I have been open, I have been vulnerable, I have stepped out of my comfort zone - and to what avail? This isn't me throwing a pity party, this isn't even me getting angry. I write this with many tears to try to simply work out my frustration. There have been countless tear-filled nights in the last three months as I have fought off the anxiety and fear that have come with an unknown health issue and the pain and desperation that accompanies having only my immediate family to go through this with me. My goal in writing this is not to &lt;em&gt;guilt &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;anyone&lt;/strong&gt; into communicating with me. I don't want false sympathy or pity. I want -- I want honesty. I want to have a homegroup that is actually close to me again. I want to live next door to all of my friends. I want to have my health problems resolved. I want to hit the next person who sends me some Bible verse but doesn't actually seem to care about me. I want people to stop telling me to pray and start praying &lt;em&gt;for&lt;/em&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're hoping that my doctor may be on the right track to correcting my phsyical heart issues. Not all of the pain my heart is feeling can be corrected with medication though. Maybe I'm in the wrong for writing this. Maybe I'll delete this again before it's ever seen by anyone else. But I don't think it's wrong for me to be upset by this. I'm not angry; I'm deeply wounded. And I don't know what to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5631158554429479565?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5631158554429479565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5631158554429479565' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5631158554429479565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5631158554429479565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/09/am-i-allowed-to-be-honest.html' title='Am I allowed to be honest?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6611656675384313942</id><published>2007-09-02T10:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T10:40:36.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales Of A Twenty-Something Klutz: I Need A Stunt Double</title><content type='html'>Oh yes, it's time for another installment of the Tales Of A Twenty-Something Klutz! (See past notes/blogs for other tales/amusement.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Yesterday found me at UNT helping my dear friend Kourtney with a filming project. The weather was quite nice, sunny and only mildly blistering. Kourtney had to shoot a three-minute film that could explain itself without dialogue. I was there as an extra. The first shot at the front of the Bus/Admin building took only five minutes and we moved to the south side. Glen and Sarah were stationed on a picnic blanket (look disgustingly cute) and Paul, Nathan and I were told to stand on a spot of grass playing frisbee. It must have been terribly amusing to watch us chase the frisbee around. And then it happened.&lt;br /&gt;  We were in the throws of a vicious game of frisbee, and I had finally understood my character's depth and complexity. The frisbee was tossed to me, and of course I tried and failed to catch it as it fell to the ground. Now, the rules of etiquette dictate that when a lady must retrieve an object from the ground, one must bend at the knees to prevent the derriere from being thrust most ungracefully into the air. Any real lady knows this. I attempted to make such a maneuver, but something went awry. I think I twisted somehow and mid-frisbee-retrieval, something in the back of my left leg seized up. I thought it to be just a cramp at first, and stood back up to even more pain. After several minutes had passed with no relief, I realized the horrible truth of what I had done and did my best to get back into the "zone" and &lt;em&gt;act&lt;/em&gt; like I was not in pain for the remainder of the film. It was an Oscar-winning performance, and I shall not be at all surprised to see my name nominated this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I don't know why I can't get any of the good injuries! Just once, I'd like to hurt myself saving a child from a burning building. Heck, I'd even settle for saving a goldfish! But no. I pull a hamstring picking up a frisbee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6611656675384313942?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6611656675384313942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6611656675384313942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6611656675384313942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6611656675384313942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/09/tales-of-twenty-something-klutz-i-need.html' title='Tales Of A Twenty-Something Klutz: I Need A Stunt Double'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-3648153637171039540</id><published>2007-08-30T11:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T12:15:40.381-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Phunk With My Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The diagnosis &lt;/strong&gt;(thus far)&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I finally heard back from my cardiologist's nurse yesterday who informed me that I &lt;em&gt;do &lt;/em&gt;have &lt;a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/mitral-valve-prolapse/DS00504"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mitral&lt;/span&gt; Valve Prolapse &lt;/a&gt;(in short, one of the valves in my lower chambers doesn't push all of the blood back out of my heart like it's supposed to). Typically, this condition is treated with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;anticoagulants&lt;/span&gt; (blood thinners) or beta blockers (to lower blood pressure), but neither of these are a good idea for me. In worst-case conditions, surgery for valve &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;repair&lt;/span&gt; or replacement is recommended. My condition, however, is minor enough that there won't be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;treatment&lt;/span&gt;, but serious enough that I have to go in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;annually&lt;/span&gt; for an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;echo cardiogram&lt;/span&gt; (a sonogram of the heart) to make sure that it has not worsened. Lastly, the doctor has determined that the symptoms I have had for the last nearly three months are &lt;em&gt;not &lt;/em&gt;being caused by the heart condition. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What this means:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an appointment to go back to back to my family doctor next Tuesday morning to take the next steps in finding out what's going on. The most popular theory (by friends and family) right now is a thyroid imbalance. The other theory is a hormonal imbalance. I do not think the latter is a possibility, however, as this has been constant for the last several months, with no fluctuations as most hormonal problems do. I don't know what my doctor will wish to do or where we begin. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How you can pray:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;* For &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;discernment&lt;/span&gt; for the doctors involved. We have eliminated one possibility, so please pray that they would know where to begin and might find the root of my problem as quickly as possible.&lt;br /&gt;* For strength...&lt;br /&gt;A) Because I am really struggling with frustration, as this has been a constant issue for three months. I am exhuasted pysically, mentally and emotionally. I find it bizzarre and ironic that sometimes it is hard for me to lean only on Him - even when it's the only way to survive.&lt;br /&gt;B) Because I am &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; struggling without community. Living out in "Egypt" with my parents and not always having the strength to drive have caused me to be cut off almost completely from my cherished friends and church family. I have gone through anger, tears, lonliness and apathy. I realize now how little time everyone really has these days. Please pray that God would be enough for me and that I would not look to men for comfort or support. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As always, I cannot thank you enough for the prayer coverage I have received. I actually was able to, by the grace of God, go six days without a major incident a week ago. I love you all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-3648153637171039540?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/3648153637171039540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=3648153637171039540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3648153637171039540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3648153637171039540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/dont-phunk-with-my-heart.html' title='Don&apos;t Phunk With My Heart'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-4933425304247010201</id><published>2007-08-28T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T23:20:38.127-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It Is Well?</title><content type='html'>*I really don't expect anyone to read this -- unless you really want an overly-detailed explanation of what I know of my health problems. Mostly, this is just me venting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want the jerk who must have prayed for patience for me to show their face. I have a few choice words for you!&lt;br /&gt;I'm so terribly frustrated right now! I received a message from my cardiologist's nurse yesterday, informing me that they had the results from my last echocardiogram (my second in two months). Input and output are fine, she informed me, but I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; have some mitral valve prolapse. (In short, an "output" valve that doesn't push &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; of the blood through like it's supposed to. Wikipedia it if you want to know more.) The doctor hadn't looked at the results yet (then why the heck are you calling me?!), but everything looked to be fine. I attempted to call her back and left a message asking to have my doctor, specifically, call me back or schedule another appointment when he knew the diagnosis, good, bad, or indifferent. She called me back and said that they had an opening for me to come in this Friday morning. Great! Except I have a jury summons. Well then, the next opening she had was....next Thursday. Seriously?? I finally explained to her that I'm becoming very frustrated because nobody has been able to tell me for sure whether my recent health issues are a cardiac problem or not. If they aren't cardiac related, then I'd like to know so that I can go back into my family doctor and begin figuring out what it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt;. Well, there is some mitral valve prolapse (MVP) but she thought the doctor deemed it to be low enough to not be concerned, but he &lt;strong&gt;does&lt;/strong&gt; want me to come back in after a few months to ensure that it hasn't worsened. She'd talk to the doctor and call me back. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called my family doctor and now have an appointment for next Tuesday morning to begin to try to figure out what is going on with my body. From what I've heard from a handful of people, if this is not a cardiac issue at its root, it looks to be more like a thyroid imbalance - a pretty simple fix. I hope it's something as easy as that..though I think if I'm completely honest, I'd be a little frustrated that it's something as simple as that after all of this time.&lt;br /&gt;I've been struggling with these issues for almost three months now. For three months, the root of my exhaustion, tachycardia, chest pains, etc. have remained unknown. This has been &lt;em&gt;beyond&lt;/em&gt; frustrating for me. I've struggled with anger, fear, worry, anxiety; felt joy, peace, reassurance. This has definitely been one of the more trying times of my life. I'm learning a lot - I cannot and will not deny that. But neither can I lie and say that I'm "fine" right now. I have peace that my God knows what my body is doing and frustration that I do not yet know how and if it can be corrected. I know that I probably do not have it quite as bad as I think I do, but neither is this a walk in the park. I'm growing more weary, becoming tired of fighting all of this mess. Jesus, please help me! I can't do this on my own fading strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make my prayer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whatever my lot,&lt;br /&gt;Thou hast taught me to say&lt;br /&gt;It is well, it is well with my soul...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-4933425304247010201?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/4933425304247010201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=4933425304247010201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4933425304247010201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/4933425304247010201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/it-is-well.html' title='It Is Well?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-1590130436949221988</id><published>2007-08-25T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T18:17:49.631-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel weighted and I'm not sure why. Do you ever have those moments where you just feel &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heavy &lt;/span&gt;and you don't know why? Of late, this is the point where I would break out my journal and just write until I figured out what is going on. My journal is at home, however, and I'm not. I'm sitting in the sound booth above the sanctuary listening to Matt yell at the 5:00 service. Hypocrisy. What a word. I feel that it describes me better than any other word. If anything, this series on masculinity has shown me my short comings and hypocrisies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; But I don't feel that this is what is weighing on my soul right now. So what is? Maybe it's the feeling of being overwhelmed. I know so many areas I need to adjust or change completely now. My last two posts can verify that. But how do I go from the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knowledge&lt;/span&gt; to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;action&lt;/span&gt;? I find it laughable that people have thought me to be a good example! Me. Fallen, broken, disappointing. And please don't misunderstand: I'm not throwing a pity party - I'm suffering a revelation. I've suddenly realized that my life is not going as swimmingly as I thought it was -- and I didn't think it was going terribly well! What I thought was a little junk in my closet has suddenly been revealed to have overflowed and fills my whole house. Has anyone else had that day? It's so overwhelming! How on earth did I get here? How does this happen? It wasn't all at once, I know that for certain. More importantly though, how do I leave this place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've become frustrated by the feast of questions and famine of answers. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;God, I need your help&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-1590130436949221988?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/1590130436949221988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=1590130436949221988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1590130436949221988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1590130436949221988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-feel-weighted-and-im-not-sure-why.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-1739896061820215826</id><published>2007-08-21T10:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T11:31:10.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand Amazed (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>I feel like someone went into my head and turned what was there to scrambled eggs. It's all just a big, confusing heap of mush. Please, God, give me a day without thinking so my poor brain can heal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  So just in case the first week of the Masculinity series wasn't enough, God (via Matt) decided to throw this week at us. I've had so many jumbled-up thoughts swirling about in my head for the last two weeks now. When I try to talk to others about this series and how it's been affecting me, the typical response I get is, "You &lt;em&gt;do &lt;/em&gt;know he's talking to the &lt;em&gt;men&lt;/em&gt;, right?" Yes, I know that. God has been revealing a lot to me in spite of that though, it would seem. This Sunday brought even more painful revelations - and a &lt;strong&gt;lot&lt;/strong&gt; of humility.&lt;br /&gt;  First off, I need to apologize to the men in my life to whom I have not been an encouragement. There are several specific men who will receive direct and detailed apologies because they have had to deal with me more. To the rest, I sincerely and from the bottom of my heart apologize if I have discouraged you or nagged. How frequently in my life I have done this! It is not at all a pleasant feeling to have someone tell you that you have been entirely the wrong kind of person until now. How hard it is to hear what you've done wrong in probably every relationship, both romantic and p&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;latonic&lt;/span&gt;. I need to be a woman who breathes life into the souls of the men whom God places in my life.&lt;br /&gt;  God's revealed a lot of junk in my life just since Sunday. Yesterday found me journaling for nearly five pages just trying to understand what's going on within me. I told a dear friend that I often become frustrated, as it feels that my journal is more full of questions than anything else. Pour example, one week Matt insists that we do not need another person to be complete. Agreed. But then the next week, he tells us that Adam was not finished until he had a "suitable" helper? So I'm supposed to be discontent with being single, as I'm not designed to be this way, but I'm supposed to be content with being single because this is how God wants me right now? Where is the balance and how does one find it?&lt;br /&gt;  And then He reveals that I don't trust Him enough with my relationships (particularly romantic). It seems so ridiculously simple a sentence. I  can assure you that it was not so simple to realize. We're talking really rough. It's taken me three to four years to understand this! Three or four years of jacking up relationships and a horrible cycle of hurting both myself and others. Why? Why did it take so long? Why do I do this? So from here I trust more. How on &lt;em&gt;earth&lt;/em&gt; do I do this?? "Pray" and "read the Bible" aren't going to work here. I need real, honest, practical answers. It will only be by His grace that I am given the strength, perseverance and endurance to truly trust Him with this.&lt;br /&gt;  And just in case all of this wasn't enough, there was Crew Quarterly last night. (The worship teams from church are going through Wayne Grudem's &lt;em&gt;Christian Beliefs: 20 Basics Every Christian Should Know&lt;/em&gt; together under Bleecker's leadership.) We met to discuss creation vs. evolution. My goodness! There was so much to digest! I'm not altogether sure that I understood everything and will most definitely have to go back over the twenty-one pages to try to soak it all up. The one thing I did understand clearly, though, was that our God is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;so good&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! How gracious and merciful and compassionate He is to provide us with evidences of His plan and creation. He doesn't have to leave us any, but He does! And what we are allowed to see is only a microscopic level. How big, how magnificent, how &lt;em&gt;beautiful&lt;/em&gt; He is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  These are just some of the thoughts swimming about in the muck that is my mind. It's been a rough week, and it's only Tuesday. This is hard, this is painful, and this is frustrating. To see how much I need to change, to not know entirely how to begin it, and to still have so many ambiguous questions lurking in the corners, just waiting for an unsuspecting moment to jump out and pounce upon me. &lt;strong&gt;Praise God&lt;/strong&gt; for His revelation, though. These are not comfortable thoughts, but how gracious He is to reveal them to me and not leave me to my own devices. It's hard and it hurts, but it is so much better than complacency. My mind is exhuasted and stretched to its limits. All I can think to end this is &lt;strong&gt;praise His glorious name&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-1739896061820215826?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/1739896061820215826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=1739896061820215826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1739896061820215826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1739896061820215826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-stand-amazed-part-2.html' title='I Stand Amazed (Part 2)'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6195961078478218332</id><published>2007-08-14T22:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T22:55:20.422-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand Amazed (Part 1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Man. Two days later and I'm still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;exhausted&lt;/span&gt;. Matt's sermon on Sunday* was absolutely unbelievable. He wasn't even addressing the women directly for but ten minutes, and I walked away emotionally, mentally and spiritually wiped out! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I'll be completely honest: I don't know that I've given men full credit for the unbelievable hard role they have in life before Sunday night. It was so enlightening to take an in-depth look at how and why man was cursed when creation fell. To have everything within me on some deep level wishing to constantly cultivate and grow and perfect (which explains now why men are always trying to "fix" the problems women have) and to have everything on this planet fighting against that...I don't envy it at all. I think that, as a woman, having the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;innate&lt;/span&gt; desire to nurture is much easier - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;comparatively&lt;/span&gt; speaking at least. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When Matt began to talk about his daughter and how she fights him when he tries to protect her and provide her with ultimate joy, I started crying. To see him acting out what I do every single day to my God was so hard and yet so joyful. I don't know that I've seen it like that before. God wishes to be the ultimate provider of my joy - and yet when He does not do that in the manner that I, with my finite and temporal vision, see fit, I rail against or run away from Him. It is so trite and ridiculous! To see &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;, shaking &lt;em&gt;my &lt;/em&gt;fists at &lt;em&gt;God&lt;/em&gt;??&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I wonder if He sees the humor in it or is only saddened. A very dear friend said before the service that she felt like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gomer&lt;/span&gt; (read Hosea). I made light of it at the time, but by the time the service was done it was no longer a light matter at all. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Gomer&lt;/span&gt;. I am the adulterous woman who runs away time and again, only to have my Love chasing after me, waiting, providing for my needs and loving me all the while not just in spite of who I am, but &lt;em&gt;because&lt;/em&gt; of who I am. It's mind-boggling. It makes no sense at all on any level. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I mean, if I'm honest with myself and anyone else, if I were in the same situation I know that I wouldn't continue to love that person with all of my being. I would give up! But He, my Beautiful and Merciful Savior, does not. How beautiful, how exquisite is that picture? When I have finally run myself ragged, when I am finally too exhausted to fight Him anymore, when I am too weak to continue and find myself out in the desert, He is right there waiting for me. He will quench my thirst like no drink on this earth, He will hold me and comfort me like no man ever could, He will sustain me like no thing created, and He will love me beyond my comprehension. How good, how perfect, how deserving of our praise He is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I want to expound upon this idea more, but I've worn myself out again. More later...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;*If you missed out this weekend for any reason, I &lt;em&gt;highly &lt;/em&gt;encourage you to check out the &lt;a href="http://www.thevillagechurch.net/resources/sermons/20070812men1.html"&gt;podcast&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6195961078478218332?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6195961078478218332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6195961078478218332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6195961078478218332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6195961078478218332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-stand-amazed-part-1.html' title='I Stand Amazed (Part 1)'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6142815510803439638</id><published>2007-08-04T13:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T13:47:35.885-05:00</updated><title type='text'>See You In September...</title><content type='html'>...But not October. My insurance agent pointed out the other day that I have had an accident in almost every October since I started driving in 2002! They have ranged from almost no damage to my car being completely totaled. Some were my fault, some were the other driver's, some were caused by nature (gravel roads...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the deal? I mean I really have to wonder at this! Why October? Why me??&lt;br /&gt;10/10/02: One month after (finally) receiving my license, a lady T-bones me in my dad's Avalanche. The accident is deemed my fault (though she admitted later that she "looked up" and there I was) because I was the younger driver. She tries to sue me for &lt;em&gt;prexisting &lt;/em&gt;conditions in her daughter. It's dropped.&lt;br /&gt;10/06/04: In stop and go traffic I rear-end a lady in my Bug (the "Booger"). My bumper is damaged, she ends up being fine.&lt;br /&gt;10/24/05: A Ford Explorer turns left in front of me at Hwy 380 and Custer on my way to work. I'm traveling at approximately 65MPH. Both cars are totaled (poor Booger...:sniff:), he has minimal injuries, my back is now jacked up for life. (In all honesty, it is a &lt;em&gt;miracle &lt;/em&gt;that both of us were fine. The accident could have very easily killed either of us.) His insurace accepts only 60% liability so I have to sue to cover the lost wages, semester of classes and therapy (physical and massage). &lt;strong&gt;Praise God&lt;/strong&gt;, I received a phone call from my attorney yesterday and they have finally given a fair settlement offer. Two years later, that junk is finally over.&lt;br /&gt;His car: I hit the passenger side and ended up on the driver's side.&lt;br /&gt;The police told my parents if anyone else had been in the car, they&lt;br /&gt;would not have survived. The door was pried open to get him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItSkRacI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WS8u8lUFLE4/s1600-h/b11226175.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094917758866516418" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItSkRacI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WS8u8lUFLE4/s320/b11226175.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItikRaeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oDXq4XWdAJY/s1600-h/b11226052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094917763161483746" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItikRaeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/oDXq4XWdAJY/s320/b11226052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really loved my Booger...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItikRadI/AAAAAAAAAAU/XBbDy16pKPs/s1600-h/b11226018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094917763161483730" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItikRadI/AAAAAAAAAAU/XBbDy16pKPs/s320/b11226018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItykRafI/AAAAAAAAAAk/O4QkpCOR4Zk/s1600-h/b11226040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094917767456451058" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItykRafI/AAAAAAAAAAk/O4QkpCOR4Zk/s320/b11226040.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10/29/06: Leaving church, a lady decides to slam on her breaks because she was not paying attention. I rear-end her. She needs a new muffler, I have a nice hickey on the hood of my then 2-month-old car.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot recall for certain, but October of 2003 may have been when I spun out on a gravel road with my brother in the car. The car was old enough and the damages so minimal that it was never reported. Scary stuff though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO. If you want to see me this October, you'll have to come visit me. I'll be in a bubble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6142815510803439638?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6142815510803439638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6142815510803439638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6142815510803439638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6142815510803439638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/08/see-you-in-september.html' title='See You In September...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/RrTItSkRacI/AAAAAAAAAAM/WS8u8lUFLE4/s72-c/b11226175.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-8642176328526421487</id><published>2007-07-29T22:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T22:53:08.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Girls Don't Cry</title><content type='html'>Tonight, after visiting the Star Wars exhibit at the Fort Worth Museum of Science, Daddy and Robbie and I (since Mom and Mary are in CA) went to my Grandma's home for dinner. Joe and Carolyn Shirley were in town, dear friends of the family who had been my grandparents' neighbors when I was very young. It was the second time they had visited in the last few months, their first visit being the first time they'd seen since my Grandpa's funeral two and a half years ago. Amongst the fried chicken and laughter and stories I felt slightly melancholy, but couldn't figure out why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  It was after dinner, when I joined the adults at the kitchen table for coffee that I finally realized what was bothering me. I pulled up a chair and joined in the conversation that ranged from Congressman Sam Johnson to hurricanes to churches. And I realized. I was a part of the conversation. I put in my two cents, kept pace, and was listened to. And suddenly, all I could think of was &lt;em&gt;Grandpa should be here. I should still be sitting quietly listening between him and Grandma.&lt;/em&gt; Memories of very similar nights flooded my mind and I could almost feel his rough hands rubbing my arm as I sat next to him. I tried to maintain my composure at the table and push back the tears that quickly filled my eyes, not wanting to have to explain myself if I was noticed. It was completely foreign to me, though it was not new - I don't know if that makes sense. The familiar smell of coffee, the Shirleys, Daddy laughing...but no Grandpa. It was wrong, and I wanted to be able to scream that outside at the top of my lungs. I keep crying at the unfairness and confusion of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Most days now - two and a half years later - I am fine. But there are some days that I miss him so very much. There are so many memories...Looking for sand dollars on the beach, holding his hand next to him on the couch, his welcome everytime we would come to visit. I miss him still. And when I think clearly, I remember to be glad that he is no longer in such intense suffering and pain. But the day cannot come soon enough when I can leave this earth behind and meet my Creator and rejoin my Grandpa, who will greet me with his big hug. And maybe, just maybe, we'll walk beside the water again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-8642176328526421487?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/8642176328526421487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=8642176328526421487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8642176328526421487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/8642176328526421487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/07/big-girls-dont-cry.html' title='Big Girls Don&apos;t Cry'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-1692985370251775574</id><published>2007-07-26T12:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T14:13:27.795-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kryptonite</title><content type='html'>Hello, my name is Emily...and I have a Superman complex. I think I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;invincible&lt;/span&gt;. It's probably my biggest downfall. I've been afflicted by this since I was a child. It is the reason I have a small scar above my left eye: when your parents tell you to not jump on the bed, it's for a good reason. It is the reason I contracted pneumonia my senior year of high school: sleep, apparently, is necessary. It is the reason several romantic relationships have failed: just saying that God is involved does not make it so. It is the reason I'm never as close to God as I wish to be. I think I have super powers that make me stronger than I am. For this reason, I never run to God unless and until I have exhausted all other options. Why? Why do I continually do this to myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My little cousin Deanna is five years old now and has been independent since the day she was born. After her mother and grandma, Deanna shares the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;closest&lt;/span&gt; bond with me. Even with this strong love, there are countless times that she will not let me help her. Her favorite response to anything you tell her is &lt;em&gt;I know&lt;/em&gt;. You cannot try to share a secret, a joke or an instruction without receiving the &lt;em&gt;I know&lt;/em&gt;. She has exhausted herself several times trying to prove her independence before finally acquiescing and allowing me to help her in tasks, though I usually have to ask if she wants help for ten minutes. I stand back and wonder why she does not see that she cannot do it on her own. &lt;em&gt;Why won't she let me help her and save her so much time and effort and pain? &lt;/em&gt;In my clear-headed and humble days, I see so much of my relationship with our Father in this. &lt;strong&gt;I do not think this is what God meant when He said we are to have a childlike faith&lt;/strong&gt;. For some reason, however, I cannot seem to consistantly remember that &lt;u&gt;I need help&lt;/u&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, in His ultimate wisdom and patience, has been working in my heart again this week in spite of me. Issues in the last months have been leading up to it: my health problems, relationships, Matt's Salt and Light sermons - I think all have been not so subtle ways that God is showing me my own spiritual and physical mortality. These events have have all had the potential to bring me closer to Him or to decide that I think my plans are better than His. I wish I could say that I've chosen the former more frequently. It's so ironic that I find myself explaining how I think the Father is using these events to show me His Love and plan(s) in one place and becoming increasingly frustrated with His lack of action in another. While I profess humility to one group of people, on my own I practice my imagined super powers of strength, wisdom and patience. I wonder if God laughs at this or is just saddened. This week, though, He has been reminding me that He is here with me and in control of all - whether I like it or not. &lt;em&gt;Praise God for the moments when He will not let me run anymore&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I had a brief but fantastic conversation with a very dear friend whom God used extroardinarily. This friend, though I'm sure they do not know it, spoke encouragement and life back into my heart. They reminded me that I've been trying to be a superhero and that in doing so, I have been harming my own well being spiritually and emotionally. I have not been waiting on His perfect timing and have consequently set myself up for failure. To this friend, I have not the words to truly thank you for all that you do, for being a part of my life, and for loving me enough to tell me when you smell smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I dwelt upon my illusions of grandeur and the Truth last night and this morning, God decided to make sure I'm receiving the message and sent me another reminder of His wisdom in the form of a text message. My small group leader sent me a scripture reference as I was finishing up the first paragraph of this blog that left me speechless and fully aware of God's sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;"7But we have this treasure in jars of clay, &lt;em&gt;to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and &lt;strong&gt;not to us&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; 8We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 10 always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. 11For &lt;em&gt;we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.&lt;/em&gt;" 2 Corinthians 4:7-11 (ESV, emphasis mine)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am human. I will fail to meet His standards daily on my own. I will fail my friends and family and obligations daily &lt;em&gt;on my own&lt;/em&gt;. I am not great, &lt;u&gt;but His grace is&lt;/u&gt;. I am not invinceble - because that is how I and those around me are reminded that His death alone is enough to make it through this life and into the next. And so I need help putting this into practice. I need prayer, I need encouragement, I need true friends to tell me when they smell smoke. The road ahead of me is not an easy one. But perhaps it is rough to remind me..that I cannot do it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come ye sinners poor and needy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Weak and wounded sick and sore&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus ready stands to save you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Full of pity, love, and power&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come ye thirsty come and welcome&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God's free bounty glorify&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;True belief and true repentance&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And every grace that brings you nigh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will arise and go to Jesus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He will embrace me in his arms&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And in the arms of my dear saviour&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are ten thousand charms&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Come ye weary heavy laden&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lost and ruined by the fall&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you tarry until you're better&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You will never come at all...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-1692985370251775574?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/1692985370251775574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=1692985370251775574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1692985370251775574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/1692985370251775574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/07/kryptonite.html' title='Kryptonite'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-3701786515378499225</id><published>2007-07-23T19:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T12:19:48.951-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been A While</title><content type='html'>...Since I blogged. Mm...so much to write, so little time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off? My heart condition is still unknown. I'm now working with a new cardiologist after the first tried to off me with meds (thankfully I didn't take any as they were for "life-threatening arhythmias"). Though I'm having to start over again at square one, both doctors have agreed now that whatever is wrong with me is not life-threatening. I'm now wearing another heart monitor for two weeks. I feel sexy, let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;My biggest problem since this began a month ago has been frustration. I'm frustrated that I can barely walk across a room without my heart rate excelerrating and beating too hard. I'm frustrated that I'm so exhuasted that I can't make it to church because I'm concerned about the drive home. I'm frustrated that because I can basically only drive to work and back I never get to see my friends anymore. I feel &lt;strong&gt;very&lt;/strong&gt; isolated and rather pointless right now. I know that God has a plan in all of this, and I try to constantly remind myself that He who created and holds my heart knows exactly what is happening to it. Most days this is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still working at the Blue Goose (in Plano) as a hostess and am also still out in "the 'Ville" with my family. I'm registering for classes this week, Lord willing, and will likely be commuting to UNT in the fall. Because of the recent health issues, I have sadly had to step down from serving with the amazing Kids Village staff. I have absolutely adored working with all of the gifted musicians and leaders. It was a very hard decision for me to make, and I hope to someday be able to serve there again. I &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; be continuing to serve on the Village Crew running the visual media once a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mkay I believe that's all this poor mind can come up with for now. I promise to blog again sooner next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-3701786515378499225?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/3701786515378499225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=3701786515378499225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3701786515378499225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/3701786515378499225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been A While'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-2917060690407948970</id><published>2007-07-11T10:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:04:52.995-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MVP (it's not what you think)</title><content type='html'>Mitral Valve Prolapse - my heart defect has a name (my doctor calls it an "extra heartbeat"). After 48 hours of monitoring, an echo cardiogram (I got to see my heart!), bloodwork and weeks of frustration, my cardiologist has determined that this is the problem. (Click &lt;a title="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/mitral-valve-prolapse/DS00504/DSECTION=" href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/mitral-valve-prolapse/DS00504/DSECTION=1" target="_blank"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; for more information) I was on medication for the last two weeks to try to treat it, but the prescription was less than ideal for me and so today I was given another to try. For most people, MVP is nothing more than a slight annoyance at times - many people go their whole lives not knowing they have it - but unfortunately for me, it's an actual physical limitation. So I'm being given meds to try to correct the irregularity and am supposed to drink more fluids (though I don't know how I can drink more!) and try to walk more. Oh, and remain as stress-free as possible. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I cannot thank you enough for the constant prayer and for the few phone calls I have received in the last month. They have meant the absolute world over as I have felt completely disconnected from all of my friends and increasingly frustrated and lonely since this began. I sincerely hope that this new medication helps me so that I can begin living my life normally again. I love you all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-2917060690407948970?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/2917060690407948970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=2917060690407948970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2917060690407948970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2917060690407948970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/07/mvp-its-not-what-you-think.html' title='MVP (it&apos;s not what you think)'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-9113959955415291984</id><published>2007-06-14T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T20:29:35.879-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Heart Will Go On?</title><content type='html'>Well last night was eventful. I spent it in the ER. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  About 5:00pm, my heart started palpitating while I was changing to go out to dinner with my parents and Grandma (belatedly celebrating my Birthday). It started beating so fast and hard that I had to lie down on the bed. It didn't really get any better after a few minutes, but I had to get out of the house so I left with Grandma. By that time my heart was still beating rapidly and my chest was in much pain.&lt;br /&gt;  At 5:30 we got to the sushi place and met up with my mom and dad. I told them I wasn't feeling well, but was trying to keep it kind of 'hush'. I felt nauseated, light-headed, my chest hurt, my head hurt and I couldn't get my heart to stop racing. Mom discreetly excused us from the table at about 6:30 and we got in the car to head home. She decided within two minutes to go by the hospital, in spite of my protests, which was just a minute down the road. I was quickly checked in and had the same questions asked multiple times. I was hooked up to a heart monitor, which was fun. It started sounding an alarm when  Audrey came in to draw my blood because my pulse went off the map. And then the nurse came in with all the vials and needles again to draw blood. "They already stuck me," I exclaimed. The nurse looked confused. "Audrey! Audrey drew my blood! Look, I have a bandaid!" Mom verified and we tried to get the alarm on the heart monitor to shut up again.&lt;br /&gt;  They took X-rays and did an EKG. More fun. Then I had to drink a concoction that I suspect was actually leftover cleaning supplies. It numbed everything. No, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;. My lips, my tongue, my mouth, my throat - all numbed. AND it tasted like motor oil and Windex. I was not the happiest of campers. Apparently, the 'cocktail' was to rule out gastrointestinal issues, which it successfully did. I was still in pain.&lt;br /&gt;  At 8:00 I asked for pain meds because my chest and head still hurt like the dickens. At 8:30 the doctor came in and asked if they had given me my shot yet. Mom and I looked at each other. "Shot? I've already let y'all stick one needle in me tonight, and I didn't even cry," I informed him. "Is there anyway we could get it in oral form," Mom desperately pleaded. "She doesn't do well with needles." &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Now there's the understatement of the year!&lt;/span&gt; At 8:45 the assistant doctor came in and informed me that the X-ray had shown no blood clots on my lungs, the EKG looked fine and I'm not anemic. They didn't know what was wrong with me. At 9:00, we unhooked me, I climbed out of my oh-so-sexy hospital gown and went in search of the nurse. She ushered me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;back&lt;/span&gt; into the room and finally gave me a half of an Adovan. At 9:15, she rushed back in with my discharge papers and I was told I could go home. Yay for overdue birthday cake!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  Tomorrow I have an appointment to see my doctor, as my heart is still out of control if I do so much as stand up and my chest still periodically hurts. Highlight of the endeavor: I've got happy pills! (Muscle relaxers to see if the problem is muscular.) So...That's all the news I have for now. Hopefully there will soon be a needle-less answer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-9113959955415291984?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/9113959955415291984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=9113959955415291984' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/9113959955415291984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/9113959955415291984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-heart-will-go-on.html' title='My Heart Will Go On?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5477206744960591677</id><published>2007-06-11T15:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T16:19:20.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Field of Opportunity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Am I investing my talents wisely?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What &lt;/span&gt;are&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; my talents?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; These questions have been haunting me for several hours now. After some thought, I think I may have a list of the abilities God has gifted me with to further His Kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;- I  am extremely outgoing and have been since the day I was born.&lt;br /&gt;- I can learn new processes and tasks quickly.&lt;br /&gt;- I can connect with anyone I come in contact with on a surprisingly deep level. I think this may go along with the first.&lt;br /&gt;- I am a good listener..I think. I have always had people come to me as someone they can tell anything to.&lt;br /&gt;- I have a huge heart for people. I think this also goes hand in hand with the first and third items. I care genuinely and deeply for all that I meet. Sometimes this ends up hurting me, but often times it's a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;- I have discernment. This is both a blessing and a curse, as anyone else with discernment can verify.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Okay. So I know what some of my natural abilities are. Great. Now what? I have to know what my talents, my opportunities, are when they cross my path, right? At first, as I was sitting in the service, I started freaking out. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What if I haven't been doing this right? What if I've been missing my opportunities? &lt;/span&gt;But then I thought of the one gift I've always known I've been given: my personality. Because of my nature - or rather, the nature with which God has blessed me - I've been able to make amazing friends, connect with people instantly and become someone that people trust. Consequently, I nearly always end up finding out if the new victim, er..friend is currently attending church anywhere. This lends itself to a "yes", a "no" or a "I don't believe in God" in one form or another. I think I've invited nearly everyone of my friends to visit the Village. Very surprisingly to me, I've actually had two of my friends thank me for inviting them to church because of the changes that have transpired in their lives because of it.&lt;br /&gt; I've never looked for thanks for this, and it caught me completely off-guard when it happened. But I can look back at it now and see that I think it was God affirming that yes, I have used that gifting wisely at times. It's so daunting to try to answer the question of whether you're investing your talents wisely. But I think we need to not be too carried away too quickly with the "big" opportunities that are presented to us. If we worry incessantly about the large opportunities that may come our way, the five thousand talents as it were, we may miss the smaller ones. I can sit back now and think on the people who have impacted me recently and see where they have been faithful to invest in the abilities God has given and the consequent opportunities.&lt;br /&gt;Lauren: You give so much of your husbands' time for the church and have written several beautiful songs that have impacted countless people.&lt;br /&gt;Natalie: You also give of your time with your husband and brave the stage weekly to share your sweet voice with the "Village people". You have also been a wonderful listener and I appreciate your encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;Luke: You also give your time up to play for us monthly and share your sweet nature with those around you. You open up easily and quickly make one feel at ease.&lt;br /&gt;Molly: You also share your beautiful voice and time with the Villageites and have a bubbling personality that can always make those around you laugh. Laughter is such a blessing.&lt;br /&gt;Mandy: Because of your trials in life (though they do not seem like blessings, I know), others can come to you in hard times and know that you truly understand. You have been an encouragement in simply listening to me when I've been all but ready to give up.&lt;br /&gt;Andy: You are giving more and more of your time to play music and help those around you worship our Beautiful God. You also share the sweet and wise heart with which He has blessed you and are a great source of wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;Darrell: You have a heart of gold that makes one feel like you genuinely care about them. You can bring healing laughter to any situation and give graciously of your time to develop relationships with those around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; These are only a very few of the people around me that I see using their 'talents' on a daily basis. I would encourage you, as Matt did this weekend, to look intently at your natural giftings and from there discover what and how many talents He has given you. If we were to truly and wisely invest our talents for the Kingdom of God, think of the damage we could do in our time on this earth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5477206744960591677?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5477206744960591677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5477206744960591677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5477206744960591677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5477206744960591677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/06/am-i-investing-my-talents-wisely-what.html' title='Field of Opportunity'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-2756789521689561077</id><published>2007-05-16T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T00:57:35.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fly Me To The Moon</title><content type='html'>...Or Chicago?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had my interview with Southwest Airlines on Tuesday (for a flight attendant position). It went really well. I received an email not twenty-four hours after informing me that the interview portion went well, and that I'm now waiting for them to complete the background check. Pending acceptance after all that, I go into a "training pool", where I wait for them to call my training class in. They said it would be slated for this fall, but &lt;em&gt;could &lt;/em&gt;be sooner. Training is nearly four weeks long, the entire time the trainees are put in a hotel and are in intense training. Upon completion of training, you are then sent to your base (which is determined while in training) for six months of flying reserve (on-call).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm waiting to hear back from Southwest to see if I've been accepted. I just keep praying that God would continue to open the doors if that's where He wants me and close them if it's not. I ask you to please join me in this prayer, as this is a life-altering opportunity. There is a good possibility that I would be moving to Chicago, Baltimore or Oakland for at least six months for this job - plus this could be my career. It's an amazing opportunity to travel and meet all kinds of new people while I still have relatively no commitments. Everything else in my life hangs on what the outcome of this opportunity is, though. Where I will live, whether or not I continue with school in the fall, in what capacity I continue to serve at church - all of these decisions pend upon what Southwest offers me. I desire now to know what is God's will for me more than anything. Praise my Creator, Who made me with a specific purpose and plan in mind!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-2756789521689561077?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/2756789521689561077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=2756789521689561077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2756789521689561077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/2756789521689561077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/05/fly-me-to-moon.html' title='Fly Me To The Moon'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-5913668903696493548</id><published>2007-05-14T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T13:08:39.322-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smile (Though Your Heart Is Breaking)</title><content type='html'>The Village Church is an interesting animal. The Village is the first place I ever heard someone tell me that&lt;em&gt; it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; to&lt;/em&gt; not &lt;em&gt;be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. People from every walk of life enter the doors of this church. Some enter untouched by the world, others come hardly recognizable for the scarring they have received. Some are open, anxious to share their lives with those around them; others are hesitant, unsure if unconditional love truly exists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a bizarre year thus far. I am walking a road that has more unexpected twists and turns than I thought possible, and I am consequently going through a rough time of it emotionally and spiritually. The interesting part to me is that, though the Village preaches and encourages honesty with one another, it is extremely difficult to actually live this.&lt;br /&gt;I lamented to a friend last night that I am actually terrified to be honest about what I am experiencing right now with those around me because every time I do, I have Scripture &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;vomited&lt;/span&gt; in my face. Ironically (and in God's infinite sense of humor), this friend is going through the same predicament.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fight already my nature to isolate myself when things become difficult. Through this difficult time, I have been especially trying to be honest and open with those around me. I am terrified of becoming Debbie Downer, of being that person all dread being around, and so I hide and pretend all is fine. I become exhausted by this mask I wear to try to keep from showing the real pain that I feel, though. I tire of not being genuine with my friends and family and so decide to take down my mask. Unfortunately, every time I do (with two or three exceptions), I find myself having Bible verses shoved down my throat with a sugary-sweet coating of "it will be ok" and often a gooey, bitter center of "get over it." While I do not want to come across as not believing these verses or that I don't believe that God can work through these, they aren't helping right now. It seems that every time I am open and honest with how broken I am with someone, they feel an obligation to attempt to "fix" me. I have had so many magical combinations of Scripture and advice thrown at me that, had I chosen to store it up, it would cover the state of Oklahoma. While I (mostly) understand the intent behind these attempts, I am becoming increasingly frustrated that it is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; apparently &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; for me to not be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. I know that all things work together for good - but in God's time, which is almost never our own. I know that God is with me always - it's just hard to see Him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;through&lt;/span&gt; this fog of confusion. I know that He hears my cries and answers - but it again in &lt;em&gt;His&lt;/em&gt; time, not mine. I know that He made me with a purpose - I just don't see it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I know that the intentions are good, and I thank them for caring enough for me to try to help, I feel quite simply that they are affirming that I am not acceptable in my present state. I'm broken and hurting and I wish to be able to just &lt;em&gt;talk&lt;/em&gt; it out - without being made to feel completely inadequate. I just don't know what to do right now. I don't know where I am, or how I came to this place. I don't know who I am, or who I'm supposed to become. The only thing I know is that my Maker has a plan even when I can't see it. Praise God for friends who have shown me true unconditional love and acceptance while praying for me to find the answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how I long for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That day where I’ll run with my Maker, My King my Creator&lt;br /&gt;The Lover and Savior of my soul&lt;br /&gt;That day where my faith will be sight, I’ll know not by might&lt;br /&gt;But by grace I’ve been set free, I’ve been set free&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-5913668903696493548?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/5913668903696493548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=5913668903696493548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5913668903696493548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/5913668903696493548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/05/village-church-is-interesting-animal.html' title='Smile (Though Your Heart Is Breaking)'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-6599259844481567524</id><published>2007-05-08T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T11:37:11.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Great Thou Art</title><content type='html'>Last night on my way home, I decided to turn on the classical station. A beautiful choir serenading me in French, I looked out my windshield to see lightning off in the distance. As I neared home, the lightning picked up with the opera's soft crescendos and decrescendos. When I turned into our driveway, I was suddenly overwhelmed as God's beauty and magnificence filled my senses. I looked to see stars above me, lightning on the horizon and the beautiful music filled my ears. It was indescribably beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,&lt;br /&gt;Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;&lt;br /&gt;I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,&lt;br /&gt;Thy power throughout the universe displayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,&lt;br /&gt;How great Thou art, How great Thou art.&lt;br /&gt;Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,&lt;br /&gt;How great Thou art, How great Thou art!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-6599259844481567524?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/6599259844481567524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=6599259844481567524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6599259844481567524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/6599259844481567524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-great-thou-art.html' title='How Great Thou Art'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9202029001319991458.post-633148575132220453</id><published>2007-05-07T14:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T21:55:57.688-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How To Save A Life</title><content type='html'>I feel broken, out of sync. A part of me has been lost somewhere in the last two months and I'd like to order the replacement except..I don't know which part it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been under much attack since the beginning of this year. First, my stalker: the Enemy offering me the perfect opportunity to revert to my nature to fear and anxiety. Next, financial trials: every past experience would lead one to believe that I would use this as an excuse to doubt what God is doing in my life - and occasionally if He was even there. Though these are still very unresolved, I am leaning on God to handle the situation as I realize my own incompetence. Then came the instability: having to leave the apartment I called home behind and stay with my family, unsure of whether to continue in the jobs I now have or pursue other opportunities, and the resulting question of what to do with school next semester. At this point, I have freaked &lt;em&gt;completely&lt;/em&gt; out every other time in my life. It is literally but by the grace of God that I have not had a nervous break-down thus far. *This is probably the point where I should mention that I was diagnosed as having a slight anxiety disorder this time last year by my doctor. I stopped taking the medication prescribed for me last October - I can't give you a valid reason why.* Finally, came the straw that broke this camel's back: bitterness. Without going into great detail, I will briefly explain that a friend spoke hurtful words to me, and I responded in like kind. And in letting that bitterness begin to seep into my heart, in deciding to be hurt and angry by what I felt I didn't deserve, everything else slowly began to spiral out of control.&lt;br /&gt;I ended up in a shouting match with my dad yesterday afternoon (that was quickly and peacefully resolved) that ended with me walking outside while he was still talking to me and hyperventilating for two minutes on the deck. Like a flood, the old feelings came back: panic, fear, doubt - my old bedfellows. Unwelcome, unwanted, and yet still there. All because I didn't give something over to my Father. Since yesterday, I feel something is off-kilter. My dad said something that stuck with me and has caused much subsequent introspection. Do I &lt;em&gt;wish&lt;/em&gt; to be angry? Do I jump too quickly at the opportunity to feel hurt? I have no call to feel wronged, no justifiable reason to nurse wounds that I have in all honesty inflicted upon myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is still so very much going on in my life right now - and not enough. There is uncertainty nearly everywhere I turn, but God is always there, always in control, always waiting for me to give it &lt;strong&gt;all&lt;/strong&gt; to Him. I feel alone and misunderstood, yet I don't open up to the community around me and share my burdens and fears. (I suppose most of that is because I am weary of the "friends of Job" who have promised me that all will soon "be ok" for the last two years.) I don't have the answers, and yet my Bible lays unopened until Sunday. No, I am not going to find the magic combination or key to figuring my life out, but I &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; know more about my Creator and His character. What more do I really need to know in this life but how to glorify Him? This is not a blog that magically fixes everything. This is just me writing, venting, trying to understand what's going on inside of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9202029001319991458-633148575132220453?l=justinaneramblings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/feeds/633148575132220453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9202029001319991458&amp;postID=633148575132220453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/633148575132220453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9202029001319991458/posts/default/633148575132220453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justinaneramblings.blogspot.com/2007/05/how-to-save-life.html' title='How To Save A Life'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12725676124535024772</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KRIJHakU6aI/TS-u05_UHfI/AAAAAAAAAeg/gtqWAk2XstM/S220/Picture%2B013.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
