<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067</id><updated>2009-10-29T13:04:37.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Forever Friends</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-1576290293166915288</id><published>2009-10-29T11:20:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T11:23:54.959-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ruth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idols'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>Who is your refuge and shelter in times of trouble?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; “Now it came about in the days when the judges governed, that there was a famine in the land. And a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to sojourn in the land of Moab with his wife and his two sons.” Ruth 1:1 (NASV) &lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The times Elimelech and Naomi lived in were troubling indeed. The famine in the land was likely the result of a judgment from the One True God as the Israelites had turned to worship other gods.  Elimelech, I am sure, wanted to protect his wife and children.  His sons were sickly and continually in poor health.  In fact, Vernon McGee translated Mahlon’s name as “unhealthy” and Chilion’s as “puny.” Imagine Naomi's pleading as she watches the grain stores shrink and her sons grow thinner by the minute.  Imagine the shrillness of her voice as she argues for Elimelech to do something-- Anything so their sons will not die!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Elimelech did act.  He journeyed to Moab for his answer.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Psalm 108:9 refers to Moab as 'a washpot' or 'a washbasin.'  This pot was used for washing soldiers' feet.  Some commentaries compared Moab to our present day 'trash can.'  How ironic that Elimelech traveled from 'the house of bread' and 'praise' (the meaning of Bethlehem and Judah) to the 'washpot' of Moab. He traded the provisions of God for the food stores of a godless land. Elimelech’s family might have had full stomachs but their spirits were empty. (McGee, Vernon, Ruth, p. 15)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What do you do in your stressful times?  Do you run to your 'trash can’ gods?  You know what I mean: those small tiny gods that make you feel good for a moment but then plunge you into shame and sin.  What is your Moab?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I am so thankful that God forgives and cleanses us as we turn from our ‘trash can’ gods to Him.  Confess any 'trash can’ gods that you run to for comfort. Talk to Him about your troubles. Let Him be your refuge and stronghold.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt; “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:2 (NIV)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and&lt;br /&gt; purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-1576290293166915288?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/1576290293166915288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=1576290293166915288' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1576290293166915288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1576290293166915288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2009/10/who-is-your-refuge-and-shelter-in-times.html' title='Who is your refuge and shelter in times of trouble?'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-896918607533572855</id><published>2009-04-23T22:00:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T23:06:43.767-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maui'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><title type='text'>God is like Maui</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEpGZZsK3I/AAAAAAAAAEY/vs6hFM2Ugx8/s1600-h/020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328085024030600050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEpGZZsK3I/AAAAAAAAAEY/vs6hFM2Ugx8/s400/020.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEpGLSwbII/AAAAAAAAAEQ/j5JOBQN27yA/s1600-h/035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328085020243422338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEpGLSwbII/AAAAAAAAAEQ/j5JOBQN27yA/s400/035.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEmkZZqZ-I/AAAAAAAAAEI/tTXEWMmsINI/s1600-h/026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328082240891676642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEmkZZqZ-I/AAAAAAAAAEI/tTXEWMmsINI/s400/026.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Driving from the airport to &lt;a href="http://www.visitmaui.com/"&gt;West Maui&lt;/a&gt;, you encounter the city of Kahului and all the buildings that a modern city would develop-K-Mart, Krispy Kreme (yes, really) and all the fast food places. However the further you drive, the more wild and untamed the island becomes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the ocean side of the very curvy road, there are resorts and condos. Most of these were built after 1970. But on the other side of the road, undeveloped land rises up to one of the extinct volcanoes on Maui. Looking at the volcano, especially at night, you don't feel very safe. The landscaping is not sculpted or manicured like Disney World. It is just the way the volcano left the land.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately, I've been impressed how God is like Maui. He is wild. We can not tame Him. We try to put Him in our manicured 'Disney-like' plans but He will not stay where we put Him. We make our own plans and then we try to squeeze this GREAT, WILD GOD into them. And He will not be squeezed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In Biblical History, the people God put in our paths to study were people that listened to God and did risky things He called them to do. He didn't listen to their plans and fit His Kingdom around their plans. He called them out to take risks and let Him develop the plan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the books I've been reading is &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pit-Lion-Snowy-Day-Opportunity/dp/1590527151"&gt;In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/em&gt;by Mark Batterson. He has challenged me to think about my life and the risks I ignore. I'm ashamed of the things God has called me to and I've ignored or pushed into a corner because of my fear. I want to choose the adventure God has for me rather than hold onto my fear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How about you? How do you handle God? Or does He handle you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-896918607533572855?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/896918607533572855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=896918607533572855' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/896918607533572855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/896918607533572855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2009/04/driving-from-airport-to-west-maui-you.html' title='God is like Maui'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SfEpGZZsK3I/AAAAAAAAAEY/vs6hFM2Ugx8/s72-c/020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-8770619024567416828</id><published>2009-04-07T21:23:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T22:21:41.748-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Krispy Kreme douhgnuts'/><title type='text'>The Devil Lives at Krispy Kreme</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;When you turn 50, there are many things that change, the most notable is weight gain over nothing. Look at a piece of apple pie-gain 5 pounds, eat a bowl of Edy's Birthday cake ice creme-gain 10 pounds. Therefore I've been watching my calories, drinking more water and walking more. &lt;/span&gt;Things had been going well so I was encouraged to even keep these disciplines during our vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During our vacation that week, I had just enough calories left at the end of one day to eat one Krispy Kreme doughnut and a glass of cold, skim milk. So we pull up to a Krispy Kreme. The first thing we notice is the 'hot' sign is not on. Somewhat disappointed, we pulled through the drive-thru and ordered 1 cruller and 1 blueberry filled doughnut. We continued to pull up to pay for our late night snack when the young cashier hands us a small bag on top of a dozen hot Krispy Kremes and says, "Enjoy a free dozen of Krispy Kremes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The devil's headquarters that night was Krispy Kreme.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-8770619024567416828?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/8770619024567416828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=8770619024567416828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8770619024567416828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8770619024567416828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2009/04/devil-lives-at-krispy-kreme.html' title='The Devil Lives at Krispy Kreme'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-7602967248672796698</id><published>2008-12-07T21:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T12:21:46.962-05:00</updated><title type='text'>&lt;3</title><content type='html'>Look at the title for this blog. What does mean to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had seen it many times on myspace and thought, "Less than 3. Interesting. Wonder what that has to do with their boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to find out, it means 'heart' or 'love.' And if you turn your head to the right side and squint your eyes, you can see it is a heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing learned. My day is complete.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-7602967248672796698?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/7602967248672796698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=7602967248672796698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7602967248672796698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7602967248672796698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/12/3.html' title='&lt;3'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-4700784256044984329</id><published>2008-11-21T12:49:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:15:30.103-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Purim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Esther'/><title type='text'>Check Your Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"&gt;&lt;i&gt;But the fruit of the Spirit is love,&lt;b&gt; joy&lt;/b&gt;, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Font Definitions */  @font-face  {font-family:"Cambria Math";  panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;  mso-font-charset:0;  mso-generic-font-family:roman;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face  {font-family:Calibri;  panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4;  mso-font-charset:0;  mso-generic-font-family:swiss;  mso-font-pitch:variable;  mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;}  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal  {mso-style-unhide:no;  mso-style-qformat:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  margin-top:0in;  margin-right:0in;  margin-bottom:10.0pt;  margin-left:0in;  line-height:115%;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:11.0pt;  font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";  mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} p  {mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-priority:99;  mso-margin-top-alt:auto;  margin-right:0in;  mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto;  margin-left:0in;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault  {mso-style-type:export-only;  mso-default-props:yes;  mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;  mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault  {mso-style-type:export-only;  margin-bottom:10.0pt;  line-height:115%;} @page Section1  {size:8.5in 11.0in;  margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;  mso-header-margin:.5in;  mso-footer-margin:.5in;  mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1  {page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;i&gt;As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning into a good day: that they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor. Esther 9:22&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="left"&gt;Sometimes life’s circumstances can suck the joy right out of you.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;A beautiful Jewish woman who God brought to power as the great Xerxes’ wife experienced this joy thief.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Remember how she held the King’s heart in her hand.&lt;i&gt; (And the king loved Esther above all the women, and she obtained grace and favour in his sight more than all the virgins; so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vasht .Esther 2:17(KJV)) &lt;/i&gt;I can only imagine what she must have felt or experienced as the King’s favorite. To be at the center of the power of this great empire, stretching from India to Ethiopia, must have been heady.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Then, suddenly, her world and her very life were threatened.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Don’t you think Esther, treasured queen, felt as if the joy had evaporated from her world as Haman plotted the destruction for the Jewish people? (This story of destruction is found in Esther 3.) Esther knew she and her people faced certain death.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;They all needed rescuing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;But follow the story further into the book of Esther and find how God intervened and rescued His people. Out of this rescue came the new holiday Purim. Look at their celebration in Esther 9:22 (&lt;i&gt;See this verse at the top of the devotion.&lt;/i&gt;): What did their celebration look like? How did they celebrate this rescue?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;What emotions were involved?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;How marvelous is our God to rescue people out of certain death and turn their sorrow in to joy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;At some time in your life, just like Esther, you faced certain spiritual death and all your joy could have evaporated out of your life at a moment’s notice.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;However, if you asked Jesus to give you the marvelous gift of salvation, you were rescued from this certain death. And His joy was added to your life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Do you have your own Feast of Purim?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;A time when you celebrate your rescue from certainty of spiritual death?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Maybe you do this at Christmas or Easter or times you participate in the Lord’s Supper.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes we forget to celebrate the good things or people in our lives, and as a result our lives become joyless. Are you bogged down by the circumstances of your life?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Are you joyless?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;Maybe this week you need to take a day, hour or moment to have your own joy celebration.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Remember how you needed a Savior. Remember how Jesus rescued you. Finally, rejoice with someone else over your rescue.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Joy turned from sorrow is a good thing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dear Jesus, Help me to make time this week to celebrate with joy how You rescued me.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Thanks for reminding me of this fact. Amen.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;i&gt;*An interesting fact about Purim: the word Purim means lots.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Haman (the evil guy in Esther) cast lots to decide the date of the Jewish execution.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I’m glad God does not cast lots to see who He rescues. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-4700784256044984329?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/4700784256044984329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=4700784256044984329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/4700784256044984329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/4700784256044984329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/11/check-your-joy.html' title='Check Your Joy'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-8864025038824050583</id><published>2008-10-14T10:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T10:59:11.150-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='negative words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Dare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fireproof'/><title type='text'>Take the Love Dare</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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 mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;    &lt;p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;"&gt;But the fruit of the Spirit is&lt;b style=""&gt; love&lt;/b&gt;, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Galatians 5:22-23 (KJV)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;font-size:12;" &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;"  &gt;      &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Those who control their tongue will have a long life; opening your mouth can ruin everything. Proverbs 13:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;In the movie &lt;u&gt;Fireproof&lt;/u&gt;, the Dad challenges his son (Kirk Cameron) to take the Love Dare, to help repair his marriage.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The first day of the Love Dare is refusing to say anything negative to your spouse.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;No matter what they say or do, you will not say anything rude, offensive, sarcastic or argumentative back to them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Kirk Cameron’s character has a hard time with this first day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Thinking back over your life, aren’t there words you wish you could shove back into your mouth and swallow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But’s that not possible, is it?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Wouldn’t it be great if you carefully guarded your spoken words and didn’t need to undo all the mess your negative words caused.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Even in Jesus’ worst moments, He did not respond with negativity.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Look at His verbal interchange with Judas on the night of his betrayal:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;“As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;‘What you are about to do, so quickly,’ Jesus told him…” John 13: 27 (NIV)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Imagine what we would have said in Jesus’ place: ‘I see your dirty, blackheart’ or ‘Peter, James and John, Judas is the traitor.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Deal with him.’ Or in a sarcastic tone, ‘I can’t believe you think betraying Me is a good thing.’&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;Personally, there are moments when one of my family members, has come to me excited about sharing with me something from their life with me. How did I respond?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I regret to say I tossed cold water on their enthusiasm with my negative words. &lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They immediately retreat and silence themselves.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Because it is no longer a safe place to share hopes, dreams and excitement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;How I wish I could have guarded my tongue better.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;How about you?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Who are you negative with?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Does your biting wit or sarcasm shut down conversations?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Or &lt;b style=""&gt;do&lt;/b&gt; your angry words escalate the argument?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Will you take the Love Dare this week?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Take the challenge.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Make the decision.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;" &gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;Dear Jesus, Too long I have not used my words in a loving way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This week help me to take the Love Dare and change how I respond to those around me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Amen.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-8864025038824050583?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/8864025038824050583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=8864025038824050583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8864025038824050583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8864025038824050583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/10/take-love-dare.html' title='Take the Love Dare'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-5052569597334434971</id><published>2008-10-10T16:43:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T18:02:14.055-04:00</updated><title type='text'>F is for Family</title><content type='html'>These are pictures from Easter 2008.  At some holidays, we gather at my Mom's house in Cleveland County.  You will notice that all of these pictures were taken outside.  Though my Mom has a large house, we are much too noisy for the inside.   So, as much as we can, we play outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_MpIY1D3I/AAAAAAAAACs/ZLAvNp_nEBY/s1600-h/Family+006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_MpIY1D3I/AAAAAAAAACs/ZLAvNp_nEBY/s320/Family+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255644297162985330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The youngest grandchild in my family is Madison.  She is all girl but can hold her own with her brothers.  She is dramatic like my oldest and youngest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_H-BNMTCI/AAAAAAAAACc/LQ7ja73vgfs/s1600-h/Family+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_H-BNMTCI/AAAAAAAAACc/LQ7ja73vgfs/s320/Family+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255639158454242338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Winston.  He is the middle child of my youngest brother, Richie.  He is the one we tease about girls and also love on, if he gives us a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_HJJABAPI/AAAAAAAAACU/RLt1QHbxogU/s1600-h/Family+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_HJJABAPI/AAAAAAAAACU/RLt1QHbxogU/s320/Family+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255638250013393138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This strapping young man is Doyle.  He and Winston are the best of friends and love to play together.  Doyle loves, loves, loves football.  When he was small, he would play football by himself all afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_FKrxrngI/AAAAAAAAACM/N0ZYktHTvCE/s1600-h/Family+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_FKrxrngI/AAAAAAAAACM/N0ZYktHTvCE/s320/Family+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255636077505125890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this picture are my niece, Laura and my Hope.  Hope probables hates this picture because she no longer has her braces.  When Hope was younger, she could not have a birthday party without her cousins, Laura and Ashley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_C2Oo6O8I/AAAAAAAAACE/F0y2G9PNcjM/s1600-h/Family+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_C2Oo6O8I/AAAAAAAAACE/F0y2G9PNcjM/s320/Family+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255633527063067586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Laura's sister, Ashley and Ashley's friend.  Ashley is one year older than my Hope and Laura, her sister,  is one year younger than Hope.  Hope always had cousins to play with at all the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_CUjW9EJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/AO_ZYGMnwPk/s1600-h/Family+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_CUjW9EJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/AO_ZYGMnwPk/s320/Family+005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255632948509347986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is my other brother, Richie, whose full name is Richard Dan.  He has 3 children: Austin, Winston and Madison.  He works at Smurftstone in Shelby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_BljJZERI/AAAAAAAAAB0/TQ8CkwhqPjU/s1600-h/Family+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_BljJZERI/AAAAAAAAAB0/TQ8CkwhqPjU/s320/Family+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255632140998611218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my sister, Karen, who works at Home Health is Shelby and she has 2 children, Chris, who is one year younger than my Charity and Jenny, who is one year older than my Faith.  This is  other brother, Butch (his real name is Conan Doyle, III), who works with the city of Shelby and has three children: Ashley, Laura and Doyle.  (Can you guess where that name came from?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-5052569597334434971?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/5052569597334434971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=5052569597334434971' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5052569597334434971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5052569597334434971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/10/f-is-for-family.html' title='F is for Family'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/SO_MpIY1D3I/AAAAAAAAACs/ZLAvNp_nEBY/s72-c/Family+006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-7537867302432126101</id><published>2008-04-03T21:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T21:45:45.623-04:00</updated><title type='text'>E is for Easter</title><content type='html'>I know Easter has come and gone but I want to share with you a happening in my life the weekend of Easter.  Most Lents(the season leading up to Easter) I normally fast something, not because I'm so good but to remind me how good He is.  This Lent I fasted fiction.  Many of you know I dearly love to read.  I can read a good fiction book in a no time flat.  As Easter approached, I was longing to reading after all the Easter day activities.  I don't usually long for things or events, so this was a different feeling.  I couldn't wait!  I was so anxious for Easter to come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Saturday before 'He is risen!' day as I was cooking and contemplating the longing I was feeling, the dear Holy Spirit spoke to me,"Do you ever long for coming of your Jesus? Do you ever stand on your tiptoes and try to peak at the next day to see if He is coming again?  Do you ever go through your day thinking about His coming and wishing He would hurry and come?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I was pierced by this word!  I don't long for his coming everyday.  I don't wake up and think 'Maybe this is the day my Jesus comes.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for such a longing!  I pray that I will long for His presence in my life all day long and long for His coming!  I pray I will put all of myself into looking for Him and living like I see Him coming over the my mountains very day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ones, what do you long for?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-7537867302432126101?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/7537867302432126101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=7537867302432126101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7537867302432126101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7537867302432126101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/04/e-is-for-easter.html' title='E is for Easter'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-3684047884030179801</id><published>2008-03-13T13:56:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T14:51:55.739-04:00</updated><title type='text'>D is for Daughters at Disney World</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Enjoy the hair styles and cute girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9ls-zl5oGI/AAAAAAAAAAc/FEgyWKsTCE8/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9ls-zl5oGI/AAAAAAAAAAc/FEgyWKsTCE8/s320/Daughters+at+Disney+World+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177289072895959138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is one of our first trips to Epcot.  Charity was almost 10 and Faith(who was called Shelley at the time) was five.   We love everything from the rides to the hotel swimming pool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9ltTDl5oHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/CeJ_O51m8B0/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9ltTDl5oHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/CeJ_O51m8B0/s320/Daughters+at+Disney+World+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177289420788310130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Even though you can't see Hope, she was actually with us on this trip!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lt4Tl5oII/AAAAAAAAAAs/bBtEJ5vRcEk/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lt4Tl5oII/AAAAAAAAAAs/bBtEJ5vRcEk/s320/Daughters+at+Disney+World+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177290060738437250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the trip we made right before we moved to camp. Charity was 14,&lt;br /&gt;Faith was 10 and Hope was 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lvmzl5oMI/AAAAAAAAABM/FVMZ1GWxcQU/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lvmzl5oMI/AAAAAAAAABM/FVMZ1GWxcQU/s320/Daughters+at+Disney+World+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177291959113982146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All three look like Princesses!  Notice Faith's fake glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lv2Tl5oNI/AAAAAAAAABU/7TVDVYKFfjo/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lv2Tl5oNI/AAAAAAAAABU/7TVDVYKFfjo/s320/Daughters+at+Disney+World+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177292225401954514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite 21st century Disney picture: Hope and Faith are running from the Yeti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9lufzl5oJI/AAAAAAAAAA0/-y2emhHw7-0/s1600-h/Daughters+at+Disney+World.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-3684047884030179801?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/3684047884030179801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=3684047884030179801' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/3684047884030179801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/3684047884030179801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/03/d-is-for-daughters-at-disney-world.html' title='D is for Daughters at Disney World'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qHxcsPbOvuQ/R9ls-zl5oGI/AAAAAAAAAAc/FEgyWKsTCE8/s72-c/Daughters+at+Disney+World+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-7778377465332783122</id><published>2008-03-13T13:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T13:27:58.653-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='living together too long'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hallmark'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cards'/><title type='text'>C is for Cards</title><content type='html'>My husband takes great care in picking cards for each of the appropriate holidays for me, however I do not.  However, this Valentine's Day, I decided to do it differently.  So, I headed into the local Hallmark shop to find the perfect card.   I opened each card and carefully read each message.  If it was a musical card, I listened to the song. I can't remember how many cards I considered.  Finally, I discover just the right one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's Day arrives and I start to open my card first, but as I lift the flap on the envelope, I see colors I recognize.  No, no, no, he couldn't have chosen the same card!  So, I stop and ask him, "Let's open our cards together."  Sure enough, we bought exactly the same cards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have live together too long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-7778377465332783122?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/7778377465332783122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=7778377465332783122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7778377465332783122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7778377465332783122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/03/c-is-for-cards.html' title='C is for Cards'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-8816737428071267710</id><published>2008-02-25T13:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T13:19:29.857-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emotional eating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sugar cookies'/><title type='text'>Random Eating</title><content type='html'>This week, I've been watching what I eat until last night, when I remembered the 5 frozen sugar cookies  at the RC.  No matter that is a cold, dreary night, I hop in the car and drive to the RC and retrieve the cookies and come back to savor their flavor.  However, this morning, I awoke with a sugar hangover.  I feel listless and my body is not responding well to the tasks I give it to perform.  Why, oh, why(as the country song goes) do I give in to momentary thoughts and send myself spiraling out of control?  Was I too tired?  Was I disappointed by something?  I'm not sure.  I'll have to think about last night for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about you?  What sends you spiraling out of control?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-8816737428071267710?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/8816737428071267710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=8816737428071267710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8816737428071267710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/8816737428071267710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/02/random-eating.html' title='Random Eating'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-7011079431749982489</id><published>2008-02-25T12:45:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T13:00:32.177-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proper language'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Southern ladies'/><title type='text'>B is for Behind</title><content type='html'>An authentic Southern lady never uses certain words in a conversation.  This conversation language can be attained through tutoring for a gently aged ladies of the South or one could take lessons in Southern life from books written by Southern women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of things ladies do not talk about in public is the part of the body they sit on.  If they must refer to it in public, they will use words like-the part of your body you sit on.  These ladies might use other kind, gentle words, however they would never use the word ending in tt,  even though this is a correct term.  Just because something is correct, does not mean is proper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this day and age, it is extremely hard to find a Southern lady?  Do you know one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming soon: C is for cards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-7011079431749982489?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/7011079431749982489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=7011079431749982489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7011079431749982489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/7011079431749982489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/02/b-is-for-behind.html' title='B is for Behind'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-1992614458612274142</id><published>2008-02-18T14:42:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T15:00:30.506-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stephen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angels'/><title type='text'>A is for Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You ever get stuck on a chapter during your quiet times and just can't seem to move on.  I'm in Acts, and, boy howdy, I'm stuck on chapter six.  I thought maybe you could help understand this chapter better, so I could move on.  We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In chapter 6, verse 15 says&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span class="indent"&gt;And all who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at him and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="indent"&gt; saw that his face was  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="indent"&gt;like the face of an angel.(HCSB)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="indent"&gt;So, I've been meditating on 'the face of an angel' forever.  (Well, not really forever but a few days.)  It couldn't mean like the faces of the baby cherubims  in sweet Valentine's Day cards or the faces of the Dreamsicles on my shelves or surely not the beautiful female angels at the annual Christmas play.  But, what could it mean?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="indent"&gt;Finally, I had time to read about angels in a Systematic Theology book&lt;/span&gt;.  I learned angels are created beings that worship God, take messages and fight demonic forces for us.  I saw nothing about sweet baby-faced angels.  So, what did the members of the Sanhedrin see?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Chuck Swindoll in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Living Insights Study Bible &lt;/span&gt;says, "Stephen's face shone with God's quiet, empowering presence, giving him uncommon confidence"(page 1163).  So, maybe they saw the confident power the presence of God can give a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am sure Mr. Swindoll is right, he certainly knows more than me.  However I like to think the Sanhedrin saw the face of a warrior angel.  Stephen was arguing the validity of the gospel and he had no reason to fear being wrong.  He had seen first hand what believing in Jesus could do.  He would do battle for Jesus, no matter the consequences.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The next time I read about angels anywhere, I will not be thinking about baby-faced cherubim.  What about you?  What do you think of when you read the word angel?  Let me know.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Coming soon-B is for Behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-1992614458612274142?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/1992614458612274142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=1992614458612274142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1992614458612274142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1992614458612274142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2008/02/is-for-angel.html' title='A is for Angel'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-1298373588352601463</id><published>2007-12-20T22:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T23:54:07.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Invasion</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Christmas invades our lives in December.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Some people, eager for the season, rush into the season as soon as their family and circumstances allow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, family and friends drag others, who dig their heels the whole way, into the celebration.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In Matthew 2, there are two distinct groups invaded by the Christmas story: the Magi and Herod and his government.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The Magi, excited by the appearance of the star, traveled may miles to celebrate the birth of this baby King.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not sure where this King dwelt or the importance of His birth to the Jewish people, they traveled to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Jerusalem&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; to seek information.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Assured by government officials in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Jerusalem&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; that &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bethlehem&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; was the place of a ruler’s birth, they traveled to that city.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Overjoyed by the sight of the star in &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bethlehem&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, they bowed down and worshiped this little King.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Leaving with this King, precious treasures of frankincense, gold and myrrh, they traveled home a completely different road.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Herod wanted no part of this celebration.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They would have to drag him, kicking and screaming, into this celebration.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would never celebrate this King’s birth.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would destroy this King if he could.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In fact, later in this passage, we see his wrath has many baby boys killed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would not celebrate another King.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was the only King.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As this season invades your life, how are you responding? Are you like the Magi, seeking ways to worship the King? Are you like Herod, looking for ways to do your own thing, be your own king?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-1298373588352601463?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/1298373588352601463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=1298373588352601463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1298373588352601463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/1298373588352601463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-invasion.html' title='Christmas Invasion'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-5237337211743475887</id><published>2007-11-13T12:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T12:50:49.049-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Q-99'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth of today'/><title type='text'>Things Learned in a Long Weekend</title><content type='html'>This past weekend, we had a long youth retreat-from Friday night to Monday.  These are things I learned along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. Q-99 is the weapon of choice&lt;/span&gt; (Q-99 is a anti-bacterical spray we use for disinfecting everything.) I could not count the times I said, "Do not spray someone else with that Q-99."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. Censorship, even kind censorship is not appreciated.  &lt;/span&gt;I have a young friend on myspace that uses language not in keeping with her belief system.  I reminded her that I read everything she writes and I discovered last night she unfriended me. (Do you know unfriended  is not an dictionary word.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. New things are always more exciting than old things.  &lt;/span&gt;This weekend, I allowed a staffer to fry, who had never fried, and it was the highlight of his weekend.  This experience was much more exciting than washing pots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. You also find time for things you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;want to do.  &lt;/span&gt;Amidst standing on my feet 8 or more hours a day, supervising teenagers and writing checks, I still had time to work on my &lt;a href="http://www.lproof.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Beth&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);"&gt;Moore's Believing God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Bible study and read a little of a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. You can do whatever God puts in front of you.&lt;/span&gt;  This weekend was a challenge.  One of the groups made last minute payment and I was scurrying around to find enough workers.  Most of my older staff were busy, but my younger staff did come through for me.  Most of this staff had only worked one summer and maybe one retreat, however they did great and God was honored by their work.  I, in the past, would be frantic about not having enough help, but I've learned to calm down and know He always supplies what I need. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. Youth are great.  &lt;/span&gt;I hear people talk about the youth of today: "They have no work ethic.  They don't care about anything but themselves.  They don't love Jesus.  Why can't they be more like we were."  The youth, I've seen, are wonderful.  They love Jesus better than I did at their age and they are so willing to please.  It is my privilege to work with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What did you learn this weekend?  Let me know.  I can't wait to hear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-5237337211743475887?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/5237337211743475887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=5237337211743475887' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5237337211743475887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5237337211743475887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2007/11/things-learned-in-long-weekend.html' title='Things Learned in a Long Weekend'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-5767273095329747258</id><published>2007-10-11T14:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T19:21:05.612-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dashboard Confessional'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='changes'/><title type='text'>Poisoned Trees</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Yesterday, I see on one of my Facebook friends that she is&lt;/span&gt; "...&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;lying in the shade of poisoned trees."  Now, granted she is 20 years old and in college but I think ,I know this is probably not a literal lying but is she in trouble or sad or just being really dramatic!  So, what does a mother figure do?   She  messages her about the lying thing.  Today, my sweet, young friend messages back to say, "LOL, no, this is the title of the new &lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dashboardconfessional.com/"&gt;Dashboard Confessional's CD&lt;/a&gt;.   Now, I know who &lt;span&gt;Dashboard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Confessional&lt;/span&gt; is but I had no idea this was a new CD.  No matter how I try to keep up with things, the world changes way too fast for me.  However, my young friends are so kind to put up with my lame comments and lack of knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, I should say something about riding in a Yellow Submarine or I'm jumping on Grandma's feather bed.  Do you think they would understand what songs I was referring to by my comments?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about you?  What thing change too fast for you?  Or does the world seem to stand still for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(You would be pleased to know, in only 10 minutes, I figured our how to hide the link above!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to hearing about the changes in your world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-5767273095329747258?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/5767273095329747258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=5767273095329747258' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5767273095329747258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/5767273095329747258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2007/10/poisoned-trees.html' title='Poisoned Trees'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8373531853508630067.post-6745401761838096467</id><published>2007-10-09T12:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T13:36:41.510-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new names'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='learning new things'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><title type='text'>The First of Many</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;    If you know me well, you know I love new things. Technology might anger me at random times but I love the challenge of learning new things.  Being a blogger is a my new thing.  I've been reading Beth Moore's blog at Living Proof's website and I am encouraged to the point of tears or laughter or both.  I've been thinking about blogging and all the ramifications of writing a blog since I've been reading Beth's posts, so I decided to take the plunge today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years ago, maybe 15 years or so, God gave me a Godsend name.  (If you watch Heroes, you recognize the term Godsend.)  He told me this name would be for a ministry in the future.  Therefore, over the years I tried to squeeze the name into every ministry I was involved in at the time.  But, the name never seemed to fit.  It didn't seem to fit a homeschool ministry, could fit a women's minstry but didn't seem to be the right time or right place and finally God didn't want to combine camping ministry with the name.  I finally decided to give up!  Wise of me, wasn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now years later, God says, "Write a blog!" and what name pops up-&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Forever Friends&lt;/span&gt;- my name of long ago!  Not only does the name fit but when I am choosing a template to blog, I find the template Thisaway Rose.  I'm blown away!  Why?  God told me to include a rose in the ministry's logo.  How cool is God!  Of course as I write this, I have tears streaming down my face.  I'm grateful to serve a God who loves me and fulfills all my dreams and all His plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's hoping (in the Biblical sense of a certain hope), we become &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Forever Friends.  &lt;/span&gt;Looking forward to a lifetime of posting and sharing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8373531853508630067-6745401761838096467?l=mischia1957.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/feeds/6745401761838096467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8373531853508630067&amp;postID=6745401761838096467' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/6745401761838096467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8373531853508630067/posts/default/6745401761838096467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mischia1957.blogspot.com/2007/10/first-of-many.html' title='The First of Many'/><author><name>Mischia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03763720735179024543</uri><email>mischia@bellsouth.net</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10208838850067998119'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry></feed>