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;

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Who Cares... but i posted cos i'm bored=)

Where were you 3 hours ago?
Church

Who are you in love with?
idk?

Have you ever eaten a crayon?
nope..i don't think so?

Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
my shirt...

When is the last time you went to the mall?
too long ago

Are you wearing socks right now?
nope

Does your family have a car worth over $2000?
yup

When was the last time you drove out of town?
idk?

Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
no=(

Are you hot?
In what way?! (that is a matter of opinion;)

What was the last thing you had to drink?
Chocolate rice milk


What are you wearing right now?
pj pants and a tshirt

Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
both..depends

Last food that you ate?
chicken

Where were you last week at this time?
home

Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
yup..

When is the last time you ran?
yesterday

What's the last sporting event you watched?
idk..

What is your favorite animal?
none

Your dream vacation?
Ireland...or cruise

Last person's house you were in?
idk?

Worst injury you've ever had?
sliced my leg with glass

Have you been in love?
no comment

Do you miss anyone right now?
yup

Last play you saw?
not sure, its been so long

What are your plans for tonight?
at this point...sleep!

Who is the last person you sent a MySpace message or comment?
i don't have a myspace

Next trip you are going to take?
None planned

Ever go to camp?
yep...lots=)

Were you an honor roll student in school?
yup

What do you want to know about the future?
i think it might be better not to know

Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
not now

Are you due sometime this year for a doctor's visit?
probably

Where is your best friend?
One probably in her bed...the other in her car on the way home from atlanta

How is your best friend?
????

Do you have a tan?
Yeah...but not the darkest lol

What are you listening to right now?
my dad watch tv

Do you collect anything?
coins


Last time you got stopped by a cop or pulled over?
never=)

Have you ever drank your soda from a straw?
duhhhhh

What does your last text message say?
"How many do you have now?"

Do you like hot sauce?
yes

Last time you took a shower?
this morning

Do you need to do laundry?
yes

What is your heritage?
Scotch-Irish-Cherokee

Are you someone's best friend?
Yes

Are you rich?
no

What were you doing at 12AM last night?
sleepin
Radiantly Dictated By at

1 comment:

Make a Joyful Noise said...

I am gonna do both of these surveys when I get a chance. I love them!

July 12, 2010 at 8:15 AM

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I Have Been Blessed!!!!


THE ROOM

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