<?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-7892149850837971937</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:50:07.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings of a Worker</title><subtitle type='html'>eight to five. monday through friday.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-4905077515611993526</id><published>2009-04-15T15:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T15:59:42.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wish I didn't have to say Goodbye...</title><content type='html'>I wrote this little song today at work... Don't ask me how or why it came to me. It just did. And I NEVER claim to be a "HIT" writer...  This song may seem wierd to have written, but I thought of the first couple lines randomly... like I do at times, and then the rest just came as I thought about my Grandma and other people who have passed on and how (in simple terms) it feels to lose someone you love. Now, if you made it through that LONG run on sentence... here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could hold back these tears I cry.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could change the way things are&lt;br /&gt;But you've slipped away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't live life on the what ifs&lt;br /&gt;How would things be - if they were different&lt;br /&gt;It hurts to move on and it hurts to remain&lt;br /&gt;If you were still here,&lt;br /&gt;Would I be feeling this pain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could hold back these tears I cry.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could change the way things are&lt;br /&gt;But you've all slipped away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything I'd looked towards with such hope&lt;br /&gt;I cannot cope&lt;br /&gt;for they to are gone.&lt;br /&gt;You're not here and I fear&lt;br /&gt;I will never move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could hold back these tears I cry.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could change the way things are&lt;br /&gt;But you've slipped away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm broken hearted at the memories&lt;br /&gt;and torn apart for the ones that will never be&lt;br /&gt;I can barely grasp that you are gone.&lt;br /&gt;Why have you left me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I didn't have to say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could hold back these tears I cry.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could change the way things are&lt;br /&gt;But its all slipped away...&lt;br /&gt;And I can't get it back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-4905077515611993526?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/4905077515611993526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/04/wish-i-didnt-have-to-say-goodbye.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/4905077515611993526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/4905077515611993526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/04/wish-i-didnt-have-to-say-goodbye.html' title='Wish I didn&apos;t have to say Goodbye...'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-789220033677509431</id><published>2009-04-11T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T15:44:19.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>70 hour week</title><content type='html'>I could be stressed. Over tired. Dreading the next few days to come. But I"m not. I've actually had a great week for a number of reasons.  I've rediscovered my unusual love for the mornings. 6 o clock AM. Yeah baby. That's what I'm talking about. I sing more in the morning. I laugh more. I have the "sarah like" urges to jump up and down and sing praises to God. The mornings definitely agree with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also found that I think 10 times more clearly in the morning.  Its in the morning that God gets me back on track. Its in the morning that my heart is able to makes its voice heard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has been great because, even though I've had lots of work to do, I've had minimal distractions. The things in life that like to weigh me to down kinda left me alone and I just stayed focused on what is really important. Fulfilling my commitments to my job, yes, but most importantly. God.  You know. Nothing else really matters but Him!!!! I would give all my dreams hopes ect ect ect just to know Him more.  Now on a note of honesty, thats MUCH easier said than done. But God has placed the desire for more of Him in my heart and He promised that "If you seek me, You will find me - if you search with all your heart". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Hallelujah. 70 hours later. I'm rested and at peace with my God and with myself. The Best is yet to come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-789220033677509431?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/789220033677509431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/04/70-hour-week.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/789220033677509431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/789220033677509431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/04/70-hour-week.html' title='70 hour week'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-9209277479927498396</id><published>2009-01-09T11:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T11:13:29.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Daisy</title><content type='html'>There once was a daisy. &lt;br /&gt;That’s all she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She glowed in the day.&lt;br /&gt;She wilted at night.&lt;br /&gt;She reached for the sun&lt;br /&gt;She reached for the soil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all in all…She was a very bored daisy.&lt;br /&gt;And day after day, She waited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She so longed to do something more&lt;br /&gt;than drink water and breathe in air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One autumn night&lt;br /&gt;a child lost in a field&lt;br /&gt;happened upon this flower and&lt;br /&gt;realizing the hour&lt;br /&gt;decided to take a rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She considered that Daisy.&lt;br /&gt;She wondered if its petals just might&lt;br /&gt;do her a favor and reveal any insight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One by one.&lt;br /&gt;She plucked those petals till she came to the last one.&lt;br /&gt;As her tears watered that Daisy,&lt;br /&gt;she tenderly gathered the fallen petals into her hand&lt;br /&gt;and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Daisy was confused but continued her routine.&lt;br /&gt;She tried her best to glow in the day.&lt;br /&gt;She still wilted at night.&lt;br /&gt;She reached for the sun.&lt;br /&gt;She reached for the soil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child grew up to tell how she had happened on that flower.&lt;br /&gt;And while picking the petals that were to decide her fate,&lt;br /&gt;She noticed that last petal there all alone -&lt;br /&gt;hanging on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could this Daisy know, Her petals had survived.&lt;br /&gt;In the heart of that child that chose to keep her life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-9209277479927498396?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/9209277479927498396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/01/daisy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/9209277479927498396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/9209277479927498396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/01/daisy.html' title='The Daisy'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-961411298412032913</id><published>2009-01-05T14:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T14:11:00.409-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I was a Dove.</title><content type='html'>I once was a dove.&lt;br /&gt;Adorned with white wings.&lt;br /&gt;Crowned by nature’s glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My master gave me a message.&lt;br /&gt;But my feeble attempt at delivery failed.&lt;br /&gt;The vast world drew me.&lt;br /&gt;Heaven lost me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far from His voice.&lt;br /&gt;I fell from the day’s light&lt;br /&gt;Into the depths of darkness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darkness coated my wings in black -&lt;br /&gt;A burden too heavy to bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In confusion and conviction&lt;br /&gt;I searched for cover&lt;br /&gt;To wait out the night.&lt;br /&gt;But morning failed to awaken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one thing saved me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace lit a fire and&lt;br /&gt;led me back home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-961411298412032913?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/961411298412032913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-was-dove.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/961411298412032913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/961411298412032913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-was-dove.html' title='I was a Dove.'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-5317587359437758961</id><published>2008-12-12T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T12:01:22.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings of a Reader.</title><content type='html'>I once was an avid reader, and I loved reading romance novels. Although, I'd have to say my favorites were suspense/romance novels.  Oh and it is to be noted these were not dirty or descriptive books.  Anyway,  with all the time I've had free at work, I've been reading some of them a second time and finding how ridiculously stupid they are!!!  Let me give you the basic plot of many of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Week 1.&lt;br /&gt;Enter Damsel.  Enter Cowboy/Prince/other male figure. &lt;br /&gt;Male sees Damsel. &lt;br /&gt;Damsel sees Male.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel hate each other.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel argue.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel know each other for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel are in love.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel discuss their love.&lt;br /&gt;Male confesses he has loved Damsel since seeing her.&lt;br /&gt;Damsel admits her love may have even started before they'd ever met.&lt;br /&gt;Week 2.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel get married.&lt;br /&gt;Male and Damsel live happily ever after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hardly get through these books when they've just met and hardly talked, but are getting all jealous and possessive of the other.  It doesn't make any sense and isn't at all realistic.  Just because 100 pages has passed, doesn't mean that enough time has passed for the characters to love each other. But who am I to talk... It's not like I've fallin in love... But even if I had. I can guarantee that I won't know it after a few days of NOT talking or seeing them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please. Who writes this stuff anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-5317587359437758961?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/5317587359437758961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/ramblings-of-reader.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/5317587359437758961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/5317587359437758961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/ramblings-of-reader.html' title='Ramblings of a Reader.'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-4006619073781204411</id><published>2008-12-11T08:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:58:47.800-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Icicles Have Formed On My Feet</title><content type='html'>Icicles have formed on my feet&lt;br /&gt;Frost covers my glasses.&lt;br /&gt;Fog smothers the air I breathe.&lt;br /&gt;It is cold outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heater is working hard&lt;br /&gt;But failing to produce.&lt;br /&gt;The radio is announcing&lt;br /&gt;Something worse to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will Ice fall from the sky&lt;br /&gt;and coat the world with glass?&lt;br /&gt;Will its freezing arms stretch out&lt;br /&gt;and strangle electricity’s heat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My home will become like a barren dungeon.&lt;br /&gt;Bereft of all warmth&lt;br /&gt;With no fire to light&lt;br /&gt;Even blankets will provide little comfort.&lt;br /&gt;It is cold outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-4006619073781204411?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/4006619073781204411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/icicles-have-formed-on-my-feet_11.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/4006619073781204411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/4006619073781204411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/icicles-have-formed-on-my-feet_11.html' title='Icicles Have Formed On My Feet'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-1006010050866498280</id><published>2008-12-11T08:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:56:19.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The following are some of my favorite edits I did on a slow day at work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF__ehglI/AAAAAAAAAEs/JfuTw1AOA0A/s1600-h/Nina+climbing+the+buffalo+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278577203928466002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF__ehglI/AAAAAAAAAEs/JfuTw1AOA0A/s320/Nina+climbing+the+buffalo+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_pC_m3I/AAAAAAAAAEk/aZpQ8t97aR8/s1600-h/be+strong.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278577197907417970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_pC_m3I/AAAAAAAAAEk/aZpQ8t97aR8/s320/be+strong.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_UVG_yI/AAAAAAAAAEc/05_wOGEe05g/s1600-h/not+just+anyone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278577192346255138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 254px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_UVG_yI/AAAAAAAAAEc/05_wOGEe05g/s320/not+just+anyone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_HmUDgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/RFSJqsklpUM/s1600-h/to+be+free.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278577188928753154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF_HmUDgI/AAAAAAAAAEU/RFSJqsklpUM/s320/to+be+free.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF-lzT3jI/AAAAAAAAAEM/XEj_i_tajqM/s1600-h/bad+day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278577179856461362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF-lzT3jI/AAAAAAAAAEM/XEj_i_tajqM/s320/bad+day.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7892149850837971937-1006010050866498280?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/1006010050866498280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/following-are-some-of-my-favorite-edits.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/1006010050866498280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/1006010050866498280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/following-are-some-of-my-favorite-edits.html' title=''/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUFF__ehglI/AAAAAAAAAEs/JfuTw1AOA0A/s72-c/Nina+climbing+the+buffalo+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-29934098484789844</id><published>2008-12-10T12:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T12:22:28.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valued.</title><content type='html'>One word could express how God views us.&lt;br /&gt;But instead we fill our minds with a million others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwanted, Lacking&lt;br /&gt;Useless, Failure,&lt;br /&gt;Unlovable, Worthless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whisper of the One&lt;br /&gt;Is drowned out by the many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouting accusatory voices.&lt;br /&gt;Murderous hateful thoughts&lt;br /&gt;that self condemn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blistering bruises&lt;br /&gt;Seeping their ill-effects&lt;br /&gt;Destroy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, the beauty of the One.&lt;br /&gt;The unadulterated purity of its meaning.&lt;br /&gt;Remains. Refusing to crumble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the lies.&lt;br /&gt;The truth shines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One.&lt;br /&gt;That’s all it takes for many to lose their strength.&lt;br /&gt;That’s all it takes for the others to be silenced.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-29934098484789844?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/29934098484789844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/valued.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/29934098484789844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/29934098484789844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/valued.html' title='Valued.'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892149850837971937.post-7515559882177464749</id><published>2008-12-10T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T12:01:26.247-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to Think.</title><content type='html'>I’m just another of the large population of employed individuals.&lt;br /&gt;But I’m a professional.  I get paid to think.&lt;br /&gt;And when thinking isn’t required.&lt;br /&gt;I get paid to warm this chair I sit in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is at these times, I consider the vast amount of words I speak.&lt;br /&gt;And then the vast amount of words I ought to speak.&lt;br /&gt;As well as the vast amount of words I ought NOT to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times, while sitting there, I consider outrageous things.&lt;br /&gt;Like…&lt;br /&gt;Writing a book.&lt;br /&gt;Taking a day off.&lt;br /&gt;Reading a book.&lt;br /&gt;Not reading a book.&lt;br /&gt;Standing up for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Quitting my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I’ve taken a few leaps of faith.&lt;br /&gt;I have not gotten desperate enough to quit.&lt;br /&gt;I guess getting paid to sit is better than not getting paid at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I accomplish things.&lt;br /&gt;It’s a pretty amazing thing.&lt;br /&gt;Couldn’t tell you what it is though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at other times I just stare.&lt;br /&gt;How can there be so much to think about?&lt;br /&gt;And so much TIME to think about it?&lt;br /&gt;And no thinking at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The less and less I am required to think.&lt;br /&gt;The less and less I find I do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course when I am tired, and trying to sleep,&lt;br /&gt;My mind refuses to be silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps, someday, I will be free of this life.&lt;br /&gt;But then I’m not sure what I would do…&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I would accomplish something outrageous.&lt;br /&gt;Although I couldn’t tell you what that could possibly be.&lt;br /&gt;With all this time to think…&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t gotten around to thinking about it yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7892149850837971937-7515559882177464749?l=ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/feeds/7515559882177464749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-to-think.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/7515559882177464749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7892149850837971937/posts/default/7515559882177464749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramblingsofaworker.blogspot.com/2008/12/time-to-think.html' title='Time to Think.'/><author><name>Passionate. Purpose. Pursuit.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01653448498357636056</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d_KpX4faWnI/SUAEYVEGWXI/AAAAAAAAADU/MRj8NZxIMn0/S220/scripture+pictures.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
