<?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:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' 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-8624264377275893964</id><updated>2024-12-18T19:24:12.726-08:00</updated><category term="2010"/><category term="August 15"/><category term="Faith Barista"/><title type='text'>At Crossroads</title><subtitle type='html'>As in the words of a Switchfoot song - &quot;Welcome to the planet. Welcome to existence&quot; And in these small hours we make of it what we wish . . .</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-4258354479986255148</id><published>2015-02-11T21:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2015-05-18T12:56:30.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Learnt from my Emergency</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
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Last Thursday, after walking halfway home in a below 20 weather, my hands were numb, my heart raced a mile a minute and I started to black out. I ended up having to call 911 on myself. Crazy!! At the end of it all, including the paremedics persuading me to go to the emergency, there were a few answers as to why it happened. I thought it was hypothermia. Another reason was from my friends, strangers, and my building manager labelling it as an &quot;anxiety attack&quot;. The doctor said it was some kind of nervous system failure. Regardless of what it was I learnt a few things about what I wanted in my life, and I guess what life can be like at times.&lt;br&gt;
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First of, I do believe if I was not in my current situation this might have been avoided. A couple months ago I was battling a very bad depression that made me feel suicidal at one point. I went back to see my counsellor and that has helped tremendously. Also, my time management skills have been so much better, I have been able to get all the nitty gritty jobs at home done. Aside from that I started to apply to school, knowing full well that &amp;nbsp;I had finally made a decision.&lt;br&gt;
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So with all this good stuff happening I was very proud of myself and for the first time I really started to understand the true nature of having self-love and worth. It&#39;s funny how even though we do believe we have good self-esteem there are things in our daily lives that do beg to differ, and we do not easily tun in to them.&lt;br&gt;
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But (and yes a huge BUT here) I was battling something that was toxic. I needed to get out of this situation and the people surrounding this situation. Many times I had started making excuses for people. It started to occur to me how crazy it really was, when everyday I went home being obsessed with this situation. My best friend can tell you, &quot;Yes, Rose talks about how this drives her insane all the time!&quot;&lt;br&gt;
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Ironically enough it was the smallest thing that really unravelled me. On that cold Thursday afternoon, something inside me clicked. It shocked me at first. The busyness of the day made me push it to the side. Deep inside I knew I had known it all along, and had made this choice a long time before. I knew I could not be around toxicity. I could not be around where my dreams where being questioned, and my way of connecting was not treasured, nonetheless realized.&lt;br&gt;
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In order to begin again, I had to rebuild myself. My heart is truly broken from all of this running around with no achievement. I am exhausted from the lies, &amp;nbsp;and the false pretence of excitement. I stopped caring about things that I normally cared about, because I did not want to care and have my efforts worthless, just because someone has a better idea of how to handle situations.&lt;br&gt;
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Basically, I was stuck. On that Thursday afternoon, I knew I had to cut some ties loose. Yet it wasn&#39;t until the Friday evening that I was driven into a state of frenzy. The frenzy then escalated to a crazy dance of emails (a crazy dance that I had been doing every Sunday until midnight, just to wake up on Monday starting the week in fatigue), and finally went off with a swan song on Monday.&lt;br&gt;
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So today, I still feel heart-broken. Like all broken hearts this will mend itself in time. There will be a few letters written, though, to give me a peace of mind. Letting go is terribly hard. It&#39;s almost like by forcing myself &lt;i&gt;not &lt;/i&gt;to let go, I believe that I will remember and not forget. Now though (with all the past grudges I have held) I know I need to let go, not only for a healthy-heart, but to move on and be free.&lt;br&gt;
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In the hospital I learned a few things too . . . I&#39;m going to finish that up in part 2.&lt;br&gt;
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Later Days!&lt;br&gt;
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Images - Blizzard picture from http://www.buffalonews.com/opinion/buffalo-news-editorials/pummeling-by-blizzard-is-a-demonstration-of-natures-awesome-fury-20140108&lt;br&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;-Fainting picture from http://www.firstaidreference.com/fist-aid-fainting-dizziness/154/&lt;br&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/4258354479986255148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2015/02/what-i-learnt-from-my-emergency.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4258354479986255148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4258354479986255148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2015/02/what-i-learnt-from-my-emergency.html' title='What I Learnt from my Emergency'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhddhiCBun_oB20GqLLtIluaDsdqCSp8Wmx17zMIjQgwC4C5pZQp5LQ9hdP0wzdLbRYpP5dRzDWzA4dAA81fgGeKf5IxcZp4PZEu6ykJbDSE1eY3HUGzJJMTLUje1YOJ9jET-dT09Bxnso/s72-c/faint.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-6962299614658717993</id><published>2014-06-07T00:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2014-06-07T00:01:59.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Really Live</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;Hitting 25, I begin to scrutinize what I have done since entering my twenties. I honestly feel like I haven&#39;t been living. I am stuck in one career all because I know how to operate within the field. Yet this has also marked me&amp;nbsp;inert because I have been too lazy to work harder in the field, and even pursue an education around it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;Laziness and fear have been ruling my life for so long. I am struggling to put an end to it. I cannot bear to walk around wondering where I&amp;nbsp;will be next&amp;nbsp;year. It&#39;s now or never. I must break my old habits that have let me just pass by life. I refuse to become a mere passenger of life. Instead I dare to mount my flag down, to call out my name, to argue my case and to be my own boss.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;When I went to Vancouver for my birthday, with a man I love but not the one, I looked around and soaked in Vancouver. Actually, engulfed in it as I came to&amp;nbsp;the conclusion that this place gave me some form of release. I remember as a little girl how the rain helped me&amp;nbsp;imagine and dream a better life for myself. I will not disappoint that little girl.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;I think of leaving Edmonton winters and staying by the ocean to watch&amp;nbsp;the water and to breathe in a different air. You see, I use to tell myself that when I am done my education and get promoted in a job, I will leave Edmonton and live somewhere else. Every year that does not happen. I am also sick and tired of letting life bring around changes. What if I am the one that makes the changes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;As for education, I will achieve it. But since life has put me in a tight spot I will be flexible and chase after an online program. I can earn a living and go to school. Now all I have to do is find a job that I can actually leave work at work. In fact, what if I entered the corporate world? What am I going to lose? If, at the end of all these wild endeavours (including th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;e move to BC) I end up broke, at least I can say I have lived the&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;adventurous life. So what if I end up with room mates or in a close&amp;nbsp;quarter bachelor suite? At least I will be able to enjoy Granville Island and the rest of the seaway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/6962299614658717993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2014/06/to-really-live.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6962299614658717993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6962299614658717993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2014/06/to-really-live.html' title='To Really Live'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbR-00qx4_pQc7n8c3fhPX-fJx3K75z1wmraTpdh_OWFzwzv_TKRI46leUSvwzS5ej3xh9a-CSfoZ-jcVG-P4AcC2NwHBQffadMcCoJooat0xSYGn3YCHyKBC5jMjaYafHefZlvh66fQ/s72-c/20140415_152045.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-2773828338799636042</id><published>2013-03-09T17:38:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2013-03-09T17:38:35.548-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing Face</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
I have changed. I have clung now to earth tones instead of the satin colours of cloths that cover alters and drab around masters of worship. Don&#39;t get me wrong, I will still stand beside the altar and ask Almighty God - what steps do I take next? I will still bow down and hold the Cross as a key to my salvation. As I continue to do the sign of the cross, I will still feel holiness as I touch my hand to my forehead and feel the Creator&#39;s touch.&lt;br /&gt;
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Still, there is a silent &lt;i&gt;but&lt;/i&gt; inserted here. Instead of my old beliefs of how salvation is a one way street, I think to myself God is truly gracious. With all the old and new religions floating around- I believe there is some form of true element to them. Yes I believe creation happened in a series of events spanning more than thousands of years because &quot;wisdom sits in places&quot; as Keith Basso derived through Apache landscape and as evolutionary&amp;nbsp;theories&amp;nbsp;proclaim. Still, I hang on to the truth of a Creator. Also not a stupid one at all. One that His genius (or Her genius or both) did more than create but foresee human&#39;s tendency to see truth&amp;nbsp;differently&amp;nbsp;or more subjectively.&lt;br /&gt;
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And you know what? Maybe truth can be a subjective thing. Or more so, maybe there are more ways to tell the truth. The ultimate Truth about God does not then lie in His supposed prophets, false prophets, true prophets but lies in this, and summed up in only this: God is wise love. Yes, wise love that has lived since the beginning of this world. Who through seeing times passed and who,&amp;nbsp;responsible&amp;nbsp;for creating our inner selves alongside our outer selves knows the wars we have and are still continuing to rage against everything including religion.&lt;br /&gt;
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This truth gives me relieve. It makes me stop - even if for a moment or a couple of years - trying to find a one true religion. There is no such thing. Each faith, creed, whatever you want to call it, has some element of truth. Yet in our world we classify things into black and white, boxes, stages, types, and an either or world. This cannot be. Things could be a myriad of things, without us knowing.&lt;br /&gt;
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Others with this knowledge may then argue against religion all together. Humanity though needs some form of moral compass and faith can be one of those things, as long as things don&#39;t go into&amp;nbsp;extremities or get too soft spoken about everything. Balance is key. Maybe that&#39;s what the Great Creator in all His love and knowledge wants us to do, try our best to keep balance, because even the physical world screams for it. Besides, it&#39;s an exhausting thing to piece together the unseen realms. God did not intend it to be that way, rather more of a refreshing strengthing force in our lives.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
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- the phrase &quot;wisdom sits in places&quot; is from the Linguistic Anthropologist &amp;nbsp;Keith Basso&#39;s &lt;i&gt;Wisdom Sits in Places&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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-Picture is taken from&amp;nbsp;&lt;a class=&quot;irc_itl&quot; data-ved=&quot;0CAMQjhw&quot; href=&quot;http://www.istockphoto.com/stock-photo-12148264-multiracial-hands-making-a-circle.php&quot; id=&quot;irc_itl&quot; style=&quot;background-color: #222222; color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; display: inline !important; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 15px; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;irc_iis&quot; dir=&quot;ltr&quot; id=&quot;irc_pt&quot; style=&quot;color: #d6d6d6; display: inline !important; font-size: 22px; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;&quot;&gt;Multiracial Hands Making a Circle | Stock Photo | iStock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;irc_iis&quot; id=&quot;irc_hd&quot; style=&quot;background-color: #222222; color: #222222; display: block; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 16px; margin: -3px 0px 0px -3px; overflow: hidden; padding: 3px 0px 20px 3px; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;&quot;&gt;&lt;a class=&quot;irc_itl&quot; data-ved=&quot;0CAQQjB0&quot; href=&quot;http://www.istockphoto.com/stock-photo-12148264-multiracial-hands-making-a-circle.php&quot; id=&quot;irc_hol&quot; style=&quot;color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;irc_ho&quot; style=&quot;color: #d6d6d6; margin-right: -2px; padding-right: 2px;&quot;&gt;www.istockphoto.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;irc_dim&quot; style=&quot;color: #7d7d7d; font-size: 13px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;-&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;irc_idim&quot;&gt;380&amp;nbsp;×&amp;nbsp;380&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;-&amp;nbsp;&lt;a class=&quot;irc_itl&quot; href=&quot;https://www.google.ca/search?q=hands&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;biw=1366&amp;amp;bih=667&amp;amp;tbm=isch&amp;amp;tbs=simg%3ACAQSEgne9nktA5LNjCHvHIUqipem3g&amp;amp;ei=mOM7UZyeHumkyQG_qYCgDA&amp;amp;ved=0CAYQhxw&quot; id=&quot;irc_msl&quot; style=&quot;color: #1122cc; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #d6d6d6; text-decoration: underline;&quot;&gt;More sizes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/2773828338799636042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2013/03/changing-face.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2773828338799636042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2773828338799636042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2013/03/changing-face.html' title='Changing Face'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdVVAo5FM0J02-5-qJUCgDRUVK75lN56vub8EeYi48DyU1RnctwO4hjkgTL79d18yZz4IANEOWREoY2g-dFe20MQtIeiuS1nvwRLTm1LzxtrXrTc-aYc7xO0X5dSF4US2askwRTHWnRG4/s72-c/united+hands.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-9054115725658212024</id><published>2013-02-16T15:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2013-02-16T15:55:00.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words from my Diary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
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I wrote this on a piece of paper:&lt;br /&gt;
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Can you answer this for me?&lt;br /&gt;
Does one constantly change to&lt;br /&gt;
One day evolve into who they are meant to be&lt;br /&gt;
Or is one always becoming someone else,&lt;br /&gt;
Like a&amp;nbsp;continuous&amp;nbsp;spectrum of&lt;br /&gt;
Differing beliefs, goals and&amp;nbsp;aspirations?&lt;br /&gt;
And maybe luckily keeps a bit&lt;br /&gt;
Of their original essence of who&lt;br /&gt;
They are to be?&lt;br /&gt;
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I think of this. I think of how I&#39;ve changed, and yet how I&#39;m still the same. I still seek more. I&#39;m not looking for happiness- cause I&#39;ve found joy deep down. An&amp;nbsp;unexplainable&amp;nbsp;joy that lets me listen to the cars pass by as I wake up to a new day. A joy that lets me smell the morning air, rush home to feel safe.&lt;br /&gt;
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But I still go around making friends, telling friends only surface things. Surface things like how I like the new boy I&#39;m seeing. Surface things like how I can&#39;t wait to start that new job, and I can&#39;t wait to be part of a conference because I have a moment to speak.&lt;br /&gt;
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What I fail to tell them, is about that sharp empty feeling that comes unannounced. I fail to tell them how I&#39;m swimming in&amp;nbsp;financial&amp;nbsp;failure - and just can&#39;t get myself straighten up and how I wish I can share this burden with someone. And how that conference means more than just a&amp;nbsp;reignition- how it&#39;s actually a way &amp;nbsp;for me to escape that fear so I can express myself. &amp;nbsp;I fail to say how I wish I can have a forever friend. A 2AM crazy chat friend. Someone that it would be defiantly unquestionable not to see them every week.&lt;br /&gt;
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I can tell them about the music that makes me feel that I&#39;m reaching and touching eternity. I can tell them &amp;nbsp;about the words that jump at me on a page, a blog - that make me say to myself, &quot;Yes, I&#39;m not the only one that feels like this. Yes I am sane. Yes, I&#39;m on the right track. I&#39;m drawing water from Wisdom and have the ability to see my mistakes and like others have a hard time breaking these chained up habits. &quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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So what&#39;s the solution? I guess keep living, keep struggling. And go with caution- to push through - and look for others, open up to others about this wild crazy heart of mine.&lt;br /&gt;
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Link from&lt;br /&gt;
https://www.google.ca/url?sa=i&amp;amp;rct=j&amp;amp;q=&amp;amp;esrc=s&amp;amp;source=images&amp;amp;cd=&amp;amp;cad=rja&amp;amp;docid=CUHq76y1SHYGbM&amp;amp;tbnid=5IDXRdPefYScnM:&amp;amp;ved=&amp;amp;url=http%3A%2F%2Fboostquotes.blogspot.ca%2F2010%2F09%2Fsad-quotes.html&amp;amp;ei=LBQgUaKiPKH7igKt_ICIDA&amp;amp;bvm=bv.42661473,d.cGE&amp;amp;psig=AFQjCNGkoSBRANgCHf_Eb1jBikO0vQSyFQ&amp;amp;ust=1361143213205232&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/9054115725658212024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2013/02/words-from-my-diary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/9054115725658212024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/9054115725658212024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2013/02/words-from-my-diary.html' title='Words from my Diary'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHjN4xBe2sfiE4PEKX74C63aDTIxnSqqCrEULcxSZp7zuItCDoMJCyWdOOpMUDasE7crHwZ-FAEG9zRApLyzC3519VwDYKa5sMSBwNNXW_MCsVknILVz2b4-oDjryqa4OigEltmJtYWhg/s72-c/sad+lonely.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-960078549950298107</id><published>2012-09-25T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-25T22:14:03.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding Community</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
(In) Courage bloggers challenges its&amp;nbsp;on-line&amp;nbsp;community to find creative and practical ways to build a local community. The prompt is suppose to be for Fridays but since I had some lee-way today I thought why not do it on Tuesday? Then I&#39;ll link it up on Friday. Although, it won&#39;t be a Five-minute endeavour.&lt;br /&gt;
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Having formed our new group on Facebook, my friend&amp;nbsp;Tracheal&amp;nbsp;and along with a bunch of us girls&amp;nbsp;decided&amp;nbsp;to form a group that lets us live our fullest. We focus on inner growth to sustain joy and outer growth to build stronger links to one another, cause the truth is we are not born to live this life alone.&lt;br /&gt;
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What do we exactly do in Joy to Live (the name that Rachel beautifully chose)? Every second Sunday, we do something the group has an&amp;nbsp;interest&amp;nbsp;in. For example this Sunday, our first&amp;nbsp;official&amp;nbsp;event, we are making a vision board. We will be cutting pictures of anything that means something to us. It can be a quote we like, pictures of ourselves, our favourite food, or favourite activities and glue on, on some type of paper. (I&#39;ve never done one so do not know all the&amp;nbsp;intricacies&amp;nbsp;involved&amp;nbsp;in it). In the end of the collage we think of what our interests are and where we are heading in life.&lt;br /&gt;
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Some other things we have planned are: seeing a play, going to the local art museum, doing zumba and painting some pots we can get at the dollar store. &amp;nbsp;For zumba we have two great ladies in the group who are such&amp;nbsp;fabulous&amp;nbsp;and aspiring teachers.&lt;br /&gt;
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It&#39;s an open club that welcomes all that are&amp;nbsp;interested&amp;nbsp;and we find something affordable, environmental friendly and doable. I am&amp;nbsp;definitely&amp;nbsp;psyched for it and will keep everyone posted!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.casott.on.ca/_documents/images/community_pic.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;284&quot; src=&quot;http://www.casott.on.ca/_documents/images/community_pic.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Picture from&amp;nbsp;http://www.casott.on.ca/_documents/images/community_pic.jpg&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/960078549950298107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/finding-community.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/960078549950298107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/960078549950298107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/finding-community.html' title='Finding Community'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-8637805967020528643</id><published>2012-09-21T23:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-21T23:24:15.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Minute Fridays : Friday, September 21</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
So the bloggers I follow are part of a loving, and accepting community called [In] Courage and they share their blogs through that site. Every Friday Lisa-Jo encourages everyone to do a Five-minute Friday on their blog. Usually there is a prompt(theme) to write about. But since tonight I have a few things in mind, I will write about it. I&#39;ll write &quot;Go&quot; and keep writing non-stop for five minutes than after 5, I&#39;ll write &quot;Stop&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Go&lt;br /&gt;
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Today was a beautiful autumn day that will&amp;nbsp;definitely&amp;nbsp;stick with me. Being at Wild Earth&amp;nbsp;coffee-shop, it was inspiring to watch Emily sing her heart out. It inspired me to think again about pursuing vocals. I haven&#39;t heard from the MacEwan Art centre&#39;s music teachers. This week I will&amp;nbsp;definitely&amp;nbsp;pursue&amp;nbsp;that.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://img1.10bestmedia.com/Images/Photos/13125/resampled-wild-earth-exterior_6_400x400.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;http://img1.10bestmedia.com/Images/Photos/13125/resampled-wild-earth-exterior_6_400x400.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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So after Katie and I went to Wild Earth we stopped at the Wee Book Inn. The way we were treated was not nice to say the least, from a busy unfriendly sales&amp;nbsp;associate&amp;nbsp;who after rudely refusing my book trades and then telling Katie that she did not have &quot;Eat, Pray, and Love&quot; with no effort to try locating in on the computer, &amp;nbsp;started to&amp;nbsp;vacuum&amp;nbsp;close to us and after saying &quot;sorry, but you ladies have to move&quot; (this still not being close to closing time), started to usher us out of the&amp;nbsp;book store&amp;nbsp;with the vacumn cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;
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I whispered to Katie &quot;Don&#39;t get the book, let&#39;s&amp;nbsp;boycott&amp;nbsp;the place&quot; and we eventually left. That being said, tomorrow morning I am going to call the store and let them know about our&amp;nbsp;experience. Depending on how that talk will go, I will either fully boycott or accept an apology and move on. Wee Book Inn has always been one of my favourite&amp;nbsp;book stores&amp;nbsp;(though I do love almost all book-stores!), and I would like to continue to support their business. Will see!&lt;br /&gt;
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Stop&lt;br /&gt;
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That&#39;s what I got out for 5-mins.&lt;br /&gt;
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Pictures from&amp;nbsp;http://www.weebookinn.com/storage/locations/e1/e1int1.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1278693663413 and&amp;nbsp;http://img1.10bestmedia.com/Images/Photos/13125/resampled-wild-earth-exterior_6_400x400.jpg&lt;br /&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/8637805967020528643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/five-minute-fridays-friday-september-21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/8637805967020528643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/8637805967020528643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/five-minute-fridays-friday-september-21.html' title='Five Minute Fridays : Friday, September 21'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-2819894265581681932</id><published>2012-09-06T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-06T19:49:24.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter to Someone I Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
As you have known, I&#39;ve pushed and tugged against you. But what you have not known is that you are always on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;
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I think of you when someone inquires about the loved ones in my life. I think of you as I watch strangers bond in that relationship that is like none other. I think of you as someone brags and jokes about their special &amp;nbsp;bond. I think of you in the quite of the night, as I merge the past and the present together.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then I seriously ask myself about what it means to truly forgive. You have asked my forgiveness countless of times, but this pain runs deep, and I am afraid that a mere phone call may lead to&amp;nbsp;brokenness&amp;nbsp;again and again. Even knowing full well that being broken leads to healing, I am afraid there is no&amp;nbsp;concrete&amp;nbsp;healing in this&amp;nbsp;relationship.&lt;br /&gt;
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I am afraid that when I do see you, I will feel guilty that I have not been loving. Then I will also feel angry as &amp;nbsp;I try to blame this guilt on you.&lt;br /&gt;
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To you who I love, I know I have not been loving you well. So, as I run myself in circles&amp;nbsp;belittling&amp;nbsp;myself on what step to take next, I think to myself, I cannot do this alone. I then reach my hand out to the One you introduced me to, that long time ago on a terrain that we were forced to call home. I remember you telling me how only He could deliver us from turmoil. Since those fateful early days, my&amp;nbsp;relationship has gotten stronger with Him. And right now He urges me, to let it go. To let it go, and find a way back to you. To stop playing avoidance and be open and honest.&lt;br /&gt;
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For this forgiveness, this love, I must give to you, is the whole reason for our roaming in this strange world, that is not really ours. &amp;nbsp;And this love, like Love that brought us food and hope, is not passive. This love is active and does not sit down, going through it&#39;s should haves and could haves. This love walks forward.&lt;br /&gt;
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So to you I love, I walk forward, first with this letter, and next with a voice belonging to footsteps that tread back to the heart that held me, before anyone else did.&lt;br /&gt;
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Love,&lt;br /&gt;
Rose&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4151/5410617731_79bbf66476.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4151/5410617731_79bbf66476.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/2819894265581681932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-letter-to-someone-i-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2819894265581681932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2819894265581681932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-letter-to-someone-i-love.html' title='A Letter to Someone I Love'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4151/5410617731_79bbf66476_t.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-4806510341329644452</id><published>2012-07-07T21:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-07-07T21:42:54.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want/ I Have</title><content type='html'>I am going to hold my breath and plunge through this.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjwqmAky35iEbL-t7x_mRrf-ppjtRQjWz0iDPiH6xMEWAE5c9oqMlNhrlTFo_bw9WVjK2ihl7qkdutxR-W0MWlrr9lCwfei4lW6E4Bn6J1lucmEgfo_pgHZFUxL4ssffIMlnfRT2iSA/s400/IMG_9051.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjwqmAky35iEbL-t7x_mRrf-ppjtRQjWz0iDPiH6xMEWAE5c9oqMlNhrlTFo_bw9WVjK2ihl7qkdutxR-W0MWlrr9lCwfei4lW6E4Bn6J1lucmEgfo_pgHZFUxL4ssffIMlnfRT2iSA/s320/IMG_9051.JPG&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white;&quot;&gt;I am looking inside my fridge, and although it&#39;s filled with food, this is what runs through my mind &quot;boring food&quot;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Morning rush - I throw clothes all over the floor saying I have nothing to wear. Just the other day a young girl asks me whether I have lots of clothes or not. I tell her how I calculate that. I usually do laundry every two weeks, and if I go over the three week line, I still have lots of clothes to choose from. AND chances are, there are more than a few clothes that never get touched for more than months.&lt;br /&gt;
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I live in this material world, and I cannot blame anyone else but myself for being materialistic. Could you imagine going to a third world country, and saying, &quot;I won&#39;t eat that, it&#39;s blah&quot;?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://whatisacharity.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/poverty-charities.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;192&quot; src=&quot;http://whatisacharity.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/poverty-charities.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Even though I know this truth, this truth is hard to live by. I&#39;ve taken steps to change my outlook on having &quot;boring food&quot; or &quot;no clothes&quot;. The solution - be creative and resourceful. With clothes you can mix and match. With food go&amp;nbsp;on-line&amp;nbsp;for new&amp;nbsp;recipe&amp;nbsp;ideas, buy different kinds of foods- so that one can have many meal options.&lt;br /&gt;
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One of my problems with this is that doing the same thing takes less time and less effort. But I need to go against that mindset because the truth is that I want what I want until I have it. There&#39;s a saying &quot;gratitude is saying thank-you to God.&quot; And so I want to live that. I want to live in such a way that social justice and love are part of me.&lt;br /&gt;
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By being: creative, resourceful, and thankful, I can understand what I have, and put an effort towards helping those that do not have. This is not a guilt trip tactic, this is reality that embraces beauty by being considerate of the situation in our yard and others&#39; backyards.&lt;br /&gt;
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So my &quot;I wants&quot; become &quot;I haves&quot; and looks beneath the surface to envision a world that meets needs and wants.&lt;br /&gt;
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Pictures from -https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjwqmAky35iEbL-t7x_mRrf-ppjtRQjWz0iDPiH6xMEWAE5c9oqMlNhrlTFo_bw9WVjK2ihl7qkdutxR-W0MWlrr9lCwfei4lW6E4Bn6J1lucmEgfo_pgHZFUxL4ssffIMlnfRT2iSA/s400/IMG_9051.JPG&lt;br /&gt;
- http://whatisacharity.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/poverty-charities.jpg</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/4806510341329644452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/07/i-want-i-have.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4806510341329644452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4806510341329644452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/07/i-want-i-have.html' title='I Want/ I Have'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjwqmAky35iEbL-t7x_mRrf-ppjtRQjWz0iDPiH6xMEWAE5c9oqMlNhrlTFo_bw9WVjK2ihl7qkdutxR-W0MWlrr9lCwfei4lW6E4Bn6J1lucmEgfo_pgHZFUxL4ssffIMlnfRT2iSA/s72-c/IMG_9051.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-4718950760021868985</id><published>2012-05-16T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-05-16T20:31:39.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Growing Up Stuff</title><content type='html'>I&#39;ve heard the saying &quot;this growing up stuff ain&#39;t fair, and is hard&quot;, whispered in between lines from a book trenched with fear and defeat, trying to place hope in the minds of the reader through complex characters etched in ink, I&#39;ve heard it in songs through the sad lyrics with voices caught in pain, I&#39;ve seen it in the eyes of young actors suddenly discovering it through some life-altering event, and I&#39;ve seen it sketched in black ink, the child not understanding about this crazy grown up world.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5QsBQblheY56kKNIQMYQJiiESxEUKv0QXWVsWL92nCbSvwTSx5fMlycfofaXZWlhZcARWS_S7KU0z4VU19OOllxPs6tsw4n5KW7m1IRgmZrVMT1rnCp1PcH_MA4cdvZkF6jQcmouqSo/s1600/growing-up-is-never-easy.gif&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5QsBQblheY56kKNIQMYQJiiESxEUKv0QXWVsWL92nCbSvwTSx5fMlycfofaXZWlhZcARWS_S7KU0z4VU19OOllxPs6tsw4n5KW7m1IRgmZrVMT1rnCp1PcH_MA4cdvZkF6jQcmouqSo/s1600/growing-up-is-never-easy.gif&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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And I claimed I felt it when I realized that my Mother and I did not see eye to eye, but also that I could not explain my pain to her. For a moment in time, I felt shattered, all the pieces of me missing and not sure when it happened, but knowing it must have started with a child not allowed to explore her backyard.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEa8nh809Gx6w6GfvEm8OWnVAIckWPY2wBlEN3z-LX9Vf9nglHSL8CpTHPJEeNSJxryqfXhYPv96Ha6Sl3ijGpAvl12AXBvi2sKoueClkvAj4BmqIzpTjQ-BTi7krnbi5hQRRTUq3HN4/s1600/broken73_5Pieces-4.gif&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;213&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEa8nh809Gx6w6GfvEm8OWnVAIckWPY2wBlEN3z-LX9Vf9nglHSL8CpTHPJEeNSJxryqfXhYPv96Ha6Sl3ijGpAvl12AXBvi2sKoueClkvAj4BmqIzpTjQ-BTi7krnbi5hQRRTUq3HN4/s320/broken73_5Pieces-4.gif&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1e8hd-SZ0EORfz4rdojAdqbqBQGzksP4aNvlj9uNffiVv-3QH6ueQ0nSj5brf0_3snoo8gZyRepUB0j0h9xibr48A6EnCxtiGhvTNOV2qgTUR5SEdTpVQjMJczdgdQLWK37BI6PTJok/s1600/3856309044_e409e1f3c0_o.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1e8hd-SZ0EORfz4rdojAdqbqBQGzksP4aNvlj9uNffiVv-3QH6ueQ0nSj5brf0_3snoo8gZyRepUB0j0h9xibr48A6EnCxtiGhvTNOV2qgTUR5SEdTpVQjMJczdgdQLWK37BI6PTJok/s320/3856309044_e409e1f3c0_o.jpg&quot; width=&quot;213&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
So with all that, that has happened recently, I scramble around to be sure and confident. Whenever someone asks me, &quot;how do you do it, supporting yourself?&quot; I draw a blank. To me I did what I had to do. Though&amp;nbsp;definitely&amp;nbsp;not perfect, and most&amp;nbsp;absolutely&amp;nbsp;definitely&amp;nbsp;not in an organized manner. Though my attempts at organization did amount to something. Still when you are young and trying to organize, find yourself, and relish freedom, all the&amp;nbsp;priorities&amp;nbsp;get blurred. Not that I didn&#39;t know what came first, but feeling that I had to enjoy the eighteen years of my life that I never did, I choose the freedom in order to find myself. But it hits me hard now at twenty-three, when society asks one to be an adult yet at the same time looks at you as too young to understand.&lt;br /&gt;
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And now I think, if one wants to help raise a child, whether as a community or a family one should teach them the ways of&amp;nbsp;finances&amp;nbsp;and filing. Society laughs at the young broke college student, but forgets to ask &quot;who helped?&quot; It thinks that the young adult is irresponsible and should use common sense. I beg to differ. This growing up stuff is hard, and it would be a better journey if guidance is issued and little love and life lessons were passed down properly. As for now I&#39;ll take the extra steps to recognize and stick to a new plan, all the while storing up a bit of wisdom to pass on to the young adult that one day will cross paths with the older adult. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxLvRW83qLWaEViS779PN7XzrsfBpOpkTjC8K6RPa32D0pBT5cf9cDxBBQqApZJrmU4ZDsNJm3dUUun4Xic_ikUs6zhv3JJtQRoLHyPlo6TR4Z9JPz1wWL2bVpJZOJGUdQFbM4DoQAE8/s1600/Adult+female.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;268&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxLvRW83qLWaEViS779PN7XzrsfBpOpkTjC8K6RPa32D0pBT5cf9cDxBBQqApZJrmU4ZDsNJm3dUUun4Xic_ikUs6zhv3JJtQRoLHyPlo6TR4Z9JPz1wWL2bVpJZOJGUdQFbM4DoQAE8/s320/Adult+female.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Pictures courtesy of: -&lt;a href=&quot;http://ambertriniere.wordpress.com/2011/05/21/growing-up/&quot;&gt;http://ambertriniere.wordpress.com/2011/05/21/growing-up/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
-&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.webdesign.org/photoshop/photo-editing/broken-pieces-photo-effect-tutorial-using-photoshop.16943.html&quot;&gt;http://www.webdesign.org/photoshop/photo-editing/broken-pieces-photo-effect-tutorial-using-photoshop.16943.html&lt;/a&gt;
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-&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.letmefeelikeadoll.com/2009_07_01_archive.html&quot;&gt;http://www.letmefeelikeadoll.com/2009_07_01_archive.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
-&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.dyslexia-one.ca/adultdyslexia.html&quot;&gt;http://www.dyslexia-one.ca/adultdyslexia.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/4718950760021868985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/05/this-growing-up-stuff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4718950760021868985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4718950760021868985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/05/this-growing-up-stuff.html' title='This Growing Up Stuff'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5QsBQblheY56kKNIQMYQJiiESxEUKv0QXWVsWL92nCbSvwTSx5fMlycfofaXZWlhZcARWS_S7KU0z4VU19OOllxPs6tsw4n5KW7m1IRgmZrVMT1rnCp1PcH_MA4cdvZkF6jQcmouqSo/s72-c/growing-up-is-never-easy.gif" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-2075660684000015533</id><published>2012-04-25T21:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-09-25T22:19:33.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Monday - Another Trek by the River</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://peel.library.ualberta.ca/pcimages/PC/006/web/PC006716.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;252&quot; src=&quot;http://peel.library.ualberta.ca/pcimages/PC/006/web/PC006716.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Another evening walk down by the Saskatchewan River. This time I find new trails. The more&amp;nbsp;interesting&amp;nbsp;ones are the unmarked ones, only discovered through the ground that yields no plantation. I follow these paths, leaning in closer to the sounds of the river. Today, the islands of snow become mere clumps of snow.&lt;br /&gt;
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As I walk eastward, I discover benches calling me to stick around for reading and studying. Maybe tomorrow I may bring my books. Who knows? Aristotle might make more sense by the riverside. I did tackle him today beside my balcony windows, hoping that the sun might shed some light on his numerous words that form mazes in my head. Pondering these, I spot four seagulls on the horizon. Now only three are left then two, then back to three as the sunlight plays tricks on my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;For a moment I take off my sunglasses, basking in the even more serene sight, I am amazed by nature&#39;s beauty despite the stink of the sun&#39;s rays on my sensitive eyes. I&amp;nbsp;decide&amp;nbsp;that if I can I will unveil my eyes from shaded glasses, to grasp this&amp;nbsp;wondrous&amp;nbsp;site. For the shades dim the view and&amp;nbsp;discolour&amp;nbsp;it, losing the real&amp;nbsp;colours&amp;nbsp;of the water, sky and plants surrounding me here by the&amp;nbsp;Saskatchewan&amp;nbsp;River. &amp;nbsp;The faraway sound of the geese get closer, and I am just in time to see two&amp;nbsp;geese&amp;nbsp;sweep above me. I see their immensity and the grace they display as they fly to seek another side of the riverbank.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/2075660684000015533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter-monday-another-trek-by-river.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2075660684000015533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2075660684000015533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter-monday-another-trek-by-river.html' title='Easter Monday - Another Trek by the River'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-929333520511939194</id><published>2012-04-09T19:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-04-09T19:41:58.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Sunday</title><content type='html'>Stuffed, walking outside by the river,&lt;br /&gt;
Snow and leaves crunch under my black boots.&lt;br /&gt;
Sun brings blue&amp;nbsp;brilliance&amp;nbsp;to the sky.&lt;br /&gt;
I put my sunglasses on to watch&lt;br /&gt;
Faltering steps caused by&lt;br /&gt;
The daunting light of the sun.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My breath comes out free but&lt;br /&gt;
Lips are opened in a shape of o,&lt;br /&gt;
Surprised to find myself standing&lt;br /&gt;
So high from the riverbank.&lt;br /&gt;
I watch islands of snow&lt;br /&gt;
Float across the river.&lt;br /&gt;
Wild geese call to each other,&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes answered by the squeal of&lt;br /&gt;
Magnificent flying magpies.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Glancing down again, I am&lt;br /&gt;
Tempted to dive into the murky waters&lt;br /&gt;
Of the river.&lt;br /&gt;
I stop myself thinking of&lt;br /&gt;
The long way down.&lt;br /&gt;
The icy water not yet&lt;br /&gt;
Recovered from winter will leave me&lt;br /&gt;
Cold and disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes winter still lingers,&lt;br /&gt;
Though spring&#39;s sunshine melts&lt;br /&gt;
The snow, clearing the&lt;br /&gt;
Ground for hopeful walkers,&lt;br /&gt;
Needing a break from&lt;br /&gt;
Studying and self.&lt;br /&gt;
This visit from spring leads me&lt;br /&gt;
From being buried in despair,&lt;br /&gt;
Reconnecting with new Life&lt;br /&gt;
That defeats physical and&lt;br /&gt;
Emotional&amp;nbsp;death.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Walking onwards,&lt;br /&gt;
I discover my only way back&lt;br /&gt;
Is to retrace my steps or to&lt;br /&gt;
Climb up steep marks&lt;br /&gt;
That are&amp;nbsp;substituted&amp;nbsp;for stairs,&lt;br /&gt;
Now covered by snow.&lt;br /&gt;
I chose to climb, trudging,&lt;br /&gt;
Almost on all fours,&lt;br /&gt;
Gently grabbing skinny trees,&lt;br /&gt;
Thrilled that I can be&lt;br /&gt;
Fearless in some areas of my life.&lt;br /&gt;
I dug the fence, fingers cold, knowing&lt;br /&gt;
I must get back.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/929333520511939194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter-sunday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/929333520511939194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/929333520511939194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter-sunday.html' title='Easter Sunday'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-4717667859338786226</id><published>2012-04-09T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-04-09T14:32:55.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;Lovelockdown&quot;</title><content type='html'>I am stealing the title from Kanye West.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5kE-upc5UHJNXAflNCLBaUeHh-nycxpkjVtz2beamtXEB-3cb35wkJuxRISXIwlWn7t-11T6F6Of16WfLjteSXnT1I8Mu297JMKbuMPZGGe8siWymlyRT3-TPA4hAiNHUu9-HZnra_M/s1600/cages.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;207&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5kE-upc5UHJNXAflNCLBaUeHh-nycxpkjVtz2beamtXEB-3cb35wkJuxRISXIwlWn7t-11T6F6Of16WfLjteSXnT1I8Mu297JMKbuMPZGGe8siWymlyRT3-TPA4hAiNHUu9-HZnra_M/s320/cages.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I knew it from the start. I could not care and love that way. First of this was all new to me. Me, the loner that I am. Afraid and suspicious of anyone that gives me a second look. Always finding fault at the beginning, to save myself the trouble later.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
Well, when you get caught in a lovelockdown, you are locked. At first I gave it my all, knowing the idea of it blinded me to believe that I was caught in an eros moment, when really I was caught in an Augustine &quot;in love with love&quot; moment. My heart was thinking, &quot;love,love,love and give people a chance.&quot; My mind said, &quot;this can never work, your stages in life conflict. &quot; My conscience played devil&#39;s advocate. &quot;You open the lock, and you open up hurt, and you become the heart breaker.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the end I&amp;nbsp;managed&amp;nbsp;to unlock myself, not alone though. Two people who just mere&amp;nbsp;acquittance played &quot;tough love&quot;and pulled me back to my feet, back to reality. These two, I am ever grateful for. They made me face my fear and pushed me even though I was&amp;nbsp;fiercely&amp;nbsp;shaking my head no, and wanted to bolt the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The words &quot;no man is an island&quot; brought me to another reality zone. I keep thinking I am in this alone. When in truth many shape me and help me. And why is it that it&#39;s the&amp;nbsp;passer-bys&amp;nbsp;in life, that seem to know me well then the guests that always come to visit?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iXSOwDr2mfEE7MfGBGqmxTvsvg0k6nc1JVVUoIKhEBY-CY4bAFiLPFvAma9Pg3PLc4iRwCm5EAKS2sW2yO0nq0OgCIuRxMmMoR740VlhF9P3kXg3U4YySLVAJBp7DzfFGYFr24uXITA/s1600/2hearts.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iXSOwDr2mfEE7MfGBGqmxTvsvg0k6nc1JVVUoIKhEBY-CY4bAFiLPFvAma9Pg3PLc4iRwCm5EAKS2sW2yO0nq0OgCIuRxMmMoR740VlhF9P3kXg3U4YySLVAJBp7DzfFGYFr24uXITA/s320/2hearts.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lovelockdown. I think that word can go for other&amp;nbsp;relationships&amp;nbsp;in my life too. Until next time . . .</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/4717667859338786226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/lovelockdown.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4717667859338786226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/4717667859338786226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/04/lovelockdown.html' title='&quot;Lovelockdown&quot;'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5kE-upc5UHJNXAflNCLBaUeHh-nycxpkjVtz2beamtXEB-3cb35wkJuxRISXIwlWn7t-11T6F6Of16WfLjteSXnT1I8Mu297JMKbuMPZGGe8siWymlyRT3-TPA4hAiNHUu9-HZnra_M/s72-c/cages.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-6201267040041963145</id><published>2012-02-29T20:43:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2012-09-25T22:29:50.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
Usually when I read what Bonnie&#39;s topic for the Faith Jam Thursdays are I am psyched, and by the end of the week I&#39;m&amp;nbsp;bombarded by keeping up with my schedule to post anything. Today, I&#39;m prepared to write. However, when I saw the topic on the screen: trust, I hesitated thinking to myself, &quot;I don&#39;t want to do it on this topic. There&#39;s nothing I can come up with for this.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An hour passes, as I go about checking my emails, facebook, and browse around the web. It hits me, I don&#39;t want to talk about trust, because I struggle with it. So like a lot of things that I push away, I revisit again. Not because I am eager, or have nothing better to (insert lame laughter here), but because of the simple promise I made to myself&amp;nbsp;journeying&amp;nbsp;through 2011. I promised myself that I will not do something, simply because of fear. And so here I trudge along with trust and&amp;nbsp;decide&amp;nbsp;to string a couple words together on how I feel and&amp;nbsp;perceive trust&amp;nbsp;. &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thanks, Bonnie for challenging me to this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Hands too afraid to clasp,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Afraid the other will let go.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;The heart faltering,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To just have a whisper&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Of assurance, to keep going onwards.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Life&#39;s challenges,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Swarming, spinning,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Leaving me dizzy,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Afraid.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Suspicions arise&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Accusing&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;That the ultimate Love&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Promise is not meant&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;For me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Soul boundless,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Longing to grip&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;The Hand of the Spirit.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;One hand grips the Saviour&#39;s.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;The other hand compelled&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To connect with others.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Words echo to remind&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Me that one does&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Not go through life&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Motionless, singular.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Life meant to live&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;In community.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Fear clutches,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Not wanting to reach&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;To embrace.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Uncertainty&amp;nbsp;fidgets&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Holds on for awhile,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Lets go.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I start back at one&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Hands too afraid to clasp. . .&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;My eyes stray to&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;One outside of me,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Knowing one day&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Both hands will&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Hold will be stretched in&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Sureness.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://vlovers.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/love-trust.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;http://vlovers.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/love-trust.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #505050; font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;&quot;&gt;http://gallery.mailchimp.com/dbf7e0eef4523a1c28bdc2bba/files/FaithBarista_FreshJamBadge_Stacked2.jpg&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/6201267040041963145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/02/trust.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6201267040041963145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6201267040041963145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2012/02/trust.html' title='Trust'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-290529471111805031</id><published>2011-11-25T22:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T22:58:00.091-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table cellpadding=&quot;0&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;tr-caption-container&quot; style=&quot;float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;&quot;&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://api.ning.com/files/8UENFmjSbAa5twjh3HB7iAbq*SZxMqeSf6yn3doorz5bO-ahUOGic88KFuZ2v6nhDbMw6QdjpZFVgYBM4U6S4QkzDsO*jwwf/119bible20verses.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; cssfloat: right; height: 240px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 541px;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; hda=&quot;true&quot; height=&quot;480&quot; src=&quot;http://api.ning.com/files/8UENFmjSbAa5twjh3HB7iAbq*SZxMqeSf6yn3doorz5bO-ahUOGic88KFuZ2v6nhDbMw6QdjpZFVgYBM4U6S4QkzDsO*jwwf/119bible20verses.jpg&quot; width=&quot;640&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class=&quot;tr-caption&quot; style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://api.ning.com/files/8UENFmjSbAa5twjh3HB7iAbq*SZxMqeSf6yn3doorz5bO-ahUOGic88KFuZ2v6nhDbMw6QdjpZFVgYBM4U6S4QkzDsO*jwwf/119bible20verses.jpg&quot;&gt;http://api.ning.com/files/8UENFmjSbAa5twjh3HB7iAbq*SZxMqeSf6yn3doorz5bO-ahUOGic88KFuZ2v6nhDbMw6QdjpZFVgYBM4U6S4QkzDsO*jwwf/119bible20verses.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;Even though I know how much words can hurt, it still comes as a surprise when piercing words tear me apart or when my words have broken someone. A couple of weeks ago, a close friend of mine told me something that hurt me. But like many hurts, this hurt leads me both to pain, and a small bandage that is slowly opening the door to healing and revelation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;I knew things were strained between us. He didn&#39;t pick up on phone calls or response to&amp;nbsp;text messages. And when he did call his conversations were cut short. As for the text messages there were tart, clip, replies instead of his usual labour of love strung through funny antidotes. So before he left, I stepped right up to him and told him that we needed to talk. Yes we needed to talk, out in the hallway from any ears and distractions. He reluctantly followed me out. He still hesitated and tried to get away from our talk by stating that there was nothing wrong&amp;nbsp;between us, that he had just been busy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;He eventually told me what had pushed him away. You see he and I belong to a circle of friends, that I have felt, since that fateful day in the hallway of my apartment, needed to be adjourned. Some of us had met in high school, some in the university halls. Either way our group was too interconnected that each person budded in one others&#39; business to the point that there was no privacy. At the end of the day nobody could really sincerely say who it was that spilled one secret to the other. So we all started to play the blame game.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;In this blame game I became another person to blame. Many times I got confused. He would insist that I was the one that spilled it all. Till this moment I am confused. I sincerely felt that I didn&#39;t spew anything. But it wasn&#39;t even that accusation that stung me. It was the hiding game that he played that led to a slash in my tender heart. Flashback to the same time last year – someone else had broken my heart in this way. During that time he was there to pick me up and reassured me that he would never play avoidance with me. He went back on a promise. He broke my heart, because I thought he was one of the few I can count on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;There was also something else that he said that made me quite uncomfortable. This one I saw coming. Still it was strange territory. At this point in his life (and I have to admit I am going through this too) he has many people that tare him apart. Many empty promises and many useless friendships that couldn’t go deep. Countless times over the summer we had discussions circling on those tipsy turvy friendships. It got to a point where he didn’t believe in friendships. I told him that he shouldn’t be a “cynic”, and that if anything bothered him in a friendship he needed to step up instead of being “passive aggressive”. Do you see where these labels landed me in hot water, even though I had good intentions? I kept reminding him that I was also working through shaky friendships. I told him that we will get through this. We are young, we are discovering life, we need to find the little light and keep going. Somehow this made him more upset. He wanted me to see his pain, and felt that I was sweeping it under rugs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;I feared for him. I didn’t want him to lose hope. I knew despair. Despair has walked with me all my life and threatens to continue to daily. I know that despair and fear are friends. There are elements that breathe death instead of life. I didn’t want to see someone I love with a beautiful heart, let others’ meanness drive him into a dark hole. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;This event out in the hallway of my apartment suite, made me realize how rocky our friendship is. Maybe we got too involved in each other’s lives, maybe we couldn’t understand each other’s viewpoints, maybe we are just growing apart, or maybe it’s all these reasons meshed together. Whatever it is, I know for sure that we are not standing on stable ground. Then something else struck me. I remember in the Old Testament that verse about putting trust in God more than men. You see at this moment, I am re-reading a book by Ron Rolhessier called &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Against an Infinite Horizon&lt;/i&gt;. This book touches on how we as humans are forever “restless until we rest in God,” as St. Augustine relates in his &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Confessions&lt;/i&gt;. No matter what connections we have, these relationships cannot fulfill our longing for God. Yet we try to fill this longing, through others, or things, or both. Maybe both him and I want someone to fully understand us. That cannot be. Even we don’t fully understand ourselves. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;So what to do? I realize I may have to form stronger boundaries around people that surround me with negativity. Maybe I may also have to find people that are my age that are going through a similar faith journey. I may also have to ease up on trying to make people fully understand me, because only God can understand our utmost being. Another question haunts me. Where do you draw the line? How do you know who should or shouldn’t enter your life? I am beginning to understand that in love one cannot just only keep giving or just taking. No, things need to be balanced. I need to find friendships where I am not just giving, or just taking, but that both parties are freely giving and taking. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, &amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;&quot;&gt;Those words that I said that affected him negatively got me thinking that one can never be too careful with the matters of the heart. We break each other without intending to. We are forever put in the spotlight to decide what to say or what not to say. Do I regret calling him a “cynic” and “passive aggressive”? Not, exactly. One day he may be thankful or maybe he would never think of it as me trying to help. Still, I felt I needed to tell him. Next time, I will find other words to convey my emotions towards his anger. As for his accusations, I think I am not guilty. I do respect his opinion on what I supposedly did, and I don’t wish for him to take back his words. If I did I would be contradicting myself. How did this bring healing to me? It made me aware of my humanness. I am not perfect, and through each imperfection I can find myself closer to Christ. I can look at my mistakes and understand that without God’s relationship every other relationship doesn’t have meaning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/290529471111805031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/11/words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/290529471111805031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/290529471111805031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/11/words.html' title='Words'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-6524340212717558056</id><published>2011-11-03T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T23:07:51.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Redemption</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;/&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;398&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAw_cEL2O5OyNyMjUW89rYXTNWpFDT0fUa-JEZeGoHWcU1wUMLNvRgf30fvZNZgZpCBTYmlNRqU55eU6kojPdyUr2jMWMvrTRbjf1L58d5mGSNSmrpyBmGTP-qee66SypW5UDTHez7z-o/s400/lovingfather.gif&quot; width=&quot;266&quot; /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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I was looking for love in the wrong places. And I wasn’t even new to the fact that Christ was there for me. I had embraced that truth. Yet still I was restless and for awhile there placed myself through fire and I got burned badly. I stayed away from church for a month or so. I kept feeling dirty. &lt;br /&gt;
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But you know what? The minute that I started to feel sorry for what I had done, I felt redemption all around, even before I entered the confessional. Christ forgave me. And it’s not the kind of forgiveness that says “I understand that you felt bad for what you did. So I forgive you but I am keeping my eyes still open”. It’s the kind of forgiveness that says “I will cast your sins from my back”. In other words all is forgotten. I am a new creation and washed white all over, stainless. &lt;br /&gt;
This gift of redemption fills me full until my cup is brimming. &lt;br /&gt;
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Another surprising factor about redemption is that is makes us face our insecurities and begin to understand that we truly are our own worst judges. Christ tells Mary Magaldaene “I too don’t find any sin. Go in peace and sin no more.” With those words He conforms that He doesn’t find anything against us and we shouldn’t behold judgement on ourselves from others or own negative self evaluation.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3E%3Cbr%20/%3E&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;lt;a href=&quot;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3e%3cbr/&quot;&gt;http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3e%3cbr/&lt;/a&gt; /&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/6524340212717558056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/11/redemption.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6524340212717558056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6524340212717558056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/11/redemption.html' title='Redemption'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAw_cEL2O5OyNyMjUW89rYXTNWpFDT0fUa-JEZeGoHWcU1wUMLNvRgf30fvZNZgZpCBTYmlNRqU55eU6kojPdyUr2jMWMvrTRbjf1L58d5mGSNSmrpyBmGTP-qee66SypW5UDTHez7z-o/s72-c/lovingfather.gif" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-3262418043766896520</id><published>2011-10-09T00:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-04-25T21:57:22.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Autumn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bXYfw3zkR347JKlA8oZktWZi-1N9TU7UjikMw1BQLY2cKVPO-qTHzCclLGQnWQ-8MRSUkyBvxvdfbMF77cDwNQ6P-fEFCvJRUfI6EWqLn82ci9M_BaWw4gAR1iX7F7kvqCqPgE1TBFe5/s1600/autumn-paint-colors.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;269&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bXYfw3zkR347JKlA8oZktWZi-1N9TU7UjikMw1BQLY2cKVPO-qTHzCclLGQnWQ-8MRSUkyBvxvdfbMF77cDwNQ6P-fEFCvJRUfI6EWqLn82ci9M_BaWw4gAR1iX7F7kvqCqPgE1TBFe5/s1600/autumn-paint-colors.jpg&quot; width=&quot;526&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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This season has always been my favourite in Edmonton. The air and the colors speak of change. It has always marked the change of a new school or work year. And somehow even though the ryhtmn of summer is relaxed, there is always a glad welcoming of routine.&lt;br /&gt;
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This autumn in particular marked the coming back into a school setting for me and a new work place. Again there is the anticaption,anxiousness, exictment and newness that follows. The scenes of nature heighten these emotions. I breath in the coolness of the wind. I see the golden colors reflected in nature and caputured in gold tints in my living room.&lt;br /&gt;
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As with a lot of things in life, there is always the flipside of it. Change is hard. When there are so many changes to adjust to, and so much work to be done it&#39;s hard maintaing solid relationships. Many times it feels like people are not there and I fight this lie. Because I know I am surrounded by people who care. To the bus driver that stops for me everytime, to friends know something&#39;s a foot,by a quick glance at you.&lt;br /&gt;
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There is is also that internal battle with fear. Being called upon to voice my opinion in a topic I don&#39;t like to talk about, I sweat when my name is mentioned in class. There is that fear that if I study till I drop I will fail anyways. &lt;br /&gt;
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At this moment as the darkness comes much earlier and daylight doesn&#39;t stay too long, I know I again have to refocus. Refocus on what really matters. On my goals at this moment. Looking and living this present moment, instead of jumping into the future. I need to &quot;get back to the heart of worship&quot;. Revisit why I do what I do. It&#39;s so easy to get side tracked. It&#39;s so easy to lose love. In our fast paced worlds we always want someone to be there fast. And so we lose trust in God. Because we want quick answers. We get easliy annoyed by loved ones. A slip in a text message or lack of, can set us on edge. A long unreturened call can make us lose trust in love, because we are blinded by our past history of failing love.&lt;br /&gt;
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What&#39;s a girl gatta do then? Just take a breath. Live day by day. Look for the postive, be thankful, seek the heart of God because whether I like to admit it or not, I need Him more than oxygen.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/3262418043766896520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/10/autumn.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/3262418043766896520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/3262418043766896520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/10/autumn.html' title='Autumn'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bXYfw3zkR347JKlA8oZktWZi-1N9TU7UjikMw1BQLY2cKVPO-qTHzCclLGQnWQ-8MRSUkyBvxvdfbMF77cDwNQ6P-fEFCvJRUfI6EWqLn82ci9M_BaWw4gAR1iX7F7kvqCqPgE1TBFe5/s72-c/autumn-paint-colors.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-9034471491356095634</id><published>2011-09-26T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T19:16:47.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fear</title><content type='html'>So Angie and Jess from the (In) Courage team asked us readers to share our fears. (Takes a breath) Here I go!&lt;br /&gt;
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Every year I make a list of resolutions and a title that sums up the resolutions. For example, a couple years ago, I had titled that year to be a year &quot;to find heart&quot;. With that I took to &#39;heart&#39; to do what David did in the Bible &quot;a man after God&#39;s heart&quot;. I seek to do things that would bring me closer to become more loving, like Christ. This year my title was: &quot;Live fearlessly, Love fiercely&quot;. For the purposes of today&#39;s segment I will highlight the first part.&lt;br /&gt;
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During this year I kept telling myself, &quot;What&#39;s the worst that can happen?&quot; So what if I ventured into this new adventure, and failed miserably? Isn&#39;t God in His goodness going to pick me up, and like in past events, things will become clearer and better? &lt;br /&gt;
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I used this frame of thought in the summer when I had to get in front of a congregation, telling them about my journey with Christ. Getting up on the pulpit my heart was racing, stomach churning, and my hands sweating profusely. &quot;What&#39;s the worst that can happen?&quot; I tell myself. Then Jesus&#39; voice &quot;I am with you. I have already gone before you and have seen how it will go. And it will go more than alright&quot;. With those words in mind, I went up and looked around the congregation. Surprise, surprise! They looked like how I felt, nervous, and curious of what this stranger was going to say to them. I looked into their eyes and said what I hoped the Spirit wanted me to tell them.&lt;br /&gt;
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In my life not every encounter with fear ends like that. In an earlier blog I had touched basis on the struggles my family goes through. This weekend my oldest sister came over. The stories she shared with me about our family appalled me yet again. I was frozen and on fire all at once. What do you do when a brother plays a game that can easily cut off his life? What do you do when violence surrounds your family at every turn? &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfjhW3mGbYEAm8FQ7-R087Z_oIt2wHlU4rkmBhr2gdhc8RiW12TLz3tzhEX-Pe0oc3Zg62_pSIuT3kRVylWR7pos7E0IVxOuSRuxLSdvxPOQpWE3B-rCPX1nEp2VpIfEidLXQXKItAnU/s1600/2048844231_6541292a9f.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;266&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfjhW3mGbYEAm8FQ7-R087Z_oIt2wHlU4rkmBhr2gdhc8RiW12TLz3tzhEX-Pe0oc3Zg62_pSIuT3kRVylWR7pos7E0IVxOuSRuxLSdvxPOQpWE3B-rCPX1nEp2VpIfEidLXQXKItAnU/s400/2048844231_6541292a9f.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
At work I collaborate with families at risk. Their stories are painful and at the end of the day I am left drained and helpless. My fear is that I won&#39;t know what to do. And if I do know what I can do, I fear saying or doing something at the wrong time. &lt;br /&gt;
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In situations like these all I am certain of doing is pray. There is pain in offering a prayer for those you love, that suffer deeply. When I pray for myself I do struggle to trust God with it all, yet it&#39;s gotten easier with time. However, I can&#39;t let go of crises of loved ones and surrendering it to God. I am afraid that when something changes for them, it will be too late. With this I let fear take control. I know deep inside that Christ loves these people more than I can ever love them. I am afraid of the letting go. I fret endlessly. Fidgeting in my bed before sleep comes, then when sleep does come, tossing through nightmares of those oh-so-real issues. &lt;br /&gt;
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I continue to pray and I pray for all the people including the (In) courage team and their readers that commented or didn&#39;t comment - for our battle with fear. I pray for the gift of trusting God and ourselves to do the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.incourage.me/2011/09/what-women-fear-good-reads-gift-basket-giveaway.html#comment-102262&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/9034471491356095634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/09/fear_26.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/9034471491356095634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/9034471491356095634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/09/fear_26.html' title='Fear'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfjhW3mGbYEAm8FQ7-R087Z_oIt2wHlU4rkmBhr2gdhc8RiW12TLz3tzhEX-Pe0oc3Zg62_pSIuT3kRVylWR7pos7E0IVxOuSRuxLSdvxPOQpWE3B-rCPX1nEp2VpIfEidLXQXKItAnU/s72-c/2048844231_6541292a9f.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-6720551405735578552</id><published>2011-07-14T21:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T22:04:16.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FAITH</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3E%3Cbr%20/%3E&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&quot;Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.&quot; Hebrews Chapter 11 is the best chapter that defines faith. Right now more than ever I am limping by through the virtues of faith and hope. &lt;br /&gt;
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One of my younger sisters is in so much trouble. She has gotten herself in a relationship that has changed her into something that she is not meant to be. I know Lord that You want better for her. So my heart just aches and aches, for blood ties etch deeper than we could ever imagine. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And my Mother she has gone through so much. Although our relationship is still in shaky ground, it is better than before. Then in faith I ask Jesus to soften my heart and let go of unforgiveness. Mami works so hard and in this strange country that she has come to, to find freedom, her heart is still broken. She pines and cares deeply for her children as only a mother could.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then there is the family back in Uganda. They have prayed so hard to come to Canada. To find better health a safer place . . .So I pray along with them the same prayers a 5 year old me prayed about 14years ago. Praying that faith will bring them closer to us. . .&lt;br /&gt;
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There is the question of faith I encounter in the everyday with friends and coworkers. Searching looking for something. All I can do is hold my breath knowing that faith is right in front of them. I ask Jesus to fight for them like He has fought for me so many times. &lt;br /&gt;
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Again, I am stuck in crossroads. Decisions, decisions. Do I go down this path? If I do am I going to regret it? Through faith though these crossroads have become little paths in the forest, leading me to green pastures and on occasion lead me to refreshing rivers from gushing waterfalls, full of grace. In these woods I learn about perseverance, hard but rewarding love. Yes life hurts but the sun will always shine and rain causes the shrubs to blossom and some to grow into trees.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; m$=&quot;true&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRHn712mX5LXc4Rl7mcRDW396DOrEJTDw8qvWm8IO-eXsy2QwvtTTNITvWUw1ZQx_arYcOXe1ORtd1hQCDPl95ntVpCfci8joD2igWqaXBCVIobB2tfm-9OjncitboItYyUhDBwestvg/s320/nature_photos2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3E%3Cbr%20/%3E&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;img alt=&quot;FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG&quot; height=&quot;59&quot; src=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG.jpg&quot; title=&quot;FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG&quot; width=&quot;468&quot; /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/6720551405735578552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/07/faith.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6720551405735578552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6720551405735578552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/07/faith.html' title='FAITH'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRHn712mX5LXc4Rl7mcRDW396DOrEJTDw8qvWm8IO-eXsy2QwvtTTNITvWUw1ZQx_arYcOXe1ORtd1hQCDPl95ntVpCfci8joD2igWqaXBCVIobB2tfm-9OjncitboItYyUhDBwestvg/s72-c/nature_photos2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-1325977424914410617</id><published>2011-07-06T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2015-05-18T13:13:00.492-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Faith Barista"/><title type='text'>Our Space Together</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.faithbarista.com%22%3E%3Cbr%20/%3E&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;
(I am part of a faith jamming group of bloggers with the Faith Barista. Every Thursday she challenges countless bloggers to jam about their journey of faith. Her link is on the bottom of the page) &lt;br&gt;
&lt;br&gt;
When I think of what you, Bonnie, call &quot;whitespace&quot; I think of stolen moments throughout my day with God. I think of times during the day when His name is desperate on my lips because I am so close to getting in trouble or I am in a sticky situation. I also think of times when His name is on my heart on inspiring summer days when I can feel Him in each blade of grass, each caress of the wind and His reflection on the sparkling river I pass each day I go to work. &lt;br&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7PDUUSrwgbLiyc5XvxElbuIHfowtHYx8MFtO75b5fPJDGB9h4Yf8LpiT046JG7Ccs7muMRmha35dFTCA8tA-TJWaHybLdHoXDtdWcSFfwKGiZSztOy_deE4mOHlRw0KhNzxqIpeoQl8/s1600/beautiful_Nature.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7PDUUSrwgbLiyc5XvxElbuIHfowtHYx8MFtO75b5fPJDGB9h4Yf8LpiT046JG7Ccs7muMRmha35dFTCA8tA-TJWaHybLdHoXDtdWcSFfwKGiZSztOy_deE4mOHlRw0KhNzxqIpeoQl8/s400/beautiful_Nature.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;During these times whether our conversation is brief or not- the feeling of being overwhelmed fills me. There seems to be so much to do and yet so little time. For me, though I don&#39;t have the responsibility of a family, my long commute to and from work overwhelms me when I get home. Everything in the house is scattered : clothes, dishes, and always tons and tons of paperwork. I am brought to Him in our space together asking &quot;when do I have time for this . . .&quot; &lt;br&gt;
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As I enter into His grace and I let Him coax me in, just simply breathing - everything seems to look a little more doable. He tells me in our space together that He is in control. I need to take each task one at a time. I need to prioritize and accept at the same time that there will be some hectic days when I come home burnt out, collapsing in bed and not getting anything on the list done &amp;nbsp;- AND IT&#39;S OK. Then days of accomplishing a lot before bedtime will come too BUT I need to learn to balance the two different days and let His life flow through me in everyday.&lt;br&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;br&gt;
&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;
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&lt;img alt=&quot;FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG&quot; height=&quot;59&quot; src=&quot;http://www.faithbarista.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG.jpg&quot; title=&quot;FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG&quot; width=&quot;468&quot;&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/1325977424914410617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/07/our-space-together.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/1325977424914410617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/1325977424914410617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/07/our-space-together.html' title='Our Space Together'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7PDUUSrwgbLiyc5XvxElbuIHfowtHYx8MFtO75b5fPJDGB9h4Yf8LpiT046JG7Ccs7muMRmha35dFTCA8tA-TJWaHybLdHoXDtdWcSFfwKGiZSztOy_deE4mOHlRw0KhNzxqIpeoQl8/s72-c/beautiful_Nature.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-3764015387996354493</id><published>2011-06-15T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T21:45:05.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Writings on the Sand</title><content type='html'>This is a story that must be posted. This particular story forms who I am and who I can become. It&#39;s a crazy-wild love story that echoes through the centuries. It talks about pain, rejection, betrayal, acceptance and forever love.&lt;br /&gt;
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She was looked down on by society. They frowned down on her. Some said it was because she had cheated with the one she was tied to. Others said she had spurred her family with an adulterous heart and body. Magdalene was rejected by society, betrayed by those who loved her. Society&#39;s expectations were high for her a Jewish woman. Mary, who among her people to begin with, was belittled being a woman, had now become less than an animal-one that had to be stoned.&lt;br /&gt;
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So the leaders of her town brought her to Jesus, ready to stone her and test Him. He bluntly told them while scribbling madly in the sand - &quot;Those without sin let them cast the first stone&quot;. That day no stone was cast. After Mary&#39;s accusers left the Lord told her that He found no fault in her. A man who was born without any stint - who had every right to accuse her - instead in His perfection made her brokenness pure.&lt;br /&gt;
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Many times I find myself on that ancient land lying on Jesus&#39; feet just like Mary did. In my past I was looked down on, rejected, because I was different and stubborn. For many years and even in some occasions and events in the present, I had believed that deep inside I was truly selfish, could never belong anywhere, and was not even worth a small battle for.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NqsSo915ZZfNbh_S4tfNqJ1QJz_L2-UMnL4n4LNBm7cN3S91TLH8y5nvkh69TGJmWvYJKzdnTB3JhWVgPczL70XfG_tvnYQaWH07JDt7ZapLyBdO8dqqMJtaDdpWCcoEwUgFwyYU4h8/s1600/marymag.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;194&quot; width=&quot;259&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NqsSo915ZZfNbh_S4tfNqJ1QJz_L2-UMnL4n4LNBm7cN3S91TLH8y5nvkh69TGJmWvYJKzdnTB3JhWVgPczL70XfG_tvnYQaWH07JDt7ZapLyBdO8dqqMJtaDdpWCcoEwUgFwyYU4h8/s400/marymag.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Yet I stand, actually most times in a heap on the ground, around His feet. Each time He takes His hand and propels me to a higher ground. A ground, a place, a presence full of Love. One that dissipates any thoughts of ever being worthless. Because He who is pure and right dares to love me, to deem me priceless although I am insignificant in many ways. Not only did He take a chance to die for me, just so one day I can feel His joy and peace and be His other Self, He constantly takes my broken pieces in His hands. Suffers and feels my pain, in this journey that leaves me dizzy aching for a way out.&lt;br /&gt;
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So when He asks me occasionally in His small and big ways whether I will take His hand and do everything for Him, I can&#39;t resist a fought out yes. I feel honoured - even though I know the world will disrespect me. I feel ecstasy- though I am overwhelmed by this wild unearthly Love. I feel joy - even though situations leave me pained; at the end of the day His Spirit pours on me and helps me find humour, peace, and beauty in situations that leave me breathless, and wishing I wished I was anywhere but here.&lt;br /&gt;
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Writing this post that I have been aching to write for a long time - I still cannot get the right words. I cannot quite explain how I feel that Christ is writing a love letter to me on the sand. That those writings on the sand where not only meant for Mary and her accusers to read. That He is there on every occasion, especially the ones where I feel fingers are being pointed at me. Or when I feel that the world doesn&#39;t get me and want to hide inside my shell. &lt;br /&gt;
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The writings on the sand - Mary’s story - are a big chunk of my redemption story. When I watched this story unfold in part of the &quot;Passion of the Christ” movie I knew instantly that Christ had my heart. That He always will. Even though I run from Him &quot;the Hound of Heaven&quot; when life gets tough, or some temporally idea draws me in, I know, and He especially knows that I will always be His. In this I find much comfort. I feel like an infant, though the day was or I was temperamental, I could still lie snug in my bed knowing I am home, secure, and loved. &lt;br /&gt;
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As for rejection, betrayal, and pain they will not have the last words on my heart. With His tender hands, words like &quot;acceptance, precious you, and assurance&quot; are the final words that will soothe the wounds. So who am I? I am loved, and my destiny will speak of victories that reap peace and healing. All because Love leads me always.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDkvKvknRsPK22nenlnSxCCY-dP2gxpvINZr8cMN44r73gxnBgBsu-CJWndeKrAGBtLVYROZLjAWgngroiT15StfCQa9TlRKh_DoWHCfLuqEVZK4EO-8VCXINviUY91TSveH1I6uZQQeN/s1600/040404image1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;250&quot; width=&quot;182&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDkvKvknRsPK22nenlnSxCCY-dP2gxpvINZr8cMN44r73gxnBgBsu-CJWndeKrAGBtLVYROZLjAWgngroiT15StfCQa9TlRKh_DoWHCfLuqEVZK4EO-8VCXINviUY91TSveH1I6uZQQeN/s1600/040404image1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Images from:&lt;br /&gt;
http://www.monica-bellucci.us/passion_of_christ_wallpaper_01.html&lt;br /&gt;
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDkvKvknRsPK22nenlnSxCCY-dP2gxpvINZr8cMN44r73gxnBgBsu-CJWndeKrAGBtLVYROZLjAWgngroiT15StfCQa9TlRKh_DoWHCfLuqEVZK4EO-8VCXINviUY91TSveH1I6uZQQeN/s1600/040404image1.jpg</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/3764015387996354493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/06/writings-on-sand.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/3764015387996354493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/3764015387996354493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/06/writings-on-sand.html' title='The Writings on the Sand'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NqsSo915ZZfNbh_S4tfNqJ1QJz_L2-UMnL4n4LNBm7cN3S91TLH8y5nvkh69TGJmWvYJKzdnTB3JhWVgPczL70XfG_tvnYQaWH07JDt7ZapLyBdO8dqqMJtaDdpWCcoEwUgFwyYU4h8/s72-c/marymag.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-8210896809552022390</id><published>2011-01-15T16:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T16:56:57.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rob Thomas collection: Her Diamonds</title><content type='html'>This song got me through the shock of having my own place. I realized at that moment I was truly on my own. The first couple of weeks when the place was empty except for boxes everywhere my heart was in total shock. All I can do was unpack to keep me from thinking. I filled my mind with thoughts of where to put things rather than the feeling of isolation. &lt;br /&gt;
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Digging deeper it wasn’t the feelings of being isolated in terms of my own place that got me. It was the events that plunged me deeper into fear and bit by bit anger. It was the recurring theme of sudden changes over a course of a few months that got to me. I was in one place before I got really settled or when I was starting to call it home - I was whisked away to another. Each time I felt lonelier than ever.&lt;br /&gt;
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Besides rummaging through boxes of things to tune my mind out of these thoughts I tuned my mind to music. I blasted Easy Rock like no body&#39;s business.&amp;nbsp;One of those Easy Rock Blasters was Rob Thomas&#39; &quot;Her Diamonds&quot;. This one shone above all other songs in that moment in my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Like the previous song people believed this song was about his wife and her illness. To me the lady in the song was me. I had enough of situations after situations that broke me more each time. &quot;Oh, what the hell, she says, I just can&#39;t win for losing /And she lays back down /Man there&#39;s so many times I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m doing/Like I don&#39;t know now&quot; I felt like I was losing &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;this battle called life. Again I felt like I absolutely had no idea what I was doing. Though externally I was moving on, inside I was like the lady in the song sitting there and crying her &#39;diamonds&#39; out. I felt like I was losing the battle to keep myself intact for life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;By the light of the moon she rubs her eyes/ Says it&#39;s funny how the night can make you blind/Well, I can just imagine/ And I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m supposed to do/ But if she feels bad then I do too/So I let her be&quot; Ironic how the darkness seems to blind you when it&#39;s suppose to be blinding light. In the feeling of being plunged into dimness, not knowing where I&#39;m going to end up in the near future - everything - reality and hope were in some far unreachable place that I could not see. The part about him not knowing what to do so he just &quot;let her be&quot;, to me was like how people all around me&amp;nbsp;were helpless to do anything. They couldn&#39;t reach my core and what I was really going through.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;She sits down and stares into the distance/And it takes all night&quot;. I felt that all I could do in my &quot;night&quot; was just &quot;stare into the distance&quot;&amp;nbsp;of the past&amp;nbsp;and future, mainly the past, asking myself, over and over about the small moments that brought me&amp;nbsp;to this&amp;nbsp;present moment.&amp;nbsp;My mind was playing over the whys, hows , the could&#39;ves and the should&#39;ves.&amp;nbsp;This staring, this analyzing takes a long time -&amp;nbsp;it still&amp;nbsp;continues till this day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;By the light of the moon she rubs her eyes /Sits down on the bed and starts to cry/And there&#39;s something less about her /And I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m supposed to do/So I sit down and I cry too/But don&#39;t let her see&quot; These last parts I must bring Jesus into it. Everything counts on Him alone. The last hours of the day are the most intimate for me. I sit on my bed and it&#39;s my time with God. &quot;There&#39;s something less about her&quot;. Just knowing that there is something bigger makes me fill more significant. Knowing that Christ no matter how less my tears are - to Him it&#39;s important. Every silly tear that is shed over mundane things He cries it with me. Whether He is crying with me or for me isn’t important. The sharing the unity that that motion brings is important and I am forever grateful to it. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still some of my diamonds are shed each time bringing me to the person I dream of becoming. Something that I&#39;ve realized now that never occurred to me 18 months ago is that having the apartment is a dream come true. I&#39;ve always wanted a place to call my own. At that time I felt like I was being scattered, left alone to fend myself. Never - although I was grateful for it- had it dawned on me that it&#39;s a dream that has come true. For me if God grants I will stay here until I&#39;m ready to move into a different city, province or country. Simplicity is always the way to go for me. So the tears I shed were truly diamonds to shape me into a cherished jewel coming from a line of &quot;royal priesthood&quot; a &quot;city on a hill&quot;, nothing less- but always something more. For always &quot;less is more&quot; the &quot;last will be first&quot; and the &quot;least becomes the&amp;nbsp;greatest&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;img alt=&quot;white rose, inspirational ecards, rose month cards&quot; height=&quot;350&quot; src=&quot;http://media.meme4u.com/ecards/celebrate-the-date/rose-month/1466-bloom-like-a-rose.jpg&quot; title=&quot;white rose, inspirational ecards, rose month cards&quot; width=&quot;550&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So here it is. Thanks again God for a gift like Rob Thomas.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh what the hell she says&lt;br /&gt;
I just can&#39;t win for losing&lt;br /&gt;
And she lays back down&lt;br /&gt;
Man there&#39;s so many times&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m doin&lt;br /&gt;
Like I don&#39;t know now&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the light of the moon&lt;br /&gt;
She rubs her eyes&lt;br /&gt;
Says it&#39;s funny how the night&lt;br /&gt;
Can make you blind&lt;br /&gt;
I can just imagine&lt;br /&gt;
And I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m supposed to do&lt;br /&gt;
But if she feels bad then i do too&lt;br /&gt;
So I let her be&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she says oooh&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t take no more&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears like diamonds on the floor&lt;br /&gt;
And her diamonds bring me down&lt;br /&gt;
Cuz I can&#39;t help her now&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s down in it&lt;br /&gt;
She tried her best and now she can&#39;t win it&lt;br /&gt;
Hard to see them on the ground&lt;br /&gt;
Her diamonds falling down&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She sits down and stares into the distance&lt;br /&gt;
And it takes all night&lt;br /&gt;
And i know i could break her concentration&lt;br /&gt;
But it don&#39;t feel right&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the light of the moon&lt;br /&gt;
She rubs her eyes&lt;br /&gt;
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry&lt;br /&gt;
And there&#39;s something less about her&lt;br /&gt;
And I don&#39;t know what I&#39;m supposed to do&lt;br /&gt;
So I sit down and I cry too&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
But don&#39;t let her see&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she says oooh&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t take no more&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears like diamonds on the floor&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style=&quot;mso-no-proof: yes;&quot;&gt;&lt;shapetype coordsize=&quot;21600,21600&quot; filled=&quot;f&quot; id=&quot;_x0000_t75&quot; o:preferrelative=&quot;t&quot; o:spt=&quot;75&quot; path=&quot;m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe&quot; stroked=&quot;f&quot;&gt;&lt;stroke joinstyle=&quot;miter&quot;&gt;&lt;/stroke&gt;&lt;formulas&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;sum @0 1 0&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;sum 0 0 @1&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @2 1 2&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @3 21600 pixelWidth&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @3 21600 pixelHeight&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;sum @0 0 1&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @6 1 2&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @7 21600 pixelWidth&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;sum @8 21600 0&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;prod @7 21600 pixelHeight&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;f eqn=&quot;sum @10 21600 0&quot;&gt;&lt;/f&gt;&lt;/formulas&gt;&lt;path gradientshapeok=&quot;t&quot; o:connecttype=&quot;rect&quot; o:extrusionok=&quot;f&quot;&gt;&lt;/path&gt;&lt;lock aspectratio=&quot;t&quot; v:ext=&quot;edit&quot;&gt;&lt;/lock&gt;&lt;/shapetype&gt;&lt;shape alt=&quot;cullinan_i.jpg&quot; id=&quot;Picture_x0020_1&quot; o:spid=&quot;_x0000_i1025&quot; style=&quot;height: 108.75pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 84pt;&quot; type=&quot;#_x0000_t75&quot;&gt;&lt;imagedata o:title=&quot;cullinan_i&quot; src=&quot;file:///C:\Users\Rose\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/imagedata&gt;&lt;/shape&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
And her diamonds bring me down&lt;br /&gt;
Cuz I can&#39;t help her now&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s down in it&lt;br /&gt;
She tried her best and now she can&#39;t win it&lt;br /&gt;
Hard to see them on the ground&lt;br /&gt;
Her diamonds falling down&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;entry clearfix&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She shuts out the night&lt;br /&gt;
Tries to close her eyes&lt;br /&gt;
If she can find daylight&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;ll be alright&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;ll be alright&lt;br /&gt;
Just not tonight&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she says oooh&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t take no more&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears like diamonds on the floor&lt;br /&gt;
And her diamonds bring me down&lt;br /&gt;
Cuz I can&#39;t help her now&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s down in it&lt;br /&gt;
She tried her best and now she can&#39;t win it&lt;br /&gt;
Hard to see them on the ground&lt;br /&gt;
Her diamonds falling down&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And she says oooh&lt;br /&gt;
I can&#39;t take no more&lt;br /&gt;
Her tears like diamonds on the floor&lt;br /&gt;
And her diamonds bring me down&lt;br /&gt;
Cuz I can&#39;t help her now&lt;br /&gt;
She&#39;s down in it&lt;br /&gt;
She tried her best and now she can&#39;t win it&lt;br /&gt;
Hard to see them on the ground&lt;br /&gt;
Her diamonds falling down&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.artjewelryforum.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/beautiful_diamond.jpg&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img alt=&quot;&quot; class=&quot;alignnone size-full wp-image-319&quot; height=&quot;375&quot; src=&quot;http://www.artjewelryforum.org/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/beautiful_diamond-e1266787838431.jpg&quot; title=&quot;beautiful_diamond&quot; width=&quot;500&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Courtesy of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Her-Diamonds-lyrics-Rob-Thomas/94293209857F29B4482575AF002128A3&quot;&gt;http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Her-Diamonds-lyrics-Rob-Thomas/94293209857F29B4482575AF002128A3&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for lyrics&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.artjewelryforum.org/blog/2010/02/22/diamonds-are-forever/&quot;&gt;http://www.artjewelryforum.org/blog/2010/02/22/diamonds-are-forever/&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for the diamond pic&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.meme4u.com/ecards/celebrate_the_date/rose_month/card_1466.htm&quot;&gt;http://www.meme4u.com/ecards/celebrate_the_date/rose_month/card_1466.htm&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for the roses and thorns pic and writing&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/8210896809552022390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-her-diamonds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/8210896809552022390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/8210896809552022390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-her-diamonds.html' title='A Rob Thomas collection: Her Diamonds'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-119714798053379876</id><published>2011-01-15T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T15:03:08.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rob Thomas Collection: Mockingbird</title><content type='html'>This song&#39;s title keeps reminding me of Harper Lee&#39;s &quot;To Kill a Mockingbird&quot;&amp;nbsp;the mockingbird represents people. A mocking bird &quot;is a harmless bird that makes the world a pleasant place&quot;. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Looking at the definitions online about Rob Thomas it seems that the song is about his wife, her illness and the inability to have children. And maybe the mocking bird represents a child that they cannot have. &quot;Still that mockingbird won&#39;t sing&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The acoustic of this song hit to the core. Again with Rob Thomas it seems like he discovered one of the many meanings of life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To me it represents some type of&amp;nbsp;internal situation that won&#39;t work. It&#39;s like wanting to connect with someone -anyone - in a deeper level. But it won&#39;t happen. That mockingbird of a person won&#39;t sing my song. It&#39;s a goal that won&#39;t happen- trying to meet a financial stability, to be in social justice, so that many tears won&#39;t be shed due to a human basic need. That mockingbird of justice just won&#39;t sing. And I look around me and see all those smiles &quot;Everybody else is smiling and their smiles won&#39;t fade . . . and (I) don&#39;t think that way&quot; and I just can&#39;t smile at what they are smiling because my mockingbirds won&#39;t sing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The part about &quot;leading you through this broken promise land&quot; to me I put it on Christ. He will lead me there. Broken hearted, tired and still clinging to the hope that the mockingbird(s) will sing someday. As for being &quot;lost somewhere&quot; we are all lost in some way or form. Even the best of us. One of our goals is that as we journey we will find what we are looking for. We will be out of some wood and find the answers gradually.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;img height=&quot;613&quot; src=&quot;http://duncraft.atom5.com/files/mockingbird.jpg&quot; style=&quot;-ms-interpolation-mode: nearest-neighbor;&quot; width=&quot;665&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here we stand&lt;br /&gt;
somewhere in between this moment and the end&lt;br /&gt;
will we bend?&lt;br /&gt;
or will we open up and take this whole thing in?&lt;br /&gt;
everybody else is smiling and their smiles don&#39;t fade&lt;br /&gt;
and you don&#39;t even wonder why you just don&#39;t think that way&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe you and me got lost somewhere, we can&#39;t move on we can&#39;t stay here&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we&#39;ve just had enough, well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
you and me tried everything&lt;br /&gt;
but still that mocking bird wont sing&lt;br /&gt;
well man this life seems hard enough&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Take my hand&lt;br /&gt;
and I will lead you through the broken promise land&lt;br /&gt;
yes I can, ah yes I can&lt;br /&gt;
I can be there when you need it, I&#39;ll give it all till you can&#39;t feel it anymore&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t wanna love you now, if you&#39;ll just leave someday&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t wanna turn around, if you&#39;ll just walk away&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe you and me got lost somewhere, we can&#39;t move on we can&#39;t stay here&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we&#39;ve just had enough, well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
you and me tried everything&lt;br /&gt;
but still that mocking bird wont sing&lt;br /&gt;
well man this life seems hard enough&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe you and me got lost somewhere, we can&#39;t move on we can&#39;t stay here&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we&#39;ve just had enough, well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
you and me tried everything&lt;br /&gt;
but still that mocking bird wont sing&lt;br /&gt;
well man this life seems hard enough&lt;br /&gt;
well maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe we aint meant for this love&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe we aint meant for this love &lt;!--ringtones and media links --&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Lyrics meanings and lyrics courtesy of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107858783156/&quot;&gt;http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107858783156/&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; and &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.shmoop.com/to-kill-a-mockingbird/symbolism-imagery.html&quot;&gt;http://www.shmoop.com/to-kill-a-mockingbird/symbolism-imagery.html&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;about Harper Lee&#39;s book.&lt;br /&gt;
Picture of the mockingbird&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href=&quot;http://duncraft.atom5.com/files/mockingbird.jpg&quot;&gt;http://duncraft.atom5.com/files/mockingbird.jpg&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/119714798053379876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-mockingbird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/119714798053379876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/119714798053379876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-mockingbird.html' title='A Rob Thomas Collection: Mockingbird'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-2140485831097742992</id><published>2011-01-15T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T14:09:32.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rob Thomas collection: Little Wonders</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id=&quot;realText&quot;&gt;You will notice from time to time I will have verses of songs, snippets of poems, and writings from the Bible.&lt;br /&gt;
Here is one of my favourite artist. His songs hit me to the core. They leave me feeling like I&#39;m more wiser - more sensitive to the meaning of life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So here is Little Wonders sung by Rob Thomas written by the artist himself. (BRAVO)&lt;br /&gt;
(From the Meet the Robinsons soundtrack an inspiring Walt Disney movie)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
let it go, &lt;br /&gt;
let it roll right off your shoulder &lt;br /&gt;
don&#39;t you know &lt;br /&gt;
the hardest part is over &lt;br /&gt;
let it in, &lt;br /&gt;
let your clarity define you &lt;br /&gt;
in the end &lt;br /&gt;
we will only just remember how it feels &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
our lives are made &lt;br /&gt;
in these small hours &lt;br /&gt;
these little wonders, &lt;br /&gt;
these twists &amp;amp; turns of fate &lt;br /&gt;
time falls away, &lt;br /&gt;
but these small hours, &lt;br /&gt;
these small hours still remain &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;img border=&quot;1&quot; height=&quot;300&quot; src=&quot;http://albums.mouseplanet.com/AdrienneVincentPhoenix/Meet_the_Robinsons_Disney.sized.jpg&quot; width=&quot;400&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
let it slide, &lt;br /&gt;
let your troubles fall behind you &lt;br /&gt;
let it shine &lt;br /&gt;
until you feel it all around you &lt;br /&gt;
and i don&#39;t mind &lt;br /&gt;
if it&#39;s me you need to turn to &lt;br /&gt;
we’ll get by, &lt;br /&gt;
it&#39;s the heart that really matters in the end &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
our lives are made &lt;br /&gt;
in these small hours &lt;br /&gt;
these little wonders, &lt;br /&gt;
these twists &amp;amp; turns of fate &lt;br /&gt;
time falls away, &lt;br /&gt;
but these small hours, &lt;br /&gt;
these small hours still remain &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
all of my regret &lt;br /&gt;
will wash away some how &lt;br /&gt;
but i can not forget &lt;br /&gt;
the way i feel right now &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
in these small hours &lt;br /&gt;
these little wonders &lt;br /&gt;
these twists &amp;amp; turns of fate &lt;br /&gt;
these twists &amp;amp; turns of fate &lt;br /&gt;
time falls away but these small hours &lt;br /&gt;
these small hours, still remain, &lt;br /&gt;
still remain &lt;br /&gt;
these little wonders &lt;br /&gt;
these twists &amp;amp; turns of fate &lt;br /&gt;
time falls away &lt;br /&gt;
but these small hours &lt;br /&gt;
these little wonders still remain&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
courtesy of &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.absolutelyrics.com/lyrics/view/rob_thomas/little_wonders/&quot;&gt;http://www.absolutelyrics.com/lyrics/view/rob_thomas/little_wonders/&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for lyrics&lt;br /&gt;
and &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.mouseplanet.com/6651/Disneyland_Park_Update&quot;&gt;http://www.mouseplanet.com/6651/Disneyland_Park_Update&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for picture of movie&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/2140485831097742992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-little-wonders.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2140485831097742992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/2140485831097742992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/rob-thomas-collection-little-wonders.html' title='A Rob Thomas collection: Little Wonders'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-238300317556639432</id><published>2011-01-05T22:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T22:14:56.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Christmas</title><content type='html'>It was one of the most emotionally draining Christmases ever that till today it still leaves me&amp;nbsp;panting for&amp;nbsp;air.&amp;nbsp;But spiritually it was the most enriching loving Christmas ever. As I got more into the &quot;Stations of the Nativity&quot; by Raymond Chapman, which I had picked up last Christmas - Love&amp;nbsp;brought more&amp;nbsp;insight. Watching the latest &quot;Nativity Story&quot; brought more light too.&lt;br /&gt;
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The movie&amp;nbsp;told the truth that&amp;nbsp;Joseph and Mary were outcasts,&amp;nbsp;Mary for having a child that was not Joseph&#39;s and Joseph for not stoning her. This to me is almost like a foreshadowing of Christ’s meeting with Magadalene. God forever takes me off guard. And I thought besides the Cross His reaching out was made strong in the Writings of the Sand (which is a post I will write about in the near future), but surprise surprise there is more passion than we can never imagine in this God. So I&#39;ll start going through the Stations that will always stay in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;
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Zechariah - This station sat the stage. God&#39;s timing is perfect. Things happen for a reason. Elizabeth was the right mother for John and who knows maybe the right listening ear for Mary through that hard time. Watching &quot;The Nativity&quot; a window of understanding opened to me about the quality of Good in God, and that our idea of good and perfect,&amp;nbsp;no matter how pure is totally different from God&#39;s. Good to us means everything goes perfectly the way we want it. When God said all is good, it meant things worked together - are in unison. Nature, God&#39;s creation is good. Nature like everything is interconnected. All is a domino effect of some sort. Seeing all the events leading to and after Christ&#39;s birth - I paid attention to the fact that the Father was guiding Mary and Joseph all along. I noticed that everything happened for a reason and&amp;nbsp;all those&amp;nbsp;events no matter how crazy and&amp;nbsp;how dangerous God steered&amp;nbsp;it to good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;All along when&amp;nbsp;the Father and the Spirit guided the Holy Family through Bethlehem then to Egypt, all they encountered happened because of love for them and us.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgtwx8fq4aFHTFWbr-kX7HYWhAkn71iGQrAgXLINUqNwUN8x4IPv22-wOVjgy5dMCL-nk-GXKmVqSjkk_Sx8o12i6fYT4E-Rd-YZE92f1RbuMBFdygaFrLbR5SmN4upIuiVWEWLJZND0/s1600/nativity-scene.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;209&quot; n4=&quot;true&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgtwx8fq4aFHTFWbr-kX7HYWhAkn71iGQrAgXLINUqNwUN8x4IPv22-wOVjgy5dMCL-nk-GXKmVqSjkk_Sx8o12i6fYT4E-Rd-YZE92f1RbuMBFdygaFrLbR5SmN4upIuiVWEWLJZND0/s320/nativity-scene.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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Stations along the manger (Christ&#39;s Birth, Shepherds and Magi) - This brought a deeper awareness of the Person of Christ. Being born in a lowly place meant that Christ was not going to be exempt from the human drama. No, Christ, the moment He took His first breath was going to experience the human pain of being poor and an outcast. The visiting of the shepherds confirmed His message was for the poor. The visiting of the magi not only served to let us know Christ&amp;nbsp;is a King and born for kings, but how science and magic did not have the answers&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;creation was waiting for this time. These wise men saw His star way before He was conceived by the Spirit. Magic and science pointed to Him. All I can say here is WOW.&lt;br /&gt;
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Stations of the&amp;nbsp;Flight into Egypt and Massacre of the Innocents- Here the theme of all things work for good, and have a purpose when founded in Christ, is imminent. Christ&#39;s life was being pursued. So where of all places does God lead His Son? To Egypt. He relives the journey of His people. Through Raymond Chapman I learnt that this journey to Egypt is not just a journey to reach out to the Israelites. This journey that the Holy Family took was to also experience what many daily experience - the flight to other lands because home is no longer safe. Tears fill my eyes when I realize that Christ too experienced what my family and I had, running from one border line to another in the middle of the night . . . Yes God takes my breath away. It makes me bite my tongue every time I want to say to God &quot;that&#39;s hard Lord you don&#39;t understand . . .&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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I was glad that this Christmas I took it easy on the parties and gift giving. I cut out that stress and still had a lot of weight to carry. But through it all I felt secure. Also, though not as strong as I wanted - I felt joy. Something that a bible teacher had once told me and I had just kind pushed under the rug, the fact that joy and happiness are similar but not the same suddenly became apparent.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;&quot;&gt;Many people seek out happiness. I didn&#39;t have a problem with that before. To me as long as they didn&#39;t seek it through means of wealth and abuse then I was okay with it. Then all of a sudden it started to sound strange to my ears. People talking about being a better person or loving more to become happy. My questions were: If you reach becoming a better teacher per say you are happy, but then won&#39;t you look for something else to make you happier? What if loving your son better makes you happy but other things in your life don&#39;t? Doesn&#39;t that mean you haven&#39;t really reached the point of happiness? Happiness will differ from time to time and from person to person. But what humanity is really seeking for is solid joy, joy that comes down from the heart. Joy, that together with peace sets one for life regardless of conditions and the person. There will be times when it&#39;s hard to fill that peace and joy, all that means is that we must delve deep into ourselves and the Creator. The two are inseparable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;&quot;&gt;On an important side note I hope all you guys had a good Christmas. I guess I still hope you’re having a good Christmas since the Church Christmas season hasn’t finished yet. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/238300317556639432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/this-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/238300317556639432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/238300317556639432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2011/01/this-christmas.html' title='This Christmas'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgtwx8fq4aFHTFWbr-kX7HYWhAkn71iGQrAgXLINUqNwUN8x4IPv22-wOVjgy5dMCL-nk-GXKmVqSjkk_Sx8o12i6fYT4E-Rd-YZE92f1RbuMBFdygaFrLbR5SmN4upIuiVWEWLJZND0/s72-c/nativity-scene.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8624264377275893964.post-6423479975857311062</id><published>2010-12-12T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T22:11:43.808-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boomerang Love and Changing Emotions</title><content type='html'>All I can begin with is this: I&#39;ve never felt like this before. I&#39;ve never been in a position that has truly shaken up how I relate to those I love like this. &lt;br /&gt;
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Basically my wall of trust has been ripped apart. Before I told myself that I had to work on opening up myself more to others. Now I feel like I&#39;ll have to start from square one. In friendships that I consider priceless I pour out my time and talents towards them. If the friend is in some sort of trouble or needs my advice I&#39;ll be right there. Or, in some cases I have faith in someone that I think distance wouldn&#39;t cause a problem. Yet I await a phone call that has never come. &lt;br /&gt;
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There are four people past and present that I have counted as &quot;close&quot;. One helped me out so much and in turn I tried my best to uphold the friendship. But weeks turned into months and here and there the occasional communication comes my way. Always though it seems at the expense of some help - and maybe that&#39;s alright, I totally did depend on the friend for so long. Still it hurts. They say that&amp;nbsp;when someone leaves you there is a hole in your heart. Right now I feel like three big holes. The fourth I thought was over and done with, now I think it is&amp;nbsp;yet to come. Another I thought everything was always going to be alright. A season came though that rocked the boat. Just as I thought the storm had subsided another hurricane came hitting full force. I was left with uncertainty for our future. The questions remained: Did I do enough? What harm had I caused? The next one I kept convincing myself was 50/50. Yet their lack of a love for life left me downhearted. That person clings to me - leaves me wanting to scream and run to the nearest city. Yes I don&#39;t mind when someone depends on me. I&#39;m sorry though I&#39;m not a life line.&amp;nbsp;Only God can help you with that one. Also the selfishness I cannot bear. I&#39;m not perfect and I am selfish but one must try to catch themselves. The last one - what can I say? I&#39;m on edge. Not because I&#39;m afraid of being left again. Rather I feel it will be another roller coaster ride of endless pleas of help, that&amp;nbsp;will leave me drained and wishing that people dig into inner strength &amp;nbsp;rather than selfishness.&lt;br /&gt;
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Sigh - I am absolutely tired of these boomerang loves. They bounce back and forth. I can&#39;t predict whether they will stay or go. They leave a trail of broken glass. I don&#39;t want any more cuts from the glass. I want to walk forward. Why put up with fighting for boomerang loves, when I could focus my energy on pursuing my dreams? All these baffle my mind. I have tried to dedicate my life in a way that people always come first. What if those people that you want to come first all of sudden become a hindrance to a good rest at night, a block to the positive energy that keeps you moving during the day? I need to sit with the Lord on this. You asked me to love like You did. What does that mean? Where do you draw the line? For now as I wait for the answers about dealing with boomerang love that isn&#39;t solid - I hold those boomerangs in prayer. If I can&#39;t love them anymore with my time and talents then I will love them in prayer. When they come to my being, I will try to think good thoughts towards them. I will love them at a distance.&lt;br /&gt;
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As for my second title for this post. Changing emotions is about anything and anyone. Recently I have had roller coaster emotions. Emotions that left me so scared that food was out of the question. Love that left me to tears. Fear that left me breathless. Jealousy that I must turn&amp;nbsp;a blind eye to. Loneliness that opened my eyes to a peaceful reality of how only One could really connect with us.&lt;br /&gt;
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I feared some one&#39;s leadership position. At first I fought them but as time passed, my energy was spent and all I could do was stand there and let fear in. Fear came loud, quite and demanding. I discovered fear again as I was put into a new atmosphere. It whispered to me that&amp;nbsp;I couldn&#39;t do it. I fight it everyday of my waking moments. But I&#39;ve never felt on guard with it - as if I&#39;m going to war. Despair came creeping in. Leaving me lethargic and afraid of opening my eyes in the morning. Compassion surprised me when I felt love towards someone that I want to fight for the rest of my life. Compassion whispered to me of being gentle. Love brought tears from rejection and of misplaced love and urges me to forgive - to find out the foundation and the whys of peoples and situations. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL3U28wAaoUTPdHYEzHRiUlM7cBq4KJEnzLL17Z3rBXSE4pWo1Ldku1r23ao6TwBGZ7fO0VpD9G9qXMhktePFkPHbE28FkHdlrSRfceAeW8UF28SW0Kmujzt3kEGBgA9koPnsWFGg52A/s1600/SDC10130.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; n4=&quot;true&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL3U28wAaoUTPdHYEzHRiUlM7cBq4KJEnzLL17Z3rBXSE4pWo1Ldku1r23ao6TwBGZ7fO0VpD9G9qXMhktePFkPHbE28FkHdlrSRfceAeW8UF28SW0Kmujzt3kEGBgA9koPnsWFGg52A/s320/SDC10130.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I thought I knew it all - friendship tells me &quot;true friends are like diamonds they are hidden, rare&amp;nbsp;and they sparkle, other friendships&amp;nbsp;are like weeds they grow everywhere- emotions hit me full circle leaving me wondering, are these new emotions or are they&amp;nbsp;refined? Does growing up have to do with it? Is it a sign of maturity or am I being too sensitive or selfish?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/feeds/6423479975857311062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2010/12/boomerang-love-and-changing-emotions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6423479975857311062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8624264377275893964/posts/default/6423479975857311062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://atcrossroadsthornsandroses.blogspot.com/2010/12/boomerang-love-and-changing-emotions.html' title='Boomerang Love and Changing Emotions'/><author><name>Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02573456580235664108</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FpwziVG7yTqApl7YQ77n6nNUam_L8-9Z1EzGf_a0iYTJ6sgtE0Z7x9iwweBCo4Pp2PhkUE78J9rs1bWjksZwXn0Bnz-KUQT-_mzbv7xrAttFppYtWF7hKqoXk8QSkQ/s220/looking+out.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrL3U28wAaoUTPdHYEzHRiUlM7cBq4KJEnzLL17Z3rBXSE4pWo1Ldku1r23ao6TwBGZ7fO0VpD9G9qXMhktePFkPHbE28FkHdlrSRfceAeW8UF28SW0Kmujzt3kEGBgA9koPnsWFGg52A/s72-c/SDC10130.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>