tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-264294642024-03-13T02:20:03.956-04:00beneath the music from a farther roomTravishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-30062574943742005112011-12-31T02:34:00.002-05:002011-12-31T02:41:32.587-05:00a Prodigal's song as sung by Another.This is my Story.<div>This is my Song.<br /><div><br /></div><div><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eK87RjrtJto" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>From a Sinner to his Maker</div><div>Your Prodigal son is on his knees.</div><div>Sweet God, please hold onto me.</div></div></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-73080360687545046982011-12-22T02:32:00.010-05:002011-12-22T03:33:47.891-05:00A House Divided. A House on Fire.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">His House is on fire, but he stands in the doorway with the Law held high, opposing any force that threatens the ideas his grandfathers passed down that have long been gathering dust, and now burn as tinder for the consuming flames of Truth and Progress. He'll lose it all for the sake of preserving it all. In the end out of the ashes will rise what some had been for years trying to bring about pea</span></span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">ceably, but without the redeemable portions of the past that might have been preserved. And our children will tell their children of life before he let it all burn down, but they won't understand, and the House he left on fire will fade from the stories of time, only to be glimpsed in the reflection of the tears of the old men that recall a time when the House still stood.</span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';color:#FFFFFF;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/39zDodfqqBs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></span></span></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-18107818061524048132011-12-11T21:53:00.001-05:002011-12-11T22:01:09.111-05:00These Days<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/J1N8GtDkYfQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">These days I seem to think a lot </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">About the things that I forgot to do. </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">And all the times I had the chance to. </p>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-36781338508080778412011-10-24T02:51:00.003-04:002011-10-24T03:14:59.451-04:00If I Die YoungLike me, many of you read, or were at least introduced to Mark Twain's <i>Tom Sawyer</i> as a child. For me it brings back memories of grade school musicals about the subject and my intense fear of Sawyer's nemesis, "Injun Joe",--incidentally I just at this moment realized how racist it is that the main antagonist is a murderous, thieving, Native American, but that will have to be saved for a later post on my literary blog. <div><br /></div><div>My point in referencing <i>Tom Sawyer</i> is because of a specific scene in the book. After running away from home, and encountering a series of unfortunate events, Tom and a few of his friends are assumed to have drowned in the river. A funeral is planned, and I don't remember how or why, but Tom ends up in the rafters of the church as the funeral is being conducted. He sets up and watches the events unfold as his Aunt Polly and various others mourn his loss, and is privileged to see himself through the raw, honest eyes of those who grieve him. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been thinking of this story, and honestly been envious. I have to admit that the thought of being able to hear what people thought of me, or seeing who was really moved and affected by my death is an enticing thought to me. Don't get me wrong, I have no plans to be taken out anytime soon unless God so allows, but I think its something to think about. What would people say at your funeral? Who would show up? Would anyone? I think, if somehow given the chance, most people would be curious to see what actually transpires in response to their death. Its some kind of transcendent human need to know that our life held meaning outside of ourselves. That's what I'm getting at. How is my life impacting others? And the things I say, and thoughts I share, do they have meaning that transcend myself, or would they be buried forever with me?</div><div>_____________________</div><div><br /></div><div>A penny for my thoughts, </div><div>Oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar. </div><div>They're worth so much more</div><div>After I'm a goner. </div><div>And maybe then you'll hear</div><div>The words that I've been singin'.</div><div>Funny when you're dead how</div><div>People start listenin'. </div><div><br /></div><div>- excerpted from "If I Die Young" as sung by The Band Perry.</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7NJqUN9TClM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-49702364175040699602011-10-23T01:56:00.002-04:002011-10-23T02:18:53.988-04:00These days I feel like every day I wake up in a fog, fighting to see a reason I should get out of bed. Most days my reason wins out, and I get up to face the day. Occasionally, there are days that I'm not as strong as I wish I was, and I hide underneath the covers wishing that some state of unconsciousness would overtake me. The worst days though, are those in which I'm moving and breathing; speaking and laughing; sharing and loving; without meaning any of it. The days I had enough grace to put on my plastic smile and say the things Jesus would've said to people who wouldn't hear it any other way even if I had the nerve to tell them plainly. <div><br /></div><div>I've always had a mask though, I think and now that I'm being honest with myself, I'm finding within my heads, thoughts that I hate to admit are there, but are nonetheless. </div><div><br /></div><div>Worst of all, even in my lostness, I'm not really sure I want to be found right now. I don't think I could take another day of plastic smiles and the right word for the right situation. That would kill me right now, cause it wouldn't be real. I think I need to wander for a while, and as painful as it is for someone who has always been tied to some group or organization greater than himself, there is a sad peace in knowing that while I may be alone at least it will all be real. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I guess in the end, right now I'd rather be lost in a dark forest with real haunts and shadows than sitting in a sandbox in front of holograph of the sea, pretending to feel the ocean breeze. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not talking about God really. I know that He is good and all the other things I'm supposed to say about Him. I also honestly believe all that, and that Hope is all I really have. But at the same time I'm tired of pretending I've got it all figured out and am a good kid in sunday school. This is me and this is real. </div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-61768331654165293032011-10-16T01:51:00.001-04:002011-10-16T01:57:14.926-04:00wales and a traveler I passed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTvui6Nn5M6Zp2hdODxKtOlV8071mi7kvSaEG9FcwWfAlP0ePCHqxC6_-Om6BLHVVEe2m8xsSqhcVCZ_wuCnEtabQVC8PEYIETznt9_XT-eOGZBpPko7YnG63twhbDOF31mWs/s1600/img_2247.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTvui6Nn5M6Zp2hdODxKtOlV8071mi7kvSaEG9FcwWfAlP0ePCHqxC6_-Om6BLHVVEe2m8xsSqhcVCZ_wuCnEtabQVC8PEYIETznt9_XT-eOGZBpPko7YnG63twhbDOF31mWs/s400/img_2247.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663964818296513634" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-78210079657931681912011-10-13T10:39:00.015-04:002011-10-14T00:59:45.133-04:00Thoughts on Friends that I have Known.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">There are friends that I have known.<br />Some I knew for who they were.<br />Some I knew for who I wished them to be.<br />Some I knew deeply.<br />Others I knew with only a passing glance.<br />Some I continue to know.<br />Many I can no longer know.<br />Some were taken from me.<br />Some chose to leave. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Others I abandoned.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Most simply faded away.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">A few remain.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Of these I call to mind a few</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">With whom I share some memory of sound,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Or shadows reflected in a cloudy mirror.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Memories of words spoken and of songs,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">And a hope of more to come.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">There are friends that I have known, and</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Among them I am known. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">13.10.2011</span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><object width="250" height="40"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf"><param name="wmode" value="window"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=8538527&style=metal&p=0"><embed src="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="250" height="40" flashvars="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=8538527&style=metal&p=0" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="window"></embed></object></span></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-34961238630755642502010-03-29T19:01:00.002-04:002010-03-29T19:02:35.922-04:00<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times, serif;color:#3D3D3D;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*Previously Published this Post, but did some editing and wanted to republish it on here. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:#3D3D3D;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">Why do I so often find myself lapsing into these misconceptions about my walk with Christ? Thankfully God continues to move on my life and reveal Himself in new ways to me. However, I know from observing and talking with friends and fellow believers, that my misgivings and misunderstandings about God and my status in Christ are not unique to me. As Followers of Christ, many of us often make these same mistakes. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:#3D3D3D;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:#3D3D3D;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">We are so practical and pragmatic. We figure it all out, only to see our calculations add up incorrectly again and again.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 200%;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:#3D3D3D;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="color:#3D3D3D;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">We try to earn God's Grace, Love, and Mercy. We trick ourselves into believing we can reason with God's will–perhaps make a compromise. We beat ourselves up after we fall, wondering what the appropriate time should be before we are worthy to approach God for forgiveness. We fail to see the folly even in thinking that some amount of penance can make us worthy to approach the Holy Presence of God. We deny the truth that God requires nothing but sincere repentance. We ignore the truth that God stands with open arms beckoning us home. We fail to grasp the fact that God chose us. We could do nothing of ourselves to move towards His righteous self. Why do we feel the intense need to insert ourselves so heavily in the story of God's grace? We have nothing to do with it besides the fact that we are the Redeemed. We are the Trash He took and transformed. Even our most holy works are filthy in comparison to His immaculate Perfection. We have taken up burdens He never meant for us to carry. We say we are free, but we're bogged down more than ever in guilt. We have mocked His sacrifice by attempting to save ourselves. We have taken the guilt of our failures and made pitiful efforts at resolution. We are too proud to admit that we can do nothing to remedy our sinful natures. We are too wise to believe that God's Grace is Free. His Love is Eternal. We are too serious to believe that He takes delight in our conversation with Him. We are so guarded that we cannot understand His emphasis on relationships. We are so busy that we fail to take the time to live out our call to follow Him. We are so skeptical that we question His motive. We are so jaded that we doubt His love. We are so advanced that we reason away His miracles. We are so comfortable that we are blinded to His blessings. We are so religious that we lose His relation. We are so dogmatic that we leave no room for His Spirit to work. We need to get back to the Heart. We need to find who we are in Him. We need to lift our eyes to Him. We must realize that He is our only Hope. He is the Essence of all Good. There is nothing of ourselves to merit salvation and the only thing we can do is fall on our knees in repentance and trust that His Word is true when He said He would forgive us. We must believe.</span></span></span><span style="font-family:Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-7697487251388140562010-03-02T00:53:00.002-05:002010-03-02T01:03:51.082-05:00of an Afrikan morning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNz_qoOyg2-7PgAj5we7NNkcCNizYXKvcpkRq7hyphenhyphenaWqipQ1wv6M8mGDWAb7Tqm2NJXe7_8qOxc2ch0-9Gs2PnOGZIT1nY_bGIsD5Iv1sFkuqEKN64w6cCGJdK9qA5x4oWlqx1/s1600-h/DSC01186.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNz_qoOyg2-7PgAj5we7NNkcCNizYXKvcpkRq7hyphenhyphenaWqipQ1wv6M8mGDWAb7Tqm2NJXe7_8qOxc2ch0-9Gs2PnOGZIT1nY_bGIsD5Iv1sFkuqEKN64w6cCGJdK9qA5x4oWlqx1/s400/DSC01186.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443912486595183234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4_oYWyjKJQo0NWcGO-u1yXXwis1Ow1V0sAYECM67_MqjTFkITbMVJvO_QoM37q1ARO4QQW70_zLDroK77T9KkXIiIhFjABEupFYLbo6NekXZXO66Fb1Z7aEgQfmLmUK-gPrY/s1600-h/DSC01205.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4_oYWyjKJQo0NWcGO-u1yXXwis1Ow1V0sAYECM67_MqjTFkITbMVJvO_QoM37q1ARO4QQW70_zLDroK77T9KkXIiIhFjABEupFYLbo6NekXZXO66Fb1Z7aEgQfmLmUK-gPrY/s400/DSC01205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443912480801192194" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOHPOY2e0gwyX2_RVfzCULOKI8NN2P4v-ycu-xnq5gyStVHnETD5dbPuiVNVRQj26eOtNpAfM2u34c3cYTpoiciSQ5pJwbMCbL2jHPySebQKsUfzxcY1mCEMeq0cKF7Vyvs0h/s1600-h/DSC01228.JPG"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOHPOY2e0gwyX2_RVfzCULOKI8NN2P4v-ycu-xnq5gyStVHnETD5dbPuiVNVRQj26eOtNpAfM2u34c3cYTpoiciSQ5pJwbMCbL2jHPySebQKsUfzxcY1mCEMeq0cKF7Vyvs0h/s400/DSC01228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443911574360215122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGelgFH13TfBbJGCE_y2Z0qtL6wd8-rrWVYvhfomRwNpuk-EOWPm-2J80E7DWHVK6oE2kzNA2Sc_vHQqNO0_2JTMRMDF4h2-QN5TgnLiRWd1Bl75MP4YfhPuwafyf9EGKxYbm/s1600-h/DSC01223.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGelgFH13TfBbJGCE_y2Z0qtL6wd8-rrWVYvhfomRwNpuk-EOWPm-2J80E7DWHVK6oE2kzNA2Sc_vHQqNO0_2JTMRMDF4h2-QN5TgnLiRWd1Bl75MP4YfhPuwafyf9EGKxYbm/s400/DSC01223.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443911562193724114" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0utLQtnUnIFFHHxGVdKSaRUpHrxeOqhOOjE2-hdJqSJzdG7ww2UmiStXKFIcSC_MDCt76Qn9URC-h76hPfK6eLecNXKymxRtUut-yz_KMOSO5Gh5CCJlZogwyIOMg6EzJZZk/s1600-h/DSC01213.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0utLQtnUnIFFHHxGVdKSaRUpHrxeOqhOOjE2-hdJqSJzdG7ww2UmiStXKFIcSC_MDCt76Qn9URC-h76hPfK6eLecNXKymxRtUut-yz_KMOSO5Gh5CCJlZogwyIOMg6EzJZZk/s400/DSC01213.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443911557063668242" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-38806791998918282502010-02-24T02:38:00.002-05:002010-02-24T02:42:12.295-05:00Year of my Austrian Summer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NpFdbAWM36B8WqUtbIS5TEUWdmO29J5YIo_YlMC-uNzwV7BUrge8Tkkaha_1fbqQsZhJlKYN3ouZUylMEunSFTH04c79F5eA-YPBVjArN3ErsyowVAhXmXHti5X50_jBT6Px/s1600-h/52(3).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NpFdbAWM36B8WqUtbIS5TEUWdmO29J5YIo_YlMC-uNzwV7BUrge8Tkkaha_1fbqQsZhJlKYN3ouZUylMEunSFTH04c79F5eA-YPBVjArN3ErsyowVAhXmXHti5X50_jBT6Px/s400/52(3).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441711167087106594" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-77790374643893559132010-02-24T02:17:00.000-05:002010-02-24T02:18:51.738-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXLAuXrAkfxt5Ot1XZlU9LiXgG7IT9dbXtuXUmKGTNnn-80RLqMT0Y8Fn0wLcFYqkJltn1tVqBWuywGekJKD-jCJGGR3kShZ2nx_8fJ0zWd8u2Wnd7CsZCsgQ6bHuxE48KSPM/s1600-h/Untitled-1(2).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXLAuXrAkfxt5Ot1XZlU9LiXgG7IT9dbXtuXUmKGTNnn-80RLqMT0Y8Fn0wLcFYqkJltn1tVqBWuywGekJKD-jCJGGR3kShZ2nx_8fJ0zWd8u2Wnd7CsZCsgQ6bHuxE48KSPM/s400/Untitled-1(2).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441706045739529746" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-74846883907147259662010-02-17T01:14:00.001-05:002010-02-17T01:21:32.497-05:00Martin Highway<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnqFfl1q17sYSbIRRCz31HZ4X42Ii-GIcsu5iv9TCOYfe-Q056-BQAcX5E6fQF5CrOJssNxB49zqS2G79qgw613ILwVFdPU8BhprZecAjugOJJDqFyp2wOKtkrL6zUnXmHR3Y/s1600-h/DSC08616.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnqFfl1q17sYSbIRRCz31HZ4X42Ii-GIcsu5iv9TCOYfe-Q056-BQAcX5E6fQF5CrOJssNxB49zqS2G79qgw613ILwVFdPU8BhprZecAjugOJJDqFyp2wOKtkrL6zUnXmHR3Y/s400/DSC08616.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439093658397298962" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQOh3pU_4hiyE0H9VNQEpc3nxV4Q-O_gKo-N40RkZUkCz0f7Wqnz_FyLtu1XWoeL7OkJu_toAkXUdTnbMYOGT_HdTwSaDtsm1MKdfNGxuGY_TqO4cx26F2PLR8ClWBEDlw0i8/s1600-h/DSC08700.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQOh3pU_4hiyE0H9VNQEpc3nxV4Q-O_gKo-N40RkZUkCz0f7Wqnz_FyLtu1XWoeL7OkJu_toAkXUdTnbMYOGT_HdTwSaDtsm1MKdfNGxuGY_TqO4cx26F2PLR8ClWBEDlw0i8/s400/DSC08700.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439093648794424002" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7q10JzK7ckmUC2OHw7P-ArR3wGolmr924TDNjWT5g5Ic16zpdE3Wl6FWVCN8Xp6HTUyiUyCHk9jqYSlRtbojE_7WdsbbkJWi9873sj_qSklyWMowDJy82u7014p02GmLlt68/s1600-h/DSC08674.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7q10JzK7ckmUC2OHw7P-ArR3wGolmr924TDNjWT5g5Ic16zpdE3Wl6FWVCN8Xp6HTUyiUyCHk9jqYSlRtbojE_7WdsbbkJWi9873sj_qSklyWMowDJy82u7014p02GmLlt68/s400/DSC08674.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439092521075693698" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-6879766356951941352010-01-10T09:51:00.005-05:002010-02-15T23:34:05.917-05:00Christ's Love in Rhyme and Meter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">These are just a few stanzas from some of the songs I love the most about Christ and His Love and Interaction with us, fallen humanity. Songs that paint pictures of Redemption and Relationship through and with our Saviour.<br /><br />"The Love of God"<br /><br />Could we with ink the ocean fill,<br />And were the skies of parchment made,<br />Were every stalk on earth a quill,<br />And every man a scribe by trade,<br />To write the love of God above,<br />Would drain the ocean dry.<br />Nor could the scroll contain the whole,<br />Though stretched from sky to sky.<br /><br />O love of God, how rich and pure!<br />How measureless and strong!<br />It shall forevermore endure<br />The saints’ and angels’ song.<br /><br />-Frederick M. Lehman<br /><br />"There is a Fountain"<br /><br />E’er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply,<br />Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.<br />And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die;<br />Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.<br /><br />--William Cowper<br /><br />"Arise, My Soul, Arise"<br /><br />He ever lives above, for me to intercede;<br />His all redeeming love, His precious blood, to plead:<br />His blood atoned for all our race,<br />His blood atoned for all our race,<br />And sprinkles now the throne of grace.<br /><br />My God is reconciled; His pardoning voice I hear;<br />He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear:<br />With confidence I now draw nigh,<br />With confidence I now draw nigh,<br />And “Father, Abba, Father,” cry.<br /><br />--Charles Wesley<br /><br />"In Christ Alone"<br /><br />There in the ground His body lay<br />Light of the world by darkness slain<br />Then bursting forth in glorious Day<br />Up from the grave He rose again<br />And as He stands in victory<br />Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me<br />For I am His and He is mine<br />Bought with the precious blood of Christ<br /><br />No guilt of life, no fear in death<br />This is the power of Christ in me<br />From life’s first cry to final breath<br />Jesus commands my destiny<br />No power of hell, no scheme of man<br />Can ever pluck me from His hand<br />‘til He returns or calls me home<br />Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand<br /><br />--Stuart Townend</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-27634456779416204522009-10-03T17:46:00.006-04:002009-10-03T18:00:57.387-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvD7B2HFmGropBvsiW37hZ7l4ae87Ukmec8qbN3y-9cmJkJ9z0n2vla7_MRQLRrx24Ew5fSbIqmA3vZsRgHs34XzkjQAjEpE0f4oOyw-R22bgFYbMqJ6rtG_GyHM6GdqB38jLG/s1600-h/DSC08394.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvD7B2HFmGropBvsiW37hZ7l4ae87Ukmec8qbN3y-9cmJkJ9z0n2vla7_MRQLRrx24Ew5fSbIqmA3vZsRgHs34XzkjQAjEpE0f4oOyw-R22bgFYbMqJ6rtG_GyHM6GdqB38jLG/s400/DSC08394.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388496584467148258" /></a><br /><br />My Sorrow, when she's here with me,<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thinks these dark days of autumn rain</div><div>Are beautiful as days can be;</div><div>She loves the bare, the withered tree;</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She walks the sodden pasture lane.</div><div><br /></div><div>Her pleasure will not let me stay.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She talks and I am fain to list:</div><div>She's glad the birds are gone away, </div><div>She's glad her simple worsted gray</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Is silver now with clinging mist.</div><div><br /></div><div>The desolate, deserted trees, </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The faded earth, the heavy sky,</div><div>The beauties she so truly sees,</div><div>She thinks I have no eye for these, </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And vexes me for reason why.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not yesterday I learned to know</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The love of bare November days</div><div>Before the coming of the snow,</div><div>But it were vain to tell her so,</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And they are better for her praise. </div><div><br /></div><div>–Robert Frost</div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-59224646792021361122009-09-01T22:26:00.004-04:002009-09-01T22:55:04.263-04:00F<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">or a slight departure, a more comical post than normal. *</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';">*at the time there was not much humor involved. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Picture it: A quiet Tuesday evening staying at Kerilyn's house while she's on vacation. I've just polished off an evening snack (the first carton ice cream I've eaten in forever), and I've decided to do something constructive, like wash laundry. So I gather up all the clothes I'd been piling in a corner of the bathroom, for want of a laundry basket, and head for the washer (which is just adjacent to the kitchen). I'm nervous. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Flashback: about 10 minutes or so earlier I'd spotted a roach–no one should question Keri's house hygiene, its swampland in Florida, and we had a hurricane like storm the night before that would make El Nino blush. The roach stood there, mocking me. Taunting me. I grabbed a cup and slowly approached it [again, please note the courage] but it slyly ran into the dark crevice beside the oven. Right beside the Laundry room. One must keep in mind for the rest of the story that I detest roaches. I fear them. They terrorize me. I have and would rather let a boa constrictor dance around my neck, then a roach get near my shoe. Its just that simple, I fear them. It stems back to my childhood when one jumped on my back, and refused to be dislodged, no matter how many laps around the house I did. It was a bad day.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Back to the Present. I decide to defy my fear and start a load of laundry with the full knowledge that the chances of the roach being in the same room with me are about 70%. I put the load in, and there out of the corner of my eye I spot it. It runs in the crack between the dryer and the wall where the Ironing board is stowed. I decide to go look for some raid. Keri either has a soft spot for insects, or is really good at hiding chemicals for when the toddlers (and occasional house-sitter) drop by. The raid is nowhere to be found. So I see the bottle of oust in the cupboard above the dryer. I begin to Oust the area into a dense fog, akin to your average New England port at dawn. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Eventually the roach ends up in a basket of crisp, clean, folded laundry Keri had left on the dryer. "</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Great", </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think to myself. I try to fog it out with the oust, but to no avail. At last an idea strikes. Making for certain that the roach is still on the basket, with one fell swoop I grab the basket and set it outside on the air conditioner hub.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now I can't just leave Keri's clean laundry outside to face what could become another storm gale, so I go back into the kitchen, grab a pair of tongs, find a broom, and with oust in hand head back to the battle. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Not knowing for sure if the roach has rooted deeper in the pile of clothes, I begin to deftly pick up each article of clothing (be it blouse, sundress, skirt, or shorts) with my pair of tongs and shake it with a vigorous movement until a point at which I'm certain the average roach would have lost hold. All the while bathing the clean clothes in a thick mist of oust. After each article meets my approval, I deposit it back in the house, and head out to the thick of the fight. I'm only hoping that the neighbors on campus are in bed by now, and aren't watching the man outside in the yard wildly flailing women's clothing held from the end of a pair of tongs. Finally after what seemed to be the eternal pile of clothing came to its end I grabbed the basket, gave it a few kicks with my foot, sprayed the last of the oust on it, and took it back inside. The roach had left. I had won. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">W</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">i</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">a</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">g</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">a</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">n</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">f</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">a</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">c</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">c</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">m</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">p</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">l</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">i</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">m</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">n</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">w</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">i</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">w</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">d</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">c</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">n</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">q</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">u</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">d</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">a</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">c</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-49683380406627083212009-08-23T23:07:00.004-04:002010-02-15T23:35:41.195-05:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">I heard this song over a year ago, but recently listened to it again, and have listenend to it many times over the past couple of months. It has become one of the most powerful songs in my life. I want the last part to truly become my heart's prayer. Hope it impacts you the way it has me.<br /><br />I Corinthians 3:18<br /><br /><br />Charlie Was A Fool<br />Did You Hear What He Went And Did?<br />He Quit His Job, Threw It Away<br />Gave His Life To A Bunch Of Kids<br />He Said He Was In Love With Jesus<br />But His Friends Didn't Understand<br />He Could've Had It All<br />But He Just Smiled And Said<br />That He Already Did.<br /><br /><br />He Saw The Big In The Small<br />He Saw The Beauty In The Call<br />Even When No One Else Approved<br />He Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.<br /><br /><br />Sarah Was A Beauty Queen<br />Miss Something Or Another<br />She Took Off Her Crown<br />Rolled Up Her Sleeves<br />Gave Her Life In A Mission To Others<br />She Said She Was In Love With Jesus<br />But Her Friends Called Her A Fool<br />They Said She'd Never Find Happiness<br />She Just Looked At Them And Smiled<br />And Said She Already Did.<br /><br /><br />She Saw The Big In The Small<br />She Saw The Beauty In The Call<br />Even When No One Else Approved<br />She Took The Job Only A Fool Would Do.<br /><br /><br />The Way Of The World, It May Look Wise<br />The Way Of The Truth Is To Realize<br />Wisdom Will Only Come Through<br />To Those Who Are Only The Fool.<br /><br /><br />Show Me The Big In The Small<br />Show Me The Beauty In The Call<br />Show Me The Road That I Should Chose<br />I'll Take The Job Only A Fool Could Do.<br /><br /><br />Show Me The Big In The Small<br />Show Me The Wonder Of My Call<br />Even When No One Else Approves<br />I'll Take The Job For Only A Fool<br />Only A Fool, Only A Fool.<br /><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/note_redirect.php?note_id=141968030972&h=f8d33edbaf7344e95d2ee271cc8cfd29&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D96vopIg3d9k" target="_blank" title="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96vopIg3d9k" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Listen to Geoff Moore's Only A Fool</span></span></span></span></a><br /></span>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-73400736389962072009-08-17T22:36:00.006-04:002010-02-15T23:35:54.484-05:00<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCL2kpzpOPvauGu61wm6wvxHuntQP1NttpMjrDNUH3OEoDFnjqSyYZ1dcNBEKwOS0MkpWt0ne9GiDGDlLCbl82iPQiEMfnnPdAzHOb5jhE_dy9gXYu7TCkicrkX4ehs4pGk592/s1600-h/DSC01543.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCL2kpzpOPvauGu61wm6wvxHuntQP1NttpMjrDNUH3OEoDFnjqSyYZ1dcNBEKwOS0MkpWt0ne9GiDGDlLCbl82iPQiEMfnnPdAzHOb5jhE_dy9gXYu7TCkicrkX4ehs4pGk592/s320/DSC01543.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371127387786618418" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Adoration in the Darkness</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">When the Night, tossing and turning, </div><div style="text-align: left;">In its bed of velvet black, </div><div style="text-align: left;">Awakes in flashing glory</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the thunder answers back, </div><div style="text-align: left;">When the stars have gladly fallen</div><div style="text-align: left;">Down between the billowed clouds</div><div style="text-align: left;">And slept their fill, their cradles rocked</div><div style="text-align: left;">By Blowing whitened sounds. </div><div style="text-align: left;">When the sun is still afraid to rare its</div><div style="text-align: left;">Haughty head of day</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the rain is playing hide and seek </div><div style="text-align: left;">Above the rolling waves, </div><div style="text-align: left;">When the wind is singing softly in </div><div style="text-align: left;">Some mournful minor key</div><div style="text-align: left;">And an orchestra of hollow trees</div><div style="text-align: left;">Has trembled gradually, </div><div style="text-align: left;">It is now that I will still myself</div><div style="text-align: left;">And listen with my heart</div><div style="text-align: left;">To what I know I've heard before</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yet rarely taken part.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now the thunder claps the time to </div><div style="text-align: left;">What will grow to be a song</div><div style="text-align: left;">Of Creation sounding praises</div><div style="text-align: left;">Of their God, and then the throng</div><div style="text-align: left;">That gathered here to hear it</div><div style="text-align: left;">Will cry aloud as one</div><div style="text-align: left;">Worthy is the Lamb of God</div><div style="text-align: left;">And Honor to the Son</div><div style="text-align: left;">All Power be to Him, alone,</div><div style="text-align: left;">That sits upon the throne</div><div style="text-align: left;">All Glory, His Eternal, </div><div style="text-align: left;">And His it shall remain</div><div style="text-align: left;">Forever captive in His love </div><div style="text-align: left;">And His Eternal reign. </div><div style="text-align: left;">When the song has softly faded</div><div style="text-align: left;">In the whispers of the waves</div><div style="text-align: left;">I will watch the dying darkness</div><div style="text-align: left;">And anticipate the Day,</div><div style="text-align: left;">For I know with Dawn comes Sunset</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the Dusk is sure to bring</div><div style="text-align: left;">A myriad of praises </div><div style="text-align: left;">With the night, sung to my King. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">17 August 2009</div><div style="text-align: left;">Travis Shillington</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-18318119428307116142009-08-14T03:07:00.003-04:002009-08-14T03:16:35.411-04:00Yet another one. . .<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLnh7fhxiwuPgWjRf3L4rEw3YqSlREK9pX-YYshFwJEKuPPFk3cH3TYHGXMcbnpn7-lE-HB2tyE7guCwwjFKIOrC8AHbs0BXR1JohpKKoxNTj6cYDLL4ryHSQBC-uyNZF4fbJ/s1600-h/n713536560_369401_8044.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLnh7fhxiwuPgWjRf3L4rEw3YqSlREK9pX-YYshFwJEKuPPFk3cH3TYHGXMcbnpn7-lE-HB2tyE7guCwwjFKIOrC8AHbs0BXR1JohpKKoxNTj6cYDLL4ryHSQBC-uyNZF4fbJ/s320/n713536560_369401_8044.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369714562584434610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.travisshillington.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Check it out.</span></span></a></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-46192099808716761542009-08-12T02:10:00.002-04:002009-08-12T02:45:11.273-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwabsGWfOswiqM1Go8M0DeKzmDi9EWPpQvAXZVpYO8vJs6HqGf5ytd8dvWydJNqjx-J9CHyqCNVe-bLxB3CA_s4I_v-PfuOC4ifq1-Viou9RJqFI8Igh9f5RmqK6diSnJnvJVf/s1600-h/n1539065894_22991_3083.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwabsGWfOswiqM1Go8M0DeKzmDi9EWPpQvAXZVpYO8vJs6HqGf5ytd8dvWydJNqjx-J9CHyqCNVe-bLxB3CA_s4I_v-PfuOC4ifq1-Viou9RJqFI8Igh9f5RmqK6diSnJnvJVf/s400/n1539065894_22991_3083.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368955873381389906" /></a><div>Sometimes I wish I'd have sat down more and just listened to what they had to say. Listened to their stories of growing up during WWII and what it was like to see the world then. I wish I could listen to how they felt after all of their children lived in a different country, and how they coped with life's problems over the years. I wish I could sit and ask them what their favorite memory was of their birthday, or hear my Grandma talk about her mother getting her and her sister up and dressed to watch a thunder storm in the middle of the night, just in case they would need to go somewhere safe. I wish I could listen to them laugh at each other's jokes, or hear my Grandfather's soft voice as he walked down to the basement to get the strawberry preserves out of the fridge. I wish I could hear them talk about their old dates, or say "eh?" at the end of a sentence. I would give alot to go to A&W again for a burger and root beer with them or sit in their living room and listen to stories about the Canadian prime minister from Grandpa. I wish I could look at the photographs of old family members that they missed as much as I miss them now. I wish I could hear the stories firsthand again of how the house my Grandfather was raised in burnt down after they were married. I want to see that smirk on my Grandma's face before she said something funny, or that wide toothy grin Grandpa gave her. I wish I could hear them tell them they loved us with tears in their eyes as we drove off again, most likely not to see them again for another year. I wish I could've stayed in the room longer in that cold hospital where Grandma laid dying and held her hand longer than I had. I wish I could sit on the couch with Grandpa again as he looked at a young picture of Grandma after she died, crying as he told me what a beautiful women she had been. I wish I had overcome my fear of hearing about people dying and truly showed that I cared when he became sick. I wish I hadn't masked my concern with apathy when he began to grow weaker, And I wish I had talked to him one last time before he died. . . Someday I will. <br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-54513133406249338882009-08-11T00:11:00.002-04:002009-08-11T00:31:04.707-04:00<div>I had a whole lot more to say, but don't think this is the venue, so I'll just say this. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks at the Heart". </div><div><br /></div><div>I am so tired of the energy that many around me exert in keeping up with the latest news of who is doing and wearing what these days. Who's hair recently got shorter, and who added the wedding band to their daily routine of getting dressed in the morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>[the absurdity of the sentence above to most of the world struck me. It bothers me that this is even something I can relate to].</div><div><br /></div><div> God help me to keep my eyes on Him, because I know I'm tempted and have been guilty of the same thing. I have so many times tried to reason my salvation based on the fact that I've earned it because of what I'm not doing. What a lie I've fallen for so many times. I pray that God will open my own eyes wider to His abounding Love and Grace, and the inner things of the Heart that He sees. </div><div><div><br /></div><div>On the other side I know there is a tendency for those with more "Freedom" to label those more conservative as legalists. I just wish we could all just forget about the outside appearance and realize that Grace is a Free gift and the most we can do is give Christ our all in return as Gratitude, not payment. </div></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-56119276070084824702009-08-04T02:08:00.004-04:002009-08-04T18:49:04.090-04:00Matthew 6:19-21<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Before this year, I can honestly say I've never missed any particular place. I have, of course, missed situations, individuals, and familiar comforts, but I cannot say I have ever longed to just exist in a certain atmosphere. That has changed. It is hard to express without coming across as sentimental or dramatic, but I truly can hardly wait for the day I return to Africa. There is something beyond even the five senses that is inexplicably captivating. It is nothing like any place in which I have ever lived. It is probably less comfortable, in many ways offering fewer amenities than to which I am accustomed. But that does not bother me, which is surprising because I admit I enjoy being comfortable. The food is different. Good in its own way, but not the way I would cook it if I were cooking it, yet I crave it. The people are Beautiful. For the most part unpretentious and unselfish. They give of themselves freely and beneath a thin exterior of formality lies a fairly unguarded heart that is raw and deep in a way most Westerners could not understand. They have dimension in an age of shallow familiarity and surface acquaintances. I wonder if I can ever allow myself to become vulnerable in that way. Respect for those who are in authority, whether you know them or not, is a way of life. Society treats those that are older as people of wisdom, not people to be shut away and forgotten. These Tannies and Ooms are not ridiculed for their older Boer ways, but appreciated for being living Icons of an Age that is fastly fading as an Era of political correctness eats away at an identity or nationalism. There is a way of life, that though dying, is still tangible and visible in the Towns. People greet each other with more than a smile and wave. There is a warmth created by interaction that cannot be duplicated through any other means of communication than raw, one on one conversation. This is what I miss. The culture that is not afraid to set aside time from their plans to truly find out how someone else is doing. A culture that forces you to forget about yourself for a few minutes and find out about the true feelings and emotions someone else is experiencing. It is by no means a Utopia. There are arguably more problems than many other places, but does that make it irredeemable? Is it beyond hope? Can people who really grow to love the country not implement change? The only change that will really transform any place is the one that has eternal significance. People filled with the Love that is God pouring their lives into people who have no true Hope is the something that cannot be underestimated. God created something unparalleled in beauty in the vast landscape of Mountains and Sea, and in the people that live their lives in and around that land. The only thing that remains is to take His Love to them through service and sacrifice. Africa does not need my American thought or my Western trained intellect. It needs the all transforming, redeeming Love of God. A love that can only truly be shared through us when God chooses to use us, and we respond by Whole heartedly giving of our life. our Soul. I can honestly say that whether or not God chooses to allow me to see Africa again, I am in the process of allowing Him to transform me into someone who is not tied to material things. I will never drive a fancy car or own a beautiful home, but I will, by God's Grace, sell my life out to doing His will and showing others His Love wherever He calls me. There will always be a part of my heart that can only be filled by Africa, and I pray I will be worthy of the Blessing of returning to this wonderful place that God has given me such a desire in which to minister. Above all I pray I never lose the fire of service or become blind to the tragedy of the American Dream and the materialism it embodies. I pray God will use me in to radically bring Glory to Him in Africa or wherever He chooses to place me. It sounds scary to say I may never have the safety and security of Home, but I could never call Home any place besides the center of God's will. I know He has called me beyond the comfort and influence of material things, and in that I have an unexplainable trust and calm. People may never understand and say I am being a bad steward by not investing my money in Wall Street or IRA's, but God has not called me to the ministry of sending workers, He has called me to do all I can to be His work. So now I can say there is a place I will always wish to return to. A place my Heart is in. A place I could one day call Home.</span></span><br /></div></span>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-63232364287903744472009-08-04T02:07:00.000-04:002009-08-04T02:08:08.452-04:00Romania [a memory]<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2wJ664nL3MObowgjG5zJ_MBdeL8DN_p6mEPL08fyj-0MdPPXJuWSGH9iKPZTca8re2PCXTkVkPk2LJ_HmJA0yP-O23delTBzPvyCVMujhSFmcwAcBkk9UIClyZzHUnXKan3H/s1600-h/n713536560_750224_2775.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2wJ664nL3MObowgjG5zJ_MBdeL8DN_p6mEPL08fyj-0MdPPXJuWSGH9iKPZTca8re2PCXTkVkPk2LJ_HmJA0yP-O23delTBzPvyCVMujhSFmcwAcBkk9UIClyZzHUnXKan3H/s400/n713536560_750224_2775.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365986384281822066" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-44320534038278607392009-07-31T12:37:00.003-04:002009-07-31T12:47:08.667-04:00Antics in the Schoolyard on the Sly.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJababZojxQU41Lw3bz19xs00nIJLfKvzUI5fUQqz-CFM6uOWPqp5tRuVMOcksjQrqsAo2a47oBQOKBAfBl9gXyLPzDZmpmmiliiaSNDykduPg0sSDpSR53WYUSoxjOBm_9EtO/s1600-h/DSC01421(2).jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; 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cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXnOgoXkSuVWz04rFzC-dPRFf_4DZN8PvB8G8mqStKwbzAXQlXwT0HTCIj4a7iNPrY6E0eZlLyQoHE7sffu-kL60IoDq7K1kV8b-FKqrem0jJnnRWDK4By5KuRG6QkPt_45p7/s400/DSC01378.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364665393035372258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwH2sug-q-JAZtg8c5munrVIo4qnBPduzv3nz5LHOVpICM3XS3t3NUvnarSyi5iRIl9Qe0Xv_9x0db1jhVDp6HMJVOMkq9UYJtisg6q_EncFS6lLJDmtrpWKK8gMWBbf_lHL1/s1600-h/DSC01381.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwH2sug-q-JAZtg8c5munrVIo4qnBPduzv3nz5LHOVpICM3XS3t3NUvnarSyi5iRIl9Qe0Xv_9x0db1jhVDp6HMJVOMkq9UYJtisg6q_EncFS6lLJDmtrpWKK8gMWBbf_lHL1/s400/DSC01381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364665389702978338" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-82138783824428818222009-03-13T01:56:00.002-04:002009-03-13T02:04:16.943-04:00"on Golden Rays of Sunlight Trod" or "Becker Farms at Dusk"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo0JRNLxx5SsjrkUZP18G_ycaoFQM4SJdlxpogEQ9_mW2F68AjtsrwbQf6uYL-WraWNHqPV6XAo0zFOL-G0zFb9_cQpTrfXRDxFXYS6vChy-qUDxP7p6a7CDdMXs0w13YNBbm/s1600-h/DSC05923.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwo0JRNLxx5SsjrkUZP18G_ycaoFQM4SJdlxpogEQ9_mW2F68AjtsrwbQf6uYL-WraWNHqPV6XAo0zFOL-G0zFb9_cQpTrfXRDxFXYS6vChy-qUDxP7p6a7CDdMXs0w13YNBbm/s400/DSC05923.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312548697698854850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIYI40hzvYwOevLw277GGFClgSopb_plQ-tcnJrZcqGQGcw5x4NUt1tL68dNbZ2bXc-9Ve5j_QgpmopAmU06TCU4lJr932No6MkPSpsOsER-TaSei6NlEWjpx37XBMjdq2LG4/s1600-h/DSC05933.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIYI40hzvYwOevLw277GGFClgSopb_plQ-tcnJrZcqGQGcw5x4NUt1tL68dNbZ2bXc-9Ve5j_QgpmopAmU06TCU4lJr932No6MkPSpsOsER-TaSei6NlEWjpx37XBMjdq2LG4/s400/DSC05933.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312548694046817698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKr5GMGkk20LV-nv6u75AhN2ZkWO8pxAfGImESxIXcEFqP-xaOHlEaJzH4OXozWVGp8WZAlGysy2rTvFzWM4JgpgPRmzmT_9LOU35Y5-UMsNzo71Vx99JxS3XgTtXrAtgM0eRH/s1600-h/DSC05892.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKr5GMGkk20LV-nv6u75AhN2ZkWO8pxAfGImESxIXcEFqP-xaOHlEaJzH4OXozWVGp8WZAlGysy2rTvFzWM4JgpgPRmzmT_9LOU35Y5-UMsNzo71Vx99JxS3XgTtXrAtgM0eRH/s400/DSC05892.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312548693119820290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYRJ1LRzf6O2xSiPlCfvIA8kHyIOnJh7G5WE7UM0qcc_bGa-xTNrfvr6F4tSvJ0173eyQaKdxoKEGTca3hCdqrBRnY3S4AZYAWh-8YgV3Y9Tar0K3f52Hg0CxyntFsY4cPmtr/s1600-h/DSC05847.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYRJ1LRzf6O2xSiPlCfvIA8kHyIOnJh7G5WE7UM0qcc_bGa-xTNrfvr6F4tSvJ0173eyQaKdxoKEGTca3hCdqrBRnY3S4AZYAWh-8YgV3Y9Tar0K3f52Hg0CxyntFsY4cPmtr/s400/DSC05847.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312548689256730850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqqMtXKt401MTZPFdzBOhadt9NEWiMmWwTpbAjhmPvNW44gAgW69AEHuPVfCZVSkSQGXrc8dp5PfUX_r5SZ9HC0WjA3uksMRiR4xChXBh-z4MRnrHonvaO_bAcaJV0n6XnrGH/s1600-h/DSC05891.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqqMtXKt401MTZPFdzBOhadt9NEWiMmWwTpbAjhmPvNW44gAgW69AEHuPVfCZVSkSQGXrc8dp5PfUX_r5SZ9HC0WjA3uksMRiR4xChXBh-z4MRnrHonvaO_bAcaJV0n6XnrGH/s400/DSC05891.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312548680646238690" /></a>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26429464.post-80900061980198952922009-02-16T00:10:00.003-05:002009-02-16T00:17:10.625-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxpABIdQgMu2RP5d-YbeUeR1k0LOyMcR5Iry7UdlNVR6UfiX7CaEZL32vOxBcThsfH67koO-ffK5hvMo-aLlqTrtKrs45MASrEdI88fswxC6FSzcm6K-WyB3h7QfPHGXLZcf2/s1600-h/img_2473.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 372px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxpABIdQgMu2RP5d-YbeUeR1k0LOyMcR5Iry7UdlNVR6UfiX7CaEZL32vOxBcThsfH67koO-ffK5hvMo-aLlqTrtKrs45MASrEdI88fswxC6FSzcm6K-WyB3h7QfPHGXLZcf2/s400/img_2473.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303258762357218834" /></a><br /><div>Images in black and white,</div><div>Sprawling skies in shades of gray.</div><div>You with me, and paper kites</div><div>Sailing high to greet the day.</div><div><br /></div><div>Opening, the sky and clouds</div><div>Rained down around our paper kites.</div><div>We danced beneath the thundering shroud </div><div>And laughed to see the crashing lights.</div><div><br /></div><div>Racing to the sprawling tree.</div><div>Collapsing at its solid base.</div><div>Sheltered by its thousand leaves</div><div>Casting shadows on your face.</div><div><br /></div><div>Beneath the tree, we closed our eyes</div><div>And hoped the storm would never end.</div><div>We fell asleep beneath the sky</div><div>And woke to find the rain again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Travis Shillington</div><div>21-4-08</div><div><br /></div>Travishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06164826904073752158noreply@blogger.com0