<?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-20713913</id><updated>2012-01-14T09:35:36.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Night Song</title><subtitle type='html'>Yet the LORD will command his lovingkindness in the day time, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life. ~ Psalm 42:8</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-8746956966391173140</id><published>2010-01-01T09:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T09:54:22.094-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hullo 2010</title><content type='html'>I think I'm ready for 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of weird, being a child of the 80's, that I'm a full decade into the 21st century. Yeah, it's a whole lot different from my childhood imaginations, but in a relatively pleasant, realistic manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, it would be highly impractical for me to be an astronaut, detective, and rancher all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like where I'm at in life,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Which brings us to the plot, plot we've got, quite a lot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As it unfolds you'll see what starts like a scary tale ends like a fairy tale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And life couldn't possibly better be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-8746956966391173140?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/8746956966391173140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=8746956966391173140' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/8746956966391173140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/8746956966391173140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2010/01/hullo-2010.html' title='hullo 2010'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-4890528524446042112</id><published>2009-12-30T01:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T01:25:34.062-08:00</updated><title type='text'>revelations</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new love&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;somewhere along the way, i've uncovered/discovered a subconscious love affair with hippos.&lt;br /&gt;between songs like "i want a hippopotamus for christmas" and "the hiphopopotamus and the rhymnocerous," i've come to wonder what it'd be like to have a large, yawning water horse in my backyard. trying to keep it at school would be truly amusing. perhaps it could live on the sport court? there's a wonderful indoor swimming pool: this might be a better locale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;expansion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i need to join a team. sports. basketball/soccer. either one would be great. i simply go through annoying little stages where for four weeks out of the year, my metabolism takes a vacation and i start wondering what i'll look like at fifty. slender and gorgeous like my mother is the goal. we'll see? in the meantime, the Y has no idea how awesome they are. i'll be shooting hoops at 8am if you'd like to join me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;connections.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had my first shrimp taco today, courtesy of a very bored and amazingly awesome fuzzy's manager by the name of pedro. beware! he claims he can't cook, but he lies! as always, fuzzy's rocks my planet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-4890528524446042112?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/4890528524446042112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=4890528524446042112' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/4890528524446042112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/4890528524446042112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2009/12/revelations.html' title='revelations'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-7093867022275188506</id><published>2009-12-22T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T17:38:17.734-08:00</updated><title type='text'>letters of the day</title><content type='html'>Dear Fuzzy's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for inventing chips and queso. Also, your salads are ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite full,&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear human race,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Combining mustard yellow, bright purple, and neon orange is a mistake. Sunsets can get away with it. A tie-died XXXL t-shirt cannot. Somewhere, a sunset is weeping. Please do not ever commit such an atrocity again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horrified,&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Stella Russell Hall,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot water is a wonderful invention. We know for sure that the Romans, in the very early years of civilization, piped it into their cities using ingenious mazes of aqueducts and indoor plumbing. It was significantly before Wal Mart's time, and I'm quite certain that even the ancient Egyptians may have also managed to generate hot water.&lt;br /&gt;In addition, singing in the shower is not as much fun in cold water.&lt;br /&gt;Please get with the times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shivering,&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-7093867022275188506?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/7093867022275188506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=7093867022275188506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7093867022275188506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7093867022275188506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2009/12/letters-of-day.html' title='letters of the day'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-2305066112629393704</id><published>2009-12-16T22:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T22:10:23.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'>glorious life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the explanation&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long, eventful, yet boring semester. Same-o, same-o.&lt;br /&gt;Living on campus has solved old problems and created new ones. We solved the problem of gas, traffic, and leaving campus at 11pm to drive home. The temptation to remain in bed until the last possible second and the ability to pull all-nighters have put a serious cramp or two in my style. Discipline was something I realized I needed about halfway through, and by then, I was already in something of a rut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Classes were actually pretty decent considering my considerable, if atypical, over-commitments. I still have a professor chat to attend, then deliver Christmas gifts to various friends - including the one in Taiwan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;sidenote. because every note needs one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of...What's the zip code for Taiwan supposed to look like anyway? Does UPS consider it to be part of China? And why does it look like "Taipei City" and "Taiwan" are the same thing? Oh I know it's not. Taipei City is the name of the city and Taiwan is the province within the ROC (Republic of China), but that still doesn't explain what I'm supposed to do with the zip code or why UPS won't accept either specification as valid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;no. no. no. please? well ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I think I must have "I don't say no" tattooed on my forehead where everyone else can see it. Or it could just be that I'm a pushover and know that if I say no the first time, all someone has to do is give me pleading looks and possibly a hug and I'll do just about anything. I just save everyone the time and trouble and say yes. It's alright, usually. I'm slightly addicted to the feeling that someone wants me around, even if it is for purely practical reasons. And I'm fairly decent with schedule juggling. Outside of August 17-19 where I was literally bouncing between 3 different places for 3 different training sessions, I haven't actually run into any kind of crises involving my physical location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has felt a bit odd at times, though. Kind of like a golden retriever with too many sticks to chase. You eventually just want to lay down and simply look at them all, trying to decide which one to tackle first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hating wordpress.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. That's pretty much it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really disliking wordpress at the moment. Not because they're horrid or whatever, but because I've been staring at it for the last two hours. This rambler graduation salute is becoming more of a pain and less of a salute by the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;baby, it's cold outside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Christmas break is kind of exciting. I haven't actually been this excited about Christmas, decorating, cooking, presents, etc, in a long time. But spending time with friends, shopping for gifts [and sending said gifts], and decorating like Martha Stewart on steroids has been so wonderful! I've missed it. I'm still very much a summer child. I miss my tan, my golden hair, and the ability to run around in flip flops with no make up and wet hair. But if we must have winter, I'm glad Christmas is a big part of the package.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;chestnuts roasting on an open fire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a fire in the fireplace that's keeping me warm and toasty. I love sitting less than four feet from it - of course,  you have to turn every so often like a rotisserie chicken to keep from getting too well done on one side or the other. I think that's my favorite part about winter at home. We make good use of our fireplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After feeling nothing short of awful most of yesterday, I think I'm now back to %100...perhaps a bit more. I love laughing with my family and we laughed for a long time last night. We're probably all a bit strange, but then again, who isn't? Heh, discourse communities! we communicate differently based upon where we're at and who we're with - why wouldn't it be the same with family?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today - hang with family, deliver presents, work, hang with friends, finish salute. I like this schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                            &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:14;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:14;"  &gt;To all the sensual world proclaim,&lt;br /&gt;One crowded hour of glorious life&lt;br /&gt;Is worth an age without a name.                                                                     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Walter Scott&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-2305066112629393704?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/2305066112629393704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=2305066112629393704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/2305066112629393704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/2305066112629393704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2009/12/glorious-life.html' title='glorious life'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-2699551194171187033</id><published>2008-01-24T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T12:44:18.864-08:00</updated><title type='text'>fear and faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Not really sure what it is about being sick that drives me to blog. I think it's just that being sick forces me to stop my constant movement in every direction long enough to think. In this particular instance, I've had the chance to sleep and think. What a happy combination!&lt;br /&gt;So between spoonfuls of echinaccea/goldenseal, pieces of apple, cups of tea, and bowls of chicken noodle soup,  I've had time, lots of time, to really think about life, my purpose in it, and some of my fears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div  style="text-align: right;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Faith is to believe what we do not see, and the reward of this faith is to see what we believe.&lt;/span&gt; -- Augustine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Fear, by its nature is an emotion caused by a lack of security. It's the dark mutterings that tell you that you're too weak, too small, too insignificant for things to work out. Sometimes, it's disguised by practicality and whispers that your actions are insignificant in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote  style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;True              faith goes into operation when there are not answers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  -- Elisabeth Elliot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p  style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sharing this with my mother the other day; that there are a handful of things that I feel very strongly about, but I'm afraid that when I try them, they're going to flip, flop, and fail. Fear is a powerful paralytic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She let me talk; voicing my fears drained me of most of my energy. Being sick and fearful all at once made me want to crawl back in bed and hide.  Yet God gave us mothers for a multitude of wonderful, amazing, and fascinating reasons. [Besides the ones about washing or wearing enough clothes in cold weather.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe," she said, "instead of worrying about it, you should give it to God." They were simple words, but somehow, I felt loads lifted and suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The thought had simply not occurred to me. God knows my future, and He's the one that's put me in the position I am in. As long as I do my dead level best, there's no reason I cannot simply leave the results in God's hands. She went on to say that I should take it a step further. This is where it's going to get a bit tricky, but I think it could work. I once heard a devotional on Proverbs 3:5-6. &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding; in all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Essentially, he noted that when we acknowledge Christ in all that we do, we maintain a Christ-centered focus. When that happens, our paths are directed and "all these things shall be added unto you." In short, God is able to both use and bless you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my mother's point was that should I ensure that my professors, those I interact with know that the source of my strength, my creativity, and even my ability to communicate well is God-given.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how the future is going to play out, but I see that my mother is right. Perfect love casts out fear, and God is love. The closer I stay to Christ, the less I have to fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Trebuchet MS,Georgia,Times New Roman,serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Christ demands of the man who trusts Him the              same reckless spirit... that is daring enough to step out of the crowd              and bank his faith on the character of God.&lt;/span&gt; --Oswald Chambers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-2699551194171187033?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/2699551194171187033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=2699551194171187033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/2699551194171187033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/2699551194171187033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2008/01/fear-and-faith.html' title='fear and faith'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-6548115836783805678</id><published>2008-01-19T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T14:24:01.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'>survival with value...</title><content type='html'>So last semester was definitely a study in many things. Juggling a tight schedule, learning to deal with classes I didn't want or like, trying to build a GPA, survival of the fittest both the mental and physical senses...[what little "good stuff" in the cafeteria was gone if you didn't get there fast!]&lt;br /&gt;If I were to identify a theme, though for last semester, it would definitely be learning to read people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true. I've never been the most intuitive people-person. Some people are just naturally and obviously readable, others look as though they're readable, but aren't in reality. Still others are impossible to read at all. As of last semester, I was definitely still on level one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/R5J3b4AX06I/AAAAAAAAARU/KX3MIKfqmQw/s1600-h/pink+friends.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/R5J3b4AX06I/AAAAAAAAARU/KX3MIKfqmQw/s320/pink+friends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157315844066759586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had always been in situations where, even if I couldn't read the person, I would know their back-ground. Homeschooled, conservative, public schooled, church member...they all had titles that I knew and could build a profile for. After my first few weeks of school, however, I suddenly realized that I no longer had that safety net. I was on my own and would have to learn to either read people as individuals, or figure out the context in which they fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the semester wore on, though, I realized that reading people wasn't as difficult as I thought it'd be. After a while, it comes naturally. Knowing when a new acquaintance is ready to talk, would make a good study partner, or would be a great person to grab a cup of coffee with goes a long ways towards the beginning of a friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doubt that I'll have any truly close friends at Wesleyan, simply because we're all so different. But maybe, just maybe, there'll be a few this semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/R5J3_4AX07I/AAAAAAAAARc/MykI3z-3Z5o/s1600-h/friends%26beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/R5J3_4AX07I/AAAAAAAAARc/MykI3z-3Z5o/s320/friends%26beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157316462542050226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt; "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."&lt;br /&gt;- C. S. Lewis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-6548115836783805678?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/6548115836783805678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=6548115836783805678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/6548115836783805678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/6548115836783805678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2008/01/survival-with-value.html' title='survival with value...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/R5J3b4AX06I/AAAAAAAAARU/KX3MIKfqmQw/s72-c/pink+friends.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-7092965174310205453</id><published>2007-11-15T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T21:27:45.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jack's on his way...</title><content type='html'>i used the heater in my car tonight and it kind of shocked me into realizing that wow. it really is cold outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i guess winter's almost here when:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;i'm planning a camp-out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shopping for long-sleeved items&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 more weeks til school's out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i regularly wear a light jacket when walking outside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have a stash of hot chocolate mix&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can no longer comfortably wear flip-flops&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I think there's still a few more weeks' wear left in my shoe of choice, but there's no denying that it's getting closer. I'd actually like to see the global cooling people proven right...lots of snow would be cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/20713913-7092965174310205453?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/7092965174310205453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=7092965174310205453' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7092965174310205453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7092965174310205453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2007/11/jacks-on-his-way.html' title='jack&apos;s on his way...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-7075002698629178161</id><published>2007-10-15T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T12:48:36.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rains made mirrors of the earth...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;It's a rainy fall day in the small but grand city of Fort Worth, Texas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;After completing my errands, attending my classes, and running through sheets of rain, the best place on earth to be at the moment is in Panera Bread. They serve their food in brightly colored, but very simplistic dishes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Their food is always very homey and soups are even better, and best of all, there are cookies, coffee and free Wi-Fi; which means I can do all things in the most wonderful spot on earth whilst looking out over the rainy University St. traffic and feeling satisfied that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; am not among them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; The sun was just yellow energy&lt;br /&gt; It is a living promise land&lt;br /&gt; Even over fields of sand&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, this little piece of heaven is just what I could have wished for. With two papers due, an interview, two mid-terms, a quiz, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;my first Moot Court tournament all this week, having a few moments to slow down a bit before launching myself full-time into the maelstrom, is an absolutely must.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I can't say that I'm definitely not doing anything. I caught up on my New York Times readings, am reviewing some of my old Con-Law lectures on commerce clause issues, and am making sure that my outlines line up with my thoughts for this weekend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;In listening to the lectures, I am reminded of some of the more interesting nuances of my education in general. Patrick Henry College, is by its essence, is one of my heroes. It stands for professionalism, morality, wisdom, and in an ultimate sense, Christ. The faculty and administration are a constant reinforcement of these values and its influence can be felt even a thousand miles away. While not everyone always agrees on smaller issues, [did you choose Christ or did Christ choose you? was the civil war about slavery or states rights? is it possible to have too much emphasis on reason?] the beauty is that the values behind the institution are constant and to this point, unchanging.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;In sharp contrast, it is difficult to nail down exactly what Texas Wesleyan University stands for. Oh it educates individuals, certainly and places most of its graduates in fairly decent job positions. But as was so eloquently pointed out in Economics this morning, we do not live to work. At TWU, National Coming Out Day is celebrated campus-wide, obscene displays may subtly grace the inside of the library, dry campus policies are quite wet, and despite stellar credentials, it is rare to find true professionalism among the faculty. Oh there are the exceptions. My Economics and Business professors are definitely among them. In other classes, however,  the professor is not the servant of education or a steward of wisdom, he or she normally has their own personal message to convey and they will do so in whatever manner they see fit; even if it is offensive to other students. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Once I graduate, none shall say that I have not had a well-rounded education.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-7075002698629178161?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/7075002698629178161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=7075002698629178161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7075002698629178161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/7075002698629178161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2007/10/rains-made-mirrors-of-earth.html' title='Rains made mirrors of the earth...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-6824962898291040823</id><published>2007-09-04T16:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T17:55:38.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>in and not of...</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;~Romans 12:2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I don't think I've ever truly understood the concept of being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;, but not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; the world. I sincerely doubt that I'm alone on this topic, but still, when God shows me something new, I always feel as though I am the first to discover it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;:smile:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this is natural, since my relationship is always between just myself and my Savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I knew that going to a college like Texas Wesleyan was going to be a challenge; but certainly not in the academic sense. They're bottom-rung in the liberal arts section in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;US News &amp; World Report&lt;/span&gt; of top colleges in America. They accept primarily the kids who either can't afford to go anywhere else for a liberal arts education, or those who'd just rather party their way through school. Still, they do have qualified professors, classes are small and personal, and while the classes are academically unchallenging, for someone accustomed to academic achievement, your education is what you make of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew all of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But somehow, I didn't count on a complete lack of, well, hmm...perhaps I can say it this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly didn't count on going to a school that was primarily &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;heathen&lt;/span&gt;, as my mother would say. Ah, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;godlessness&lt;/span&gt; is the word. Even though I've only been through about the first two weeks or so of school, I feel as though I've lost so many of the assumptions I've made about the world in general and about actually functioning on my own as a part of that world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been described as "an eternal optimist," and I do try to first view things as sunny-side up. I try not to ignore reality, but at the same time, who said the glass &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to be half-empty? I faced my first challenge after moving in on Monday when classes hadn't yet started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hanging with what I thought were surely a nice group of girls...when some of their language suddenly started to slip into PG-13 ratings. I inwardly shook my head and thought: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"they're trying out new things since they're just out of highschool...they'll level out again after the jitters are gone."&lt;/span&gt; But then, the language got a bit rougher; I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. After all, this was the first time I'd actually heard people my age using language like this, and I was quite sure how to respond to it. One thing led to another, and pretty soon, they all started playfully calling each other names, and not things like "dork," "weirdo," or "flirt." Try the R-rated versions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Well, that about did it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I graciously bowed out [ie made some excuse about having to make a phone call], and made my getaway to ponder what had just happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a Christian, how do you respond? What should you say? Leave? Quietly melt into a corner? Laugh and ignore the unsavory words spoken while still participating in the conversation? Stop being such a prude and adopt the lingo of the natives? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[When in Rome?]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that had been it, I think it would have quickly faded as an unresolved question into distant memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But bright and early Wednesday morning, in my very first class of the day, I was suddenly accosted with the thought that a few professors on campus do not value professionalism above individual expression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Lest someone take this other than intended, let me back up for a second. Professionalism, as defined by experience, is something that when all else fails, should be a standard of conduct in any situation. One does not wear distracting clothing, for this is unprofessional and distracts from the message you seek to communicate. One does not say offensive things, because this also detracts from the message you seek to communicate. It does not mean you lose your sense of style or originality, but it does mean that you are more considerate of your audience than you are your own personal comfort. Ultimately, professionalism is the neutral platform upon which anyone can stand and successfully communicate with anyone.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first prof told me that only he and one other prof were "permitted" to curse excessively. He's also the one announced that should we need to find an STD's testing facility, he would be the one to help us out. Also, if any of us should be addicted to cocaine, crystal meth, or speed, he has had a high success rate in eliminating addiction in those particular areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, my first prof of the day proceeded to rant for a full 1.5 hours on how the American economic system only caused crime and war, there isn't enough money in Social Security because taxes aren't high enough, and we need socialized healthcare. My second prof explained to us that the Indians were systematically eliminated by the white settlers, and that the Indians weren't heathens. They were "earth people." But my last prof took the cake. She let us know up front, that this class would not be for the faint of heart. She would cuss if she wanted to, she would talk about things that would make us uncomfortable, and before anyone tried to convert her, she let us know that it had been tried and she knew she was going to hell. She goes to church, but is an atheist. :sigh:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all his thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;~Psalm 10:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After four/five days of classes, I still wasn't certain of how I was supposed to fit into all of this, though. I mean, I kept thinking "renew your mind...don't conform, renew..." It became something of a mantra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after many mother conferences and some reading, I remembered one of the very first passages I'd memorized as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;~Psalm 1:1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Certainly a thought to ponder. So how, exactly to translate? I think Paul provides further clarification:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ~I Corinthians 15:33&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Evil communications has often been translated as wicked or ungodly company. But in my particular situation, I think it applies w/o interpretation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Even though it often doesn't quite feel right, natural, or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Christian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; to speak of people as evil, wicked, ungodly, or unrighteous, God clearly defines them, what they say, and what they do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An integral part of not being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;of&lt;/span&gt; the world is learning to see things from God's perspective, and God says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;~Philippians 4:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already dropped a class from my schedule, and am planning to drop another. Lord-willing, however, I'll be able to maintain my hours and then some through CLEP tests. I plan to CLEP American Govt, American Hist I &amp; II, Intro to Psychology, and College Algebra. If I can land a 60 on each test, they will count for 15 hours and will bring my hours to a total of 27 by January. I view that as the major highlight of Texas Wesleyan; they will accept the CLEP instead of spending two-three hours a week under the influence and power of those who hold the knowledge of God and the principles of Christianity in contempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, classes have been interesting. My high-lights have been the Baptist Student Ministries meetings, Moot Court prep, Intro to Business class, and my Macro-Econ class. So it hasn't been all crazy, random, and offensive, but it's definitely enough to keep things &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;interesting&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly can't say that I've learned everything I need to know in the last two weeks, and now I'll be perfectly prepared and will know what to do in every circumstance and will always shine as a light no matter what is said and who is standing in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I rest assured that as long as my vertical relationship with God remains priority, worries about what I will say, how I will respond,  or what to do in various situations have definitely been mitigated. After all, life is all about whose perspective, whose glasses you use when evaluating life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt;   "When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last,   "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"&lt;br /&gt; "What's for breakfast? said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"&lt;br /&gt; "I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.&lt;br /&gt; Pooh nodded thoughtfully.&lt;br /&gt; "It's the same thing," he said. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;~I Samuel 16:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-6824962898291040823?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/6824962898291040823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=6824962898291040823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/6824962898291040823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/6824962898291040823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2007/09/in-and-not-of.html' title='in and not of...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-5346475400484946330</id><published>2007-08-19T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T18:45:34.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>how sweet it is?</title><content type='html'>I was just reading some comments left by people on another website, and it suddenly struck me that words like "husband" and "wife" are generally left out of the majority of public discourse.  They were replaced with words like "partner" "lover" "mate" "boyfriend" and "special friend."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disappointed? yes. Saddened? most definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's an astonishing lack of commitment present in today's society. We're so accustomed to microwaves, shortened semesters, cell phones that are mini-laptops, and planes that can fly us from Texas to Tokyo in eight hours that there's just no real need to commit to normal things. Unfortunately, we've pulled this attitude into our relationships and attitudes as well. Someone who stays a second or two too long at a green-light will get a terse honk to move things alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Churches rarely retain most members for longer than 3 years at a time. Friendships come and go based on convenience of communication and interaction.  A married couple who's stayed together longer than five years is becoming hard to come by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage. I don't wonder why it's such a discarded relic of the past. It simply saddens me to see people substitute a similar relationship to suck the "good stuff" from a marriage, then leave when there's nothing left. Civil union couples have a fight with the knowledge that one or both can walk away at any point without breaking any commitment to stay; frequently, that's exactly what happens. Even some marriages are like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without the commitment of "for better or worse," there's no incentive to dig deeper, to invest, to get to know the individual you've decided to move in with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have we lost?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-5346475400484946330?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/5346475400484946330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=5346475400484946330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/5346475400484946330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/5346475400484946330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2007/08/how-sweet-it-is.html' title='how sweet it is?'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-8112610130557023981</id><published>2007-01-14T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T13:48:43.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>gods can neither see, hear, nor speak...</title><content type='html'>I am reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Til We Have Faces &lt;/span&gt;again for the first time in a little over two or three years. Usually, I read and re-read a book to the point that I have every line memorized and have analyzed it down to nothing.  But at the time I read it, I had little time for anything outside of school or work for it. So while I found it to be one of my better reads yet, I didn't remember much of it when I came across it before church this morning in our bookshelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I read it again, though, I cry because I know what's coming, and have to watch my eye make-up. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[o for a world w/out makeup!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;It makes me grateful that Christ has shown us true love, and it is not at all blind. It is the kind of love that does not look at the sacrifices of self, does not remember the things you've done to deserve less, and does not require standards to be achieved before love can be given.  It reminds me a great deal of the love Istra/Psyche has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was struck with a note of sadness watching Orual struggle with the concept of a wooden/stone/iron god. The Fox has told her that this god can neither see nor hear...and at that moment, we needed to get out of the car for church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Sunday School, we're studying prayer...one of the main points in this morning's lesson, though, was that we don't simply talk&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; at&lt;/span&gt; God, or make requests...only a four year old does that.&lt;br /&gt;God made us in His image so that man would be able to have that fellowship...a relationship with God. Relationships don't happen without two people communicating with one another. Really, the word stressed was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dialogue&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dialogue&lt;/span&gt; with God...beyond the simple "how are you doing today?" It stretches much further than that into a realm I often have trouble expressing. Yet even David mentions in here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us. Selah.&lt;br /&gt;-Psalm 62:8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I noticed was that trust was the precursor to "pour out your heart before him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There can be no relationship without trust. Of course, if you're not trusting someone else, you're self-reliant; and if you take away trust, all you're left with is what you provide yourself with. Without trust, we merely pray to the gods of our own making, and hope that somehow, we'll get the job done on our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can think of no greater sadness than this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-8112610130557023981?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/8112610130557023981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=8112610130557023981' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/8112610130557023981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/8112610130557023981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2007/01/gods-can-neither-see-hear-nor-speak.html' title='gods can neither see, hear, nor speak...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-1064582534372351279</id><published>2006-12-28T17:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T17:14:11.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My day in a sentence:</title><content type='html'>Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-1064582534372351279?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/1064582534372351279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=1064582534372351279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/1064582534372351279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/1064582534372351279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/12/my-day-in-sentence.html' title='My day in a sentence:'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-3025166886514523356</id><published>2006-12-20T12:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T12:29:37.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Facing my giant</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;I took my power in my hand &lt;br /&gt;And went against the world; &lt;br /&gt;’T was not so much as David had, &lt;br /&gt;But I was twice as bold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I aimed my pebble, but myself        &lt;br /&gt;Was all the one that fell. &lt;br /&gt;Was it Goliath was too large, &lt;br /&gt;Or only I too small?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Emily Dickinson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pride is such a sneaky little evil. It usually doesn’t take me long to recognize my failures, but it always takes me forever to dig myself out of the holes I manage to fall into head-first. I usually adopt a thoroughly disgusted attitude towards myself and my most common thoughts run along these lines:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;- God? He’s likely shaking His head: “There she goes again.”&lt;br /&gt;- Way to go Rachel. You never tried counting the repetition on this mistake before…don’t think about starting now. You’ve done this one as many times as there are sons of Israel.&lt;br /&gt;- God hears the prayers of the righteous… Nope. Not me.&lt;br /&gt;- Confession…biblical characters actually tried to establish a relationship with God. What have you done Rachel?? nilo...nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my favorite biblical character is a close draw between David and Paul. To me, out of all the other characters, these were simultaneously the most human, yet effective saints for God in Scripture. Not only that, but I love the way David’s writings speak right to my heart, and Paul is always there for the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so as those lovely little thoughts were running their normal course in my mind this morning, it suddenly occurred to me that, well, I messed up again. David goofed up royally with Bathsheba. He wasn’t supposed to even be at the palace, much less ogling another man’s wife, and HE KNEW IT! But he didn’t sit around and mope when Nathan confronted him; he went straight to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"&gt;- Psalm 51:1-3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David’s offense meant death if anyone ever dared say anything under normal circumstances. Even worse, his sin was always fresh. [not like I haven't been there before!] Yet David didn’t ponder the significance of his wrong action and leave it at that. Like a small child, David appealed to God as a loving father; something that I’m simply not accustomed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In church last Wednesday, one of our elderly gentlemen made the statement that because of Christ, we no longer stand behind a curtain, unable to enter into the presence of God. I can come as a child, wrap my arms around His neck, call Him “Abba” (Daddy) and make my requests in His ear. I still must remain responsible for my actions, but knowing that my heavenly Daddy cares for me so much more than my earthly daddy is a knowledge that floors me (and often makes me cry) anytime I try to wrap my mind around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child of God, I am surrounded with his lovingkindness, His tender mercies are constantly available to me. Only my pride can keep me from Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, it’s not my job to judge my sins, nor is it my responsibility to decide what God can handle, who He listens to, and whether or not He will answer me. It's like a child punshing himself for what he's done and often, without even realizing it, I am harder on myself than God even is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than taking on a giant that I can’t beat anyway, I will rest in my humility, as David did, and beseech my Father for not only His forgiveness, but for His favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous: And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world. And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"&gt;-  John 2: 1-3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-3025166886514523356?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/3025166886514523356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=3025166886514523356' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/3025166886514523356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/3025166886514523356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/12/facing-my-giant.html' title='Facing my giant'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-5524184115862437551</id><published>2006-12-10T19:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T19:17:00.556-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing Time...</title><content type='html'>Dear Finals,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a word: I'm terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You possess the qualities of a tyrant without even trying, and trying to defeat you is a daunting chore. (I think you must have taken lessons from Machiavelli.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are omniscient because you often know the answers when I do not. You are omnipotent because you manage to consume at least two weeks of my life without even trying. You are omnipresent because you exist as a looming and impending occurence from August to December, from January to May, and in some cases, from June to August. Always, always always...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You invade my subconscious mind much like the barbarians invaded Rome (which was sacked in 410 BC); slowly but surely deconstructing my cognitive powers and making certain that I will retain absolutely nothing of value or relevance on the day you arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the division of Europe during the Religious Wars (from 1562 to 1648) you divide my mind into several pieces and leave me to reconnect them. Once I've sketchily reconnected the thoughts you've scattered here and abroad, I seem to be predestined, elected, and chosen by you to a degree of everlasting tormet determined by the amount of studying I've completed by the time you requre an account of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finals, I. will. not. give. up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My efforts for success will not be as futile as those of Guy Faulkes in the Gunpowder Revolution! I shall, like Augustus in 31 BC, piece together my scattered pockets of knowledge and connect them with thoughtful roads of wisdom and insight that will so astound my professors, that my finals will turn tail and run in the face of so formidable a Reformation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall emerge triumphant, and on Tuesday, at 11:59 pm, I shall shout: IT IS FINISHED!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Rachel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-5524184115862437551?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/5524184115862437551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=5524184115862437551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/5524184115862437551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/5524184115862437551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/12/killing-time.html' title='Killing Time...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-387551975264247190</id><published>2006-11-27T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T08:56:48.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord is "all that?"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The New Book of Common Prayer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was lazily perusing the web on this delightful Sunday afternoon, &lt;a href="http://www.churchpublishing.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=product&amp;ProductID=426"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; caught my eye. Apparently, the book of Common Prayers are no longer so very common, so the Anglican Church has decided to go with a much more "hip" version; specifically, the Hip Hop Prayer Book. To me, the title sounds a bit like something out of Dr. Seuss, but I'm certain no one minds that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.churchpublishing.org/bookstore/images/graphics/5112.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In late 2002, Reverend Holder identified the problem in his South Bronx Parish: &lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Since men in the South Bronx have a close to an 80 percent chance of being incarcerated at least once before they're 40, it's crucial to train the youngsters. But in the South Bronx, he encountered a bit of a relevancy barrier. It wasn't long before he proposed offering the first hip hop mass to his bishop, who promptly agreed.&lt;br /&gt;According to a &lt;a href="http://www.beliefnet.com/story/196/story_19636_2.html"&gt;Beliefnet article&lt;/a&gt;, this movement isn't limited to the Episcopal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;He worked with Episcopal, Lutheran, and Roman Catholic clergy and lay people to create seven Friday masses in the summer of 2004, with the theme, "The word was made flesh and dwelt in the hood," adapted from the Gospel of John.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dwelt in the Hood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;The Gospel is the Gospel whether it be hip-hop, the New Living Translation, or the King James Version, according to the philosophy of Reverend Holder. Yet I wonder...while I think there's some merit to making the Gospel easily understood, I'm not sure that I believe scriptural doctrine or continuity is going to remain the same when the words used now create drastically different connotations. Take for example, Psalm 23:&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 23 as adapted by Ryan Kearse&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord is all that, I need for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;He allows me to chill.&lt;br /&gt;He keeps me from being heated&lt;br /&gt;and allows me to breathe easy.&lt;br /&gt;He guides my life so that&lt;br /&gt;I can represent and give&lt;br /&gt;shout outs in his Name.&lt;br /&gt;And even though I walk through&lt;br /&gt;the Hood of death,&lt;br /&gt;I don't back down&lt;br /&gt;for you have my back.&lt;br /&gt;The fact that you have me covered&lt;br /&gt;allows me to chill.&lt;br /&gt;He provides me with back-up&lt;br /&gt;in front of my player-haters&lt;br /&gt;and I know that I am a baller&lt;br /&gt;and life will be phat.&lt;br /&gt;I fall back in the Lord's crib&lt;br /&gt;for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saying that the Lord is "all that," connotates a different meaning than saying the Lord is "my Shepherd." The use of shepherd analogies, parables, and symbols are heavily utilized in Scripture and describe a picture of Christ. The Lord truly is "all that," but the phrase doesn't give you the same image and certainly doesn't tie key portions of Scripture together in the same manner the word "shepherd" does. There's more value in Scriptural diction than mere poetics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Familiarity Breeds Contempt?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Reverend's desire to communicate to his audience through all this is admirable, and it doesn't have changed concept of the passage. But before we go chillin in God's hood, let's remember to not accept things at face value without first checking our facts. Sometimes, the common is much more extraordinary than we think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya dig it ma homies? :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-387551975264247190?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/387551975264247190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=387551975264247190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/387551975264247190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/387551975264247190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/11/lord-is-all-that.html' title='The Lord is &quot;all that?&quot;'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-116054323447371813</id><published>2006-10-10T21:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T22:07:14.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You can call me Christopher Columbus</title><content type='html'>Or Copernicus, Einstein, Archimedes, or Marie Curie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While some discoveries make the news, change world history, or make a poor &lt;br /&gt;student's life more difficult, I don't necessarily think those are always the more important ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A discovery is a reaction to opportunity seized and observed, in general. There are some we take note of, and others we miss. For example: what would have happened if a true Christian had seized the opportunity to get to know young Adolf, observed his need for Christ, and acted upon it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough broad and general speculation. I have made discoveries recently, and while the rest of the world may not rank them among Einstein and Spielberg, I think they're quite significant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever notice how when things are tight, you're under a lot of pressure, and you're simply trying to stay out of the way that you tend to have a burning desire for a glimpse of the big picture. You want to know why you're going through this particular situation. What gain is there going to be? Who else meets this desire, but Christ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet when things are ok, and life is going great, you really live more for the moment, because the moment is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if we treated the bad times as good too? The big picture should never be ignored, but I wonder sometimes, if we don't shut "the moment" out too much when we land in difficulty.  It's so much easier to outsource a focus to something more positive than it is to stay and live in it. But I think God definitely called us to be thankful in all things; not "once you have the big picture, be thankful for it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;1 Thessalonians 5:18&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I have discovered that I have a tibialis anterior...and I know how to use it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-116054323447371813?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/116054323447371813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=116054323447371813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/116054323447371813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/116054323447371813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/10/you-can-call-me-christopher-columbus.html' title='You can call me Christopher Columbus'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114524590631942384</id><published>2006-04-16T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T20:51:46.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Change and constancy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I took a walk down memory lane yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After working with Jonathan and Adam, Jonathan and I drove through Saginaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's only been two and a half years since the move, but at first glance, it felt as if I'd never lived 16 years of my life there at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The local grocery store has been converted into a school "Development Center," there's a Recreational Facility in what used to be a field, the lone evergreen tree that anonymous personas would decorate for Christmas and Easter is no longer standing in that field,  there's a large church in the pasture I used to do "trail rides" in, and there's a school, apartments, and housing developments along the road that used to be over-shadowed by tall, majestic, and beautiful trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;First house on the right....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove by our house, and realized that much hadn't changed. Our trees were a bit bigger, but it looked as though we could still be living there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Turn left by the green caboose...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The green caboose in the park is still the same, looking a bit older, perhaps, but still serving as a landmark to those who give directions the same way I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the library. Because it was Easter weekend, they were closed, so I couldn't go in and look around...but judging from the limited view through the front doors, there had been some minor changes, but overall, nothing that would make me wonder if I were in the right place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh. I even tried to pull out of the parking lot through the entrance in the face of the "DO NOT ENTER" signs.  *sheepish grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much like seeing old and dear friends after a long absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You never step in the same river twice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we turned to go home, though, I was struck with the feeling that well, you never step in the same river twice, basically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things like that often seem the same, but there were definitely signs of age painted all over the old caboose, our old house was beginning to blend in with the houses that were thirty years old, and the new "development center", despite a new facing, used the old rock exterior on the store, and it gave it a strange old, yet new look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the idea is that the river might be in the same bed, but trying to find that same niche you once fit in is impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I just realized this sounds very sad and depressive, almost. Melancholic, at the very least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I find a kind of comfort in knowing that there's no going back. It forces me to look ahead to the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first pastor used to say that a farmer can't plow straight while looking back over his shoulder, and a driver can't stay on the road by looking in the rearview mirror. There's nothing to be done about the past; tis best to find the good, learn from the mistakes, and always press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take heart from Paul. You know, it must have been a dizzying switch for him to at one moment be the most ardent persecutor of the church, and then in the next, to be standing in front of the Pharisees, condemned for the same crimes he had persecuted others for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, his attitude is one that I admire...he kept a forward focus, and never let his circumstances, or his past pull him down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114524590631942384?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114524590631942384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114524590631942384' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114524590631942384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114524590631942384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/04/of-change-and-constancy.html' title='Of Change and constancy'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114300405855280409</id><published>2006-03-21T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T21:07:38.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;So while you're thinking, why don't you think me up a cup of coffe and one of those chocolate doughnuts with the little sprinkles on top!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That guy did a Peter Pan right here offa this dam!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Are you oughta your mind? He's DEAD!&lt;br /&gt;That ought to make him easier to catch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-The guy is FISH FOOD...&lt;br /&gt;Then you get a K-pole and catch me the fish that ate 'im!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do love Tommy Lee Jones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114300405855280409?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114300405855280409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114300405855280409' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114300405855280409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114300405855280409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-love.html' title='My love'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114291086746011563</id><published>2006-03-20T18:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T19:15:01.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Story Time</title><content type='html'>Spring Break is way more exciting than I would have given it credit for. At least, the first day has been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now comes the time in which I must share the two really interesting stories that really have God stamped all over them. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Because I like stories like that.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Story 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last week, I decided that I really wanted some Converse All Stars. I'm the world's slowest when it comes to conforming to fashion trends. I'm partially cautious, and sometimes just simply unaware. At any rate, after three years of Converse being "in", I'd finally decided that not only did I think they were adorable, but that I'd like to have some. The local Rack Room Shoe store had them on sale, and there really wasn't much else to worry about. Ok, so there were a few things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stewardship and Converse?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I buy clothes and such, I try to make sure that I spend my money wisely. This usually means establishing that there is a "need" for clothes/shoes/hats/scarves/etc, that it's a "deal", and that God will be glorified in through me wearing whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there really wasn't much of a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; , for them...Except I didn't have any casually cute tennis shoes...I just had running shoes. Ok, I told myself quickly, that'll work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next? Oh yes, a "deal." Well, I try not to spend $30 on just one pair of shoes (yes, I shop at Wal-Mart and Payless *smile*) and when I do, they'd better be genuine leather, super comfortable, and professional. Converse are far from genuine leather and not necessarily comfortable. I was feeling guilty. Next criteria?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...that really gave me something to think about. Converse and God? Well, I'd wait til after church to decide since the store was on the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sort of. *insert sheepish grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Blessed is he that considereth the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;poor...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday nights at church, now, we're starting to take up an offering for the poor fund. I usually try to contribute at least a dollar because I like to know that God can take my dollar, and someone else's dollar, and use the church to bless a family that needs it. I only had $32 in my purse, and w/out any form of ID (that's the next story), I couldn't write a check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oh well. If I'm not meant to have the shoes, then I just won't worry about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After church, I went by Rack Room and found the Converse section with zero difficulty. About the time I walked into the store, a friend I hadn't talked to in a while gave me a call...we stayed on the phone while I walked up to the shoes, barely glanced at the price, tried some on, and decided that yes, I'd get them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;...the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said goodbye, and walked up to the register. The nice older man behind the counter smiled and rang up my purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;-Ma'am that'll be $32.64.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oh. I think I'm a dollar short. Let me get my change from the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oh no. Look, I've got a dollar right here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He displayed six shiny quarters and a nickel.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long and short...I got my shoes for $31...but I think it's neat that God put that man behind the counter who was willing to help out...more than that...to go the extra mile.  That inspired me for the rest of the week, and now, when I look at those shoes that now sit proudly in my room, I remember how God pays attention to the details even when I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Story 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second story is a tale of...well. Just wait til I tell you. mk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We (we being myself, Paige, Bekah, Jonathan, and my mother), took a road trip up to the TN national open tournament in Jefferson City at Carson Newman College. It was a fabulous trip and awesome experience. But that's not what this story is about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I didn't want to cary a purse around...but I was going to need my billfold for my DL and other such necessities. So, I took the BF, and left the purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept up with it (miraculously) throughout the trip up and the tournament. On the way home, we stopped at a rest stop off I40 to stretch our legs. I saw vending machines and thought "hmmm", grabbed my BF and headed out for an adventure. Without finding anything, though, we went back to the car pressed on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after arriving home, I discovered my BF was missing. Thinking it was probably just in the car, I didn't panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car left for OKC less than a day later. I didn't have a chance to look through it, but it did mean that I was without ID for the rest of the week. Frustrating, scary, and amusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the car (and the fam) got back from OKC, we tore the van apart. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, about thirty minutes before five, my cell phone rang. I looked at the number and was mystified...CA...but not Rachel. I answered and a male's voice began speaking:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;-Hi Rachel? This is Kyle Green calling from PHC? I don't know if you remember me, but we did debate camp together I guess two years ago and debated in the same league for a little bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oh hey Kyle! Wow! Yes, I remember you...what's up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Well, have you travelled down I40 in TN recently?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am thoroughly taken aback. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;First this guy I haven't talked to in two years calls my cell phone...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now he's asking if I'd been down I40????&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Why, yes, I was there just last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;To make a long story short, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; phone number in my billfold was the number on my PHC ID card. The lady in charge of the rest area called PHC and Kyle was working as the receptionist at the time...he recognized my name and you know? I still don't know how he got my cell number...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is good, yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the meantime&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am discovering the fun of html editing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my only dilemma is in determining how on earth to insert an image into the background...hmmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114291086746011563?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114291086746011563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114291086746011563' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114291086746011563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114291086746011563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/03/story-time.html' title='Story Time'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114274120498920071</id><published>2006-03-18T19:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T20:06:46.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mid-terms are over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so all one of them. But who says that even one doesn't bring stress? Especially a PHC test. Any way you slice it, I'm happy it's over. Even happier that it means spring break. But alas. I'm also a working woman. So no &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; break for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Am I asking for sympathy? Not at all. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be my chance to leap ahead in con-law...to summarize cases to my heart's content with no worries for a solid week. Will I do it? Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;All this, however, isn't really what I wanted to talk about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has been interesting, as a whole. See, the last two weekends have been tournament weekends. We ran down to Houston two weeks ago for the state tournament, and then ran up to TN for the TN Open. Then the entire family jumped in the car &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt; on Teusday for the National Homeschool Basketball touranment, leaving me to fend for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lessons learned?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Don't forget to feed the fish.&lt;br /&gt;-Listen to old sermons, music, movies, anything, to keep the quietness from being, well, haunting.&lt;br /&gt;-Don't think too hard.&lt;br /&gt;-Being by yourself for an extended period of time isn't so bad. In all honesty, I think it's all about the mind-set. If I'm totally focused on being all by myself, then it's downright depressing. But really, if you consider the things you can do (laundry, clean room, clean house, clean kitchen, gracious! just CLEAN) then it's not so bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Also, don't leave your DL in the car that goes out of state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's true. I left my driver's license in the van. I hope. ^_^ I can't rent movies without it, can't write checks (unless you're in Aledo), your purse feels strangely pointless, and you wind up extremely uncomfortable while driving for obvious reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, being alone isn't that bad. But I miss my family. Home is where the heart is, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Another winter's day has come and gone away,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; In Paris and Rome... and I want to go home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and I’m surrounded by a million people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I still feel alone... I wanna go home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I miss you, you know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114274120498920071?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114274120498920071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114274120498920071' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114274120498920071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114274120498920071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-miss-you.html' title='I miss you'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114024697422415606</id><published>2006-02-17T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-18T08:30:02.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note to self: Never forget that just because the day starts out atrocious does not implicitly require the end thereof to be a disastor. In fact, it could be outright fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, who wants to talk about work?&lt;br /&gt;Not me. And not today.&lt;br /&gt;Suffice it to say that it's FRIDAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"I never knew I had this many cuts! I should squeeze lemmons more often..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making dinner with friends is always something I've loved doing. I don't know what it is about two mostly grown up women in the kitchen making an appetizing dish themselves. I guess men play football, women go and make dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Was it a man? or a woman?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;-Well what else could the murderer have been? A&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; kitten&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pink Panther is a really cute movie. There was one scene in the entire movie that made me cringe. Just a little. The scene was funny...but got old in a hurry. This movie includes the best blends of corny humor, random stereotypes, and some fantastic surpriseds.&lt;br /&gt;So 3 stars out of 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eureka!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Classics are timeless. And that should be the understatement of the year. For I have brilliantly stumbled across my new favorite drink at Starbuck's. Goodbye Mint Mocha. So long Brownie Frapaccino! Arreverderci Cinammon Dolce Latte!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.starbucks.com/retail/images/caramel_cider.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.starbucks.com/retail/images/caramel_cider.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Steamed Caramel Apple Cider&lt;/span&gt; with whip cream is my new favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will drink it in a house, with a mouse. In a box, with a fox. On a train in the rain! I will drink it here or there, I will drink it ANYWHERE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? It's the simple things. Stuff I don't even normally give a second thought to that really make life worthwhile and memorable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114024697422415606?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114024697422415606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114024697422415606' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114024697422415606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114024697422415606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/02/simple-things.html' title='Simple things...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-114015069546094378</id><published>2006-02-16T20:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T21:11:41.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Greatest Struggle: His Greatest Triumph</title><content type='html'>The wind howls around the windows outside my room. Windy nights always make for the most contemplative. (And of course, days of eighty degrees followed by days of ice and snow are always odd ones too...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me. - Luke9:23&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the basis for the message on Wednesday night. I can remember only one other time within the last year that I made some decisions that were this major.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with most sermons, I listened with the expectation of hearing from God. It's never difficult to find application to my life even if I don't particularly want to. (Yes, I can be quite contrary at times.) When Preacher started talking about this verse, though, I knew I was going to hear something important. He started out talking about the hymn "Wherever He Leads, I'll Go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the story behind it is neat, but the funny thing? I really can't remember much of the introductory portion of the message. When he introduced this verse, though, it was time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preacher reminded us that a cross didn't just mean an undesirable task, or an uncomfortable position. No. A cross meant death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Re-examining the verse with that in mind...wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's nudged me slowly, but surely in the direction He wants me to go in.  As the years have gone by, God has asked me for more and more territory in my heart. Sometimes, that territory is given without a thought. Some things, like debate, college, love...those were progressively more difficult. Even now, I have to continuously remind myself that each of those areas are firmly in God's hands and that I wouldn't have it any other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, though, He asked me for a bit more than the extras in life (debate, college or love).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will take some work, but I think I'm finally ready. I'm not entirely sure what all it's going to entail, so this, like many of my other adventures, will be a hike into the great unknown with my Abba Father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doomed to fail in my own strength; in fact, I admit that I've already failed many times today. But if I confess my sins, He is faithful and just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the point of it all? I've never actually conscientiously tried to live each and every day unto the Lord. To die to self so completely that all that is left to see, is Him. It's something I've always wished for, or would see in others and think "Wow, that's so neat. One day, I'll be like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that's a goal even the Apostle Paul only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tried&lt;/span&gt; to accomplish. But I think my largest struggle, will not be over things like money or education or even an earthly relationship. My biggest struggle will be to voluntarily lie on a cross &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;daily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even now, I'm half-wishing I hadn't said I'd try. But I've got as much time as He gives me and my God is so faithful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am confident that even though I fail a thousand times, He will yet lift me up a thousand and one times more if only to show Himself strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because in my weakness, He is strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;In my death, He lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-114015069546094378?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/114015069546094378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=114015069546094378' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114015069546094378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/114015069546094378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-greatest-struggle-his-greatest.html' title='My Greatest Struggle: His Greatest Triumph'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113996815056920006</id><published>2006-02-14T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T19:16:29.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Discarded Image</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Disclaimer: Lest you should think this is to be a discourse on CS Lewis, you are free to lay those fears (or anticipations!) to rest. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt; Someone once said that "we don't see things as they are, we see them as &lt;i&gt;we&lt;/i&gt; are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In church right now, our primary object of study in Sunday school over the next few weeks is the attributes of God. It's been an interesting study, but something struck me the other day that really tied in with a lot of different changes in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday's lesson was over change. God, is as a matter of course, unchangeable. Immutable. He has to be, right? Of course, and at that point, I immediately reached back into childhood and pulled out the verse "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; So where's the big deal?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my mind must have wandered during the lesson just a wee bit. Even so, it felt as though God brought several little things to mind that all culminated into one solid thought: I am only as solid as my God is. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anyone who dares say that God is not logical has another thing coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;The process He took me through, though, was intriguing. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;First, He reminded me of how active I am; both on the job and at home and everywhere in between. I never really know what to expect from day to day and things go so fast...in fact, if anyone can tell me what happened to last fall, I'd be greatly appreciative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a world that involves constant change as part of its very nature, it's easy to get caught up and behind in the day-to-day whirlwind that envelopes so much of what I do. But my train of thought was picking up speed and moving on. I'm not sure why the next verse came to mind, but Romans 12:2 was apparently the next scheduled stop:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And be not &lt;i&gt;conformed&lt;/i&gt; to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skeptically, I remember thinking that this has got to be one of the most impractical commands in Scripture. Sure, it's acceptable when referring to things like retaining modesty and purity, but I'm just as busy as the rest of the world. There's a way to get around &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt;? Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, physically busy, but who says you can't be at rest and busy at the same time? Whoops... here comes Scripture again:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;whose mind is stayed on thee&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: because he trusteth in thee. Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;" align="right"&gt;-Isaiah 26: 3-4&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my mind is on God, or when I am focused, wait...geometry... focused = centered! So when I am &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;centered&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; on God, I have perfect peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I realized was that it's the very fact that God &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;does not&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; change that gives me the capability to remain rested, alert, and focused in a world full of chaos and constant change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The key, though, is the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;focused&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Valentine's Day, all the world loves a lover. But for me, this Valentine's is a bit different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than being so focused on who I am and who is not with me on a day where a dozen roses are to be had at any gas station and chocolates come in all shapes and sizes, I realize that in His infinite loving-kindness, God has provided me with yet another day to say with a smile that life is beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;To be focused on God is to be unchanged and unrattled by the changes that take place around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt; A discarded image? Oh definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My image of Valentine's Day, I think, has been completely discarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, when I view the world through the eyes of God, my whole perception changes. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;So rather than seeing life as a continuous stream of tasks to be completed, projects to be started, or emotions to be ignored, I see that God is always on time, all things are done unto the Lord, and that God "works all things for the good of them that love Him and are called according to his purpose."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;And now, the voices of court cases to be summarized are becoming insistent, so I shall return to my small little bubble known as "Con-Law."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 18pt; font-family: &amp;quot;lucida grande&amp;quot;;"&gt;Happy Valentine's Day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113996815056920006?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113996815056920006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113996815056920006' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113996815056920006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113996815056920006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/02/discarded-image.html' title='The Discarded Image'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113927952653527024</id><published>2006-02-06T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T18:32:06.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pressing On</title><content type='html'>As I sit in front of a blazing fireplace (but not too close!) with my pineapple-upside-down cake, milk, and con-law materials, I'm struck with how simply complicated life can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene around me is perfectly simplistic and I am quite contented. &lt;br /&gt;In fact, life in general has me completely happy. I guess what becomes complicated is maintaining the status quo. The next day is never something to fear, but there are always the insignificant details that somehow make me wish I could always just live in the moment that has me the most contented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was running today, though, I realized that if you don't keep moving, (especially when you're as out of shape as I am), you loose your nerve to press on. A stationary position is ok for a minute or two, but after a while, well, there's nothing that frustrates me more than an unchanging atmosphere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the way Paul said it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113927952653527024?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113927952653527024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113927952653527024' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113927952653527024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113927952653527024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/02/pressing-on.html' title='Pressing On'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113868936215986485</id><published>2006-01-29T21:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T19:46:04.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time is an illusion...</title><content type='html'>I'm afraid that life is simply too time-consuming. Lately, it's gotten to feel as though busy-ness is about the only real quality I can truly call my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't had a free weekend in who knows when, and in the five-six hours between the time I get home from work and the time I go to bed, there's always SOMETHING of a high priority nature that demands my attention for an altogether too lengthy period of time. Everything blurs together in such a way that when you look back, the only clear recollection you have is of being "on the way" to the next thing for which you are already a few minutes late. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it's just plain tiring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About every two weeks or so (sometimes less frequently, depending on when I pause briefly for a breath) I wind up asking myself what has to be the world's most popular question: "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With everything in the world to spend time on (heh, even &lt;a href="http://www.pagetutor.com/idiot/idiot.html"&gt;idiots&lt;/a&gt; have no excuse!), how does one keep from going absolutely crazy? Or at least have time to pause for something like a nap? sun-set? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly though, I think our time is spent where our priorities lie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what other reason would you want to be exhuasted? Knowing that your time is spent doing what you have decided is something you enjoy doing or need to do, what could be more satisfactory?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that, I'll conclude this rather time-consuming post and look for something else to consume my time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113868936215986485?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113868936215986485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113868936215986485' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113868936215986485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113868936215986485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/time-is-illusion.html' title='Time is an illusion...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113852010681274828</id><published>2006-01-28T23:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T23:35:06.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random treasured thoughts...</title><content type='html'>The air is always so full of life just after a rain. Especially when you get the musky tree smell coupled with a nearby body of water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That combination always reminds me of the smell of wet pine trees in the morning, which in turn reminds me of my grandparents house of yore in Northern LA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wherever it is that I eventually settle down at, I want to have pine trees so my children can grow up with that smell and know what it's like to fight with pine cones and make beds out of pine needles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113852010681274828?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113852010681274828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113852010681274828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113852010681274828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113852010681274828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/random-treasured-thoughts.html' title='Random treasured thoughts...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113831465572635010</id><published>2006-01-26T09:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T22:21:10.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Short, sweet and to the point</title><content type='html'>My attempts at making coffee this morning went off without a hitch and for that, I was extremely grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason or another, I was completely unable to sleep until about 3:30 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*insert appropriate grimaces coupled with expressions of shock and sympathy*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus you will all understand my reason for keeping this like my attempt at coffee:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Small in quantity, large on feeling, and oh so mediocre on sweetness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I just wanted the world to know that I can make coffee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113831465572635010?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113831465572635010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113831465572635010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113831465572635010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113831465572635010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/short-sweet-and-to-point.html' title='Short, sweet and to the point'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113753295920466715</id><published>2006-01-17T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T17:03:56.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not-so-awake-but-close-enough thoughts</title><content type='html'>I realize it's been a while since I've posted at my &lt;a href="http://proveritas.blogspot.com/"&gt;really old blog&lt;/a&gt;. A long while, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started that one to have a place to vent thoughts on, well, politics. But since I took off from school in late May of last year, well, see for yourself. There's simply not a lot there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be crawling out of the woodwork soon, though, as I become more politically knowledgable. Lately, I've been blissfully non-opinonated in my thoughts as only a very small portion of them are ever dedicated to politics or current events in general. I guess I should clarify that by putting "current events" in bold or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently shocked someone by telling them the history of church services in our nation's capitol. Yes, that's right. I meant to say "in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I, just as recently, shocked someone else by thinking that Ariel Sharon was dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, the thoughts labeled "current events" have been lately growing in number and increasing in frequency of appearance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why the change? I'm starting school again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right. Rachel's back in PHC DL courses...look out world. &lt;ahem&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, until my political consciouness is fully aroused, know that coffee is fully functional at whatever temperature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When coffee is piping hot, it keeps you awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When it's just right, it still keeps you awake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- When it feels like you've just downed an brownish iceberg, it will still keep you awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, coffee is one of the few things I can think of in this thought-repressed moment that fulfills its function no matter its temperature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, French Vanilla Creamer will cover a multitude of sins. And lack of sugar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;/ahem&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113753295920466715?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113753295920466715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113753295920466715' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113753295920466715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113753295920466715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/not-so-awake-but-close-enough-thoughts.html' title='Not-so-awake-but-close-enough thoughts'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113709510322621600</id><published>2006-01-12T11:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T11:57:31.653-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm leaving on a jet plane...</title><content type='html'>Well, today is the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I nervous? Sure. But strangely enough, I don’t feel as much trepidation as I did a week ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace? Oh Definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, however, I should be a good deal more nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, I’m teaching kids I’ve never met before, in a home I’ve never been to before, with surroundings I know absolutely nothing about, for a speech teacher I’ve only talked to twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I’m sure it will all hit me at exactly 11:15 AM tomorrow morning and I will likely get the feeling that I just broke to finals with no case, no evidence, and no make-up.&lt;br /&gt;(and who hasn’t heard the latter half of that story before?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, though, I’m really excited. When I first started debating in ’03, I remember hitting the end of my rope in mid-September in my mad search for a debate club and placing a desperate call to the ever-patient Heather. When she got back with me, she said that she’d been in touch with everyone she could think of who would know, and all she could say was that while I lived in the heart of one of the most home-school populous states in the US, debate clubs were a rarity. In fact, Arkansas and New Mexico were the only states in our region that had a state contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Of course, debate has absolutely blossomed in Texas over the past three years. Between the amazing Butlers of Corpus Christi, the awesome Watsons of North Ft. Worth, the quite factual Larimers of Houston, the enthusiastic Umstadtts of Austin, the ever-constitutional Millers of Decatur, and myself in West Ft. Worth/Weatherford, we’ve managed to pull together 40 some odd teams for the last state tournament in 2005; quite a jump from the brave 16 teams at my first state tournament.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I got into my second year of coaching and my first year of debate involvement without competing, my vision has been to see debate expand to those states that don’t currently have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I don’t see debate as “perfect” or an activity that is for everyone, I think it’s a fantastic adventure for anyone who has a love of politics, law, and/or public speaking. I found out about debate for the first time at the beginning of my official senior year and decided to be a “super senior” just so I could debate one more year. Over the years, I have found that my story is a common one. My desire is to see that story become a rarity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, if you’re not a debater, it’s not because you haven’t heard about it. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is why I think it’s so neat that I get to go to OK. I hope that by this time next year, we’ll see OK teams at the regional tournaments and maybe OK will have a regional tournament of their own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at the same time, I remember that I’m only planting a seed and that the seed is extremely small. The primary thing, then, I want the students to walk away with is a new perspective of communication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Debate, to me, was a continuous exercise in I Corinthians 13:1. It’s one thing to give a speech in public. It’s quite another to debate an issue in public without that issue causing tension between the two. (or four ;-) ) They may have already had this experience, but I hope this will stick with the ones who haven’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aim small, miss small; right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113709510322621600?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113709510322621600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113709510322621600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113709510322621600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113709510322621600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/im-leaving-on-jet-plane.html' title='I&apos;m leaving on a jet plane...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113686972076423607</id><published>2006-01-09T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T21:19:49.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All's Well that Ends Well</title><content type='html'>So as I sat in the store-front window of Starbuck's, tonight, and watched people as they passed by, I realized that somehow, somewhere, I had to have missed something crucial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked down at my then luke-warm chow mein, slowly poked at it with my chop-sticks, and muttered something slightly unintelligible. The boys behind me continued talking about the wimpishness of the Vanilla Creme whatever and were oblivious to the truth that was slowly breaking its way through the iciness of my heart. The occasional sound of the blender in the back-ground only added a certain flavor of irony to my current state of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must be something amazing about the combination of Chick-Fil-A lemonade and Suki Hana chow mein, fried rice, and some kind of "cheekeen" that just makes everything click when mixed with the soothing atmosphere of Starbuck's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, everyone else, as they walked in and out, had car keys hanging out of their purse, out of their pockets, off of belt-loops, or simply held lovingly and securely in their hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a sigh of frustration, I gave up with the chopsticks and borrowed a fork from the always understanding staff at Starbuck's. Close to tears now, I mentally retraced my steps for the hundreth time, from the point in eternity that I entered Dillard's, to the current moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I managed to leave my beloved keys behind when everyone else was so attached to theirs is simply beyond me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adorned with the bright orange rectangular sign attached to a chain proclaiming boldly to the world "KEYS I HAVEN'T LOST YET" and the Navy Duck, "Harry", with the mocking smile across his bill, their absense made an immense hole in my consciousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt betrayed, alone, and forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how long I sat there, wallowing in self-pity, wondering if I would ever see my keys again. But it seemed an eternity. Then he was there. Dad bravely came to my rescue and sat with me in Starbuck's with only a mere ghost of a smile on his face. I was so happy to see him, though, and I didn't say too much of anything important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After taking a call from a debate student, we eventually got up and left. Physically, this time, we retraced my steps back to Dillard's and took one last look at the socks. I had given up completely on ever seeing them again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad carefully examined the socks, picking through each one with laser-beam vision. He walked around the stand and carefully picked up two socks as I turned to walk away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I stopped. I heard the familar clatter of plastic and steele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned, with a wide grin on my face and a slight tremor of voice: "YOU FOUND THEM!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All's well that ends well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113686972076423607?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113686972076423607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113686972076423607' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113686972076423607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113686972076423607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/alls-well-that-ends-well.html' title='All&apos;s Well that Ends Well'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20713913.post-113678294301638752</id><published>2006-01-08T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T21:02:23.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the night, his song shall be with me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evil one word question that manages to plague everyone during multiple points in time over emotions of varrying degrees of goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; [Please note that I'm preaching more at myself than anyone else.  I just felt the need to express it in writing. It seems to make things a bit more solid at times.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to ask yourself "why" over and over again when you've done nothing, and yet the result was so opposite of what you expected. (And do please note that the results can be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; good and simply not so good. I am convinced that for a child of God, there is no bad.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found that there are times when that question actually does some good and provides a mechanism for making yourself think about the root of whatever issue that's just been bothering you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, however, the question is merely an expression of helplessness over a situation, circumstances, or precepts that cannot be altered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that case, rather than torturing yourself with what you did or did not do, I've come to realize that there's nothing to be done about the past. The future is still in the future, and all you've got is the present. Certainly learn from the past. But don't obsess over something that cannot be changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Socrates once said that "the unexamined life is not worth living." And he's quite right. One must know most of the why's and wherefores of life, otherwise, there's no point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when you've hit a brick wall on something that cannot be changed no matter how you look at it, smile and realize that you live and learn. Hurt and happiness come and go, but joy is a constant when your eyes are on God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So even though life gets tough and feels like you're playing the violin in public and learning the instrument as you go on, or you toss and turn at night wondering "why? why me?", as long as your focus is Christ &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the day time, and in the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;night&lt;/span&gt; his &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;song&lt;/span&gt; shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love to you all, and welcome to my site.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20713913-113678294301638752?l=night-song.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/feeds/113678294301638752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20713913&amp;postID=113678294301638752' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113678294301638752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20713913/posts/default/113678294301638752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://night-song.blogspot.com/2006/01/in-night-his-song-shall-be-with-me.html' title='In the night, his song shall be with me...'/><author><name>Rachel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11338364660027341045</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='19' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bA3Mr3Vb-_Q/SyneYar1HjI/AAAAAAAAByc/HI5cfWxc_iU/s1600-R/036cf299b83a8cac4fdfdd22f84647483256126.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
