<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633</id><updated>2012-02-16T04:49:27.354-05:00</updated><category term='community'/><category term='addiction'/><category term='events'/><category term='memories'/><category term='commitment'/><category term='depression'/><category term='writing'/><category term='spiritual growth'/><category term='ADD'/><title type='text'>Princess L's Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-2346390816394265217</id><published>2009-08-05T08:24:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T13:08:14.258-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='addiction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spiritual growth'/><title type='text'>Buttons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f2mNpxuQrvY/Snmz8QvEXjI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oImH3CHNWtA/s1600-h/LilDevil.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366518278854565426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 193px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f2mNpxuQrvY/Snmz8QvEXjI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oImH3CHNWtA/s320/LilDevil.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; If I were to list the top things that Satan uses to try to get to me it would look something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Money/Car (usually related, but not always)&lt;br /&gt;2. Depression&lt;br /&gt;3. Addiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surrounding my recent sobriety birthday he has been pretty busy in my life trying to get me off track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;In June my car was the victim of a hit and run accident.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Last week I was deep in the throws of depression.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And this week I am being tempted by my addiction as I have not been tempted in quite some time. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I don't much care which buttons Satan chooses to push, I'm not falling for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f2mNpxuQrvY/Snm5UmYzbcI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Nwzq4H1cZX0/s1600-h/Over_the_rainbow.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366524194541759938" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f2mNpxuQrvY/Snm5UmYzbcI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Nwzq4H1cZX0/s320/Over_the_rainbow.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another tactic that he often uses to keep us trapped is silence. If I suffer in silence I suffer alone. If I choose to speak out I gain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The prayers and support of other Christ followers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Accountability&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The promises of God.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-2346390816394265217?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2346390816394265217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=2346390816394265217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2346390816394265217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2346390816394265217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/08/buttons.html' title='Buttons'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f2mNpxuQrvY/Snmz8QvEXjI/AAAAAAAAAAU/oImH3CHNWtA/s72-c/LilDevil.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-2486155769660701228</id><published>2009-07-29T08:06:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T13:05:32.218-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='community'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='events'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commitment'/><title type='text'>Commitment</title><content type='html'>-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;noun&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. a pledge or promise; obligation: &lt;em&gt;We have made a commitment to pay our bills on time.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. engagement; involvement: &lt;em&gt;They have a sincere commitment to religion.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Above all, my brothers, do not swear--not by heaven, or by earth, or anything else. Let your "yes" be yes, and your "no," no, or you will be condemned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;James 5:12b&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There seems to be a disconnect in our society as to what "yes" and "no" mean. In my life I have seen too many times where "yes" means "if I feel like it at the time" or "if I don't get a better offer". Or just as frustrating, when you offer an invitation and get no response until the last possible moment. I'm not sure if these are people who don't plan events and don't understand how difficult it is to plan when you don't know for how many guests you are planning. Or if they are just rude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am certainly not perfect, there are times when I have made a commitment to something and had to back out. Those occasions never happened on a whim. Occasionally they happen due to physical illness~which is completely understandable. And for me, sometimes I cancel due to depression. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Which brings me to another level of commitment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Community&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Snly8IjporI/AAAAAAAAAcA/rMs_np0iIAU/s1600-h/Ice-Cream-Cones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366446808403387058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Snly8IjporI/AAAAAAAAAcA/rMs_np0iIAU/s320/Ice-Cream-Cones.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Last Wednesday was a perfect example of the commitment to community in my small group. I had really been struggling with depression for several days. On Friday evening I had plans with a friend~canceled. Saturday evening dinner plans with another friend~canceled. Long time plans with a friend to go to Six Flags on Monday~canceled the week before. Made new plans to go to Six Flags with another friend on Monday~canceled. Add to that the effects of PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder, which is basically PMS increased exponentially) and all I wanted to do was hibernate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;On Monday I made the good decision to let others know that I was struggling. Specifically I sent an email to the women in my community group asking for their prayers. On Wednesday I wasn't doing any better so I sent an email to our group leader letting her know that I would not be attending that evening. Apparently that was not an acceptable answer. Just before our Bible study should be starting I received two phone calls and a text message. Basically, I could willingly join them for ice cream and fellowship or someone would be waiting on my doorstep to drag me out when I got home. So, mostly willingly I met my sisters at Bruster's for ice cream. It may not have been what I thought I wanted. But it most definitely was what I needed. (Perhaps I didn't need the Key Lime Pie ice cream~with lots of crust).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;never an opportunity" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kahlil Gibran&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-2486155769660701228?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2486155769660701228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=2486155769660701228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2486155769660701228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2486155769660701228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/07/commitment.html' title='Commitment'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Snly8IjporI/AAAAAAAAAcA/rMs_np0iIAU/s72-c/Ice-Cream-Cones.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-6172654176398210871</id><published>2009-07-28T21:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T21:46:53.047-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ADD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Attention Deficit or Alzheimer's</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Sm-k3LidqII/AAAAAAAAAbw/HxtdJRC6aOM/s1600-h/pen.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 1px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 1px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363686949118650498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Sm-k3LidqII/AAAAAAAAAbw/HxtdJRC6aOM/s320/pen.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've spent the last day and a half wanting to write something here. I've had several ideas bouncing--quite literally--around in my head. There is one idea that has stood out as THE topic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363692350884699458" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Sm-pxmr2XUI/AAAAAAAAAb4/VYDFIzGIzT4/s320/fountain_pen_1.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;However, I keep forgetting what that topic is. Now I'm beginning to wonder what's happening. Is it my attention deficit disorder or something more sinister like Alzheimer's? Earlier today when I had another "aha" moment of remembering what that fabulous topic is I suggested that I write it down. I got distracted or maybe I forgot. If I got distracted I've forgotten what the distraction was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So, attention deficit disorder . . . or . . . Alzheimer's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-6172654176398210871?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/6172654176398210871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=6172654176398210871' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/6172654176398210871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/6172654176398210871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/07/attention-deficit-or-alzheimers.html' title='Attention Deficit or Alzheimer&apos;s'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/Sm-k3LidqII/AAAAAAAAAbw/HxtdJRC6aOM/s72-c/pen.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-4503234247020387107</id><published>2009-05-31T15:32:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T15:50:25.197-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>Cary Band Day</title><content type='html'>It was always the same, yet somehow each year was different. One thing that was always the same was the cold. I don't know how they always knew which Saturday in November would be the coldest, but they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parade seemed to start at the crack of dawn. Although I know it couldn't be that early. By that time of year the days were shorter, and we had to park what seemed like miles away from our spot along the route. So getting up early was always a part of Cary Band Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although one year I didn't see the parade from the sidelines, I saw it from the top of a float. I don't remember the theme of the float, much less the sponsor. But, I do remember the huge "Nellie Olsen" bow in my in my hair and the gigantic lollipop--you know the ones, they're multi-colored and swirled. That was a great parade . . . okay, so mostly it was great to eat the lollipop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342076693032565714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SiLecuMZe9I/AAAAAAAAAbc/GlwbE8tDoKY/s400/lollipop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year I didn't see the parade at all. I was too busy trying to remember all the right notes, keep rhythm and stay in step all at the same time. As an eighth grader I wasn't too good at that. That was my last year in band, but certainly not my last experience with Cary Band Day.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In fact, a couple years ago I happened to be visiting my parents one weekend in November. As we sat out on the deck you could still clearly hear the bands as they competed for the "Best of Show" and other awards. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;It was a very sweet sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-4503234247020387107?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/4503234247020387107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=4503234247020387107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/4503234247020387107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/4503234247020387107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/05/cary-band-day.html' title='Cary Band Day'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SiLecuMZe9I/AAAAAAAAAbc/GlwbE8tDoKY/s72-c/lollipop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-409929127164185561</id><published>2009-05-31T15:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T15:32:17.181-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>A while ago I purchased a book titled, "Writing your Life: Putting Your Past On Paper" by Lou Willett Stanek, Ph.d. I purposely put the book away after purchasing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was out at Borders and saw this book on an end cap. While I want to do some writing, I knew that I was not ready to commit to this book at that time. Recently some things have changed in my life and I now feel ready to do more writing.  Also, I received a new journal from a friend. The title on the journal is "Don't you remember?" What a perfect journal to record my 'memoirs'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each chapter talks about some aspect of writing down your memories and follows it with some suggested topics to start you thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of those memories will be posted here, some may just remain in the journal. But, I'm excited to be writing again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So keep watching . . . 'Memories' to come&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-409929127164185561?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/409929127164185561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=409929127164185561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/409929127164185561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/409929127164185561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/05/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-5091266548051908127</id><published>2009-02-25T10:25:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T03:32:46.889-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spiritual growth'/><title type='text'>I Do It Myself!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"I do it myself!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you hear it from a two year old you are either quietly amused or extremely frustrated--possibly both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you hear it from an adult who needs help you may feel frustrated, sad, or disappointed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you hear it from a young adult who is stepping out on their own you may be sad or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ecstatic&lt;/span&gt;, or once again . . . both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times in our lives that "doing it ourselves" is a very dangerous &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;proposition&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other times when it's a growth experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week I've been feeling isolated and lonely. On at least one occasion I've reached out to connect with someone healthy and safe. That was good for the time we were together, however when I left I went back to the state of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;loneliness&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past I would have reached out to literally anyone who would give me attention. Trading anything--including my soul--for that &lt;em&gt;moment&lt;/em&gt; of connectedness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is I have dozens of friends that I could call on at any hour. And I have no doubt that they would be there for me. But something kept me from calling them--a knowledge that they didn't have what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this time I've also been dealing with some frustration with a lack of productivity and a search for someone to hold me accountable.  I've been lacking the motivation to do things that &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to be done--walking, working out, taking care of my home, etc. So, if I can find someone to hold me accountable then maybe I'll do these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up yesterday with the realization that it's time for me to "do it myself". Not doing it alone. I've proven over and over again in my life that &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; can't do anything without Christ. Okay, I can make a really big mess, but to clean it up I need God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I can't do is live my life for any other person . . . or their approval. If my house is going to get clean and stay that way . . . &lt;em&gt;I do it myself&lt;/em&gt;. If I'm going to eat healthy . . . &lt;em&gt;I do it myself&lt;/em&gt;. If I'm going to work out and lose weight . . . &lt;em&gt;I do it myself&lt;/em&gt;. Again, I can not accomplish any of that without God's help and guidance. But neither can I do it &lt;em&gt;for&lt;/em&gt; the sake of someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;loneliness&lt;/span&gt; and isolation? That was God pursuing me. Oh, I'd been talking to him. Asking him to bring someone into my life to hold me accountable--and I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; need that. However, I have to find my own motivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a pretty awesome realization that God is pursuing &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I mean, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;God&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is pursing me. He's &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;pursuing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; me . . . he wants to spend time with me . . . he wants me to turn to him--for everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found much contentment in being single over the last several years. However, that doesn't negate the need to be wanted and loved. Intellectually I've known that God is my lover, my husband, my companion . . . and that's good to know. Today I know that he's all of that and much much more. I know it in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I was cleaning and cooking yesterday I was also talking to God. His answer came in the form of a song. &lt;em&gt;"Psalm 62"&lt;/em&gt;  by Shane and Shane. It's been in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;iTunes&lt;/span&gt; for more than a year--this is the first time I've &lt;em&gt;heard&lt;/em&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He's the only one&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;strong enough to lean &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my heaviness against&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;the weight of all my sin &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;falling on a rock&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;leaning on a fortress&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh the wall of God&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jesus, he won't move&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;On God I rest&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my salvation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;my fortress shall not be shaken&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My mighty rock and my glorious&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I lay my head upon his chest&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;On God I rest . . . &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So . . . "my soul rests, on God alone" . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and with God's help alone "I do it myself!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-5091266548051908127?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/5091266548051908127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=5091266548051908127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/5091266548051908127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/5091266548051908127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-do-it-myself.html' title='I Do It Myself!!!'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-3393516580327355056</id><published>2008-11-27T08:53:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T13:06:29.223-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spiritual growth'/><title type='text'>Reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;What is Real?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;That's the question asked by the Velveteen Rabbit and answered by the Skin Horse in the following excerpt:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"What is Real?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lying&lt;/span&gt; side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"Real isn't how your are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves, then you become Real."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;things&lt;/span&gt; don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So . . . who am I . . . Really?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm a ragamuffin, an addict, a sinner, and a wretch&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;who is loved by God and redeemed by the blood of Christ on the cross&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;an heir to the throne, a daughter of the King of kings&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;A Princess&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;who loves the color pink and refuses to 'grow up'&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am Me!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-3393516580327355056?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/3393516580327355056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=3393516580327355056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/3393516580327355056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/3393516580327355056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2008/11/reality.html' title='Reality'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8961568648335537633.post-2519687115918744073</id><published>2008-07-04T14:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T13:00:25.119-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ADD'/><title type='text'>ADD, not math, Attention Deficit Disorder</title><content type='html'>The last several weeks I have been pondering whether or not I have been blessed/cursed with Attention Deficit Disorder and I have come to the conclusion that pink is my favorite color, actually pink is my only color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are confused by that first statment welcome to the club!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been doing a lot of reading lately . . . I love to read and can easily get lost in a book for hours . . . probably one of the reasons I have not been diagnosed as A.D.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;. . . so I wrote the above about an hour ago, I have much more to say, but I got distracted--this is the problem with the Internet, there's SO much out there just begging for my attention . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8961568648335537633-2519687115918744073?l=princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/feeds/2519687115918744073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8961568648335537633&amp;postID=2519687115918744073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2519687115918744073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8961568648335537633/posts/default/2519687115918744073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://princesslsthoughts.blogspot.com/2008/07/add-not-math-attention-deficit-disorder.html' title='ADD, not math, Attention Deficit Disorder'/><author><name>PrincessL</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03666816028593434267</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_5hlss0SZ3f0/SG5edfC_vmI/AAAAAAAAARc/1pRnJ4MoR9U/S220/Stairway.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
