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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQCRXs-fip7ImA9WhRUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713</id><updated>2012-01-29T10:39:24.556-08:00</updated><category term="essays" /><category term="poetry" /><category term="rants" /><category term="sarcasm" /><category term="quotes" /><category term="reflections" /><category term="lessons learned and unlearned" /><category term="random" /><title>In Progress</title><subtitle type="html">How to describe this blog....it's just my thoughts, which are a work in progress being constantly edited.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/NProgress" /><feedburner:info uri="nprogress" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/" /><logo>http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/fb_pwrd.gif</logo><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ANSX45eyp7ImA9Wx5QF0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-2541824359991287443</id><published>2010-08-07T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T09:49:58.023-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-06T09:49:58.023-07:00</app:edited><title>On a beach in California....</title><summary type="html">...I found peace.  I could have lived on the beach had God blessed me to live near one.  There is something peaceful about just lying there listending to the ocean. I've never felt as small as I did while standing in the water as the force of the waves knocked me down.  It's a good feeling, a humbling feeling.  I will go back to the ocean.  I will live near it...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/JJRWzwRvFKU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/2541824359991287443/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=2541824359991287443" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/2541824359991287443?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/2541824359991287443?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/JJRWzwRvFKU/on-beach-in-california.html" title="On a beach in California...." /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TIUbMSK_SeI/AAAAAAAAAEo/vJZD0vB6iJE/s72-c/SAM_0569.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2010/08/on-beach-in-california.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcNQ30yeCp7ImA9Wx5REUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-6041639779034239738</id><published>2010-06-26T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T20:21:32.390-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-18T20:21:32.390-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>Decision Time</title><summary type="html">It’s Saturday.  By the time Monday arrives, I need to have an epiphany, one of those time-splitting revelations that is capable of completely changing my perspective.  Brandon told me that I have to quit my job, or he is going to take my keys so that I cannot go.  The situation with work is affecting me that intensely.  I don’t know that I’m emotionally mature enough to compartmentalize these &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/GTIEwyR5pK8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/6041639779034239738/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=6041639779034239738" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6041639779034239738?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6041639779034239738?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/GTIEwyR5pK8/decision-time.html" title="Decision Time" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2010/08/decision-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcGQHgyfyp7ImA9WhZRF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-6032771415334289902</id><published>2010-06-24T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T15:17:01.697-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-13T15:17:01.697-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lessons learned and unlearned" /><title>Ashamed of Myself</title><summary type="html">I’m feeling sad today.  It would be easy to be cerebral about it, and dig into the pseudo-depth of my emotions, but why?  It’s not that complicated.  I’m ashamed of myself.  I keep falling into the same frame of mind, and it isn’t a place I want to be.     I have a decent paying job.  I have a place to live.  The daughter I raised alone is in college.  For the first time in my life I have a real &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/ZeyCNwBDDQ4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/6032771415334289902/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=6032771415334289902" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6032771415334289902?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6032771415334289902?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/ZeyCNwBDDQ4/ashamed-of-myself.html" title="Ashamed of Myself" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2010/06/ashamed-of-myself.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8HRHc8eyp7ImA9WxFRFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5462895143116891372</id><published>2010-04-08T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T20:40:35.973-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-29T20:40:35.973-07:00</app:edited><title>April 8, 2010...Drive To Work</title><summary type="html">I took a developmental class entitled Birkman: Introduction to the LifeStyle Grid during work today.  The class began at 8am, which is when I typically arrive to work.  I wanted to get to work early, so that I could find the classroom and do the needful.  What is the needful, you ask?  I’ll tell you.  When in a new environment, the needful for me is to find a position (preferably on the outskirts&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/0ZojcPiw9x8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5462895143116891372/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5462895143116891372" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5462895143116891372?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5462895143116891372?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/0ZojcPiw9x8/april-8-2010drive-to-work.html" title="April 8, 2010...Drive To Work" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-8-2010drive-to-work.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MARnY9fSp7ImA9WxVSEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-8052422783865418670</id><published>2009-01-04T14:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T14:50:47.865-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-04T14:50:47.865-08:00</app:edited><title>The Living Dead</title><summary type="html">What makes a person keep going when there doesn't seem to be any promise of an ending to struggling?  I need to find that 'what' and keep it in my pocket.  Or perhaps convince myself that any old thing contains this elusive reason for striving, pushing, persisting?   Life seems empty to me.  I could get up and go to work tomorrow, but what is accomplished?  Money is earned.  Bills are paid.  &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/4zQIaE70EEk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/8052422783865418670/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=8052422783865418670" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8052422783865418670?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8052422783865418670?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/4zQIaE70EEk/living-dead.html" title="The Living Dead" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2009/01/living-dead.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQFRno7fCp7ImA9Wx5TFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5293056278818424980</id><published>2008-10-12T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T10:45:17.404-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-31T10:45:17.404-07:00</app:edited><title>Myopic</title><summary type="html">I've had two different people tell me that I'm in a desert place spiritually right now.  Neither of them know the extent of my circumstances, so I know God is speaking to me.  My daughter and I have had an almost unnaturally close relationship for as long as I remember, but this year has taken it's toll on that relationship.  I know the first step in the right direction is to pray.  I've been &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/vNzOeyHYxTo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5293056278818424980/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5293056278818424980" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5293056278818424980?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5293056278818424980?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/vNzOeyHYxTo/myopic.html" title="Myopic" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2008/10/myopic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QGRnY_eSp7ImA9WxRRFk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5981222370054847657</id><published>2008-09-23T18:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T10:02:07.841-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-09-28T10:02:07.841-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><title>Stop Sign</title><summary type="html">I want it to stop.  The original hyperactive child  bouncing forward unyieldingl life moves through yesterday as this day and the one which will follow much too soon for my liking.  Once I wanted life to slow, to cease for moments which deserved to be cherished.  Now my skin is lead, keeping me from moving with ease through a day, and rest is the mirage which propels me through the drudge of dawn&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/IIdHUbV-O_I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5981222370054847657/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5981222370054847657" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5981222370054847657?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5981222370054847657?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/IIdHUbV-O_I/stop-sign.html" title="Stop Sign" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2008/09/stop-sign.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08ASHs-fSp7ImA9WxRSFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-8117636915442145890</id><published>2008-09-16T17:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T17:04:09.555-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-09-16T17:04:09.555-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><title>Frustrated</title><summary type="html">Well, I messed up!  I just accidentally deleted the template I had for this page, and when I attempt to upload the copy I had of it, the page is blank.  I want to create my own, though.  If anyone out there knows where I can go to get SIMPLE instructions for creating my own Blogger layout, please message me!  Thanks in advance!&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/mh-t82V2OfQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/8117636915442145890/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=8117636915442145890" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8117636915442145890?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8117636915442145890?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/mh-t82V2OfQ/frustrated.html" title="Frustrated" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2008/09/frustrated.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UCSHc6fSp7ImA9WxdSEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5195072194471971662</id><published>2008-05-20T03:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T04:01:09.915-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-05-20T04:01:09.915-07:00</app:edited><title>Juncture</title><summary type="html">It's futile to fault someone for being who they are, so what do you do when you find that intersection during a relationship in which you realize that the person you love isn't the person you will spend your life with?  Do you continue the journey down the wrong road for as long as you can, hoping perhaps you can convince them to turn around and go your way with you?  Do you say goodbye and &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/IRJcaqlRras" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5195072194471971662/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5195072194471971662" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5195072194471971662?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5195072194471971662?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/IRJcaqlRras/juncture.html" title="Juncture" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2008/05/juncture.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YDSHc5fip7ImA9WxZQFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-8567925008429383639</id><published>2008-02-21T14:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T15:06:19.926-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-02-21T15:06:19.926-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title /><summary type="html">So, I haven't blogged in quite some time.  I'm gonna totally free-form this one.  My mind is jumbled lately.  Let the blog reflect.  I got laid off from my job and haven't been too sucessuful in securing other employment.  Kinda got me in a funk.  Something about the routine of going someplace everyday makes life move along steady.  Now the days are melding into one encompassing unproductive &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/_jz6peAqYvw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/8567925008429383639/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=8567925008429383639" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8567925008429383639?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8567925008429383639?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/_jz6peAqYvw/so-i-havent-blogged-in-quite-some-time.html" title="" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-i-havent-blogged-in-quite-some-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IBSHo6fyp7ImA9WB9UF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-6477989259975975344</id><published>2007-12-15T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T11:05:59.417-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-12-15T11:05:59.417-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="quotes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poetry" /><title>Poetry is</title><summary type="html">Poetry is a massive tidal wave I watch coming towards me, and I could drown....or I could write it down. -April Prichard&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/ogf2xdfwMHo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/6477989259975975344/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=6477989259975975344" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6477989259975975344?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6477989259975975344?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/ogf2xdfwMHo/poetry-is.html" title="Poetry is" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/12/poetry-is.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUACSXo8eSp7ImA9WB9UFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5403057530113295527</id><published>2007-12-12T16:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T17:02:48.471-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-12-12T17:02:48.471-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poetry" /><title>God Show Puck the Way to Me</title><summary type="html">Hear we go again it seems!All emotions teemed...You heard me cry,unending times,“Please rescue from desperation's stateenrapture me with protective grace!”Frantic! Looking for an escape!Self-control in a state of rape!Rescue me from high and low...No more joy, no more woe!This I demanded as a child-temperament, void of mild.And You answered my plea....what's to become of me?The barometer now &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/Ft3HxtUc3D0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5403057530113295527/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5403057530113295527" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5403057530113295527?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5403057530113295527?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/Ft3HxtUc3D0/god-show-puck-way-to-me.html" title="God Show Puck the Way to Me" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/12/god-show-puck-way-to-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EGQHo4eSp7ImA9WB9XFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-1045845017322904730</id><published>2007-11-08T06:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T06:20:21.431-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-08T06:20:21.431-08:00</app:edited><title>The depths of trust</title><summary type="html">Still so much to learn.  I'm certain that devastating situations continue to happen in my life at such frequent intervals for two reasons.  The first is that I gave my life to Jesus, and asked God to recreate me, teach me, mold me, invent me.  The second is that I still have not learned the truth of my identity in Christ and complete trust in Him and not in my circumstances.  Those lessons are &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/LxzID_wb_G0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/1045845017322904730/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=1045845017322904730" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/1045845017322904730?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/1045845017322904730?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/LxzID_wb_G0/depths-of-trust.html" title="The depths of trust" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/11/depths-of-trust.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQFQHo7cSp7ImA9WB9XE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-8707203847113307915</id><published>2007-11-06T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T15:55:11.409-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-06T15:55:11.409-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="essays" /><title>In Your Own Hand</title><summary type="html">Few people don’t own some form of electronic communication today. We talk on cell phones, exchange text messages on PDA’s, instant message online, and send emails instead of letters. We have almost erased handwriting. Typing has replaced handwriting as the predominant form of nonverbal communication. When I was in high school, there were typing classes available, but we handed in our book reports&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/0YNpyx_eNAg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/8707203847113307915/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=8707203847113307915" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8707203847113307915?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8707203847113307915?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/0YNpyx_eNAg/in-your-own-hand.html" title="In Your Own Hand" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-your-own-hand.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04NR34_cSp7ImA9WB9XEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5100514700295447109</id><published>2007-11-04T08:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T07:19:56.049-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-05T07:19:56.049-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><title /><summary type="html">I'm tired. I have one hope left, that the sunrise would fail tomorrow, so that the contrast of hope to my life is no longer taunting me.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/Z3KsC-3eS20" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5100514700295447109/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5100514700295447109" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5100514700295447109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5100514700295447109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/Z3KsC-3eS20/im-tired.html" title="" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-tired.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcESXg5fip7ImA9WB9XEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5888558201271601716</id><published>2007-11-01T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T07:20:08.626-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-05T07:20:08.626-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="random" /><title /><summary type="html">I decided not to allow someone to harass and abuse me. I quit my job yesterday after two months of daily harassment. God knows I tried to maintain grace. True enough, I slipped from time to time. I find little consolation in the fact that the woman who was tormenting me has been through 48 employees in less than six years. That might not seem like much, but the staff is only six-people large. God&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/STm4fQjniZE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5888558201271601716/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5888558201271601716" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5888558201271601716?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5888558201271601716?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/STm4fQjniZE/i-decided-not-to-allow-someone-to.html" title="" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-decided-not-to-allow-someone-to.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04FQH8-cCp7ImA9WB9XEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-654799752956105266</id><published>2007-10-31T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T07:18:31.158-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-05T07:18:31.158-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sarcasm" /><title>Yeah, right</title><summary type="html">That's all I can say to myself tonight. I WANT to be still and know that God is in control. I WANT to sleep with Jesus on that hinder part of the ship while the storm rages, but instead I quake with Peter and point out the storm to the one who saw it long before me. I'm depressed. I don't know what to do.&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/lbkchQB1VnA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/654799752956105266/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=654799752956105266" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/654799752956105266?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/654799752956105266?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/lbkchQB1VnA/yeah-right.html" title="Yeah, right" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/10/yeah-right.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IHRH48fip7ImA9WB9QF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-7558660671077011503</id><published>2007-10-30T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T07:45:35.076-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-30T07:45:35.076-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lessons learned and unlearned" /><title>Flee or Fight?</title><summary type="html">When to fight, and when to run, that is the question. What is the answer? Flee temptation, stand your ground during trials! I have an annoying knack for answering the questions I ask, but here is one I truly can't answer....what distinction marks the difference between the two? I am in a situation that has presented itself as a trail at first glance, but the more I stand, the more the situation &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/mFEbrJ0WpK4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/7558660671077011503/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=7558660671077011503" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/7558660671077011503?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/7558660671077011503?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/mFEbrJ0WpK4/flee-or-fight.html" title="Flee or Fight?" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/10/flee-or-fight.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXc5cSp7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-3775580742060308474</id><published>2007-10-02T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:54.929-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:54.929-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>Preoccupied</title><summary type="html">The markers we use to mentally categorize moments in time are odd. Three Tuesdays out of the month, I have the first 1/2 of the day off and don't go in to work until 1 p.m. Last Tuesday I got new tags for my truck. I recently moved to a new state, so this was an event for me. I went to the wrong building, had to wait about 1/2 an hour to park, was directed to the wrong office by the new woman &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/it1Uw9XLipk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/3775580742060308474/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=3775580742060308474" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/3775580742060308474?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/3775580742060308474?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/it1Uw9XLipk/preoccupied.html" title="Preoccupied" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/10/preoccupied.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXc5cSp7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-6466064558012803200</id><published>2007-08-09T13:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:54.929-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:54.929-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>Discouragment, the would-be theif of confidence</title><summary type="html">Countless hours filling out job applications and submitting my resume have bled into one another creating a foggy blur of my past achievements and failures.  No response.  Add one to the failures.  Is that discouragement lifting it's voice to taunt my weary soul?  Discouragement personified skips along beside me smiling, mocking my every attempt to lift myself from the drudge which has defined my&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/0L0PVenErOo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/6466064558012803200/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=6466064558012803200" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6466064558012803200?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/6466064558012803200?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/0L0PVenErOo/discouragment-would-be-theif-of.html" title="Discouragment, the would-be theif of confidence" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/08/discouragment-would-be-theif-of.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXc4eSp7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-9129926064449339614</id><published>2007-07-29T20:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:54.931-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:54.931-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>Questions, Analysis, and Digressions</title><summary type="html">I can usually pick apart a situation, an idea, an emotion...well, anything really...until it's boiled down to it's substance.  There is one situation which eludes me.  On the path of examining this situation, I cannot keep my feet through to the end.  It concerns trust.  I like to think I trust God, but not myself.  This distrust of myself keeps me uncertain at times like the present, when I &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/fGI0pPNgo_c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/9129926064449339614/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=9129926064449339614" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/9129926064449339614?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/9129926064449339614?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/fGI0pPNgo_c/questions-analysis-and-digressions.html" title="Questions, Analysis, and Digressions" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/07/questions-analysis-and-digressions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQARnYyeip7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-8108520900592845150</id><published>2007-07-02T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:12:27.892-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:12:27.892-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lessons learned and unlearned" /><title>Examining My Own Heart</title><summary type="html">I'm wondering if it's possible to over analyze your self. I'd like to think not. I tend to keep myself in a constant tug-of-war, because I never want to take for granted that I'm on the "right track." Seems kind of presumptuous to assume such a thing when God's ways are not mine. His thoughts, much higher and less self-involved.But how do we know when we've reached that place where it is safe to &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/sSwpqd0uI1s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/8108520900592845150/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=8108520900592845150" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8108520900592845150?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/8108520900592845150?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/sSwpqd0uI1s/examining-my-own-heart.html" title="Examining My Own Heart" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/07/examining-my-own-heart.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXc4eip7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-861581700640997263</id><published>2007-06-22T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:54.932-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:54.932-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>June 22...A Way Out</title><summary type="html">I've got to find a way out of this depression. It's funny how it take a series of happenings to get you to a place where you feel depressed (usually), but once there, the spiral down is instant. I'm trying to wrap my mind around why I'm feeling this way at all. I had these plans to move out of state. I gave myself two options...both options offered at least one family member in close proximity. &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/8J-R6XqpSI0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/861581700640997263/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=861581700640997263" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/861581700640997263?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/861581700640997263?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/8J-R6XqpSI0/way-out.html" title="June 22...A Way Out" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/06/way-out.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUBRXc4eyp7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-3987188329394235948</id><published>2007-06-21T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:54.933-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:54.933-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflections" /><title>can't make sense of it</title><summary type="html">I'm not even going to try to make sense. I don't think I could, if I tried. I've just experienced a betrayal, which has shook my foundation. I'm totally sideswiped right now. That old serpent, that sidewinder, just took me out.I said last night to a friend that I never saw it coming. That's not true. Sometimes that still, small voice whispers a warning that I choose to ignore, because I want to &lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/hZAIk_e_XnQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/3987188329394235948/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=3987188329394235948" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/3987188329394235948?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/3987188329394235948?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/hZAIk_e_XnQ/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-make-sense.html" title="can't make sense of it" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-make-sense.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUGQ3s4cSp7ImA9WB9QFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796643592253596713.post-5657671170162989202</id><published>2007-06-08T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T17:10:22.539-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-27T17:10:22.539-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poetry" /><title>Eclipse</title><summary type="html">There's a pinhole of LIGHTpiercing the covering darkness upon me."Follow."HE says follow."Focus."HE says focus."Take no thought of what is unknown.You know ME. Focus on ME, the LIGHT.Follow where I lead."There was a pinhole of LIGHTbut the longer I gaze upon HIM,the more I am encompassed by HIM...There is a pinhole of darkness.Copyright©2007April Prichard&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/NProgress/~4/0RTJnW4m3Rs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/feeds/5657671170162989202/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8796643592253596713&amp;postID=5657671170162989202" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5657671170162989202?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8796643592253596713/posts/default/5657671170162989202?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/NProgress/~3/0RTJnW4m3Rs/eclipse.html" title="Eclipse" /><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03044377708733683053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MjM5G0KymXE/TOCB2DtoGUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/A05fIHYDIOE/S220/nnnn.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://aprilprichard.blogspot.com/2007/06/eclipse.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

