Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Friday, January 29, 2010

If You Love Me....FEED MY FISH!!!!!=========>

On the sidebar, click to feed my fish=)=)

Memories from last i miss my groupies=(

Thursday, January 28, 2010

My First Chemistry Lab=)

Measuring Density and Specific Gravity

( i won't attempt to explain it, though it was pretty simple.=)

(isn't that COOL! the water was literally bulging out of the container, yet not overflowing=)

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Rhett & Link=)=)

Monday, January 25, 2010

"Rainbows and Snow Won't Kill You"

Me: Wow, this really odd weather has me looks like rapture is coming!
Rebecca: Well rapture is nothing to be afraid of.
Me: I'm not afraid of rapture, just dying in the odd weather it brings.
Rebecca: Well, Rainbows and Snow won't kill you ya know.
Me. Bahahahahahah

More Family=)=)

Saturday, January 23, 2010


Thursday, January 21, 2010

I Don't Need to Understand

Below are the words to the song my family will be singing at the funeral...My grandma used to sing this song every Christmas=) and it just happens to be perfect for her homecoming party=)

Life is like a mighty sea
So tossed and driven.
Billows rise within the heart of every man
Storms so many times will
Leave the heart with questions
But I don’t need to understand
Just hold His hand

I don’t need to understand
I just need to hold His hand
I don’t ever need to ask the reason, why
For I know He’ll make a way
Through the night and through the day
I don’t need to understand
I just need to hold His hand.

When my life down here is through
And Jesus calls me
To my home up there, beyond the golden shore.
I’ll look back, review the path
That lay before me.
Then I won’t need to understand anymore

I don’t need to understand
I just need to hold His hand
I don’t ever need to ask the reason, why
For I know He’ll make a way
Through the night and through the day
I don’t need to understand
I just need to hold His hand.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Monday, January 18, 2010

LOOK!!!! I parked beside Bumblebee!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's bumblebee from transformers in his undercover state=)=)

Sunday, January 17, 2010

OH NO!!!! SNOW!!!!

So yeah, i was bored at the hospital and it twas snowing...yup a magnificent thing to behold=)=)

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Wordless Saturday Night?? (because there are no words to describe it=)

My Pippin=) (and the precious little kitty=)

Yes, it's pure torture!

My smert dog!

Sacked out!

Poor guy, i put him in the laundry was deep and dark=(

But he eventually curled up and was cool with it all=)

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

The Michelin Man

Edjimucating my Indian friend on our American culture, one step at a time=)
Today's topic the Michelin man=)

The representative for Michelin tires=)
(and thus what i feel i look like when i wear my ugs=)

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Who is the president of the North Pole??

Well in order to answer that question we must know the country that owns it.


The short answer to the question of jurisdiction over the North Pole is that no one "owns" or has political sovereignty over the North Pole. The Geographic North Pole lies in the center of the vast Arctic Ocean. The North Pole itself is an imaginary point at the earth's northern axis where lines of longitude converge.

And there you have it...the North Pole has no president=)

The Origin of the Peanut

For Shivangi,

The first peanut was invented by American food allergy enthusiast George Washington Carver in 1943, by splicing the genes of the common garden pea (Pisum sativum), President Franklin Delano Roosevelt (Homo sapiens democratus) and Bill Gates (Homo sapiens terra vinces). Adding a cane and top hat, the peanut tainted snack foods everywhere, killing thousands of innocent allergenic children who are not old enough to read the ingredients.

Caption: "Mr. Peanut goes out to kill more allergic children. Fear the Peanut!"

I Have Been Blessed!!!!


In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some
were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this
room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw
a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name
of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
- Brian Moore