<?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-68824478701645942</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:37:47.650-08:00</updated><category term='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TTUGNz2BQYI/AAAAAAAAAIE/0UQWWyI0USQ/s1600/Dec.%2B2010%2B005.JPG'/><title type='text'>Standing Tall in Faith</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-3204685434330927951</id><published>2011-05-31T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T20:57:05.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>14 days to go...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wixJ56Xwu9o/TeW4iDNkn3I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/NoPusiUT21M/s1600/high_heels_and_briefcase_in_hallway_12290006.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wixJ56Xwu9o/TeW4iDNkn3I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/NoPusiUT21M/s320/high_heels_and_briefcase_in_hallway_12290006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613095405704486770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In exactly 14 days I will be back in a suit and heels.  In exactly 14 days I will be back in staff and board meetings.  In exactly 14 days, I will pull out of my drive way and travel to a full-time job where I will no longer be my own boss for the first time in nearly 4 years.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So how am I feeling?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Excited.  Anxious.  Eager to be obedient to my God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think that this is 100% what God has planned for me.  That doesn't mean however that I don't have reservations. I have many of those.  I have already dealt with the naysayers, received the disapproving looks from other mothers, and I am sure many others will follow.  I have my own worries about how my family will do with mommy back at work.  Will my husband really be able to handle this change in our family, and most of all how will my sweet Owen whose had his mommy full-time since he was 7 months old, do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to put that all in God's hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to cling to what is truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I to deny the enemy a foothold in my mind to shower me with lies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to look ahead and remember that life is short.  Some may say, "yes, life is short so why go back to work? Why not stay home with your kids?"  I can't argue with that statement.  But for me, right now, at this place in my life, life is too short to say no to an opportunity that will provide the resources we will need to fulfill our role in building God's kingdom.  God is writing a story and is giving us all a part to play.  Some of us simply have roles that are different than others.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am honored to play my part.  Will you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-3204685434330927951?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/3204685434330927951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=3204685434330927951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3204685434330927951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3204685434330927951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/05/14-days-to-go.html' title='14 days to go...'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wixJ56Xwu9o/TeW4iDNkn3I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/NoPusiUT21M/s72-c/high_heels_and_briefcase_in_hallway_12290006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-5451581194801103103</id><published>2011-05-21T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T21:23:41.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Journey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fLaKiKTZ8Ds/TdiPv76DQtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ws1aY05obbM/s1600/CBU_James_Entrance_MediaCtr.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fLaKiKTZ8Ds/TdiPv76DQtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ws1aY05obbM/s320/CBU_James_Entrance_MediaCtr.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609391389587751634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is finished. I had my big CBU interview and met with over 13 staff people, including the four Vice Presidents of the campus.  Whew....it was a long day.  I fell in love with the campus, the team has tremendous potential, and things started to add up.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The following week was the final big interview with the President of the University.  The day was oddly cold and rainy for this time of year.  I pulled out my navy blue suit, the same one I wore the last time I interviewed at UCR for my most recent position over four years ago.  Somehow, miraculously, it fit like a glove.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My interview with the President was fairly short.  All in all just about 20 minutes.  After we were finished, I waited in the VP of Advancement's office while he debriefed with the President.  That was an agonizing 15 minutes.  I didn't know what was going to happen.  I actually sat in his office and prayed outloud saying "God, if I am offered this job today, please let them offer me my salary goal so I don't have to negotiate in person! I will do anything for you!"  All I have to say is, God answers prayers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there it was.  I was offered the position, no need to negotiate.  I sat there overjoyed yet feeling so undeserving.  "God has to be in this" is all I could think.  I have no idea where this journey will take me next, but I am excited to serve my King however he sees fit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-5451581194801103103?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/5451581194801103103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=5451581194801103103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5451581194801103103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5451581194801103103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/05/new-journey.html' title='A New Journey'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fLaKiKTZ8Ds/TdiPv76DQtI/AAAAAAAAAPI/ws1aY05obbM/s72-c/CBU_James_Entrance_MediaCtr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-1432210778993398312</id><published>2011-05-10T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T20:59:02.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Doors</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is a big day for me.  I am interviewing at Cal Baptist University for the position of Assistant Vice President of Major Gifts/Campaigns. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought I should write about what I am feeling this evening, because this opportunity could mark a tremendous milestone in my life, and I want to make sure that I document these memories. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wasn't even considering going back to work full-time until 3 separate people told me about this position.  All the obvious statements came in to my mind, "I am not ready to go back to work full-time." "My husband and my kids aren't ready for this kind of change either." But then I began to think about what God would want me to do.  Was he opening a door for me and my family?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I called the VP of Advancement who was gracious enough to meet with me one-on-one to tell me more about the position and what was happening at CBU in terms of their giving.  My interest peaked.  CBU is as amazing institution.  I was very clear with him and told him that my husband and I would be praying about whether or not I should apply.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have learned through life though that sometimes God opens doors that we aren't sure we are supposed to walk through.  He has done this over and over in my life.  Every single time, I have been afraid to walk through that door, and every time he teaches me a lesson that makes it all worth it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what will happen tomorrow.  I don't know if I will be offered the position.  All I know is that through a lot of prayer he has told me to venture through this door, and see what waits on the other side.  All I know for sure is that I am truly humbled to even be considered for this position.  If God chooses to bless me for his glory by having me serve him this way, than so be it. I will be obedient to whatever he asks of me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-1432210778993398312?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/1432210778993398312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=1432210778993398312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1432210778993398312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1432210778993398312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/05/open-doors.html' title='Open Doors'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-3117886259991269815</id><published>2011-04-25T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T19:01:14.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Hearted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nQ1Bas_dOJQ/TbY8uElCZ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/oit-SMMNP3o/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B028.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nQ1Bas_dOJQ/TbY8uElCZ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/oit-SMMNP3o/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599729948882528178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have processed over and over where to begin to write about this.  IF I should write about this.  I came to the conclusion that I NEED to write about it.  I need to "grieve this loss" as a good friend put it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been living a state of utter spiritual confusion for the past two months.  God has given me an enormous life changing gift through my experience with The Doctors, which has brought me to a place of humility as I look at how he beautifully crafted this gift for me.  I am experiencing in moments the "highest of highs" as I realize how none of this experience is coincidence, and how it has ALL been a gift from my heavenly father.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then...well then at the same time, the same week as my surgery, my world was shaken.  My recent position with the ministry I had been working so hard for, was being laid off after a decision was made by our U.S. board to shut our office down.  Even my new friend Pastor Martin was stepping down.  While the decision left me feeling like my heart was being ripped out of my chest, it was exactly the right decision that needed to be made. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Morally and spiritually, the decision came down to lack of integrity in leadership of the ministry in Uganda.  That's all I can really say.  Although I agree that we could no longer support the decisions being made by the leadership there, it's been so hard to process through how I am supposed to now "move on."  It feels like sin won.  It feels like evil is prevailing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At times I find myself regretting it all.  Regretting getting involved, regretting all the time I put into working since I took time away from my family.  Even regretting going to Uganda.  When I find myself thinking these thoughts, it only turns into depression...and that's the last place I want to be.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is such a confusing time to journey through.  In the beginning I felt like the best gift in the world was being taken from me.  For the first time I had a job that I LOVED to do.  I found my place in building God's kingdom.  Now, its gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I realize that I have grown so much spiritually in the last year.  God has revealed himself to me in so many ways through this chapter in my life.  I have made great, life-long friends who have challenged me and supported me.  I am now closely connected to my good friend Pastor Martin and his wife Hope.  Those are gifts that cannot be measured. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have also found my purpose in building God's kingdom, even if that meant finding it through heartbreak.  I know now, what God's created me to do.  Many people don't find "that" when they are in their mid-thirties and so I am thankful for blessing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So for now I will battle and press on.  For with this time of uncertainty comes a spiritual battleground that is trying to wreck havoc in my life.  Satan has been at work all around me in the subdued form of creating dissention in relationships, speaking lies and confusion to me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But God is good. God is more powerful than any attack Satan can attempt to afflict against me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So where do I go now? I have no idea.  I know that God is calling me to a time of rest and I am trying to be obedient to that.  "Trying" is the key word there.  He knows my heart is broken, so I am giving it to him to mend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-3117886259991269815?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/3117886259991269815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=3117886259991269815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3117886259991269815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3117886259991269815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/broken-hearted.html' title='Broken Hearted'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nQ1Bas_dOJQ/TbY8uElCZ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/oit-SMMNP3o/s72-c/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B028.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-8566579149149788336</id><published>2011-04-23T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T21:21:55.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Friday</title><content type='html'>We spent Easter weekend trying to really sit in the magnitude of what those 3 days represented to our lives as Christians.  On Good Friday, Micah and I decided to allow Ethan our oldest child to watch the movie "The Passion" with us.  He is 10 1/2 years old and we thought that he was mature enough to handle what he was about to see.  He has developed an interest in our faith that goes beyond just learning on Sunday, and I can see a spark light up inside of him when he hears mom and dad talk through biblical passages and stories.  I also notice a small piece of me as a child inside of him.  He has the same interests in history and humanitarian issues as I did as a child, and I am grateful for how my Dad took the time to cultivate that in me.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the three of us watched the movie together and I couldn't help but glance over my 10 year old boy.  He face was somber.  Shear sadness enveloped his eyes and I could see that he was fighting back tears, as if he thought his tears would reveal that perhaps he was too young to watch this movie.  Then as my boy (the boy who at this moment in his life has been struggling with respecting his momma) watched the poignant scene of Mary seeing her son carrying his cross and having flashbacks of Jesus as a child, I noticed a tear fall from his eye.  He saw that I noticed this and he in turn quickly wiped it away.  He snuggled up next to me and for a brief moment in his 10 year old life, my boy let me put his arms around him.  In spite of his slightly rebellious behavior over the last year, my baby was telling me that he still loved me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the movie, we talked about how we needed to remember to grieve that night.  I explained to him that we need to understand and remember the magnitude of the pain that Jesus went through.  I told him that it was only through remembering that grief and feeling that heartache, that we could really understood the joy that would come on Easter Sunday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-8566579149149788336?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/8566579149149788336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=8566579149149788336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8566579149149788336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8566579149149788336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/good-friday.html' title='Good Friday'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-8738358788122250179</id><published>2011-04-14T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T20:39:54.894-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uganda-Part 5, Martin and Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;One of the best things about this trip to Gulu, was the friendships that I was blessed with. Pastor Martin and his wife hosted us one evening with dinner at their home. It was so exciting to meet his sweet wife Hope and their children, after having the opportunity to get to know him while he was here in the U.S. last fall. Martin seemed so excited to have us in his home, and to have the opportunity to host us. Spending time with him and his wife felt just like being with family. I wish that my husband could have been there too, so I had Martin talk to him on the phone while I was there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We sat and had dinner together and then just spend time in fellowship talking through some of life's difficult issues. I had the pleasure of holding Martin and Hope's new baby boy Josiah who was recovering from malaria. It was such comfort for my soul to hold that beautiful baby!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aWZRMcq3mig/Tae9H8-qHlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/0rVngv1j_g4/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aWZRMcq3mig/Tae9H8-qHlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/0rVngv1j_g4/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595649006356799058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sweet baby Josiah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hg7r-OLVmJE/Tae9HvbBOiI/AAAAAAAAAMw/x531wUSzGNM/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B007.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hg7r-OLVmJE/Tae9HvbBOiI/AAAAAAAAAMw/x531wUSzGNM/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595649002717657634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The "kitchen" very humbling to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b2G5Qh6C9Vo/Tae9HNYBkgI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DSEiqrSnVbs/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b2G5Qh6C9Vo/Tae9HNYBkgI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DSEiqrSnVbs/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595648993578291714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hope proudly showing us her kitchen and preparing dinner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C9lJpmhfpNg/Tae9GxIjWKI/AAAAAAAAAMg/4WJOQ8kI6E4/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B009.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C9lJpmhfpNg/Tae9GxIjWKI/AAAAAAAAAMg/4WJOQ8kI6E4/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595648985997203618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Pastor Martin, Hope and Me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-8738358788122250179?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/8738358788122250179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=8738358788122250179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8738358788122250179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8738358788122250179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/uganda-part-5-martin-and-hope.html' title='Uganda-Part 5, Martin and Hope'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aWZRMcq3mig/Tae9H8-qHlI/AAAAAAAAAM4/0rVngv1j_g4/s72-c/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B008.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-527679869557917025</id><published>2011-04-14T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T20:44:34.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uganda-Part 4, House of Hope Orphanage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-545RaYOwc2w/TadbYgIJe4I/AAAAAAAAALw/odoxcw_kBMc/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B039.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;This was the day I was waiting for. I was finally going to have the opportunity to meet the children that I was working to find support for in the U.S. I had heard stories from those who had traveled to Gulu about how amazing these kids were, so I was very excited to meet them. Most importantly, I was excited to meet the sweet girl that I was sponsoring!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we arrived, the a few of the girls were sweet enough to give me a tour of the orphanage while I filmed. There was that feeling of confusion again. I couldn't help but think "this place isn't nice enough for these children, they need a better home, they need fans because of the heat, they need more clothes, bigger bedrooms..." The list went on and on in my head.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After seeing the two homes where the children currently live, we spent time in devotion with them. Seeeing how these children worship and love proclaim their love and gratitude to God was so inspiring. So heartwarming. I felt so much love in that small room and I was moved to tears watching God's children sing praises to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was also able to see the construction for the new Children's Village that is being built for the children. They will have a lot more room in these new homes, and it's situated on a large property where they will have plenty of space to play.  The water well in the picture below is the well that was built from funds raised by a team at Sandals Church!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4k2xtXDW46o/Tadl4E4ZmRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/1Hr_mmrUElc/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B073.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4k2xtXDW46o/Tadl4E4ZmRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/1Hr_mmrUElc/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595553076088510738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Local children at the new Children's Village Property&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0CljIW9JlQ/Tadl3gxy2xI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/dDkLOjab2HM/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B066.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V0CljIW9JlQ/Tadl3gxy2xI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/dDkLOjab2HM/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595553066397129490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Mama Barbara (one of the HOH mama's) and me at the construction&lt;br /&gt;of one of the new Children's Home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-7LoeOs-_8/TadbZyYrXGI/AAAAAAAAAMI/8AwmabO5MIQ/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B074.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m-7LoeOs-_8/TadbZyYrXGI/AAAAAAAAAMI/8AwmabO5MIQ/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B074.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595541560611265634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My sponsored child Monica and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TNzHStVoNJA/TadbZhYin0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/IqJm2KP0YOQ/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B068.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TNzHStVoNJA/TadbZhYin0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/IqJm2KP0YOQ/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595541556047290178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My sister's sponsored son Emmanuel and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FmVur9VdEas/TadbY2gOcnI/AAAAAAAAAL4/sNzxKatAqM0/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B065.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FmVur9VdEas/TadbY2gOcnI/AAAAAAAAAL4/sNzxKatAqM0/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B065.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595541544536797810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-545RaYOwc2w/TadbYgIJe4I/AAAAAAAAALw/odoxcw_kBMc/s1600/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B039.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-545RaYOwc2w/TadbYgIJe4I/AAAAAAAAALw/odoxcw_kBMc/s320/Uganda%2BFebruary%2B2011_2%2B039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595541538530229122" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This was written on the wall at the orphanage&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/68824478701645942-527679869557917025?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/527679869557917025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=527679869557917025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/527679869557917025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/527679869557917025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/uganda-part-4-house-of-hope-orphanage.html' title='Uganda-Part 4, House of Hope Orphanage'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4k2xtXDW46o/Tadl4E4ZmRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/1Hr_mmrUElc/s72-c/Uganda%2B2011%2B073.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-9034810418825620197</id><published>2011-03-30T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T20:48:27.565-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uganda-Part 3, Gulu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5piSOTpM0DY/TaDEmdTpvZI/AAAAAAAAAJw/NRxHEZWWL-k/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B025.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Our first stop when we arrived in Gulu, was a trip to Favor of God's Primary School. Our visit was just a few hours, but the &lt;/span&gt;ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;me we spent there would bring me so much joy. Our van pulled into the school and the children were at recess at the time. Our doors hadn't even opened yet when all of a sudden a group of children had surrounded our car!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These children were so sweet.  So happy.  I was overwhelmed by the vast differences between our American schools and what I was seeing in front of me.  Their classrooms were not air conditioned, filled with books, computers or colorful decorations.  They were simply rooms with chalkboards.  The school couldn't afford textbooks yet, so these kids were having to handwrite the text book material in their notebooks.  Some of the children had shoes, while others did not. Then there were other children that I made eye contact with who were undoubtedly sick or struggling with some kind of illness.  That broke my heart since there I was struggling through this flu, but had a purse full of medication to treat my symptoms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think these pictures explain themselves:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LxNmwzk1jCQ/TaDHtHqAoeI/AAAAAAAAALI/Ij83WgDX8l0/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B045.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LxNmwzk1jCQ/TaDHtHqAoeI/AAAAAAAAALI/Ij83WgDX8l0/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593690315157447138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Outside a building of with classrooms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NqBmn0nXYek/TaDHsthcPII/AAAAAAAAALA/86mogrb_6jQ/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B038.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NqBmn0nXYek/TaDHsthcPII/AAAAAAAAALA/86mogrb_6jQ/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593690308142185602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Children demonstrating an assignment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IlBbMjeZzg/TaDHsdV5z4I/AAAAAAAAAK4/bjJwXRQRva4/s1600/Uganda%2B2011%2B034.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8IlBbMjeZzg/TaDHsdV5z4I/AAAAAAAAAK4/bjJwXRQRva4/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B034.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593690303798824834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A small village right next door to the school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KtVNi8ktSEw/TaDHUMxBH5I/AAAAAAAAAKo/072qQwhOnIg/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B027.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593689887032287122" /&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_6GeQEw4DKY/TaDEeekOFNI/AAAAAAAAAJo/EzABY62lu54/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B024.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593686765074257106" /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-9034810418825620197?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/9034810418825620197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=9034810418825620197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/9034810418825620197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/9034810418825620197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/uganda-part-3-gulu.html' title='Uganda-Part 3, Gulu'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LxNmwzk1jCQ/TaDHtHqAoeI/AAAAAAAAALI/Ij83WgDX8l0/s72-c/Uganda%2B2011%2B045.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-5655131277693841132</id><published>2011-03-30T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T13:33:46.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uganda-Part 2, The Road to Gulu</title><content type='html'>After adj&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TeTAflKFTJo/TaDBitIcojI/AAAAAAAAAJY/E98TETSU5B0/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B012.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593683539168895538" /&gt;usting to jet lag and finishing up the business we had to take care of in Kampala, we set out for our day trip to Gulu.  It would be a 6 hour drive by van where I would get to see and experience what Ugandan villages and bush looked liked apart from the city life of Kampala. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was still struggling with what I thought was just the flu I had contracted from traveling, but my dear friend Pastor Martin kindly corrected me by saying, "we don't have the flu in Africa.  You have something evil attacking your body."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There it was.  The truth spoken.  Satan had tried to stop me from embarking on this trip by attacking me with nightmares, and when that didn't work, his last option was to attack me physically.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The road to Gulu was an emotional journey for me.  As I tried to pass the time on the long &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;drive listening to God's voice and soaking in the beauty of this land around me, I began to cry.  The reality of God bringing me to Africa was still as fresh as the first day that I arrived, and the excitement of beginning to understand my purpose there was overwhelming.  Africa was quickly becoming a part of me even though I didn't know why.  I felt God confirm to me that th&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is was a country where my purpose as a builder of his kingdom would ultimately be revealed and completed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;My new friend Stacey and I at the Nile River&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WFX_OkKKquk/TaDBrLi3WSI/AAAAAAAAAJg/kRSLWhmWGPI/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B019.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593683684771715362" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-5655131277693841132?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/5655131277693841132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=5655131277693841132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5655131277693841132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5655131277693841132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/03/uganda-part-2-road-to-gulu.html' title='Uganda-Part 2, The Road to Gulu'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TeTAflKFTJo/TaDBitIcojI/AAAAAAAAAJY/E98TETSU5B0/s72-c/Uganda%2B2011%2B012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-8419186178148566299</id><published>2011-03-29T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T13:10:44.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Uganda-Part 1</title><content type='html'>On the morning of Friday, February 4, I hugged my husband and 3 year old son and set off for my first trip to Africa.  I didn't have much time to prepare.  Two weeks at most?  I think the last minute nature of the trip was God's way of protecting me from over processing about what being in Africa would be like.  After traveling from LA to Chicago, to Turkey, my co-worker and I finally landed in Entebbe, Uganda on Sunday morning, February 6.  Culture shock had found a new victim to infect.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The reality that I was half-way around the world and not within arms reach of my husband, my protector, began to settle in.  I wasn't immune to that feeling of desperation. I had experienced it before in the middle east.  But that same sinking feeling began to settle in and so began my conversations with God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God calmed my anxieties immediately and filled my spirit with excitement, anticipation, and a yearning to see his spirit move in the country he had brought me to.  Since I was a little girl, I had felt this connection in my heart with Africa.  I can't tell you why.  But I know that I was right where God had wanted me.  I was here to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_VmZYTVlIOw/TaC8yOAzRjI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/y3LQtA9znHk/s320/Uganda%2B2011%2B004.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593678308135093810" /&gt;&lt;div&gt; represent his name, his kingdom, and experience his heart for the people of Uganda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After spending our first two days in Kampala, I began to feel ill.  I had flu-like symptoms, but something was wrong.  I began to wonder if the illness that had come over me was not just physical, but an aggressive spiritual attack to weaken my body.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By our 3rd day in Kampala the illness had peaked.  It was not a coincidence that I was so violently ill on what was the most important day of our business trip.  A battle was raging in the spiritual realms and I was caught somewhere in between in at all.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Walking through the streets of Kampala, God showed me through his eyes what he wanted me to see.  I thought I knew what poverty looked like.  I had never come face to face with it before, and here I was in a country that seemed to be over taken by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kept my sunglasses on but could not fight back the tears that came.  Then a child about 4 years old who was holding the hand of a small toddler, pulled on my skirt crying.  It was an experience that lasted seconds, but left my heart broken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a Christian.  How do I just walk away from them?  Isn't that the definition of a hypocrite?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was more hurting people just around the corner.  A man missing both of his legs sat on the side of the rode crying for someone to stop and help him.  And still...we walked by, because that's what you were supposed to do.  That was Africa and this was everywhere.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was confused.  My faith was challenged.  I began to feel guilty for the life I had been blessed with in America.  I began to talk to God and ask him a lot of questions.  He answered some of them and some he left for me to answer.  I kept hearing him ask me "what ARE YOU going to do about what you are seeing?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-8419186178148566299?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/8419186178148566299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=8419186178148566299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8419186178148566299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8419186178148566299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/03/uganda-part-1.html' title='Uganda-Part 1'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_VmZYTVlIOw/TaC8yOAzRjI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/y3LQtA9znHk/s72-c/Uganda%2B2011%2B004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-6553309903763354831</id><published>2011-02-14T12:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T13:01:03.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JHIw_aMIZ_E/TaC5RFhWmyI/AAAAAAAAAJA/h4yailaJZG0/s1600/180868_10150091287094102_726609101_6320627_4138228_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JHIw_aMIZ_E/TaC5RFhWmyI/AAAAAAAAAJA/h4yailaJZG0/s320/180868_10150091287094102_726609101_6320627_4138228_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593674440385141538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's Day was different than any other Micah and I have ever spent together.  Not only was it my first full day home from Africa, we had to be in Beverly Hills by 9am for my first appointment with Dr. Ordon!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Functioning off of a few hours of sleep, we got up early and raced to L.A.  This was a lot to take in, especially after just returning home a few hours before.  I was going to Beverly Hills! I was going for what would be the first filming and documenting of my tummy tuck surgery that the T.V. show "The Doctors" offered to me for free.  I was beyond excited!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The whole morning was so much fun and a little nerve wracking.  The producer and film crew taped Micah and I arriving at Dr. Ordon's office and the entire first appointment for the procedure that would soon radically change my body. I also met Dr. Ritu Chopra and P.A. Rob Lucas who would also be there during surgery.  I still felt like I was in a state of shock ever since the day of the show when they offered this blessing to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt so secure knowing that some of the world's best surgeon's were going to be operating on me.  I kept thanking God for such an amazing gift and couldn't believe that this was all really happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-6553309903763354831?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/6553309903763354831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=6553309903763354831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6553309903763354831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6553309903763354831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JHIw_aMIZ_E/TaC5RFhWmyI/AAAAAAAAAJA/h4yailaJZG0/s72-c/180868_10150091287094102_726609101_6320627_4138228_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-3861886524873945969</id><published>2011-02-07T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T22:09:51.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Episode of "The Doctors" TV Show</title><content type='html'>The episode of The Doctors show that I was on aired on February 7, 2010.  I was in Uganda that day, so my hubby got to watch it without me. &lt;a href="http://www.thedoctorstv.com/main/home_page?init_type=Feature&amp;amp;init_id=3541"&gt;Click here for the link to the show! &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/68824478701645942-3861886524873945969?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/3861886524873945969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=3861886524873945969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3861886524873945969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3861886524873945969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-episode-of-doctors-tv-show.html' title='My Episode of &quot;The Doctors&quot; TV Show'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-4858485054120867763</id><published>2011-01-24T21:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T22:54:48.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good Wife</title><content type='html'>I have been wanting to write about this for a long time, but have hesitated because I thought I would find a good answer.  This is just my heart and brain working out loud.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if any other Christian wives struggle with understanding what it means to be a "good wife."  I see many examples of Christian women seamlessly fitting into the ideal standard of what our Christan culture deems appropriate as the ideal wife.  They seem happy.  They have great kids, nice homes, they serve others.  But I can't help but feel like something is missing from their lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe that being a mother and a wife is a gift, a blessing, from God to be treasured.  I love my husband.  I would give my life for my children.  But I also know that God has purposed me as a daughter in his kingdom to do something great for his glory, beyond being a good wife or mother.  I believe that he has purposed ALL of his daughters for a  specific role in a plan that he has delicately orchestrated. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I worry sometimes if we as wives are missing out on what our great purpose is.   Has our "Christian society" crafted the role of a good wife in such a way that it is keeping us from experiencing God in a radical way?  Has our role as wives and mothers kept us so preoccupied, that we are forgetting that we were created to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with the world?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been thinking these thoughts because I often hear other women tell me "that's so great that you get to do ministry work that's impacting Africa with the gospel."  or "you have such a big job, I don't know how you do it with three kids and a husband."  While I am sure those comments are meant as compliments, they make me sad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am nobody special.  I am a mom just like you.  I am a wife just like you.  God is how I am able to do this job.  He is the reason any of this works or makes sense.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder how many women out there are truly missing out.  I am not saying that we are all called to Africa.  But I am saying that we are all commanded by Jesus to bring the gospel to the world.  We don't get a "pass" on this command because we are busy being good wives or mothers.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe that as women we have a kind of spiritual strength that the world needs to see.  I want so badly to see normal, everyday wives and mothers come together and do something thunderous for God's kingdom.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not sure what we are waiting for.  Maybe we are all too busy being the good wife.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-4858485054120867763?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/4858485054120867763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=4858485054120867763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4858485054120867763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4858485054120867763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/01/good-wife.html' title='The Good Wife'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-6571054989934137420</id><published>2011-01-18T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T22:21:55.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He Blessed Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;January 3 was an ordinary day at home as a mom.  While Owen was climbing all over my back, I was surfing around on the internet, while watching Dr. Phil.  I ended up on the website for the show "The Doctors" and starting reading different articles about health issues. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I saw a call for stories asking about struggles women were facing with their body after having children.  I decided on a whim to write a short story about myself.  I explained that I felt like I was doing everything I could to diet and stay in shape, but that I couldn't figure out what to do about my stomach and the extra skin that has come with stretching from 3 very large babies!  With all that though, I stressed the point that for me this wasn't a vanity issue.  My goal wasn't to wear a bikini, my goal was to wear pants that were my size. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;TWO hours later I get an email from a producer asking for more information.  By the next day, I was on the phone with the producer asking me to be a guest on their show the following Thursday, the 13th!  She said the segment was on "Medical Firsts" and that she wanted me to be a guest asking Dr. Ordon questions about considering my first cosmetic surgery, and if that was an option for me to fix my stomach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Of course I said yes.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Fast forward to Thursday, January 13.   I hadn't even told my family yet what was happening.  I didn't even think to really because I was just going to an audience member.  I was supposed to be at the Paramount lot by 9am.  We almost didn't make it because I gave Micah the wrong address.  We were stressed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I prayed silently in the car.  We arrived at the set at 8:56 am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Did God have something in store for me? I had no idea.  I wasn't banking on it.  But he got us there. Somehow, he got us there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Micah, my friend Christina and I are taken to The Doctor's studio, and escorted to my dressing room.  WHAT?!  My dressing room?! Seriously this was starting to become really exciting. It even had my name on the door! The 3 of us were like kids on Christmas Day.  What was going on?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I go to hair and make-up.  That was fun.  Then the producer comes in and gives me a general idea of what to say when I am asking Dr. Ordon my question.  Sounds easy.  I ask the question, he answers, I sit down.  I got this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;A stage director comes and takes us down to our seats in the audience.  We are still giddy.  We are still like kids on Christmas Day waiting in anticipation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;The Doctors come out on stage.  I see Dr. Ordon and I get NERVOUS! Oh my gosh...what the heck was I supposed to say again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Then came my cue. Dr. Travis Stork (YES THE DR. STORK!) says "we have some questions from the audience now."  I stand up.  I am going to puke.  "Oh my gosh...what the heck was I supposed to say again..." is running through my mind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I say something like "Hi, my name is Nesha and I have a question for Dr. Ordon.  I have been blessed with 3 great kids, all of who were 9 lbs and over and birth.  And I feel like I have done everything I can through diet and excercise to get back in shape, but I don't know what to do with all of this excess skin and fat in my stomach."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I think that is what I said.  I can't remember.  It was all a fog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Dr. Ordon starts to answer me.  He says "first of all you look great for having three kids, let's applaud you for that."  I am BLUSHING.  I don't take words of affirmation well at all.  The audience claps.  I just want to sit down and hide.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I can't remember what he says.  He is talking directly to me and I have no idea what he is saying.  Then I hear him say "since you're here, why don't you come on up and we'll take a look at you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;WHAT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;NO ONE has seen my stomach.  I hide her very well.  Not even my husband has really seen what it looks like because I hold it in all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;There I went.  Up on stage.  Dr. Masterson (the only female doctor) gets up and helps hold up my shirt.  Dr. Ordon starts rolling down the top of my skirt to see my belly.  I AM GOING TO DIE is all I can think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;He starts marking on my belly with a sharpie.  I can barely hear what he is saying. I am so nervous.  I do remember him saying, "this is not fat."  That puts me at ease.  I knew it! I have been trying so hard to get my stomach in shape.  Maybe I am not crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Then he looks up at me and says "do people often think you're pregnant?"  My eyes swell with tears.  All the time.  All the time and I am so tired of how humiliating that feels. And its almost always women.  Women can be so mean.  But it's not their fault.  I really do look pregnant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I answer with a simple "yes, all the time."  I barely get the words out because I am on the verge of tears. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;He gets up and says, "you know I do a lot of these kinds of procedures."  I say something stupid like "I know.  And my husband and I have talked about doing this for me..." I can't remember what else I said, because what happened next was God blessing one of his insignificant, unworthy daughters....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Dr. Ordon said "well The Doctors show would like to offer to do this surgery for you."  I started to CRY.  I was so shocked.  I couldn't even answer him.  He said "would you like me to do this for you?"  I barely got the word out but quietly said "yes." He hugged me and I cried more.  I said "thank you so much, this is truly a blessing for me!"  He simply said "you deserve it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I am still stunned.  Barely a week later and I am still trying to process through what happened that day.  I immediately started to worry about people judging me.  Unfortunately, I worry most about other Christians judging me.  I have quickly found that people treat you differently when you are in ministry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Micah and Christina had to remind me that this was a blessing.  This was a gift not just from The Doctor's, but from my Father in Heaven.  This was something I was probably never going to pay for myself.  I have too many things that I want to accomplish for God's kingdom, that I just couldn't see how I would ever make this happen financially.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;But God did.  He blessed me.  He blessed me. He BLESSED me.  For that, I am SO thankful. There will be those that judge me.  But the truth is, they were probably never my friend to begin with.  I can't let Satan try to harass me to diminish the fact that my heavenly Daddy, BLESSED me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-6571054989934137420?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/6571054989934137420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=6571054989934137420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6571054989934137420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6571054989934137420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/01/he-blessed-me.html' title='He Blessed Me'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-8749956537939819366</id><published>2011-01-17T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T20:39:51.080-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TTUGNz2BQYI/AAAAAAAAAIE/0UQWWyI0USQ/s1600/Dec.%2B2010%2B005.JPG'/><title type='text'>Christmas Break 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TTUFrNDDbnI/AAAAAAAAAH0/tNa8pvZV7_g/s320/November%2B2010%2B037.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563359154481098354" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13.3333px; "&gt;Christmas break 2010 was just that. A BREAK. A time to slow down, rest, reflect, and hibernate as a family. We needed that. We needed quiet. We needed days with no agenda or chaos. We needed time to reconnect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13.3333px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;We had a very quiet Christmas.  Micah and I set a modest budget for gifts for the kids, and stuck to it. Christmas was different this year for them.  We talked to them a lot about how as a family we wo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;uld not be celebrating Christmas with all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"&gt; the materialism that it has involved in the past.  We&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TTUGNz2BQYI/AAAAAAAAAIE/0UQWWyI0USQ/s320/Dec.%2B2010%2B005.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563359749010964866" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"&gt; talked to them a lot about Favor of God, and the orphans at the House of Hope, and tried our best to give them an understanding of how we needed to be fully accountable to God for all of financial blessings he has given to us.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"&gt;We also had some days of fun and being silly. We went to Disneyland, to the snow, took part in being on a boat for the Huntington Beach parade, walked around the Mission Inn downtown to see the lights, and visited Grandpa Jim up in Ventura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"&gt;So as I said it was a time of quiet.  A time of rest to prepare for the fieldwork that God was going to quickly call to action come January 1st!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-8749956537939819366?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/8749956537939819366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=8749956537939819366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8749956537939819366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/8749956537939819366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/01/christmas-break-2010.html' title='Christmas Break 2010'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TTUFrNDDbnI/AAAAAAAAAH0/tNa8pvZV7_g/s72-c/November%2B2010%2B037.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-1891572591694194822</id><published>2010-12-31T16:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T16:59:46.054-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2010 reflections in 79 words</title><content type='html'>a few words, emotions, &amp;amp; themes can sum up 2010 for me...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;reckless faith, radical trust, giving out of abundance not out of leftovers, obedience till it hurt, isolation, worn knees from prayer, abandonment, the Holy Spirit's embrace, revelations, visions, dreams, prophetic words, depression, at war with the enemy, a dedicated husband, promises kept, blessings revealed, loss, hope, friends, prayer warriors, amazing kids, grief, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;perseverance, ...Uganda.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;looking forward to 2011.  the harvest is here and this worker is ready.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-1891572591694194822?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/1891572591694194822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=1891572591694194822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1891572591694194822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1891572591694194822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/12/2010extraordinary-reflections-from.html' title='2010 reflections in 79 words'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-6780096031654406194</id><published>2010-12-29T21:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T21:31:28.625-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 29</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TRwY5pqFXSI/AAAAAAAAAHk/3rhCPKCq3as/s1600/HPIM2527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TRwY5pqFXSI/AAAAAAAAAHk/3rhCPKCq3as/s320/HPIM2527.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556343418982325538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;December 29 will never again be just another day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I woke up to the phone call of "Come to UCLA right away.  The ICU doctors want to see you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I heard the words "there is nothing more we can do."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I told my children that I was leaving to cheer their Papa onto heaven.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;It is the day that my husband was put in the awkward position of deciding what time to remove my Dad from life support.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I saw my dad's pulse increase each time I whispered in his ear that he was a great Papa &amp;amp; Dad, and felt the squeeze of his hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that my hope was extinguished of seeing my Dad live his life here on earth as a new Christian.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I felt the Holy Spirit's, power, love and mercy, in a small cramped ICU room, hover over our family as my sisters and I read scripture out loud to him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I laid my head on my Dad's shoulder, and told him how awesome heaven was going to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I asked my Dad to tell Jesus that I loved him and to give him a hug for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day I felt so proud for how hard my Dad fought to stay alive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day I experienced the most conflicting feelings of joy for my Dad's salvation, and anger towards God for taking my my Dad from me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that I started having severe pre-labor contractions in my 7 month of pregnancy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;It is the day that my Dad left this earth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;But not forever.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;And for that hope, I praise God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-6780096031654406194?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/6780096031654406194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=6780096031654406194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6780096031654406194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6780096031654406194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-29.html' title='December 29'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/TRwY5pqFXSI/AAAAAAAAAHk/3rhCPKCq3as/s72-c/HPIM2527.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-7614665414413844900</id><published>2010-12-14T20:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T21:20:22.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Crazy</title><content type='html'>I feel like my mind is at war with itself.  I am completely entrenched in ministry work and it's consuming my mind.  Mostly in ways that are resulting in great growth.  Then in some ways that are causing great conflict in my soul.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Call it "reverse culture shock" (I don't even know if that's a real term).  All I know is I am really starting to struggle with living my normal, everyday life here in the states, while I am being exposed to what's happening in the world through working for Favor.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong. I am thankful for the blessings I have to be an American.  To live here freely.  To proclaim that I am a Christian and have access to a bible.  To know that I won't be hunted down for being a Christian. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I am starting to see that the things I complain about, are really vain and self-centered.  For instance,  I constantly complain about my weight and physical appearance.  I am never happy with how I look.  But God has been showing me that instead of complaining about my weight, maybe I should be thankful for the abundance of food that I have.  If I stopped and took the time to realize that when I complain about my weight, that another child will go to bed hungry in world, maybe I wouldn't have a weight problem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am also struggling in seeing the complacency in people around me.  Seeing the materialism of this country swarm around me, while people become mindlessly consumed by it.  To see people spend thousands of dollars on themselves, building their kingdoms, without giving to anything eternal.  To see so many lost people mindlessly existing day-to-day, not knowing that there is a God who created and loves them...hurts my heart.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel overwhelmed...I don't know what to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sounds extremely judgmental doesn't it? I know it is.  I don't know what to do with it.  It's there.  It sits in my heart and stews. Maybe it's the enemy's way of distracting me from my focus? Maybe I need to pray that people's hearts will be changed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I need to stop sounding so self-righteous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-7614665414413844900?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/7614665414413844900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=7614665414413844900' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7614665414413844900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7614665414413844900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/12/going-crazy.html' title='Going Crazy'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-732514220888831811</id><published>2010-12-14T20:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T20:42:19.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Following God's Leading</title><content type='html'>I am starting to embrace what it means to be a daughter of the King.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is moving and working through me in ways that can only be attributed to him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is challenging me, calling me out to really understand what "bearing his cross" truly means.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has brought me to my knees and has been teaching me what it means to have reverence before him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is showing me that I cannot save anyone.  Only he can truly change the hearts of his people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is revealing himself through the faithfulness of his people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has sent his son Jesus to battle the darkness that lurks around me, and has made a clear path for me to follow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He whispers to me that it will be alright. He shouts at me when I start to fall in the trap of the enemy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;He is revealing to me his passion for this broken world, his longing to see his people reconciled to him, his hurting heart for his creation to come back to him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;He is revealing to me my purpose in that plan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;That frightens me.  No. That terrifies me.  But here I am Lord. Take all of me. I'm all yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-732514220888831811?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/732514220888831811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=732514220888831811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/732514220888831811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/732514220888831811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-am-starting-to-embrace-what-it-means.html' title='Following God&apos;s Leading'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-4354227387606258720</id><published>2010-11-21T21:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T22:59:57.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No matter the cost</title><content type='html'>God's moving with or without you.  You can either ignore him, stand by and watch, or let him bring you along with him.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have chosen to move with him.  I have chosen to believe in the purpose and plan that he has set me apart for.  I have chosen that the spiritual warfare inflicted on me through Satan himself has been worth the fight, if that means bringing glory to God.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was enough evidence for me that the work God has called me to do is worth the fight. Today I had the honor of meeting Martin Onen, pastor and co-founder of Favor of God Ministries in Gulu, Uganda.  Meeting him in person, hearing his heart, and having him visit with us, is a reminder straight from my Father of the purpose he has given for my life.  He is my brother, and I will stand with him no matter the cost.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am learning quickly that ministry work is not easy, attractive, or popular, and it has required me to live a level of faithfulness that is terrifying.  But still I will press on, move forward in obedience, and trust that God will not forsake us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.9722px; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-4354227387606258720?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/4354227387606258720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=4354227387606258720' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4354227387606258720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4354227387606258720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/11/no-matter-cost.html' title='No matter the cost'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-780398009148886722</id><published>2010-11-04T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T23:03:34.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6 months later</title><content type='html'>6 months later this post finds me in a new kind of normal.  6 months later, I still don't believe I am on the path that God has brought me on.  6 months later, I am still relying on my faith to pull me through it all.  6 months later, I am still fighting the enemy and his assaults against my soul.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am now not only in the trenches of running my consulting firm, I am also now a VP of Development for an international Christian non-profit called Favor of God Ministries.  What the heck?  Why does God continue to call me into these roles that I am so unqualified to fill?  I can't even figure out how to mother my children properly, or be a "good wife" so why does he keeping asking me to serve him this way?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few months ago, I was sharing with my pastor about how I would rather run and hide than to deal with the attack of the enemy that comes with the work that God has clearly purposed me for.  His simple response to me was "so what you're saying is you would rather be an ineffective woman of God." OUCH.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course I don't want to be an ineffective woman of God, but I also feel defeated very quickly. The defeat comes from verbal attacks by the enemy, that I of course listen too, internalize, and ultimately start doubting my ability to fulfill God's purpose for my life.  In the same way that God pursues me, the enemy pursues me, and he is relentless.  I am the only one that feels this way?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I have global challenges to face.  I am working for a ministry whose staff in Gulu, Uganda are living out the life of a servant Christian, more than I have seen most American Christians do. Now I am trying to raise money for a ministry where lives are being saved physically and spiritually, so the attacks from the enemy have become all out assaults. I am fighting an enemy that has a stronghold in the U.S. in more ways than I had ever noticed before, particularly in the sin of loving money.  In just a few short months, I have encountered examples of "Christians" who say they can't afford to support our Christian brothers and sisters overseas to spread the gospel message, but who can afford to budget and save for the next new iPhone, jeans, computer, the list is endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How do I not get discouraged by this? I have no idea. I just know that I have to press on and trust that God will touch the hearts of his people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-780398009148886722?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/780398009148886722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=780398009148886722' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/780398009148886722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/780398009148886722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/11/6-months-later.html' title='6 months later'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-7511261421283653977</id><published>2010-10-31T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T21:09:53.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Halloween in the Crossman house is such a fun time. While we don't simply celebrate it as "harvest time" as many of my Christian friends do, we do focus on the fun of dressing up and the playfulness that comes with Halloween.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year, we went to the Trunk Or Treat at our church and Micah had a crazy idea for our car. He wanted to do a political theme and I think his idea turned out to be pretty good. We ended up being President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama! It was pretty funny and a lot of folks stopped to take their pictures with us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also did something we hadn't done in a long time. We took the kids to pumpkin patch where they were able to pick their own pumpkin right off the vine! It was a neat experience and as always they had a great time carving them with their daddy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cri7fFH7XNQ/TafEhKZOVII/AAAAAAAAAOY/wiTNXS8TpYE/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B146.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cri7fFH7XNQ/TafEhKZOVII/AAAAAAAAAOY/wiTNXS8TpYE/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B146.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595657136036009090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B4xnJnD0LUQ/TafEgzQx22I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/zJIaOzQIn-M/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B144.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B4xnJnD0LUQ/TafEgzQx22I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/zJIaOzQIn-M/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595657129826573154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0-ZestmxVy0/TafD_LpPIyI/AAAAAAAAAOI/rOdypiKf06w/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B133.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0-ZestmxVy0/TafD_LpPIyI/AAAAAAAAAOI/rOdypiKf06w/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B133.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595656552256054050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yo1bl7aGFFA/TafD-78ForI/AAAAAAAAAOA/JOCVphKzDOE/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B126.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yo1bl7aGFFA/TafD-78ForI/AAAAAAAAAOA/JOCVphKzDOE/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B126.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595656548040155826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AndFYrgIkPQ/TafD-trZJSI/AAAAAAAAAN4/-itdnRzJcnY/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B123.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AndFYrgIkPQ/TafD-trZJSI/AAAAAAAAAN4/-itdnRzJcnY/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595656544212034850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQZcJd8EBuQ/TafD-FrKj1I/AAAAAAAAANw/NPgx4KKQjC0/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B119.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQZcJd8EBuQ/TafD-FrKj1I/AAAAAAAAANw/NPgx4KKQjC0/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B119.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595656533473660754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NgnAEEOxauE/TafD9_f6qQI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_ePW_riIL8/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B115.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NgnAEEOxauE/TafD9_f6qQI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_ePW_riIL8/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595656531815868674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoJP7a85NW4/TafDcFQNGmI/AAAAAAAAANg/zcbPiUkmOMM/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B111.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aoJP7a85NW4/TafDcFQNGmI/AAAAAAAAANg/zcbPiUkmOMM/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595655949245028962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-utMHQHoNYyQ/TafDbvdEjCI/AAAAAAAAANY/Qj3UtRputUU/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B104.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-utMHQHoNYyQ/TafDbvdEjCI/AAAAAAAAANY/Qj3UtRputUU/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595655943393414178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kV1ZhtiBSk4/TafDbCI9-zI/AAAAAAAAANQ/SciFHjYSeUM/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B101.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kV1ZhtiBSk4/TafDbCI9-zI/AAAAAAAAANQ/SciFHjYSeUM/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B101.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595655931229502258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HmDXJF1SH80/TafDakwJvfI/AAAAAAAAANI/cgsqXP3J2mc/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B100.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HmDXJF1SH80/TafDakwJvfI/AAAAAAAAANI/cgsqXP3J2mc/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B100.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595655923340787186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L7_qLmQvBlo/TafDafeZKnI/AAAAAAAAANA/hH2u2-z3nO4/s1600/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B092.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L7_qLmQvBlo/TafDafeZKnI/AAAAAAAAANA/hH2u2-z3nO4/s320/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B092.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595655921924123250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/68824478701645942-7511261421283653977?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/7511261421283653977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=7511261421283653977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7511261421283653977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7511261421283653977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween!'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cri7fFH7XNQ/TafEhKZOVII/AAAAAAAAAOY/wiTNXS8TpYE/s72-c/October%2B2010%2BPart%2B2%2B146.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-3347892540322768390</id><published>2010-05-02T21:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T22:19:37.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving Miss Nesha</title><content type='html'>Wow, what a ride it's been.  In just one month, God has continued to bless me with opportunities to serve him.  Why do I sound so amazed? Why do I put God in a box as if I am the one who determines how he will move in my life?  But yet, I remain amazed.  I remain completely dumbfounded that he chooses to work through me.  Maybe it's because I still don't feel worthy to be used by him.  Doesn't he know how screwed up I am?  Doesn't he know that I have major issues I need to work through? Doesn't he know that I am not the smartest person in this field? Doesn't he know that I think I am not ready to do something so big?  Doesn't he know that I would rather stay home and hide?  Doesn't he know that I just want to be left alone?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course he knows all these things about me.  He continues to draw me out, to call me out, and to challenge me that if I truly want to be his follower that I must TRUST him.  It's one thing to say you trust God, it's a whole other thing to see that trust play out in real life.  It hasn't been easy, but I am choosing to trust that his plans for my life are better than my own.  I am learning 18 years later after becoming a Christian (can you tell how stubborn I am?), that there is no better life than a life purposed for HIM. There is no true happiness in a life apart from serving and walking with him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have decided that as long as I let him stay in the driver seat that I don't have to worry about crashing.  Sooner or later, I will get it through my thick headed skull that as long as I am driving, I will wreck.  While I am still learning what it means to be his follower, I'll call "shotgun" and let him drive and enjoy the ride.  I will enjoy hearing the fatherly, sweet tone in his voice saying to me, "let me drive you Miss Nesha.  Buckle up, it's going to be one heck of a ride."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-3347892540322768390?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/3347892540322768390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=3347892540322768390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3347892540322768390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/3347892540322768390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/05/driving-miss-nesha.html' title='Driving Miss Nesha'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-2929750325675057666</id><published>2010-04-14T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T09:11:40.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's more to life than laundry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;If you were to ask me 6 months ago what I would be up to now, my answer would not have been "I am going to start a consulting business and be a CEO."  In fact, if you were to have suggested that would have been in my near future, I would have laughed at you and responded "thats a dream for dreamers, I am a realist, now it's time to get back to the laundry."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;However, 6 months ago, the discussion of considering pursuing what I viewed as "someone else's dream" began to evolve from the encouragement of several great friends and my pastor.  Back in September, I was asked by my pastor if I was ready to "come out of retirement" and consider volunteering in a role to help my church raise a substanial amount of money for a new home.  I didn't jump up gleefully and say yes right away.  I knew the time involved in a commitment like that, so I forced myself to take the time to pray about my decision.  Yes, I said I &lt;i&gt;forced myself&lt;/i&gt; to pray about it.  Can you see the beginning of a lesson God is about to teach me in control here?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;I remember during that week of prayer that I told God that he was crazy.  I complained about him calling me to do something that I wasn't equipped for.  I demanded that he call me to do something that made sense.  Something that I was certain I could accomplish and not fail at. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;It was during that week of prayer and study that I literally stumbled upon 1 Chronicles.  I STUMBLED...and God's word smacked me right upside the head with 1 Chronicles 28:20... “Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged, for the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt; God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. He will see to it that all the work related to the Temple of the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt; is finished correctly."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;I finally shut up.  I decided that God must be right and even though I still might think he is crazy.  For the first time in my life, I decided to stop complaining, serve HIM, and wait to see if I could trust him.  I was not prepared for the beauty of his blessings.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;I worked as hard as I possibly could with our church staff on fast tracking a capital campaign effort.  In the secular world, that is just plain craziness.  I would like to say that I 100% faithfully trusted God in this, but I didn't.  I was expecting to feel defeated, but instead God worked on the hearts of his people through the teaching and leadership of Pastor Matt Brown, and on November 15 our church received $4 million in pledges and over $1 million in cash gifts.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;God floored me.  His mercy and blessings are abundant and around us everyday, but I am so blind to them.  I am clouded by the ignorance of my perception of the one who created me. I tearfully asked God to forgive me for doubting his power.  There is no other explanation for how we raised that money other than that it was God.  I didn't raise that money. I was merely a tool God used to aid in the process, HE did it.  I didn't see it coming, but God was using this blessing and experience in trusting HIM to lead me down yet another CRAZY path.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Very quickly, he would be teaching me that there was more to life than laundry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-2929750325675057666?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/2929750325675057666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=2929750325675057666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/2929750325675057666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/2929750325675057666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/04/theres-more-to-life-than-laundry.html' title='There&apos;s more to life than laundry'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-1502961995888671003</id><published>2010-02-25T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T01:06:27.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My friends Fear and Control</title><content type='html'>So I fell a bit off track with trying to keep up with a new blog.  I am already 2 months into the new year and haven't blogged yet.  That's ironic given the fact that one of my resolutions was to blog more consistently this year!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where to begin? Well hopefully you will grant me some grace.  It's after midnight and I have taken two benadryls since I am trying to fight off a cold caused by allergies.  Hopefully what I write and what is on my heart will make sense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been mulling over in my mind the top 5 things I want to work on/accomplish this year:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Follow Christ's plans for me without fear or reservation and trust that he will protect me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  Be a better wife to Micah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  Be a better mother to my 3 awesome children&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  Be a better woman, sister, and friend&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  Spend more time in prayer about how to accomplish 1 through 4&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seems simple enough right? Well not for me.  You see if you know anything about me, you know I struggle tremendously with fear.  I have shared before that my fear is not of every day things like a fear of public speaking for instance.  My fear is deep rooted in the uncontrollable aspects of life.  My fear is a fear that has crippled me from taking risks and ultimately missing out on the beauty of seeing God move.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Years ago, my friend Fear introduced me to a friend named Control.  Together, Fear, Control and myself, make for one dynamic team.  We have been tightly knitted together since I was about 5 years old.  You see when I was 5, I was sexually violated by my uncle.  Up until that point I was free to laugh, sing, run and play with friends.  After that moment, Fear and Control promised to protect me.  Together we built a great fortress that hardly anyone could break through.  We made great strides and accomplished many great things as I grew up.  Control was always the leader of our group, and she made decisions about what we could and could not do. Afterall, she was in charge and she knew what was best to protect all three of us.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the years of my childhood and on through adulthood, we remained great friends.  We destroyed dreams together because the cost was never worth the risk.  We didn't let "others" in our group without a thorough evaluation  of how the rest of us would benefit.  Control eventually became so strong that she started to try and dictate how my life would run.  She was especially angry when I told her about my new best friend that I had just met.  I told her his amazing story about how he had died for me and how I had decided to give up my life to follow him.  You can imagine how upset Control became. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I had this new amazing best friend in my life, I still kept in touch with Fear and Control on a daily basis.  I often would ask my new best friend for advice on how to deal with my old friends, and his answer was always the same..."hand them over to me."  But how could I? They were there from the beginning.  We had been through so much together that I worried how I could manage my life without them.  But my best friends response was always the same..."hand them over to me."  I still have not done that yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My new best friend has been amazing.  He has been the most loyal friend I have ever known.  He has never forgotten about me and is never too busy to chat with me.  He has spoken truth into my life in a way that Fear and Control never did.  I want to tell Fear and Control that our friendship is over, but it's so hard to let them go.  My new best friend understands this and loves me anyways.  He even introduced me to another friend who is with me wherever I go.  I have never seen this friend with my eyes, but I feel his presence quite often.  The other awesome thing about my new best friend is that he introduced me to his Dad.  His Dad is amazing and loves me like his own daughter.  Who could ask for more than that in a relationship?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I sit.  In another new year, promising myself that I will create a new me.  I know that I can't accomplish that without ending my friendship with Fear and Control.  I know that on some level I will always be friends with them and we will keep in touch for time to time, but I have to build a healthy boundary with them because of the wounds they have caused.  My new best friend is patient though.  He loves me and wants what is best for me.  When I "get into it" with Fear and Control, he always steps in to bring light into the situation and reveals to me the right, solution.  Fear and Control don't care for him very much.  In fact they get extremely angry when challenged by him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oddly enough, even though I haven't completely given up my friendship with Fear and Control, my best friend is still right beside me.  I don't understand his loyalty and undying love for me, and I don't try too anymore.  I am just thankful that he is still by side and waiting patiently for me to break up with Fear and Control.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-1502961995888671003?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/1502961995888671003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=1502961995888671003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1502961995888671003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/1502961995888671003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-friends-fear-and-control.html' title='My friends Fear and Control'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-7877411193273696526</id><published>2009-11-03T16:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T16:36:16.798-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Processing and Digesting</title><content type='html'>I have realized something about myself.  I am either in a state of over processing and digesting information to the point of sheer confusion, or I don't spend enough time processing through how something I say or do will effect someone else.  There has to be a happy medium and I am struggling to find that place.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most often I am walking the line of sheer confusion.  That state of confusion usually leads me down a negative path towards believing in lies.  It blocks me and cripples me from hearing the Holy Spirit speak truth to me.  I begin to allow the enemy a foothold in my life and I start to believe his voice of destruction rather than God's voice of reason.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It can't just be blamed on "being human."  I have no credentials to back this up, but I think that as Christians we are just as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;susceptible&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;harassment&lt;/span&gt; as any other person that the enemy holds down from living in a relationship with the God who created us.  When I begin to over process, over digest, over analyze, I allow spiritual darkness to consume my thoughts.  I begin to listen to lies that the world's way might just be "easier" than God's way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also think I have to stop trying to "figure God out."  If I am going to have faith at all and call myself a Christian, I have to faith IN it all.  Faith in the plans he has for me, even when the world around me doesn't make sense.  I have to have faith that God's ways are not my ways for a reason that is better than any I can think of.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;“My &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;hing like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;,” says the Lord.“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine."  Isaiah 55:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-7877411193273696526?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/7877411193273696526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=7877411193273696526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7877411193273696526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/7877411193273696526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/11/processing-and-digesting.html' title='Processing and Digesting'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-5824513698196958479</id><published>2009-10-31T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T14:13:23.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Dad on Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/Suyoa_n-dJI/AAAAAAAAAFs/J_KLV1JhnX0/s1600-h/devil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/Suyoa_n-dJI/AAAAAAAAAFs/J_KLV1JhnX0/s320/devil.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398875235019551890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Halloween. Why on a simple childlike "holiday" like Halloween am I struck with this heaviness in my heart of having lost you.  Why do emotions and memories flood back into my mind all over again like the day you died. Why can't I remember you fondly instead of it hurting so much inside.  Why can't I hold on tight to the reality that my true heavenly father grieves with me, and rest in knowing that one day I will see you again.  I heard the holy spirit speak through a friend today...she said "we were never meant to experience death." We were designed to have everlasting life.  Death is not something that God had planned for us to experience.&lt;div class="uc-message"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;It's only through the fall of man that we now must experience and live in a painful world, so that we can truly rejoice when we are reunited with our God once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed that I have friends who have lost love ones, but yet sharing with them brings up memories and feelings that are so painful to process through.  I can only explain it as a sharp piercing of my soul.  Selfishly I wonder if I would really trade having you back here over the gift of salvation that you received.  Sometimes I feel like just one day with you would be worth it but then I realize how crazy and selfish that sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be special to someone like a daughter is to a father.  That is a feeling that is unique from being special to my husband, family or friends.  I don't have that "specialnes&lt;wbr&gt;s" anymore and I feel stripped of that.  I know that I am special to my Lord, but sometimes the enemy distracts me by making me doubt that reality.  Sometimes I am weak and I allow him to win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People often tell me that God has you experience lessons in life to help others when it is their time to deal with it...but what if I don't want to bear the burden of seeing someone else hurt? What if helping other people brings up memories that are painful instead of happy?  How am I supposed to deal with that? Where is that one person that I can sit and talk to about my dad and his story that will never get tired of hearing me share?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Dad.  I miss you A LOT.  I miss watching you play with my kids.  I miss hearing your voice on the phone.  I miss asking you for advice.  I miss our time together as short as it was.  I miss you on this silly day called Halloween and how for another year you will not be here to see my kids in their costumes.  I miss that I won't get to tell you to stop scaring teenagers as they come to my door.  I remember you on days like this.  I remember you with a smile although my heart is heavy with a sadness that I must learn to hand over to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-5824513698196958479?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/5824513698196958479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=5824513698196958479' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5824513698196958479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/5824513698196958479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/10/missing-dad-on-halloween.html' title='Missing Dad on Halloween'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ggwbIHLTFuw/Suyoa_n-dJI/AAAAAAAAAFs/J_KLV1JhnX0/s72-c/devil.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-6726562463878176676</id><published>2009-09-17T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T13:09:21.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Obey, Trust, and Serve</title><content type='html'>These have become the theme words for my life.  God has brought me to a place in my life to obey, trust and serve HIM.  He has brought me down a path in the last 10 years that has been perfectly orchestrated for his use.  In the past few weeks I have literally become a spectator in my own life. God has been at work and has been revealing plans that he has for me and my purpose in building his kingdom.  I have watched him move in my life and while that is thrilling, I still struggle with the fear of trusting him.  What is wrong with me?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think that my plans for myself are any better, I just question why he chooses me.  Why does he choose to call me to a place of obedience to accomplish things that seem impossible?  I know he has a perfect plan for me and I am truly thrilled to see where he takes me.  Now I just need to stop questioning his intentions and trust that his plan will always be for good, and to bring HIM glory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-6726562463878176676?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/6726562463878176676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=6726562463878176676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6726562463878176676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6726562463878176676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/09/obey-trust-and-serve.html' title='Obey, Trust, and Serve'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-4528914746687556346</id><published>2009-09-05T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T21:15:17.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I had the whole summer to spend on blog entries, and I didn't find the time to write one! I was obviously busy with three little kids and doing my best to keep them occupied.  Well summer has flown by and now I am ready for Fall!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the first time I feel at rest.  I am at peace with the place that Christ has brought me to.  It's been a long 2 years on my new venture of staying home, and there have been a lot of rough life lessons to learn.  I have embraced those challenging lessons and I have worked hard at listening to what Jesus has been trying to teach me.  I now understand why he allows us to experience hurts, disappointments, frustrations, and trials.  For me it's been to show me that only HE can fix things. Only HE can save people.  And in order for me to grow in my walk with him, there are things I must leave behind if I am going to truly be his follower. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finally have experienced the freedom that a relationship with Christ brings.  That freedom has always been offered to me, I am just new at accepting it. I am ready for the challenges that lie ahead, and I am excited to see what my Lord will teach me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-4528914746687556346?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/4528914746687556346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=4528914746687556346' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4528914746687556346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4528914746687556346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-i-had-whole-summer-to-spend-on-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-4804890398694751231</id><published>2009-06-24T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T19:13:40.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here we go...</title><content type='html'>I am finally up and running on my new blog.  If you were following me on my wordpress blog, I moved here only because I am a graphic geek and like things to look pretty!  If I could afford to have someone design a site for me I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it back to the gym today after 4 weeks of being completely out.  That is NOT like me at all.  I did a class called "boot camp" so you can only imagine what that was like after not working out for a month.  It was awesome.  I needed to work out like that.  I now understand why people on the Biggest Loser were close to throwing-up.  I came pretty close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been working hard to reclaim myself.  If you have read my previous entries on my old blog, you know that I have been working through some tough issues.  Issues that I never really wanted to confront head on, but ultimately we can't run forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been good.  God has been right here beside me through it all.  He has grieved with me, laughed with me, and consoled me.  I feel his presence everywhere I go.  He reminds me so gently that he loves me and that I belong to him.  Man...that's a great feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-4804890398694751231?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/4804890398694751231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=4804890398694751231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4804890398694751231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/4804890398694751231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/06/here-we-go.html' title='Here we go...'/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68824478701645942.post-6016302463944459796</id><published>2009-06-23T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T21:58:10.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi Friends,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on transferring my previous blog from wordpress.com to blogspot. I will post soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/68824478701645942-6016302463944459796?l=standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/feeds/6016302463944459796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=68824478701645942&amp;postID=6016302463944459796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6016302463944459796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/68824478701645942/posts/default/6016302463944459796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://standingtallinfaith.blogspot.com/2009/06/hi-friends-i-am-working-on-transferring.html' title=''/><author><name>Nesha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14191642805736950827</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zXma4vcoFIo/TaUqW7mq0kI/AAAAAAAAALQ/RQygpuUV9Xc/s220/nesha_profile.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
