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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| dinhsider.blogspot.com
It sounds so much cooler. I probably will blog like once a month. I have given up trying to do this every week.
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| When God calls
someone a fool it's not taken lightly. This word is the biggest curse
word that God uses in the entire Bible. The atheist is called a fool
(Ps. 14:1), the slanderer is said to be a fool (Prov. 10:18), those who
despise instruction (Prov. 15:5), a contentious person (Prov. 18:6),
the one who lives for pleasure (Lk. 12:13-20), the one who trusts in
his won heart (Prov. 28:26) all are called fools by God.
I don't
know why I follow through my actions. After reflecting I no longer know
if I understand my reasoning. Do I learn from the mistakes of others?
Do I learn from my own? If I can look at my personal history to see
what I've done I know that there will be a noticeable pattern. Like
many young Christians I went through many battles in the past. My
deepest scars were from the risks that I was willing to take on, were
they worth it? With my biased eyes and heart I'm not sure if I'm the
one to judge for myself. Logic would say that once I know what hurts I
wouldn't do it again. I know myself and that is not how I work. What I
do is go into the same battles again with a different game plan in the
hopes that I will succeed. Many times I don't think I know how to
define success or victory. So how am I supposed to know what I'm truly
fighting for? I may be so into my own world that I could be making up
my own gifts that is at the end. The ones that may never really be
there. The easy answer is to pray through everything. But what if my
prayers are wrong? Have I been ignoring all of God's answer of "no"? I
wouldn't be surprised if I'm stubborn to the point where I make up
God's desires for me. Totally self centered, right?
What now?
God really does use the broken, I know this. I want to pray that God
will use my brokenness, my scars, my experiences and my foolishness for
His kingdom, in His will. I pray in Jesus name that you, God, can make
good out of anything that I do, even when I disobey.
One last
thing...I usually joke around when I say "I'd rather be the fool than
to be fooled." heh...I guess the joke really is on me.
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| it's almost 3:30 in the morning and I am awake. I wonder too much.
I'm thinking about my circle of friends. I may never know, and I might not have to know, but I wonder why do I have these particular individuals in my life. I also wonder how many of them will be around in five, or ten years later. I wonder who I should be getting to know more? Who should I spend more time with? Who can I serve better...?
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| I used to have a dog from 1992-1997.
When my family got him I named him after my favorite cartoon character,
Daffy. He was quite large, blond, playful, and very loving. He
understood how to play tag and he played with everyone, even when people didn't
want to (which scared them.) When he was one year old he learned to lick
people's faces as a gesture of love. At age two he learned to give his
paw to ask for food. When he turned three he learned to put his right paw
around you when you hugged him. He learned nothing at age four. In
1997 he acted strangely. He wasn't active, he was often tired, he started
to limp, and he didn't seem as happy. At some point I think he knew
he was sick, and this time I couldn't tell what he was telling me. When
it was too late he was diagnosed with bone cancer.
For a while he moved very little. He didn't have a lot of energy and his
passing away was bound to happen. One day before I left for school we put
him in our shack outside to give him some air. When I got back home with
my dad he was missing. I had an aunt to take care of him while we were
away, so we thought she took him to the hospital. Two hours later we
found out that he wasn't with anyone. We found him on the other side of
our yard in front of the door of our fence, wide eyed, and not breathing.
Daffy hadn't walked in days. I wonder where he was trying to go.
Last night I was in a middle of a nightmare until I saw him in my
dreams. I hugged him and he hugged back. It wasn't the first time
that I had a dream with him in it, but every time my inactive brain is lost for
words. Unfortunately I can never say to Daffy "see you in
heaven." He's an animal after all. Whenever I do see him again I
just want to say, "sup dawg?"
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| "You can never go back home."
I forget who told me that, but the idea is that home changes beyond recognition when you go away.
For those of you that don't know I grew up 60 km north of Paris in a small town called Pont Sainte Maxence. The day I left town for the states there were officially 10,001 residents, makes me wonder if my departure made it 10,000. The place was small enough that when I was 4 years old I was able to walk around town by myself for most of the afternoon. The best part of the week was when I would go to a bar, order a glass bottle of pineapple juice, and play the pin ball machine, which all of this the time that was worth a dollar cents (8 francs.) Here are some pictures!
This is my old house. On the first floor was the restaurant that my parents had for 7 years. The second floor with the big window was home! Our living space! This picture was taken in 2006 when I stood in front of it. I was too nervous to knock on the door and go inside. Hopefully in the near future when I go back I get to take a tour around the home that I was in my whole childhood. I love how our building was connected to every other building on the street. You'd think it would create more intimacy with the neighbors, but it actually doesn't.
This is the bridge that the town is named after. I don't know the history or the real significance of this bridge, but all I know is that there's a lot. Actually I remember walking across this as a kid and it would be a huge accomplishment. As an adult now it takes me like 15-20 seconds, and I;m sure as you can tell the roads are fairly narrow. Pretty small bridge!
    
This was preschool and kindergarten for me. I haven't stopped by 15 years before this picture. It's crazy how my prospective of this place changed. As a child I thought it was a palace. A couple years ago I thought it looked like an underfunded, undersized, desperately needs an expansion building type of school. They took out the playground and replaced it with that tree that you see on the left, and they painted the entire building into one color! Back in the day when I attended it was multicolored and the colors determined which grade you were in. I love this place.
This is where I was a born. The branches of those trees hide the name of it, but it says "Hotel de Dieu." In literal translation it means Hotel of God, but it actually means God's Hospital. If you've been to France before I am certain you've passed by it because it's right next to this building:
Yep, I was born right across the street from that. If you know the name of it I'll give you bonus points, which essentially might be a handshake. Hi Adrienne! =D | | |
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