<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:58:13.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sculpting in Snow or Stone</title><subtitle type='html'>Daily life...going through the routine of activities that are necessary, but as fleeting as snow sculptures.
Real life...trying to break through the routine by way of relationships that are necessary, and as permanent as stone sculptures.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-3265085079178536553</id><published>2007-04-12T10:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T10:34:19.781-04:00</updated><title type='text'>_light or Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/Rh4_AuTCxbI/AAAAAAAAACg/tFX09UBPdCQ/s1600-h/img_4593.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052545113616729522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/Rh4_AuTCxbI/AAAAAAAAACg/tFX09UBPdCQ/s320/img_4593.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;this may be my favorite photo from my spring break road trip.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;oddly, i it was the last one i took (during a 10 hour drive filled with phone conversations and very obnoxious show tune singing). i almost forgot about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;i love it that there are two light sources in this photo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;the one behind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is close&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is understandable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is familiar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;BUT IT IS BEHIND. SMALL. DIM.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;the one before...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is far away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is hard to understand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;_is not duplicated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;BUT IT IS BEFORE. HUGE. BRIGHT&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...by his &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt; I walked through darkness!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...that I may walk before God in the &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;of life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...The people walking in darkness have seen a great &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt; on those living in the land of deep darkness a &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt; has dawned&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...But if we walk in the &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt;, as he is in the &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;LIGHT&lt;/span&gt;, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-3265085079178536553?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/3265085079178536553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=3265085079178536553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/3265085079178536553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/3265085079178536553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/04/light-or-light.html' title='_light or Light'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/Rh4_AuTCxbI/AAAAAAAAACg/tFX09UBPdCQ/s72-c/img_4593.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-2326468556884718672</id><published>2007-04-12T08:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T08:43:33.375-04:00</updated><title type='text'>setting it straight...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;dear family, friends, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lakewood&lt;/span&gt; park (yes, the entire 'park'),&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;there are things to say...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;YES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_i have a tattoo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it hurt a little&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it will still be there when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;i'm&lt;/span&gt; 80 years old&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;NO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_i am not the first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;LPCS&lt;/span&gt; teacher to have one (in fact, mine is far less visible than theirs)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it is not a tattoo of an animal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it is not on my back, wrist, or ankle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;ODDLY ENOUGH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it has spiritual/biblical significance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_it is written in a foreign language&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_i have close to 50 photos from the experience (my cousin went a tad overboard!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_i won't post them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-2326468556884718672?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/2326468556884718672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=2326468556884718672' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/2326468556884718672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/2326468556884718672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/04/setting-it-straight.html' title='setting it straight...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-4208734313323107734</id><published>2007-02-14T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T22:51:32.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>winter wonderwhat?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;it started snowing at 3:30am yesterday morning. school has been cancelled the last two days, and there is a delay called for tomorrow. at times like this, i love my job...i love the midwest...i love dekalb county!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_2 day house arrest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031597113486331426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS6oo7ziI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1ZDqogw8byc/s200/img_4034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_snow has risen to the 3rd floor window&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031597139256135266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS8Io7zmI/AAAAAAAAAA4/_Nus7IcumUo/s200/img_4038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_glad i don't live down here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031600811453173362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPWR4o7znI/AAAAAAAAABA/bjSWyA9W7Z0/s200/img_4040.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_annabelle amid the drift&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031597134961167954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS74o7zlI/AAAAAAAAAAw/NknD8AB9B6g/s200/img_4037.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_snow snow snow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031597122076266034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS7Io7zjI/AAAAAAAAAAg/614omKw5vRo/s200/img_4035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031597130666200642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS7oo7zkI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dDhtA4ZndzE/s200/img_4036.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_piled high &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031600832928009890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPWTIo7zqI/AAAAAAAAABY/UrYSUc4VJVA/s200/img_4045.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_to the sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031600820043107970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPWSYo7zoI/AAAAAAAAABI/BfP1pt1X0P0/s200/img_4041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_so high you can't even see menard's behind it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031602430655844034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPXwIo7zsI/AAAAAAAAABo/7eF3KOKRadw/s200/img_4047.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_if it stops, life will have to resume&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031600837222977202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPWTYo7zrI/AAAAAAAAABg/_WJibf6gFqc/s200/img_4046.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-4208734313323107734?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/4208734313323107734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=4208734313323107734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/4208734313323107734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/4208734313323107734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/02/winter-wonderwhat.html' title='winter wonderwhat?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdPS6oo7ziI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1ZDqogw8byc/s72-c/img_4034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-5199604036838501135</id><published>2007-02-13T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T22:52:37.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>_monday oddities</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;last night was strange, unique, odd. *i used to spell odd 'ood'. it made sense to us. by 'us' i mean the two of us who understood it. anyway....*  here is somewhat of a rundown of yesterday's experiences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_i was at my regular tea shop (can't call it a coffee shop...i don't drink the coffee there....i don't like it....shhh) grading papers.  two students from the same class wrote two extreme journals. i'd asked which of five qualities were most important in a musician: talent, desire, practice, environment, encouragement. the first student chose &lt;strong&gt;practice&lt;/strong&gt;. he went through the expected jargon of why practice makes perfect (like i hadn't read that 30 times already...) but then said this, "Miss Longbrake never needs to practice. She never messes up. She's perfect." sweet yes, but delusional! the journal i read immediately after had a different flavor (not &lt;em&gt;flavorful&lt;/em&gt;-calm down joel). this student had been disrespectful to me early on in the class period, and i had to confront him. his journal stated that &lt;strong&gt;encouragement&lt;/strong&gt; was the most important quality in a musician. he&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;went on to say that no student will ever feel encouraged if YOU keep treating him like this. this was a journal of hostility! apparently this kid thought that the consequence to his behavior was discouraging, as if i should have thanked him for treating me like crap and asked him to do it again! oh the glories of elementary teaching!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_to top off the 'lousy teacher' feeling, the guy next to me at the tea shop told me i wasn't a &lt;em&gt;real teacher&lt;/em&gt;. OH NO NO NO! i might have hit him, but i know him; he could snap me like a chicken!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_my life is a musical. i sing from the time i get up until i reach unconsciousness. if i'm not singing out loud, i'm singing in my head. i'm a music nerd- and proud to be! because i live in an apartment, i'm not too comfortable singing at home; i don't want to bother anyone. i sing at school all day, but not in my genre of choice (except when practicing la boheme with mrs. shirey...that's fun). this leaves me with driving. i sing every time i'm in the car-full voice. there's no other way. i often forget that my windows aren't tinted to the outside world, or that my car is not soundproof (more of an issue in summer). so last night while driving down maplecrest, i was singing a duet (all by myself-yes, i'm that talented) and forgetting that i was at a stoplight. i glance to the left and two people are laughing at me. i can deal with that-strangers laughing? not a problem...until i looked over at them again. they are two pseudo friends from church, waving and laughing. eh it's ok-they're moving to uganda soon anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_the reason i was driving down maplecrest was to go to my beloved &lt;em&gt;target&lt;/em&gt;.  i had bought a skirt last week, brought it home, and realized that they hadn't charged me for it. why didn't the super tall female cop stop me? or what about the giant plastic sensor stuff? just for show? in my mind (in a musical version, of course) &lt;strong&gt;i had plotted how the encounter would play out:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;i'd walk up to the returns counter and explain that i hadn't been charged for this skirt. the employee  would thank me profusely and praise my integrity, let me keep the skirt for free, give me target credit for life, ask me to be her best friend, throw a party in my honor (song &amp; dance included), and make me the queen of targetland. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;instead:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;she scanned the tag, told me the cost, gave me change, and told me to have a good evening, as if this kind of honesty happens every day!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_i stayed up to watch the snow start to fall, mostly because i wanted to rest easy knowing there was a strong possibility for school cancellation. it didn't start until 3:30am; good thing we cancelled school. i wouldn't have been teacher of the year, for sure.  BUT I AM A REAL TEACHER! (capitalization directed at YOU-you know who you are. i won't trivialize this with names...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-5199604036838501135?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/5199604036838501135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=5199604036838501135' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/5199604036838501135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/5199604036838501135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/02/monday-oddities.html' title='_monday oddities'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-8459451044936835244</id><published>2007-02-12T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T22:11:41.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>_God's Juice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdEsb4o7zhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f1-1NwbV3HY/s1600-h/img_4029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030851116321721874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdEsb4o7zhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f1-1NwbV3HY/s320/img_4029.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;beverage is a battlefield. pat benatar  said  'love is a battlefield'; she may be correct. i confidently say that beverage is also a battlefield.  every morning i rush around the house like the squirrel from that 'shrub' movie just so that i can get drive thru coffee on my way to auburn (which i refer to as au-where is it? it's small...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;very small)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;. my efficiency in the morning determines which coffee establishment has the pleasure of my business. HG is a shorter drive, but i crave starbucks. i'd even go as far to say that my palate yearns for a tall nonfat mocha....ahhhhhhh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i confess sheepishly that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;1-neither coffee shop is on my way to school. really, what is 'my way'? can't 'my way' be the route down dupont to the corner of lima (and back again-it's like a giant roundabout. let's pretend we're in the UK!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;2-i have all the makings for my 'holy water' in my kitchen, so i really could save the trip (and yes, the money as well) yet, i can't control my need to feel like a kid at christmas as i pull up to the drive thru window!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;this is all to preface the fact that i love coffee AND that i prefer one coffee house flavor to another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;now things get tricky. auburn has now reached the status of 'legitimate city' (i'm still playing it fast and loose with that word). auburn now comes with a starbucks. it's all the rage; i'm confident that pretty soon all of manhattan will be abuzz! normally the need to choose between two starbucks would keep me in utter turmoil all night (i'm not too good with 'the options')......enter brew daily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i started going to brew daily when i realized that no one really knew me there. i had total anonymity; i could read, pick my nose, wherever the wind blew....freedom! it was also beneficial that friends of mine own it. one slight problem though-i don't really care for the coffee. i never thought i'd become a coffee snob-what the junk is that about? look again at the above photo: the cup on the left has a tea bag laced down the side. i have now become a tea drinker; that is so 'old lady' or 'anyone british'. as for the anonymity...over. i realize that once your appearances become more frequent, the strangers that were there yesterday are not strangers today. the kid behind the counter starts boiling the water before i get up to the register. today i did throw him for a loop-i switched tea flavors. watch out BD-no more boring predictable me (only when it comes to tea)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;as for the auburn starbucks, i haven't made an appearance. i don't think i want to. i am devoted to the establishment where they boil the best water, open my teabag, and where 'everybody knows my name'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-8459451044936835244?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/8459451044936835244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=8459451044936835244' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/8459451044936835244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/8459451044936835244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/02/gods-juice.html' title='_God&apos;s Juice'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_na5hb6_0y1M/RdEsb4o7zhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/f1-1NwbV3HY/s72-c/img_4029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-116882559142778254</id><published>2007-01-14T19:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T20:46:31.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>to my daughter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/1600/90647/100_0476.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="93" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/200/75681/100_0476.jpg" width="157" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;this outpouring can be attributed to (at least) two events:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;1. watching tom cruise attempt poetic beauty in "cocktail" far too many times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;2. reading the thoughts of a friend i am privileged to know &lt;em&gt;(anonymity prevails so that &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;a)this amazing person's vulnerability will be protected and &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;b)this amazing person's ego will be contained)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;therefore, the following is a letter to my 'yet to be born' daughter.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;you are my treasure. it's unfathomable that i could be entrusted with the life of another person, moreover a person who has half of my genetic make-up. if you are reading this (or possibly i am reading it to you), it means that God has answered a lifelong prayer. i couldn't love you more. i couldn't desire to protect you more. i couldn't be more honored to live the role as your mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i can promise you......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;love regardless of your choices&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;protection until we are separated by death&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;earnest requests on your behalf to Him who is able to keep you in perfect peace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;support in your endeavors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;encouragement in your triumphs and failures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i can guarantee.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;you will see flaws in my character&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;you will witness my poor choices&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;you will be frustrated with my decisions for you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;you will view me as antiquated and unfair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i wish i could tell you that i'll be with you to witness you grow up; to see you experience high school. dating. graduation. college. career. to laugh about stupid elementary boys. to cry over high school boys. to over-analyze college boys (yes, they are to a high degree still 'boys'). i want so badly to watch you achieve your goals. to be at your wedding. to walk you through pregnancy and parenthood. &lt;strong&gt;to experience these events with a mother; this is the thing i desire most strongly for you.&lt;/strong&gt; if we are separated prematurely, i trust that the Father will provide godly women to influence and walk this life with you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;for so long i've felt cheated becuase i didn't have a mother, but at the same time i've seen God's hand of protection in the women He has allowed me to know and learn from (btw-don't end a sentance with a preposition). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i'm sorry that i've lived selfishly thus far. i didn't think of you when i gave too much of myself to him. i didn't think of you when i decided that male attention could suffice for real relationship. i didn't think of you when i chose good enough instead of truly good. i'm enormously grateful for the redemption and grace that have overcome the foolish choices i've made and continue to make. these past experiences have enabled me in adulthood to connect with girls in the midst of frighteningly similar situations. i beg the Lord that you are not faced with these same crossroads, but if so i also pray that you trust the discernment that comes from Him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;today i live in the dream that one day you will be mine. i won't live flawlessly before or while you are with me. i will, however, strive to be a teachable child of Him who calls us to holiness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i love you more than immensely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-116882559142778254?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/116882559142778254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=116882559142778254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116882559142778254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116882559142778254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/01/to-my-daughter.html' title='to my daughter...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-116870208259939863</id><published>2007-01-13T09:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-13T10:28:02.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>_photo journal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; _&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;keep watch over the door of my lips...Ps 141&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/141102/100_0473.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/951941/100_0480.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_so we fix our eyes....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/912138/100_0414.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_and let us run...Heb 12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/711706/100_0446.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_find rest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/232061/100_0518.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_there is a season...Ecc 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/320/265315/100_0439.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;_sight is veiled......                                                                                            _one day we will see clearly.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/1600/466015/100_0516.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/200/349034/100_0516.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/1600/586941/100_0515.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/200/765103/100_0515.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-116870208259939863?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/116870208259939863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=116870208259939863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116870208259939863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116870208259939863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/01/photo-journal.html' title='_photo journal'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-116854237399379836</id><published>2007-01-11T11:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T14:06:14.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolve</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I resolve....not to be so trusting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I resolve....not to be so dumb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I resolve....not to blame the others just because I'm an easy mark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;it's an obscure song, but in my life it speaks some truth&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;pathetic- how i trust too much and too many. i believe people are honest with me; i get hurt. i become too vulnerable; again, hurt. what a sad commentary on human nature (both mine and others).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;this then ties to the fact that i am in some ways dumb in the sense that i let the same pattern happen repeatedly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i don't want to stop believing the validity of others' words. i don't want to assume they won't keep my confidence. i don't want to keep from deeply communicating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Blessed be the LORD God of Israel; for He hath hath visited and redeemed His people. And hath raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of His servant David. (Lk 1)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;and here is a thought-&lt;em&gt;i am not trustworthy either&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;God extends grace....and extends grace.....and extends grace......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i fail Him....and fail Him.....and fail Him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i read tuesday that 'no one could hurt God more than we already have'. i tend to think that my sin has levels of offense. sin in my mind or body may not affect others, and therefore in my warped thought i convince myself they aren't as painful to God. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i am in the midst or realizing that God may not find me trustworthy; yet, He continues to pursue me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="95" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/200/950833/100_0520.jpg" width="183" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;i love this photo because i can place myself in either role, small or large. today i'm little, and He is huge. sometimes i think the smaller hand is the one that won't let go-the one clinging with every ounce of being. now i realize the one finger is strong enough to keep the hand in place. neither one is letting go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-116854237399379836?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/116854237399379836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=116854237399379836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116854237399379836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116854237399379836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/01/resolve.html' title='Resolve'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-116846922530088547</id><published>2007-01-10T17:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T17:47:05.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the fluidity of home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/1600/536793/adriana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/200/820872/adriana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/1677/2027/1600/242893/jesus.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;just got back from what has turned into an annual trip to Mexico. Many things were different the second time around-and some situations remained. The poverty. The sacrificial living. The joy amidst what we consider unlivable situations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hurt coming home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I return to comfortable surroundings-they stay there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I return to a clean home-it rains in their bedrooms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I eat when I'm hungry-they eat when they have food&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I complain when I'm inconvenienced-they live a joyfully inconvenienced life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hurt in my human-ness&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;it won't be long until I rarely think about and even forget that their lives continue in the same manner whether I am with them or not. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;has God protected me or them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I know I am weak. Is it possible that He allows me to live here becuase I wouldn't trust Him there? because my faith would shatter? because I wouldn't have joy? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;where is home?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;it's such a fluid concept to me in the last year-home. Do I stay? Move? USA? Abroad? &lt;em&gt;Home&lt;/em&gt; won't solidify itself until I realize and live in the knowledge that &lt;strong&gt;home is not here&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;Home won't be here&lt;/strong&gt;. Is it even possible to understand that while you're alive, or does the thought establish itself as you come to the end of human existence? One of multiple questions I wish I could ask Mom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-116846922530088547?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/116846922530088547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=116846922530088547' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116846922530088547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116846922530088547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2007/01/fluidity-of-home.html' title='the fluidity of home...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-116007232236907758</id><published>2006-10-05T08:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T14:18:42.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the last word...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You need to know this about me; MY TEAM ALWAYS WINS. I have to. I'm a failure if I don't. Not only do I have to win every competition, I must win every conversation. This is something I hate about myself. There is this uncontrollable need to have the last word. the final say. the clincher. Why can't I just let things lie? What is wrong with me?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I didn't really notice it about myself until college. My &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.schmamy.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; put up with it for years...still does as a matter of fact. Apparently this unquenchable deisre to be right crosses the boundaries of  phone lines and email.  She was compassionate with me and let me give the last word much more often than she should have. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This summer I met a girl with the same disease. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It is true that the things that bother you the most about someone else are usually the same things that describe you as well. On a 8 day road trip, I lost the final say to Erin more times than I can count. It took me about 2 hours to realize that I wasn't going to win much, so I tried to bite my lip. I'm not speaking figuratively; there were bite marks. By the third day, I couldn't hold it in any longer; I had to be heard! Even when I exploded out my definitive statements, she'd come back at me with more. This girl was not going to give in. Consequently, my life was completely altered as a result of this trip. Sounds overly dramatic, but very true. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Having the last word is not limited to topics of which I am knowledgeable. I have an extremely embarrassing habit of talking about things I am utterly ignorant about, but acting as though I've written the book on the topic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For instance, I may be able to convince you that I know multitudes about photography and that I'm quite talented.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/central%20park2.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 189px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 115px" height="120" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/central%20park2.3.jpg" width="204" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/central%20park3.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="132" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/central%20park3.0.jpg" width="203" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/central%20park3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px" height="171" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/central%20park.0.jpg" width="253" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I can tell you the little that I know about photography in a way that convinces you I'm an expert. The embarrassment comes when I'm fluanting my ignorance to someone who actually knows something about pho&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/mirror.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/mirror.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;tography.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/camera.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 395px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 107px" height="107" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/camera.0.jpg" width="444" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The one with the actual knowledge then has options: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. show compassion to the ignoramous and let it slide 2. quietly and kindly correct the inaccuracies of the ignoramous 3. loudly and proudly correct the enormous mistakes of the ignoramous while showing off own skills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;sidenote: the photo scenario has not happened between my &lt;a href="http://www.thelongbrake.com"&gt;brother&lt;/a&gt; and I, but he would have chosen option 1&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How many times does this same type of situation have to occur for me to &lt;strong&gt;SHUT UP&lt;/strong&gt;!? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Your beauty should be that of your inner self, the unfadig beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in god's sight. I Pet 3:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;A fool's mouth lashes out with pride--------The tongue has the power of life and death------Those who guard their mouths and their tongues keep themselves from calamity---------Do not exalt yourself in the king's presence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-116007232236907758?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/116007232236907758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=116007232236907758' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116007232236907758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/116007232236907758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/10/last-word.html' title='the last word...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-115989333996327282</id><published>2006-10-03T12:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T12:38:19.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Closest Thing to Heaven</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/times%20sqaure2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" height="400" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/400/times%20sqaure2.jpg" width="291" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;hear someone mention it and my breath catches.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I meet a native and my hands shake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I see it on TV and I yell from excitement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I feel it under my feet and it's the yellow brick road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"&gt;I HEART NY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's 'Superbia'. It is to some adults what Disney World is to all kids. There's something in the air, in the traffic, in the overpriced food (except for the coffee and muffin I got for $1.75- thank you very much!); it's magic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;You can tell a New Yorker on the street by the way his mouth does not gape open, his extremely fast pace, and the bluetooth on his ear. He's on a mission: get where I'm going with the least amount of resistance. Does this guy have any idea where he is?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;This is the most riveting, thrilling, pulse racing place he could ever be;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;   THIS IS MANHATTAN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Lately I find myself so incredibly busy that I'm flying through the day (and even the week) just trying to get from A to B with the least amount of 'resistance'(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://cas.indwes.edu/music/chorale/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt; shortest distance between two points is a straight line). It's almost like I'm rushing through so I can get back to New York. I wonder if Heaven is like New York City?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;What if Heaven makes our pulse race? breath catch? hands shake? Right now I feel like there can be nothing better than my favorite place. Someday I'll stand corrected...if I can even stand (Heaven might make your knees buckle!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-115989333996327282?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/115989333996327282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=115989333996327282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/115989333996327282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/115989333996327282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/10/closest-thing-to-heaven.html' title='Closest Thing to Heaven'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-115988446938495902</id><published>2006-10-03T09:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T10:41:14.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>5 month hiatus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;if anyone is actually still reading this after I've neglected it for 5 months (Hi Kerri).... you must be a very dedicated person with nothing to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting headshots taken this week, thanks to my professional actress/model friend Lauren. The assignment was to get pictures of 10 emotions and expressions that we have to imitate in our own photos. Almost all of the photos I've chosen are of Idina Menzel. Not only does she take tremendous photos, but there are so many things that I think are phenominal about&lt;strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: talent as an actress, voice (oh my word), the way she presents herself during interviews, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/combo.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" height="191" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/400/combo.jpg" width="189" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I want to live her life- she was in WICKED for crying out loud! She has a Tony. She lives in NEW YORK CITY. She gets to wake up every day and do something with extreme passion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The closest I can come to being Idina Menzel is to mimic her expression in photographs. That's probably all right. Here's where I shoot myself in the foot: wanting to emulate her has made me an idolator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Today I want to be an attractive, talented, and successful performer. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If I could be those three things, I would be happy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.....that thought runs through my head constantly. It's seemingly harmless, but when I think that, oh I don't know, about 47 times every day what I'm really saying is that I need something other than salvation and grace to feel content and complete.  So now I've identified the problem; solving it is another story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ.....I always connect that with thoughts that are hyper-sinful; things like jealousy, anger, resentment...I didn't realized that it has to do with thoughts that are in some respects innocent. This means that every time I evaluate and scrutinize my appearance today wishing I looked differently, I should be taking that thought captive. It's going to be a long day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-115988446938495902?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/115988446938495902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=115988446938495902' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/115988446938495902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/115988446938495902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/10/5-month-hiatus.html' title='5 month hiatus'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114613855890850710</id><published>2006-04-27T07:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T07:49:19.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Public Transportation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;So yesterday I bought gas at $2.94 a gallon; I have to say I cried a little inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don't normally stop at this particular gas station; it was chosen by default considering my gas light had been on for almost 20 minutes (I know you're thinking, "Stephanie- you live life on teh edge!"). I did however frequent this station during high school and college. I remember when raising that precious needle from empty to full would cost less than $20, and that was when I drove a Ford Explorer! Last night I paid $35 to fill my tiny little Civic with only 12 gallons of gas...oh I remember when...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;As I got back into my car with all 12 gallons and no cash, I considered my options:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;1. I could walk to my destinations (this would mean getting up at midnight to start my day)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;2. I could try to carpool with people (almost plausible)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;3. Public Transportation (hold on-we're in Fort Wayne, so that means you see a cab about once a year. As for buses, I don't think they make a route to the boondocks of DeKalb County)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;This experience confirms, yet again, that New York City is the most wonderful place in the world. Are the residents of Manhattan complaining about gas prices? OF COURSE NOT! Not to mention, every day you get a chance to ride in the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://dsc.discovery.com/fansites/cashcab/cashcab.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;CashCab!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;I HEART NYC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/metro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px" height="101" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/metro.jpg" width="229" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/times%20square.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 142px" height="78" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/times%20square.jpg" width="234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114613855890850710?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114613855890850710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114613855890850710' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114613855890850710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114613855890850710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/04/public-transportation.html' title='Public Transportation'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114605765405334713</id><published>2006-04-26T08:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T09:20:55.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonely=Good Thing (Not the Martha Stewart Way)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/don%20miller.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/don%20miller.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm surprised that I've lasted four months actually writing my own words in this journal. I humbly realize that there are others who write immeasurably better than I, so today I begin quoting other people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Josh gave me &lt;em&gt;Blue Like Jazz years&lt;/em&gt; ago, long before it was a cultural phenomenon. Granted, I didn't read it for awhile, so I do fall into the pop culture crowd. I'm now reading another Don Miller book, Searching for God knows what. Yesterday I read (twice!) a chapter about Eden. Here's what Don says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:78%;"&gt;I noticed Adam and Eve didn't meet right away. &lt;strong&gt;Moses said God knew Adam was lonely or incomplete or however you want to say it, but God did not create Eve directly after He stated Adam was lonely&lt;/strong&gt;. This struck me as funny because a lot of times when I think about life before the Fall, I don't think about people going around lonely. But that thought also comforted me because I realized loneliness in my own life doesn't mean I am a complete screwup, rather that God made me this way. You always picture a perfect human being somebody who doesn't need anybody, like a guy on a horse out in Colorado or whatever. But here is Adam, the only perfect guy in the world, and he is going around wanting to be with somebody else, needing another person to fulfill a certain emptiness in his life. And as I said, When God saw this, He did not create Eve right away. &lt;strong&gt;He did not give Adam what he needed immediately. He waited&lt;/strong&gt;. He told Adam to name the animals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;...I looked up how many animals there are in the world, and it turns out there are between ten million and one hundred million different species. So even if you believe in evolution, that means there were between one million and fifty million species around in the time of the Garden, and Adam, apparently had to name all of them. &lt;strong&gt;And the entire time he was lonely.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;All this to say that had God given Eve to Adam immediately, would Adam be as grateful for her as he was after waiting so long for a companion? I was watching "One Fine Day" last night. I rarely want to watch this movie because I get so completely frustrated that this one day the two characters are experiencing could be so terrifyingly horrible; it seriously does just get worse and worse. At the end of course, they end up together and would probably say it was worth it to endure that manic day because of the result. How many things in life do I complain incessantly about, not realizing it will all be completely worth it in the end?! I feel foolish about it now, and I'm confident I'll feel foolish about this in months and years to come. My hope is that the time between foolish feelings will start to lengthen. My attitude is up to me to decide, right? Right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114605765405334713?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114605765405334713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114605765405334713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114605765405334713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114605765405334713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/04/lonelygood-thing-not-martha-stewart.html' title='Lonely=Good Thing (Not the Martha Stewart Way)'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114564121977457735</id><published>2006-04-21T12:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T13:40:19.923-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Brother, the Prophet...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/josh.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/josh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/josh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;It's obvious I think the world of my brother, Josh. Honestly, most people do. If I had anything to do with this phenomenon, I would be sounding pretty conceited now. Fortunately, I am unable to take even the smallest amound of credit for his incomparable-ness (not a real word, I know) I could make a list of his traits(in alphabetical order of course, since I am so detail-minded), but instead I want to focus on the thing I've learned about him most recently:&lt;br /&gt;GOD IS TALKING TO ME IN AN AUDIBLE VOICE THAT SOUNDS INCREDIBLY FAMILIAR... JOSH'S.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I was reading his &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thelongbrake.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; today from Scotland. It's better to read it for yourself, but the gist is that God was gracious yesterday, is being gracious today, and will most likely give me grace tomorrow. He is the I AM. He is present; present in Fort Wayne, Scotland, and Wilmington. I'm facing multiple changes in life these days, decisions that will alter the next season of my life. I spend so much time now wondering and worrying especially. There is no need; my brilliant brother pointed this out to me from across an ocean. Man I'm glad he went to Europe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114564121977457735?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114564121977457735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114564121977457735' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114564121977457735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114564121977457735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-brother-prophet.html' title='My Brother, the Prophet...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114547059323443168</id><published>2006-04-19T09:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T14:16:33.316-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have Always Love You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;This morning during my "daily commute" (I pretend to live in a bustling metropolis, but you all know what the Fort is like) I was listening to a CD that is a surefire way to get me energized for the day. On track 16 of CD Two the guy sings these words, "I have always love you. " The lyrics were not &lt;em&gt;I have always &lt;strong&gt;loved&lt;/strong&gt; you&lt;/em&gt;, but &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt; you&lt;/em&gt;. I'll confess I hadn't noticed this before, but read about it in a critique posted on the web. Now I listen for it every time I play the song. I checked my piano music just now, and the word is written as &lt;strong&gt;loved&lt;/strong&gt;. There are two possibilities:&lt;br /&gt;1. The composer wrote &lt;strong&gt;loved&lt;/strong&gt;, but the performer sang &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. The composer wrote &lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt;, but the publisher accidentally printed &lt;strong&gt;loved&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Typically I am not a fan of grammatical errors, but in this case I find it incredibly fitting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Next week will be the 10 year anniversary(?) of the day my mother died. I was 15 years old; I am now 25. More than a few changes have occurred in the last 10 years. I could write the story now because it's still so fresh in my mind, but my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god_worship.php"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;brother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; has done it eloquently in two essays entitled "The Beauty of Suffering."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;What am I getting at? Here it is: so many people tell me how much they loved my mother. &lt;strong&gt;Loved&lt;/strong&gt;... in the past tense. I AM NOT DONE LOVING HER! (capitalization was not used to criticize those &lt;em&gt;past tense lovers&lt;/em&gt;, but to show how much I &lt;em&gt;present tense love&lt;/em&gt; her) &lt;strong&gt;I have always love her!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;True, I haven't seen or spoken to her in 10 years. That doesn't change the fact that I present tense love her. My dad talks about this sometimes. He loves her in the present too, as does Josh. We don't&lt;em&gt; loved&lt;/em&gt; her, we&lt;em&gt; love&lt;/em&gt; her. This may not seem profound to anyone; that's not my intent. I'm just thankful for the extremely poignant lyric or possible grammatical error that has played on my car stereo innumerable times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114547059323443168?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114547059323443168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114547059323443168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114547059323443168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114547059323443168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-have-always-love-you.html' title='I Have Always Love You'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114477015860633294</id><published>2006-04-11T10:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T11:42:40.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final Four...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;You may remember back to the month of April during your senior year of high school. By this point everyone you knew well, were acquainted with, or just saw on the street for the first time was asking you these questions:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;1. Are you excited about graduation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;2. Where are you going to college?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;3. What will your major be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 127px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 84px" height="104" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/bcscrest.1.jpg" width="154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hearing these ten times was somewhat exhausting, and by the 30th I was ready to pull my hair out. My &lt;a href="http://schmamy.blogspot.com"&gt;roommate&lt;/a&gt; in college had the idea to possibly tattoo those three answers to her forehead, except that she really didn't have answers to the latter questions for awhile. I hadn't wanted to return to life where 50% of my conversations centered around these questions, but it in fact has happened. Now they are slightly altered:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. Are you excited about moving?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. Where are you moving?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3. What will your job be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know that people have the best intentions, so it's not frustrating to cover this topic 9 times a day (on average of course!). It is however, quite exhausting; especially when I didn't have any kind of answers. Today things are on the move!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Here is the most recent information:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;** It's down to four cities in four different states- Wilmington, NC...Charleston, SC...Savannah, GA...Jacksonville, FL      (all cities on the coast! Of course you'll all want to visit us!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;** We're now trying to do some church searching. I've found two in Wilmington that look GREAT! I'm going to keep researching in the other three cities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**Once we've picked a city, we're planning to make a trip down in the beginning of June to find an apartment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**Our BIG MOVE will hopfully be in the last two weeks of July&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**Jobs: Andria is looking to intern for Young Life. I recently declined a job in Indiana, which was difficult because I don't have anything else lined up. BUT there was an immense peace that flooded me when I made the decision. It was an administrative assistant position; I was encouraged to be offered the job without a degree or experience in business.  I'll be pursuing the same kind of jobs in the city we choose.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**We are inviting any friends who feel like moving south to join in our adventure! Pray it over; it's gonna be a crazy ride! Also, if you are needing a new place to live in Fort Wayne, Parker is renting her five bedroom house. It's in a great area of the Fort, so maybe that's a possibility for you! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The moment I think I'm being so adventurous and becoming a daredevil, I realize that at this moment my brother is in Europe by himself hiking, hitch-hiking, hopefully eating, and ALL BY HIMSELF! I'll be so relieved when June 16 is here and Josh comes home! Keep him safe, please LORD!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114477015860633294?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114477015860633294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114477015860633294' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114477015860633294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114477015860633294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/04/final-four.html' title='The Final Four...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114243504009249289</id><published>2006-03-15T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T08:59:11.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Waffle Houses of the World....UNITE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/sp_wh_logo.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/sp_wh_logo.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;As a result of our many road trips as kids, Josh and I made a startling discovery; Every city on every Interstate Highway in the U.S. has some form of a WAFFLE HOUSE (granted this may include the famous Waffle &amp; Steak, Huddle House, or the occasional IHOP. IHOP is not affiliated with Waffle House Inc, but falls into the same genre....or so I thought). During our 10 (which turned into 12) hour drive from Charlotte to Tampa last week, I told my 11 year old friend Sammi all about the geniuses who are Josh and Stephanie Longbrake and their brilliant decuction that Waffle House is trying to take over the world. We drove all other car occupants crazy by yelling out "Waffle House" every time we saw one on I-85, I-285, and I-75. We decided it would be worth the effort to document every Waffle House sighting on the return trip to Charlotte....and that's just what we did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As we started our trek back to North Carolina, we kept a tally of each Waffle House along the way. In just the northern half of Florida we spotted 11 Waffle Houses along I-75. We stopped to eat lunch in&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/bert_character.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/bert_character.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Georgia at a, you guessed it, WAFFLE HOUSE. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;***Disclaimer***I have always equated places like these with the Denny's in Fort Wayne. I now must send my apologies to Ryan Pfister (the only former Denny's employee I know) for having the audacity to compare such establishments!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;***Yet another Disclaimer***Ryan is not the employee pictured. Any resemblance to "Bert the Diner Guy" is merely coincidental&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Back to the story...I have learned that the only safe meal to order at a WH is a waffle and perhaps the occasional hashbrown. I did not order such a meal, and I paid the consequence by sacrificing that meal. There was however, a treasure to be found at this particular WH. The cashier's counter was fully stocked with Waffle House literature, including a listing of all continental Waffle Houses to be found off of Interstate highways! This made our data much more accurate and verified! There was an emotional time when we couldn't find the WH listed at exit 104, but we powered through. We were even surprised by the marvelous gift of a WH not mentioned on our map! I was able to encourage car riders that even though we weren't seeing &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;WH's&lt;/span&gt; at a particular moment, we only had 10 miles to travel until our fears would be relieved. We even used our WH map to navigate our way home to Charlotte. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I find myself now searching all exits for a Waffle House, even though our experiment is through. It is as if my eyes have a mind of their own, and their hunger won't be fulfilled until they spot those beautiful black block letters on that stylish yellow background. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I believe and am stating it now that Waffle House is trying to take over the United States of America!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**Evidence**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1. You find them at 98% of the exits off major Interstate highways&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2. You find yourself using Waffle House maps instead of Rand McNally to navigate trips&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;3. When eating at a Waffle House, you find yourself never wanting to eat eggs again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;4. You start to hallucinate Waffle Houses into existence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have to say that I'm scared to get in the car. I'm scared to drive on the highway. I'm just plain scared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114243504009249289?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114243504009249289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114243504009249289' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114243504009249289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114243504009249289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/03/waffle-houses-of-worldunite.html' title='Waffle Houses of the World....UNITE!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114199686268506667</id><published>2006-03-10T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T12:15:29.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything I Need to Know I learned at Friday's?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/fridays.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/fridays.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Honestly, I did learn a whole lot about myself and others by working at Friday's. It was the first time where I was &lt;strong&gt;surrounded&lt;/strong&gt; by people who needed to hear the TRUTH. I was the polar opposite of most people I encountered there. Knowing me, I was very stand-offish and nervous to talk to anyone because I was afraid they'd make fun of me. What is this, Junior High? Most people blew me off for the first couple of months....except one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;We couldn't be more &lt;strong&gt;different&lt;/strong&gt;. Religion, upbringing, hobbies (or addictions), philosophies, friends, education, life experience... no one would have ever matched us as friends. It was not anything I pursued, but this became one of the most honest friendships I have ever experienced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;There are two enormous things I have learned lately while considering this random, raw, and real friendship. Here is one:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;This last week, my nameless friend has been in Alabama using his spring break to help with hurricane relief. This is not in his nature; he's more of a 'if it benefits me, then I'll do it' kind of guy. I got so excited about how this trip might affect him. Would he come home more humble? Servant-hearted? Thankful? Would this affect his religious thoughts? He's such a dynamic person; if he were a Christ-follower I have confidence that he would change his world for Christ (and I don't mean that in the cliche way we're all used to hearing it). Multiple times this week I've thought how amazing it would be to watch him be passionate about the &lt;strong&gt;truth&lt;/strong&gt;. And then I realized that this must be the way God looks at and thinks about me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;"If only Stephanie were as passionate about ME as she is about singing/acting/etc... there are so many things I want to show her and parts of Myself I want to reveal to her." Why did I think I have arrived at some spiritual plateau, as if there are not HUGE areas in need of improvement?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm trying to find words that conclude these thoughts, but maybe they need to be left open...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114199686268506667?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114199686268506667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114199686268506667' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114199686268506667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114199686268506667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/03/everything-i-need-to-know-i-learned-at.html' title='Everything I Need to Know I learned at Friday&apos;s?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114122018882915979</id><published>2006-03-01T08:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T08:36:28.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where in the World is Carman Sandiego?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/box_carmen_sandiego.0.gif" border="0" /&gt; Do you remember that kid game show on PBS? It was on after school. Three kids would use clues to search for Carman around the world. Also there was an a capella quartet (only the music nerds enjoyed that part...myself probably being the ringleader) that would interject random songs, turning the game show into a musical! Anyway, Carman would be in some new, exotic and exciting city that changed EVERY DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a very small way, I am following her fictitious footsteps. Since I have decided to change jobs, I have felt so much freedom. During a road trip this weekend, I asked my step-mom why I was limiting myself to staying around the city where I grew up. We started to brainstorm about where I might want to live. Everything became so fresh and exciting, as if my life was opening up in front of me for the first time. I could barely sleep that night; an adventure was starting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was nervous to move to a new city by myself, especially since I'm thinking CITIES here, as in a bustling metropolis. A friend's name kept appearing in my mind. I didn't know what was going on in her life, but I had a drive to do this adventure thing with her. I saw her on Monday, dying to ask her what was going on in her life. She beat me to it; I only shared the bare minimum. She then told me about HER recent musings about moving away to a big city. She was nervous to do it alone........ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a sidenote I must stop and ask this: why am I surprised by God? Of course He orchest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/colorado.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 114px" height="70" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/colorado.jpg" width="208" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;rates things like this...HE'S GOD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now we have no set destination. I can't wait to figure out where God will help us go. I'm not sure He's going to lead to a specific place; I have a thought that He gives many options in this kind of situation. It's not as if He is one place and we are moving to another...again, HE'S GOD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have any input as to where I should spend the next season of life geographically or otherwise, I'm receiving all opinions!&lt;br /&gt;&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/20271293-114122018882915979?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114122018882915979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114122018882915979' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114122018882915979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114122018882915979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/03/where-in-world-is-carman-sandiego.html' title='Where in the World is Carman Sandiego?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114063648534091801</id><published>2006-02-22T12:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T14:28:05.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rent Is Due...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/rent.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/rent.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I remember the day well. I was playing a game of Pounce with my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.limanews.com/story.php?IDnum=4949"&gt;NanNan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; (known to the rest of the tri-state area as Karan. Who are we kidding? She's known worldwide!). We would almost always listen to showtunes while playing Pounce. This musical was the anti-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.time.com/time/time100/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Rodgers&amp;Hammerstein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;. I was magnetized; she was bored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;My journey with &lt;strong&gt;Rent&lt;/strong&gt; started there and continued...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;* Summer 1999- I would sing the entire score word for word with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="file://korban.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Korban&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; (being good Christians AND recent BCS graduates, we omitted the profanity).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*Fall 1999- My roommate Nicole and I would perform selected songs for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.indwes.edu"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;IWU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; guests.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*Winter 1999- We took a road trip to Bloomington and finally lived the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rentthetour.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;. We saw Rent live on stage (We being Tonya, Nicole, Korban, myself, and some guy whose name escapes me now- obviously a lifelong friend).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*Sometime 2002- Amy and I would sync up our discmans and listen to Rent simultaneously, thinking we were the coolest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;(apparently we couldn't afford a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.radioshack.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;headph&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.radioshack.com"&gt;one jack splitter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*November 2005- The film opens in Fort Wayne; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tgifridays.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Stephanie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt; and I are among the first to see it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*February 2006- The DVD is released; I of course watch it in its entirety, along with the special features (a 4 1/2 hour experience)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Of course I am drawn to Rent because of the music; it ignites this unbelievable passion inside the listener. There's more though; I'm drawn to the relationships in the story. More than anything else, Rent is a story about &lt;a href="http://www.eharmony.com"&gt;relation&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/roger.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/roger.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eharmony.com"&gt;ships&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/mark.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/mark.3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/collins.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/collins.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/maureen.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/maureen.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;4 very different, very deep, and at times very devastating relationships...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Roger and Mimi-&lt;/strong&gt;Each trying to fill in the holes left in the other; selfishness interrupts, then selflessness overcomes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Angel and Collins&lt;/strong&gt;- Living in the here and now, wondering how long the here and now will last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joann and Maureen&lt;/strong&gt;- Faith and Trust vs. Jealousy and Pride&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mark&lt;/strong&gt;- The observer, the encourager, the one who is stepped on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ultimately, each character lived with the mindset that all anyone has is TODAY. They lived as though this is it. Do whatever makes you happy, whatever makes you feel good. All love is good and true, no matter who it is you're loving. &lt;em&gt;This is dangerously close to the truth that I know&lt;/em&gt;. It sounds so great, but I know that it is contrary to real &lt;a href="http://www.Biblegateway.com"&gt;TRUTH&lt;/a&gt;. These fictitious characters didn't mean a lot to me until I realized...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a&lt;strong&gt; Roger. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a &lt;strong&gt;Mimi&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know an &lt;strong&gt;Angel&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a &lt;strong&gt;Collins&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a &lt;strong&gt;Joann&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a &lt;strong&gt;Maureen&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know a &lt;strong&gt;Mark&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;WE ALL DO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;And then I wondered, Am I one of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Are You?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114063648534091801?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114063648534091801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114063648534091801' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114063648534091801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114063648534091801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/rent-is-due.html' title='Rent Is Due...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-114020428256835801</id><published>2006-02-17T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T11:39:04.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>While You Were Sleeping...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0115_00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/000_0115_00.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sleep, oh the bliss of this glorious thought! It's odd how the meaning and value of sleep changes during a person's lifetime...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...During the first years of life (not that I remember them well) sleep dominates the daily schedule. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;*I used to stand up in my crib and say, "Mommy I'm waking!" just to inform my parents of the break in my sleep-enduced coma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;...As a toddler, napping is still part of the routine, but most kids are against it. *I of course, went against the norm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...As a child goes to school, sleeping is replaced with recess; what a trade-off!  At this phase, kids will do anything to stay in on the action instead of going to sleep.  *My brother was much more prone to this way of life than I.  His energy seemed to be boundless, unless we were in the car. To this day, Josh is asleep before we even cross the Ohio border.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...Somehow there is a shift from "You can't make me sleep!" to "You can't make me wake up!"  This typically happens in teenage years.  *A few weeks ago I was taking care of some kids for friends. Getting one of  them up in the morning was much harder than  expected; in the end, I used the method of surprise. Her brothers ambushed her. It wasn't the most pleasant, but it was very effective.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...In college, sleep was a treasure. My roommate &lt;a href="http://www.schmamy.blogspot.com"&gt;Amy&lt;/a&gt; and I knew that it wasn't even worth it to attempt conversation in under 30 minutes after waking up. We also knew the joys of sleep; that weird yet blissful sound one makes right before drifting off.  Sleep~We didn't need much of it, but the little we had was priceless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;...Now I find that I've come full circle; I'M IN DIRE NEED OF SLEEP!!! Maybe I need rest instead. Is it the age 25? Is it having to leave for work before dawn? Is it the stress of life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I long for sleep. I crave it. I treasure it. It is precious to me.  It can also be my downfall...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And now I wonder; what have I missed while I was sleeping? And by this I am talking about the number of times I go through the motions of life sleeping with my eyes open. I just try to get through the day. Try to make it pass quickly. Try to speed it up. I miss conversations and interactions that could be beneficial.  Could be significant.  Could be eternally significant. I don't want to sleep any longer. Life is a &lt;a href="http://www.racetowin.org"&gt;blip&lt;/a&gt;.  I can't afford to miss what God is doing and saying while I was sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Thanks to Ryan Toupin for falling asleep and drooling so that this post could be enhanced!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-114020428256835801?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/114020428256835801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=114020428256835801' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114020428256835801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/114020428256835801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/while-you-were-sleeping.html' title='While You Were Sleeping...'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113960014330186449</id><published>2006-02-10T14:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-15T13:24:19.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jobless and LOVING IT!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/church_photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/church_photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;It is official: I am changing careers. When they (the actual 'they' I can't recall) gave the lecture in college about how many people don't have a career directly associated with their degree, I vowed to use my expensive college education until the day I died.....ahem....sorry Dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Not that what I'll do won't be music related; it will just be more of an avocation &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;than&lt;/span&gt; a vocation. I'm thrilled to say that I am pursuing my dream job of being a button-pusher!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Confession: I used to spend Christmas money not at ToysRUs, Target, or American Eagle.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;but at OFFICE DEPOT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/odLogo_norm.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It's amazing that the moment I started to ask God if I needed to change jobs, He started to bring opportunities my way. In reality, He didn't have to do this. He could have said, "Steph, leave the job you're at. I'm not going to show you anything else to pursue for awhile, so you'll just have to trust Me." How immensely hard would that have been?! This is not to say I have another job ready to go; quite the contrary. For being in such a state of limbo, I feel 'surreal-ly' content. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I hadn't thought about John 15:5 in awhile. &lt;a href="http://www.blackhawkministries.org"&gt;EricHall&lt;/a&gt; used talked about it all through December; but alas, it is February. Change isn't something I gravitate towards. I usually find something that works and stay with it well after it doesn't work anymore. God is taking me out of the normal and into what I now deem as the 'void'. BUT He promises fruit if I remain in Him. Sounds like a plan!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113960014330186449?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113960014330186449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113960014330186449' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113960014330186449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113960014330186449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/jobless-and-loving-it.html' title='Jobless and LOVING IT!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113951786992676615</id><published>2006-02-09T15:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:44:29.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm making a giant life decision tomorrow. In all honesty I made it a week ago, but those it affects will learn of it tomorrow. It's scary, exciting, stressful and peaceful....what a dichotomy!&lt;br /&gt;I am personally keeping Higher Grounds in business (this is not the life decision I made). I go there now to do many things I could do at home, but somehow the addition of a vasto skinny coconut mocha makes me more productive. Yesterday I was listening to a friend talk of her latest life decision...going away to college. Change has always curled my toes, and not usually in a good way. We had an epiphany: without God, change would send us into mental institutions! Praise the LORD for His omnipresence!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the wall of the coffee house, the black marker board read this:&lt;br /&gt;The only way to cope with change is to help create it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Just one more reason to justify daily trips for coffee &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113951786992676615?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113951786992676615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113951786992676615' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113951786992676615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113951786992676615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113942444234015909</id><published>2006-02-08T13:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T13:47:22.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Importance of Being Earnestly Literate</title><content type='html'>My friend Laura is quite possibly the most genuine, selfless, and others-minded person I've ever known. I leave each conversation with her thinking of the new way I saw Christ in her; and how He is revealing Himself through her to me. She probably has no idea she is influencing me with such magnitude. She may just think we're having coffee...&lt;br /&gt;My brother has the same effect on me, even to the extent that had it not been for his blog, I wouldn't even know what one is much less write one myself. &lt;a href="http://thelongbrake.blogspot.com"&gt;http://thelongbrake.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt; He inspires me to do many things; some massive and others minute. Lately, it has been to read.&lt;br /&gt;I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;After that I liked jazz music.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.                               ~Donald Miller Blue Like Jazz&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Josh; Thank you Laura&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113942444234015909?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113942444234015909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113942444234015909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113942444234015909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113942444234015909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/importance-of-being-earnestly-literate.html' title='The Importance of Being Earnestly Literate'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113940890531351816</id><published>2006-02-08T09:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T09:28:25.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Though the Fig Tree Withers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0098_00.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/000_0098_00.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;While we were tearing down that same woman's house in Matamoros, I noticed an odd tree. I'd never seen this kind before (though I confess I haven't paid much attention to trees since my Mom, Grandma, and I went on a leaf hunt for my 3rd Grade project). I tried in my best Spanish to ask what kind of tree it was. She couldn't remember the name, but knew it was in the Bible. She went into her 'house' and brought out a well-worn Spanish Bible. Opening to one of the gospels, she showed where Jesus spoke about a fig tree. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;Habakkuk 3:17-18&lt;br /&gt;Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This lone fig tree standing in the rubble is an image engraved in my mind. Rejoice in the LORD &lt;strong&gt;always&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/20271293-113940890531351816?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113940890531351816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113940890531351816' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113940890531351816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113940890531351816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/though-fig-tree-withers.html' title='Though the Fig Tree Withers'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113933398980503703</id><published>2006-02-07T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T09:02:40.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Building and Tearing Down</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0068_00.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 198px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" height="141" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/000_0068_00.0.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;It happened a month ago, but it's effect is active now. Thus begins what I can imagine will be many posts about what God did to, in, and maybe even through me in Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;On our last day working in Matamoros, we met a woman in need. She would soon lose her home because it was built on land that was being repossessed. Her hope was to tear her house apart by piece, store it, and rebuild it on her own property. Calling it a house is sugar-coating it. We climbed on the roof, pried apart each piece, sorted, and tried to salvage her home. It was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. What I viewed as trash; this was her tre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0070_00.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;asure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0069_00.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/000_0069_00.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows if she will rebuild her house. Who knows if any of the materials can still be of use. This is what I know:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame. Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;those who do not believe, the stone the builders rejected has become the capstone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knows the Stone; I know the Stone. We will trust, and we will never be put to shame. THIS STONE IS PRECIOUS.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/1600/000_0070_00.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/200/000_0070_00.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113933398980503703?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113933398980503703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113933398980503703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113933398980503703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113933398980503703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2006/02/building-and-tearing-down.html' title='Building and Tearing Down'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113605868983529094</id><published>2005-12-31T14:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-31T14:53:19.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversational Wizards!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 201px" height="201" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1677/2027/320/000_0021.jpg" width="320" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When God created Man, He did a phenomenal job...I'll be the first to say it!&lt;br /&gt;They're strong...&lt;br /&gt;They're wise...&lt;br /&gt;They're brave...&lt;br /&gt;They can invent, break, and fix anything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But women have a skill that men do not...&lt;br /&gt;WE ARE CONVERSATIONAL WIZARDS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can walk, cook, fold laundry, listen, and talk all at the same time. Not only that, but we can carry on up to 5 conversations simultaneously (I guess it's called multi-tasking). This one is amazing: we can talk at a rate that only other women (and only in the rarest of cases, a man) understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is better at this than my friend Jenna. She has this unbelievable ability to bring a conversation full circle while covering 17 topics in about 10 minutes. I am convinced she could win a speed-speaking contest (do they exist? I should look into it!). Here's the amazing thing; I UNDERSTAND HER! Even when she uses words that aren't real, I know exactly what each word means. It's as if we have our own pseudo-language. No one else begins to grasp what we're saying, but we hear each other perfectly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has brought some thoughts to mind about the Trinity:&lt;br /&gt;Rom. 8:26 says that the Spirit intercedes for us by speaking to the Father in words we don't understand. My Bible uses the phrase "wordless groans." The Father and Holy Spirit have their own language that no other person can understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God must be the ultimate conversational wizard. He sees and hears EVERYTHING! He's taken multi-tasking to a completely new inhuman level. When women are involved in multiple conversations simultaneously, we really are &lt;strong&gt;involved&lt;/strong&gt;. We are actively participating. It's the same with God; He is not resting...not sleeping...not far away...He is here and He is active.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113605868983529094?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113605868983529094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113605868983529094' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113605868983529094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113605868983529094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2005/12/conversational-wizards.html' title='Conversational Wizards!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20271293.post-113579082962189295</id><published>2005-12-28T11:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-28T12:27:09.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sculpting in Snow or Stone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Today I set my "pen" to my first online journal. Why is it that we find it easier to expose our most vulnerable thoughts and emotions to the world through this avenue than we do through actual face to face interaction? Is it the thought that strangers will understand us better than the ones who 'know' us? Is there comfort in the absence of facial expression? It can't feel 'safer'...Can it? Whether it is cathartic, humorous, egotistical, or just for something to do, 'blogging' has become a phenomenon in my small world. I might as well jump onboard!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I jumping? Credit is due to my brother. Reading his thoughts, I am learning about him and also about Him (if this doesn't make sense to you, read on!) Sidebar: you should read Josh's blog as well: thelongbrake.blogspot.com I have not the slightest idea of what to expect by starting this venture, but I'm confident that God will grow me through the things I learn and write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eat, shower, drive, clean, TV, shop (?), laundry, entertainment...so many things I do on a routine basis are just as if I am sculpting in snow. They last for only a moment; after the snow melts, what is left? Granted, sometimes this kind of sculpting must exist as a necessity of life (i.e. shower). How many times do I confuse the necessities with the expendables?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sculpting in stone: relationships, the body of Christ, the Word of God, service...these things are lasting. Don't miss this; they are also necessities. They are mandated in Scripture. How often do I treat the acts of stone sculpting as if they are snow sculpting? It's heart-wrenching for me to think about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John 15:5 I am the Vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit (stone sculptures); apart from Me you can do nothing (snow sculptures).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20271293-113579082962189295?l=anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/feeds/113579082962189295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20271293&amp;postID=113579082962189295' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113579082962189295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20271293/posts/default/113579082962189295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anotherlongbrake.blogspot.com/2005/12/sculpting-in-snow-or-stone.html' title='Sculpting in Snow or Stone?'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06932660630913782717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
