<?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-4507322052773646102</id><updated>2011-12-23T00:15:52.145-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Souvenirs of my heart</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-2457774870907010199</id><published>2009-04-30T22:33:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T23:05:33.444-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Steeping myself in God's reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;One of the things I struggle with the most is worrying about things that are beyond my control. Of course, I am a self-admitted control freak and everyday I get up and pray that God will help me to not worry and trust Him for that day. And yes, I have to do this everyday.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have been spending the last month going through Matthew and man there were some people who worried about things that were out of their control. I think it's awesome that Matthew devoted part of Chapter 6 talking about not worrying. I enjoy how Matthew 6:30 - 34 reads from the Message translation - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SfpxhinF_NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/MhiWNicmp5w/s1600-h/tea.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330697929986800850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SfpxhinF_NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/MhiWNicmp5w/s200/tea.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After reading this I envisioned a picture of steeping tea. When you steep tea, you have to wait so that your tea will be rich and full of flavor. I wonder how rich my life could be if I would spend less time worrying about what I think is really important and more time steeping my life in God's reality?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Lord, I struggle with worrying about things that don't really matter. I know at times these things seem huge to me and I have no idea how "I" am going to solve them problem. Please help me to keep my heart and mind focused on things that have eternal value and to let go of the things that keep me from living for You. Thank you for giving me your words in Matthew to encourage me and teach me how You desire for me to live my life.&lt;/span&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/4507322052773646102-2457774870907010199?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2457774870907010199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=2457774870907010199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2457774870907010199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2457774870907010199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/04/steeping-myself-in-gods-reality.html' title='Steeping myself in God&apos;s reality'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SfpxhinF_NI/AAAAAAAAAEA/MhiWNicmp5w/s72-c/tea.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-9003752605876357779</id><published>2009-04-29T23:02:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T23:38:25.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Motions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;After reading our pastor's blog (&lt;a href="http://www.brianmayfield.blogspot.com/"&gt;www.brianmayfield.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;) tonight about preparing ourselves for communion this coming Sunday, I was drawn to the lyrics of an amazing song by Matthew West called "The Motions". The words that jumped out at me are highlighted in the song lyrics below. I ask you as I ask myself these questions, Do I even realize the changes that I need to make in my life? Am I giving everything I got or am I just playing around and going through the motions? Am I willing to let God take me all the way...let Him have full control? These are the questions that I will ponder as I prepare myself for communion this Sunday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;This might hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;It’s not safe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I know that I’ve gotta make a change&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don’t care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;If I break&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;At least I’ll be feeling something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;‘Cause just ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Is not enough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Help me fight through the nothingness of life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don’t wanna go through the motions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don’t wanna go one more day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Without Your all consuming passion inside of me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I don’t wanna spend my whole life asking&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What if I had given everything?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Instead of going through the motions&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;No regrets &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Not this time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I’m gonna let my heart defeat my mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Let Your love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Make me whole&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I think I’m finally feeling something&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Take me all the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Take me all the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Take me all the way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-9003752605876357779?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/9003752605876357779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=9003752605876357779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/9003752605876357779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/9003752605876357779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/04/after-reading-our-pastors-blog-tonight.html' title='The Motions'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-5145407990948754860</id><published>2009-02-16T14:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T14:43:56.827-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do-Do Disease</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;For years, I have been battling with a disease. It's called the do-do disease. I do, and do, and do until there is nothing but scraps of my life left for my husband or my family. And when my husband and kids would want to chill out together and not want to go and do-do-do, I would get angry and resentful towards them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well I was challenged on Saturday with a word...simplify. When you put it out there it seems  so...simple. But when you began thinking of applying it to various areas of your life, simple can become complex. My mind reeled on Saturday afternoon as I prayed about what God wanted to teach me through this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;On Saturday night over our V-day dinner, I confessed to my husband that I have spent more time doing things for everyone else and spending less time with him. And while this isn't a problem that I can fix overnight, it is something that I am conscience of AND willing to admit to God, my husband, my family and my friends. I believe this is the first step in healing from this horrible do-do disease.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-5145407990948754860?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5145407990948754860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=5145407990948754860' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5145407990948754860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5145407990948754860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/02/do-do-disease.html' title='Do-Do Disease'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-6948660913007671465</id><published>2009-02-11T13:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T13:52:05.619-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stunned</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Even as I write this, I am still stunned. You see the other night my 17-year old son, Bobby, walked into the kitchen, opened the dishwasher and began unloading the dishwasher. The part that stunned me is that I had not asked him to unload the dishwasher that night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I asked him in a very baffled voice, "What are you doing?". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Bobby replied, "I thought I would beat you to the punch and unload the dishes before you asked me to."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;WOW...that is all I have to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-6948660913007671465?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/6948660913007671465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=6948660913007671465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/6948660913007671465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/6948660913007671465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/02/stunned.html' title='Stunned'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-668239553195760274</id><published>2009-02-05T22:50:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T23:09:04.582-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that make me smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Admiring God's creation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Knowing Christ died to save me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Back rubs from my honey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Watching Bobby worship God through music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Listening to Tommy's laugh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Shopping with my mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Watching my dad shoot photos with Bobby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Seeing my sister become an RN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Playing beauty shop with my nieces&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Throwing around the football with my nephews&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Trying to get back into shape&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Serving at my church&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Goofin' off with the peep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Hugs and grins from the Britt boys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Scrapbooking with friends at Red Rooster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Chips and salsa from Rosie's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Solving a problem at work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Helping the underdog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Relient K 'In Love with the 80s' song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Throwing a party&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Friend requests on Facebook&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte from Starbucks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Brown Sugar Cologne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Camping and smores&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-668239553195760274?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/668239553195760274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=668239553195760274' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/668239553195760274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/668239553195760274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-make-me-smile.html' title='Things that make me smile'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-596589182147280996</id><published>2009-02-04T11:39:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T12:06:21.543-06:00</updated><title type='text'>She's walking with Jesus</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SYnYCJCykBI/AAAAAAAAAC4/pk26cMtNi9k/s1600-h/Carlene.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299003967877058578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 148px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SYnYCJCykBI/AAAAAAAAAC4/pk26cMtNi9k/s200/Carlene.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Early Tuesday morning, 2/3/09, my friend and former co-worker, Carlene Hall passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Over the past three years, Carlene has been a quadriplegic. Before she was crippled, she ran in marathons, volunteered at our company sponsored events, was on the board of directors for the Big Spring Jam, and encouraged many people as she lived a life that showed her love for Christ. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SYnYVgsUjyI/AAAAAAAAADA/IklnepBoSus/s1600-h/Carlene%27s+Flowers2.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299004300642783010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 105px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 102px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SYnYVgsUjyI/AAAAAAAAADA/IklnepBoSus/s200/Carlene%27s+Flowers2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;After her accident, she learned to paint with her mouth and many of her watercolor paintings were reproduced into greeting cards, posters and calendars. She was never one to be inactive. She had to be doing all that she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today she has no more pain. Today she is in her new heavenly body. Today she is walking with Jesus! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I love you and will miss you, Carlene!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-596589182147280996?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/596589182147280996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=596589182147280996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/596589182147280996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/596589182147280996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/02/shes-walking-with-jesus.html' title='She&apos;s walking with Jesus'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SYnYCJCykBI/AAAAAAAAAC4/pk26cMtNi9k/s72-c/Carlene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-5123602548734937930</id><published>2009-02-03T16:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T16:29:40.464-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My world is ending</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Kids are so funny. My Tommy just cracks me up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The other day he got in trouble for not listening to me and continuing to play on his Nintendo DS. I told him that he was grounded from playing on his DS for a period of time. You would have thought I had chopped off his leg. He ran to his room and proceeded with the dramatics. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;At first, he started with the screaming crying so that I could hear his pain and anguish from the living room. Then he went from screaming crying to my feelings have been hurt crying. At this point, I came into the room. I laid down beside him and through alot of tears he pleaded his case. I told him that because of his actions and not listening to me that the consequence was losing the privelege to play on his DS. As soon as I said that, he went from my feelings have been hurt crying to uncontrollable crying. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Between his cries, he uttered the words, "My world is ending." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Being the super supportive mom that I am, I laughed (out loud). That made him go back to the my feelings are hurt crying. Well I knew at this point I would not be able to reason with him so I just held him close until he stopped crying. When he stopped crying he was able to tell me that he was sorry for how he acted and that he would listen next time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Don't you think that is how it is with us and God sometimes? We don't get our way so we cry out in anger and get mad at God. Then we may feel that God is somehow making us go through this to hurt our feelings when in fact He may be making us stronger. And when we figure out that this might just be a consequence for our actions, we might just get a little dramatic about the situation and want everyone else to feel sorry for us. But if we will let Him, God will gently wrap us in his arms of unfailing love, forgiveness and grace and hold us until we are ready to humbly accept the consequences of our actions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-5123602548734937930?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5123602548734937930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=5123602548734937930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5123602548734937930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5123602548734937930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-world-is-ending.html' title='My world is ending'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-8089119398031134222</id><published>2008-09-29T22:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T23:27:11.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What an amatuer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have to say that both of my kids can crack me up. There is not a day that goes by that one of them doesn't make me laugh. Laughter is important and has kept me from going into a downward spiral when things seem too tough or difficult to deal with at that time. It is during those times, God uses my chlidren to keep me sane. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SOGqMapraOI/AAAAAAAAACo/mI5pWBqDQv4/s1600-h/mailbox.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251665770779994338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SOGqMapraOI/AAAAAAAAACo/mI5pWBqDQv4/s200/mailbox.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;On Friday afternoon, Tommy and I drove by the Britt's and dropped off some invitations and mailing labels that I had printed for Jonathon &amp;amp; Nate's birthday party. Michelle had me put these in the mailbox since they were not home. Tommy put them in the mailbox and put up the mailbox flag. I told him that he needed to put the flag down or the mailman might take the invitations. So he reached over and put the flag down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Fast forward to Sunday afternoon, Tommy and I drove over to Michelle's before life groups. I told Tommy that Michelle said the mailman did, in fact, pick up the invitations. Now any of you who know Tommy well will understand that the following comment he makes about the mailman was said with very dramatic facial expressions and tones. Tommy said, "Oh my gosh...what an amatuer!" Of course, I laughed and then promptly went into mommy mode and told him that we do not make fun of people and that it was probably an honest mistake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Michelle called me today (Monday) and said the mailman returned the invitations and the labels. When I told Tommy he just looked at me with his wide eyes and mouth dropped open in total disbelief. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm sure we've all had days when we wanted to tell someone who had made an obvious mistake and needed to be told the error of their ways that they were such an amatuer. When I start to feel that need to shell out some justice or correction to others, I try and ask myself some honest questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Is a response really necessary? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Will my response edify or encourage that other person? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Will it push them further away from me or keep them from doing what God wanted them to do? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Or worse yet does it keep them from seeing Christ in my life because I felt the need to correct the problem or right a wrong? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Generally, I look back and see this honkin' plank in my eye that I figure I better take care of before I start dishing out any response. As long as I am willing to wait and respond in God's timing, I can respond with grace. And as I learn to respond in that kind of love, people won't look at my life and say, 'What an amatuer!'&lt;/span&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/4507322052773646102-8089119398031134222?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/8089119398031134222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=8089119398031134222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/8089119398031134222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/8089119398031134222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-amatuer.html' title='What an amatuer!'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SOGqMapraOI/AAAAAAAAACo/mI5pWBqDQv4/s72-c/mailbox.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-8750138365082089162</id><published>2008-09-29T22:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T22:57:31.105-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;God has given me such treasures in my life...my husband and my boys. I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4e4467774d7a55354f513d3d0d0a&amp;amp;campaign=blog_playback_link&amp;amp;blogview=true" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" height="303" alt="Click to play Treasured Possessions" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4e4467774d7a55354f513d3d0d0a.jpg" width="386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=google&amp;amp;campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" height="46" alt="Create your own scrapbook - Powered by Smilebox" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmileboxSmall.gif" width="386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smilebox.com/scrapbooks" target="_blank"&gt;Make a Smilebox scrapbook&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-8750138365082089162?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/8750138365082089162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=8750138365082089162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/8750138365082089162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/8750138365082089162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/09/god-has-given-me-such-treasures-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-3541755969665432638</id><published>2008-09-11T15:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T15:52:12.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Love with the 80s!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xkbOT2VGh_0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xkbOT2VGh_0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I am unashamedly in love with the 80s! This is a great home made video on one of my favorite Relient K songs, In Love with the 80s!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-3541755969665432638?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/3541755969665432638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=3541755969665432638' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/3541755969665432638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/3541755969665432638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-love-with-80s_11.html' title='In Love with the 80s!'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-4036470486442748696</id><published>2008-09-11T13:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T14:03:56.031-05:00</updated><title type='text'>strangely dim</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMlrfZBMRMI/AAAAAAAAACY/NBXFGzIvdmU/s1600-h/ipod-touch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244841428085654722" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMlrfZBMRMI/AAAAAAAAACY/NBXFGzIvdmU/s200/ipod-touch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Yesterday afternoon my oldest son, Bobby, calls to tell me that he has misplaced his (10-day old) ipod Touch that he bought with his own money. He was sure that it had fallen out of his pocket in the parking lot of a local restaurant. He was pretty upset with himself and the situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My heart just broke for him and this loss. As a mom, I wanted to make it right. My mind immediately went from feeling sad for his loss to feeling anger over the person who I just knew had taken something that was not theirs to take. We called Apple and got a case number so that if anyone tried to register it and use it then it would flag it in their system and the local authorities would be contacted. There were other steps we would have to take on our end to attempt to recover this loss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Tommy and I were on our way to meet Bobby for dinner at Chik-Fil-A. Tommy and I prayed for Bobby that God would help us find the ipod and that Bobby would not be too sad for long. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;After dinner, Tommy expresses his sadness for his brother's loss and tries to offer encouragement to his big brother. Bobby responds in this way...'You know Tommy, this is just a thing, a material thing...it's here today and gone tomorrow. You cannot hold onto it too tightly.' WOW...did he just say that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I took that moment to add this comment, 'You know boys when you compare this what Christ did on the cross everything else seems really small.' There was total silence in the van and if you know my family that is HUGE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was reminded of a wonderful old song that goes like this, 'Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in his wonderful face. And the things of earth will growly strangely dim in the light of his Glory and Grace.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;By the way, God answered our prayers. We found his ipod Touch but I assure you that we found way more than that in the lessons we learned that day. And the things of earth will growly strangely dim in the light of his Glory and Grace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-4036470486442748696?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/4036470486442748696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=4036470486442748696' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/4036470486442748696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/4036470486442748696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/09/strangely-dim.html' title='strangely dim'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMlrfZBMRMI/AAAAAAAAACY/NBXFGzIvdmU/s72-c/ipod-touch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-2288284157514471388</id><published>2008-09-05T23:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T23:33:35.128-05:00</updated><title type='text'>facebook Frenzy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMIHiw-F-jI/AAAAAAAAACQ/jY7JFdNzRfI/s1600-h/junk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242761210054965810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMIHiw-F-jI/AAAAAAAAACQ/jY7JFdNzRfI/s200/junk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My latest addiction is facebook. There is such a fascination with getting reconnected with old friends and new friends. I am competitive so when I saw that my friend Josh Britt had more friends than I did...I was like 'No way!' So I found more friends and added more and more until I surpassed him. Yea me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Well it seemed like a good idea except that now I have so many friends that I cannot keep up with all of them. I'm posting comments on my friend's wall, sending pieces of flair, chatting via the chat tool, adding pictures...and the list goes on. What I am NOT doing is really making any long-term, deep connections that I believe can only truly be done by spending alot of quality one-on-one, face time with one another. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So tonight I left facebook behind and went to connect with some women at my church. We are starting this First Friday Felllowship event that our Women's Ministry sponsors each month. You come just as you are to chat, play games, eat and craft. So I ran by and picked up my friend, Michelle, and off we went to the event. I had such a great time spending quality time with some wonderful ladies &lt;strong&gt;and I didn't have to send a friend request to make that connection.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-2288284157514471388?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2288284157514471388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=2288284157514471388' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2288284157514471388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2288284157514471388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/09/facebook-frenzy.html' title='facebook Frenzy'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SMIHiw-F-jI/AAAAAAAAACQ/jY7JFdNzRfI/s72-c/junk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-806942245595736986</id><published>2008-08-26T05:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T19:44:30.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Starbucks Moments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SLSjZFitHRI/AAAAAAAAACI/QgZLiktEYxY/s1600-h/starbucks.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238991917918526738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SLSjZFitHRI/AAAAAAAAACI/QgZLiktEYxY/s200/starbucks.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I admit it...I love Starbucks coffee. My drink of choice is a Venti Cinnamon Dolce Latte. Yummy! But what I love most about Starbucks is the atmosphere. I love the atmosphere so much that I would love to decorate my home to reflect this wonderful experience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Picture this...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You would walk through a fabulous paw print free door and enter a sanctuary of relaxation complete with the irresistable smells of fresh-brewed goodness and brownies. As you walk through the entry way, there would be some fabulous city-inspired photographs hanging on the wall that were photographed by my son, Bobby. The indirect lighting would provide just enough lighting for people to hang out and talk with each other but not enough lighting for anyone to work, study or do homework...the point is to relax. By the fireplace, a stage would be set up with a local artist softly playing an acoustic guitar or the smooth sounds of Diana Krall gently playing through the sound system. There would be several gooshy, soft, comfortable couches with lots of leg room and ottomons to prop your feet up. Some amazing person would already know what you want to order and it would arrive to you hot and fresh. You would spend more time talking with friends and less time working.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Ah...that is a beautiful dream. I am not really good at relaxing. You can ask my kids or husband about that. But I believe that this is what God wants us to do everyday. He wants us to sit down, stop doing and just relax in Him. To carve time out of our schedule, to be still and listen. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So I will spend some Starbucks moments with my Heavenly Father...breathing in His heavenly aroma, relaxing in my big chair and listening for God's whisper. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-806942245595736986?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/806942245595736986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=806942245595736986' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/806942245595736986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/806942245595736986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/starbucks-moments.html' title='Starbucks Moments'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SLSjZFitHRI/AAAAAAAAACI/QgZLiktEYxY/s72-c/starbucks.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-4875029191854470095</id><published>2008-08-25T13:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T18:27:44.047-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pressure is On!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;On Saturday, I did the thing that many a mom does this time of year...I watched my kids play recreational soccer. Both of my boys have been playing soccer for years through a great organization called AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization). Not only do my kids learn how to be a better athlete but they also learn the importance of goods sportsmanship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Tommy, my youngest son, had his game at 2:30 pm. While it was overcast, it was still steamy outside. He was burning up the field with his amazing running skills. So needless to say that between the hot weather and all of his running, Tommy was pretty tired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;There was a moment when he was near to where I was sitting in my soccer mom approved portable chair. He had about three or four guys all over him so he just kicked the ball out of bounds. Now anyone that knows Tommy realizes that he probably could have done some fancy footwork and gotten the ball away from all of the other players. However, he chose to kick it out of bounds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So in real supportive and encouraging way (note the sarcasm here), I yelled out, "Tommy, what are you doing?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Tommy responded simply with, "Mom, I was under a lot of pressure!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The entire row of soccer parents burst into laughter. It was a funny Tommy moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So that got me to thinking...how many times in life have we gotten into a precarious situation and tried with all of our might to get out of the situation? Maybe we were under a lot of pressure from work, family, friends, church. We may have thought we could control the situation with alot of fancy words and manuevers when what we should have done is just kicked it out of bounds and into God's control. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So, the next time you are faced with a situation that is just too much, don't be afraid to kick it out of bounds and cry out , 'God, I am under a lot of pressure..help me!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-4875029191854470095?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/4875029191854470095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=4875029191854470095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/4875029191854470095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/4875029191854470095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/pressure-is-on.html' title='The Pressure is On!'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-2972624988157536216</id><published>2008-08-16T21:00:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T21:20:43.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I got schooled</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;My oldest son, Bobby, is home schooled. One of the advantages of home schooling is that we can tailor his learning experiences to be in line with his decision to go into full-time ministry. The way that we have done this is that we have asked our youth minister, Josh, to use Bobby has a youth intern for the ministry. I know that Bobby will learn so much more through this experience than he will ever learn in a classroom environment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Bobby spends Wednesdays assisting Josh in many different ways. He not only takes care of some administrative tasks for Josh but also helps plan different creative elements and ideas for the ministry. Bobby even spent some time calling various students to invite them to rpm/fuel groups that evening. In one of his conversations, he ended the call with 'dude, you gotta come to small groups...it will be life-changing.' We can sometimes sugar coat our conversations but that is the real deal...life-changing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So I got schooled. I spend so much time teaching my child and he just taught me. When was the last time I called someone and asked them to come to church and that it would be life-changing? I cannot even remember. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-2972624988157536216?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/2972624988157536216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=2972624988157536216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2972624988157536216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/2972624988157536216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-got-schooled.html' title='I got schooled'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-659708265651061736</id><published>2008-08-13T15:24:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T15:36:09.742-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go for the Gold!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So who watched the Olympics last night? Michael Phelps is a MACHINE. The way he effortlessly glides across the water is like nothing I have ever seen before and it was truly amazing to watch! While I enjoyed watching Michael win another gold medal, the person I ended up watching the most was Michael’s mom. You could see the mother’s love and pride in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I listened to the commentators tell us how Michael’s coach approached his mom when Michael was 11 years old. The coach told Michael’s mom that Michael had something special and that he could be a great Olympic champion with the proper training. I suppose Ms. Phelps could have ignored the coach and not allowed her son to train to compete or simply dismissed the coach’s comments as hype. But Michael made a decision when he was 11 years old that he would begin training and eventually compete in the Olympics. Michael’s mom believed in her son and believed that with the training from his coach that he would be a great champion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKNDeYM-kUI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hx4Qfk0EG5w/s1600-h/Intimacy+Series+02.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKNEI2CNciI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jWvSk-aux5E/s1600-h/Intimacy+Series+02+cropped.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234102110669074978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 189px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" height="227" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKNEI2CNciI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jWvSk-aux5E/s200/Intimacy+Series+02+cropped.jpg" width="184" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My oldest son, Bobby, feels called into ministry. While he is still not sure what field of ministry he will serve, he knows he has been called by the God…the great “Coach”. The “Coach” has shown me that my son has something special and with proper training could be an incredible minister. I suppose I could ignore the “Coach” and not allow or encourage my son to go into ministry because I was afraid of what might happen to him. I suppose I could simply dismiss the “Coach’s” comments as hype and not believe that my son is truly called into ministry. BUT a little over a year ago, Bobby felt God’s calling into full-time ministry. I believe in Bobby and I believe that with training from his “Coach” that Bobby will be a great champion for Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sit in the stands…I look out to my son and with a mother’s love and pride as I realize that my son is amazing even if there are no gold medals around his neck.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-659708265651061736?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/659708265651061736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=659708265651061736' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/659708265651061736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/659708265651061736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/go-for-gold.html' title='Go for the Gold!'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKNEI2CNciI/AAAAAAAAAB8/jWvSk-aux5E/s72-c/Intimacy+Series+02+cropped.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-5757552884261986325</id><published>2008-08-12T09:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T10:32:26.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An "A" Player</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKGrRAkuiwI/AAAAAAAAABs/cRbci1SQe9E/s1600-h/IMG_3947.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233652550681398018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px" height="302" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKGrRAkuiwI/AAAAAAAAABs/cRbci1SQe9E/s320/IMG_3947.JPG" width="236" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Last night when Tommy arrived home from practice, he came bolting through the front door yelling out, "Hey mom, guess what? I'm an "A" player!" He and his dad had just rolled in from unified soccer practice. These practices are done prior to teams being formed and being labeled an "A" player is a big deal because it means you are an "A"wesome soccer player. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;When Tommy got over to me I gave him lots of praise, attention and hugs. His love language is touch and words of affirmation so it's important that I stop what I am doing and give him the attention he needs from me. I am so proud of my little peanut and I want to encourage him to use his atheletic talent for the Lord. He is my heart's prized possession. I love you, Tommy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I believe many of us are the same way and need to be affirmed by family, friends and co-workers. Take a moment today and choose to bless someone with a kind or affirming word. Let your loved ones know how deeply you care for them through your words. The rewards are priceless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-5757552884261986325?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5757552884261986325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=5757552884261986325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5757552884261986325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5757552884261986325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/a-player.html' title='An &quot;A&quot; Player'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKGrRAkuiwI/AAAAAAAAABs/cRbci1SQe9E/s72-c/IMG_3947.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4507322052773646102.post-5233820539109400425</id><published>2008-08-11T19:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T19:59:36.801-05:00</updated><title type='text'>They grow up too fast</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDgWsOqjuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qDAVY--yHG8/s1600-h/Bobby+Ross+Fall+Photography+I+smaller.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233429447438929634" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDgWsOqjuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qDAVY--yHG8/s320/Bobby+Ross+Fall+Photography+I+smaller.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today was my son's first day at an official job. As I drove home today, I passed his work place and saw his car. I have to say that I did get a little teary-eyed. In that fleeting moment, I felt such joy and pride for the great young man my son is becoming. He has a lot to offer the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I cherish the days we have together and can hardly believe he is 17 now. I love that I get to watch him grow in his relationship with Christ. What an honor and privlege it is to be Bobby's mom. He is my heart's treasure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I love you, Bobby!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4507322052773646102-5233820539109400425?l=souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/feeds/5233820539109400425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4507322052773646102&amp;postID=5233820539109400425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5233820539109400425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4507322052773646102/posts/default/5233820539109400425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://souvenirsoftheheart.blogspot.com/2008/08/they-grow-up-too-fast.html' title='They grow up too fast'/><author><name>Christie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09792603786696685434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDtE6yPM5I/AAAAAAAAABU/QzzoYxdsdJ4/s1600-R/DSC_0033small.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_X0BnHOLP-9E/SKDgWsOqjuI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qDAVY--yHG8/s72-c/Bobby+Ross+Fall+Photography+I+smaller.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
