tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-278792042024-03-14T03:48:01.170-07:00Thumbs UpA blog that will not often appear with new posts, but one in which I hope will put a smile on people's faces and an up on people's thumbs.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-48797666569583243362015-01-09T08:54:00.003-08:002015-01-09T08:54:38.167-08:00Niece of My DreamsIt's been quite a long time since I've posted on this here blog... so I doubt if anyone may ever see this post... but I don't really care because this is more for my benefit. I want to document for my own memory my thoughts about how much I love and enjoy my niece in her first year on the earth. Shirley is about to turn one year old. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. I remember telling Amanda that I wanted her to get married so that she could have my nieces and nephews and that day finally arrived! She has upheld her end of the bargain. And my sweet niece is more than I could have hoped for. I may be a bit biased but she is the cutest, funniest, sweetest, most expressive, chubby in all the right places, fuzziest head, softest cheeks, greatest greeter and best high fiver that there is. I knew I would love my nieces or nephews but I didn't know how easily it would come. I love Shirley so much and I'm so thankful that the Lord made her and gave her such great parents! It's weird to think of her growing up and talking and telling stories and moving away to Africa. That last part is sad to think about. But I'm so thankful for all the time I get with this little love and her parents! This is such a sweet time God has given to enjoy Him and the good gifts that He gives!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2zR-JbyGegExxevts8lO6LutkHE4f_atM1G2CG2CMnPZSrqdLmMOgQw0QAQTOrja7Kny66JOd1N8HVYbtSssbAKG6zVHSzrxHbxF6DrOMpMr4ce-PiVUb9468RJlZmkrwt_t/s1600/funny+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2zR-JbyGegExxevts8lO6LutkHE4f_atM1G2CG2CMnPZSrqdLmMOgQw0QAQTOrja7Kny66JOd1N8HVYbtSssbAKG6zVHSzrxHbxF6DrOMpMr4ce-PiVUb9468RJlZmkrwt_t/s1600/funny+face.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CClH7gSGYdg1ZK5Qfnz0lwHf1G9lQi3J7CWu2I8mO4RfwXm01FYzttN23JEGBNBWK40cg8tlBGx6Pbgnda9jaUdR5A4nRu90S91QagKvfCPjKcQHOoV3sCqc2KjfNtS5VrtC/s1600/sleepy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CClH7gSGYdg1ZK5Qfnz0lwHf1G9lQi3J7CWu2I8mO4RfwXm01FYzttN23JEGBNBWK40cg8tlBGx6Pbgnda9jaUdR5A4nRu90S91QagKvfCPjKcQHOoV3sCqc2KjfNtS5VrtC/s1600/sleepy.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1a2p-c2yI5pJ_fFTF05fwypHHZqcK_9F8Cs-KcrgPcqgIVt2QRlHUi8oMUX3zKb57J1-t5oqq8LTY6DcT0WqSMnUwP3PpwYaTxGy8zvmIuFzviGiWbSKMS9QUhgToERFGF7fs/s1600/scrumptous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1a2p-c2yI5pJ_fFTF05fwypHHZqcK_9F8Cs-KcrgPcqgIVt2QRlHUi8oMUX3zKb57J1-t5oqq8LTY6DcT0WqSMnUwP3PpwYaTxGy8zvmIuFzviGiWbSKMS9QUhgToERFGF7fs/s1600/scrumptous.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh959ZgA6LXGnfVT4VSkuWfyLZXVtukvj-zR1n5lL8IHw1HgYMd5cn8zdb0BcJyDHm7Kr18wc8a9jqL7CKrMnIK9YYMHdf-3JunPc2079Ze_V8adJ7_tHVfquiEskgDSLDOaU8o/s1600/sweet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh959ZgA6LXGnfVT4VSkuWfyLZXVtukvj-zR1n5lL8IHw1HgYMd5cn8zdb0BcJyDHm7Kr18wc8a9jqL7CKrMnIK9YYMHdf-3JunPc2079Ze_V8adJ7_tHVfquiEskgDSLDOaU8o/s1600/sweet.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf_sIj0Aw4shy4X40VVFJQhwMNH_yLZJVJNCemeXQK2MefX2L7R0iIZJk7trh7l6yZUJ6c9wHX8iC0qU47iiHyT3vbBKhDAGB2PecMi_TgvAZAubLIQrjUt4TgaM2cV0Gqm-W/s1600/eyelash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPf_sIj0Aw4shy4X40VVFJQhwMNH_yLZJVJNCemeXQK2MefX2L7R0iIZJk7trh7l6yZUJ6c9wHX8iC0qU47iiHyT3vbBKhDAGB2PecMi_TgvAZAubLIQrjUt4TgaM2cV0Gqm-W/s1600/eyelash.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnU3n5uMuov3-W4wiHRHvZo9_S5pc3KDbpW76iAjO66tBFXLacxVi1Sw3Mqt7roBpLDV4aPlYZN0MtRjqC9PCt0_BIXQO5dSZFLO0i-VzAlKjGD9pjELIpnZW_gwIO5n0U5sLQ/s1600/finger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnU3n5uMuov3-W4wiHRHvZo9_S5pc3KDbpW76iAjO66tBFXLacxVi1Sw3Mqt7roBpLDV4aPlYZN0MtRjqC9PCt0_BIXQO5dSZFLO0i-VzAlKjGD9pjELIpnZW_gwIO5n0U5sLQ/s1600/finger.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipA5zwN4-DljpJIXNF4MGY8nzfX6ORdwC6B-Kbi4ukWAojpRaktgJJzu2MhMHknTEI0rxMTrOBz8axw0C1Q1FMKtm28R8pBwsrmjUCu0vBFfhfAtOFYN7c9TGd4FOrL5domEef/s1600/sweaty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipA5zwN4-DljpJIXNF4MGY8nzfX6ORdwC6B-Kbi4ukWAojpRaktgJJzu2MhMHknTEI0rxMTrOBz8axw0C1Q1FMKtm28R8pBwsrmjUCu0vBFfhfAtOFYN7c9TGd4FOrL5domEef/s1600/sweaty.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikjOlNKslepDvTCHwPvatq_bAwEPaQOiQ51-6R2vDVR-azEhHIjrjdQ7bqKHHPx3tJqyOgortY3Uw6x8_4FwFHZ1wWZQChWDQ8UtknHouJ8Yx4Gz9EGJkFnlCyKFfg9UpwNuX/s1600/side+eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikjOlNKslepDvTCHwPvatq_bAwEPaQOiQ51-6R2vDVR-azEhHIjrjdQ7bqKHHPx3tJqyOgortY3Uw6x8_4FwFHZ1wWZQChWDQ8UtknHouJ8Yx4Gz9EGJkFnlCyKFfg9UpwNuX/s1600/side+eye.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwf5wplGOdYyJf1H9uq-RXCh3OBy1cffXUOH3ByLAf9pr9NUtfD3ef3eehryCew6wkEewvIwfr-yipaevik_IG_qLDsd0RQX4IR1DmOcJE0ZS5jIu21jJU-mEPd8PLVE112TpL/s1600/parisian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwf5wplGOdYyJf1H9uq-RXCh3OBy1cffXUOH3ByLAf9pr9NUtfD3ef3eehryCew6wkEewvIwfr-yipaevik_IG_qLDsd0RQX4IR1DmOcJE0ZS5jIu21jJU-mEPd8PLVE112TpL/s1600/parisian.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzjcBigcid-mlmnRI_inv3_ccbxJx3sZIAtqkZyGBE_-oq5aPk3r6tyrX5G0ybnQ5dEDW0wg20hLh48JAptBnqSDhP_BVR0zScseU3I4fU6BLl73GABOo0ERV3fNGEQUl_rCj/s1600/busy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzjcBigcid-mlmnRI_inv3_ccbxJx3sZIAtqkZyGBE_-oq5aPk3r6tyrX5G0ybnQ5dEDW0wg20hLh48JAptBnqSDhP_BVR0zScseU3I4fU6BLl73GABOo0ERV3fNGEQUl_rCj/s1600/busy.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnhgpQVyUPIKSjUPHU6tvIu_47YoJ9Z_EA7oko80JoihtRHJlX9qN5MRzWiCewP_Nvmt5sshQ9Tqoe1__Y2CXdq-rsR-7JvkMebHYTgp4jl45sBjudV-TFWpkipdMg3vmbX2-/s1600/mischief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxnhgpQVyUPIKSjUPHU6tvIu_47YoJ9Z_EA7oko80JoihtRHJlX9qN5MRzWiCewP_Nvmt5sshQ9Tqoe1__Y2CXdq-rsR-7JvkMebHYTgp4jl45sBjudV-TFWpkipdMg3vmbX2-/s1600/mischief.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SIgc-uUHwSH2HwcJeouNJu7qP6K3SZAIqeRKbKAblYOfFjJFxgloZu0AFQ-Qj-fsimdsljbV4Qng2nwi-vdYU_32rDBRpdgnL-SjIjHjpqi43X5zHIAJbEAkiARn5eSFTjuz/s1600/little+minnie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SIgc-uUHwSH2HwcJeouNJu7qP6K3SZAIqeRKbKAblYOfFjJFxgloZu0AFQ-Qj-fsimdsljbV4Qng2nwi-vdYU_32rDBRpdgnL-SjIjHjpqi43X5zHIAJbEAkiARn5eSFTjuz/s1600/little+minnie.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
I love my little Shirley Girly!Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-69034054733041591442011-12-20T13:09:00.000-08:002011-12-20T13:48:52.850-08:00Puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies, puppies...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRD6wyL1GL5CG8SOjpvNnZ6qAwMgDMGcUZgyUYwFLRXvd22X95QLiznGyUqJzvV5zK8kAe7w3SGd1-exzrA14pxSq75Lv4eqRdv2dho_5b8fgFT1gsfahS7efTDn6XK1B4JYDT/s1600/Puppy+Pile.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688329924347364322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRD6wyL1GL5CG8SOjpvNnZ6qAwMgDMGcUZgyUYwFLRXvd22X95QLiznGyUqJzvV5zK8kAe7w3SGd1-exzrA14pxSq75Lv4eqRdv2dho_5b8fgFT1gsfahS7efTDn6XK1B4JYDT/s320/Puppy+Pile.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkGwLOTto034fLlrZ8-KJBsHjJqrysCPuwv0BouJczLAzFv7PvGugNAK21HJQnM5Sr1-rOmV3KeOrfgaEBhliT4Eh0UYq6JwhyphenhyphenE5paO7hnUAYIaTPlSqpKR50deG9jGI2EMf9/s1600/oh+my.jpeg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688330445576215906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkGwLOTto034fLlrZ8-KJBsHjJqrysCPuwv0BouJczLAzFv7PvGugNAK21HJQnM5Sr1-rOmV3KeOrfgaEBhliT4Eh0UYq6JwhyphenhyphenE5paO7hnUAYIaTPlSqpKR50deG9jGI2EMf9/s320/oh+my.jpeg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyfafzNS8kHulIW8vgRiWvFpDlVpZeSsF3IcB4HiBmzV7FkfZyJF_bg82iD3vC3KNgSCpRKy5t-7gFcBvz216iGK9xKSnH6jRlmNzxB8kA_miZaSKUybUirKjUztBhoAz5m7R/s1600/cutie.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688330366400595026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyfafzNS8kHulIW8vgRiWvFpDlVpZeSsF3IcB4HiBmzV7FkfZyJF_bg82iD3vC3KNgSCpRKy5t-7gFcBvz216iGK9xKSnH6jRlmNzxB8kA_miZaSKUybUirKjUztBhoAz5m7R/s320/cutie.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZgFehdzLMIMQjkOkmhrgLtdRg2G4GpwbyrRXrWU6UiMmxFso5ADBR17djH59gFAvMy9X7ZXH1W4ML78wkmiyScvJq9sFxRA3tHsXUwSA7xuM67Xmv-shEexTg9s39XaVTK8J/s1600/heart.jpeg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688330200746991938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZgFehdzLMIMQjkOkmhrgLtdRg2G4GpwbyrRXrWU6UiMmxFso5ADBR17djH59gFAvMy9X7ZXH1W4ML78wkmiyScvJq9sFxRA3tHsXUwSA7xuM67Xmv-shEexTg9s39XaVTK8J/s320/heart.jpeg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrhyphenhyphenJoTDlk4lQyua98ZOPWMDYMdowkWOBfG0dvDMr7BuyfKyDFpXqTW8abAAUmqMddf0akBlpXM1CAJ03jq6wgO8uQtDW-1zI49rClu_ufH5vx6ue7PzK6Nzxm4LLikXTEMGU/s1600/rodger.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688330064778778018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrhyphenhyphenJoTDlk4lQyua98ZOPWMDYMdowkWOBfG0dvDMr7BuyfKyDFpXqTW8abAAUmqMddf0akBlpXM1CAJ03jq6wgO8uQtDW-1zI49rClu_ufH5vx6ue7PzK6Nzxm4LLikXTEMGU/s320/rodger.jpg" /></a><br />People may say I'm a weird dog person. Maybe I am, but I enjoy them so much that I don't mind what I'm called. I had the great pleasure of watching another litter of Maggie's puppies be born and grow up for 2 months. She had 8 of them this time, so double the fun :)<br /><br />There was a different side to taking care of this litter as opposed to the last one. This time I had to realize that I wasn't going to get to keep one of them. It's difficult to watch such adorable, fluffy critters be taken away one by one. You can't help but invest time and attention into the puppies because they require a lot of both. And while you are investing time and attention you grow to love the little things. So this time I had to fully embrace the joy of seeing the joy the new owners had as they picked up their new pups and see that as a greater joy than what I would have in keeping a THIRD dog. My mom tries to remind me that we would become the "crazy dog family" if we had 3 soft coated wheaten terriers. I'm still not convinced of that... but oh well.<br />Thankfully one of the new owners lives very close by! And another family that got one of the pups has one from our first litter! And most exciting of all, another group that got a puppy are my friends! This means that when I go hiking and backpacking and other things with them I will get to see "Fatty" and "Fatty" will get to see her sister and mom :)(Fatty is what we named their puppy) Wow, as I write this I realize that I might be a little crazy. Oh well. I just like them so much! They are so cute!<br />There is a lot I could say, about each puppy even, lots of funny and cute stories. But there is one thing that is the best about me getting to enjoy a litter of puppies and that is what I learn from it. I always like to think about what a circumstance teaches me and believe it or not you can learn a lot from watching a litter of puppies. I get to learn about God's care. His care extends even to a tiny puppy. He loves them, even more than an Elmira can love a pup. So every time I was tempted to worry about the puppies I had to remember God's care for them and His care for me. I know that is a trait of His that I will have to think about again and again for even bigger and more weightier issues. I love that my God is kind, perfectly kind and perfectly in control. I love that He cares about small things, nothing is too insignificant. Even a puppy.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-77458734191896430812010-03-20T00:33:00.000-07:002010-03-20T01:11:17.630-07:00After 13 Long Years<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxU3evu6F9Mj8HQT6vBsH0YdKVAioppNmv0ahoms5OXWA3RN6_h3zE-0CXpzjwlRXS0RiVD20rQKz5BWJzEwy4eEzx1tgHeW8E9Q9Us5CHDhOxIM6GpT6_EOSbSj1swwScHgt3/s1600-h/Picture+002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxU3evu6F9Mj8HQT6vBsH0YdKVAioppNmv0ahoms5OXWA3RN6_h3zE-0CXpzjwlRXS0RiVD20rQKz5BWJzEwy4eEzx1tgHeW8E9Q9Us5CHDhOxIM6GpT6_EOSbSj1swwScHgt3/s320/Picture+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450625270790756658" /></a><br /><br />I moved into my bedroom when I was 10 years old, after Amanda decided she was old enough to have her own room. I was crushed. I didn't want to move into the "play room", I liked sharing with my big sister, but I got the boot anyway. My room is pretty tiny. It sits in between my mom's room and Amanda's room on the second story. It's about 10' by 10' and I have a queen sized bed. Floor space is minimal, if you can picture it. Growing up my room was a light pink, decorated with pink flower pictures, a pink quilt with hearts that my mom made for me, and my awesome pink lamp (words fail me). Let's just say my room had not changed - all except for my desk. When someone new would come into my room I would ask them which part of it represented me. It never took long for them to look at the rather full, colorful, random desk - covered with yearbooks, cds, photographs, and lots of nick-knacks to discover the answer. I could live like this. I had my desk, the rest was just history. <br /><br />But then there's my sister and my mom. Both of them have the arty, decorating bug/gene. I often call myself the black sheep of the family because I seem to have missed out on some very nice genes. But that's for another post. Amanda moved downstairs for awhile while our friend was living in her old room (the purple room). The room downstairs was always our computer room so Amanda looked at moving in as a time to redecorate. She did a fantastic job of course, with classy red, black and white colors and great pieces of furniture and sophisticated artwork to put on her walls. Seeing this room after completion started to give me some feelings of discontent with my room. I pushed it aside for a time. Then Amanda moved back upstairs after our friend moved out and got married. Amanda decided it was time for the purple room to have some changes. So she completely redecorated it and made it so amazingly nice and modern and clean looking. This started to push me over the edge.<br /><br />After much encouragement from family and friends alike I finally made the move. I gradually started to dismember my desk - the greatest task to accomplish in order to redo my room. I needed to get rid of the desk and make a clean start. Once all the going through and cleaning out was accomplished (which took far longer than the average organized person... or even unorganized for that matter, would take) the fun began. I had picked out a bedspread long before and bought it as another means of encourage me to actually accomplish the task. Everyday I would look at the all rolled up in its cute Anthropologie package and long for it to be on my bead with a new coat of paint on the walls and no overflowing desk in my room. Last Saturday I woke up at 7:30am, put on some paint clothes, and started the makeover. My buddy Erin came over and helped Mom, Amanda and I paint. Three of the walls are a light tan and the last is a rich chocolate brown - the walls turned out spectacular I must say, and Erin did a fine job with her precise edging capabilities. My mom slaved over my dresser. I insisted on keeping my old dresser, rather than buying more new furniture. She had the great idea of restaining it a darker color. She smoothed on two coats for me during the course of the day and painted their wooden nobs a bright blue at my request. I LOVE color! At the end of that day my whole room was painted, my dresser was in pieces but ready to go, and my one purchased piece of furniture, my bookcase, was painted a wonderful peachy orange to match one of the many colors in my bedspread.<br /><br />Things aren't complete yet, there are still a few walls with nothing on them because I have neglected to hang my new, cool items on them. But my bookcase is filled, my bed has its new bedspread and my dresser is back together with its blue nobs. The difference between what it once was and how it is today is unbelievable, truly. I'm shocked at how much I have enjoyed the whole decorating process, maybe I'm not as much of a black sheep as I thought :) I smile when I come into my room - it feels comfortable and welcoming and familiar. A bedroom should feel that way, especially to its owner. <br /><br />Congratulations! I feel like whoever got this far in reading this post should have a prize. Good grief that was long and probably really super not interesting to most of you. But this is my blog, and it's not like you had to read it or anything. So I don't feel bad for you. But I do hope you don't feel your time was wasted. That would be sad.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQW7cEJiwj6bTwg50vzK-EEbEPN08fh87J9ZJnbTYY0rmGJZFNq2bEntQnQf5mZahJF5cYKZHVVtat182e5ebTI7t4k__ub4AR9B3CIw7T2L6KbuZ8Gt1-JABTXxRpCxKwlEKw/s1600-h/Picture+001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQW7cEJiwj6bTwg50vzK-EEbEPN08fh87J9ZJnbTYY0rmGJZFNq2bEntQnQf5mZahJF5cYKZHVVtat182e5ebTI7t4k__ub4AR9B3CIw7T2L6KbuZ8Gt1-JABTXxRpCxKwlEKw/s400/Picture+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450624679725084034" /></a>Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-12299578983645405082010-02-26T21:37:00.000-08:002010-03-07T18:57:35.941-08:00Diaper Butt<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh974dfx69IOGWnW-pHbmk1DSv6jNZGIgKYjTP3HRbNC2HSn9KOHSdbvQfrwpPTVqd6bn9Fu9INYdjIcCvDCGuhX0u_BaQO7yt7eamBcGyEttEsiW473cJlVhf-eFjB4MSO-HQU/s1600-h/maggie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh974dfx69IOGWnW-pHbmk1DSv6jNZGIgKYjTP3HRbNC2HSn9KOHSdbvQfrwpPTVqd6bn9Fu9INYdjIcCvDCGuhX0u_BaQO7yt7eamBcGyEttEsiW473cJlVhf-eFjB4MSO-HQU/s400/maggie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446091014332237922" /></a><br />My apologies if anyone finds the title of this post objectionable, but it is the only way to describe the humorous image that I have to share with you in words. <br /><br />For quite some time the Taylor ladies have been wanting to breed my dog, Maggie. The idea of little Maggie puppies and even keeping one for our own is very appealing. About a month ago we figured Maggie was approaching the appropriate time for her to start the process of having puppies, so I went on the hunt for boy doggies of Maggie's same breed ([Irish] soft coated wheaten terrier). It was extremely difficult to find this particular dog that was still able to produce. About six months earlier I had tried emailing a bunch of candidates in southern California, but I had never heard back from any of them. So this time I tried the last thing I could think of - calling soft coated wheaten terrier breeders. I looked online and I could only find 2 of this breeders of wheatens in southern California. I called the first one on the list and she flat out told me there was no way I would be able to find a stud dog because these dogs were no longer able to be bred in California. For a moment I felt so dejected and sad that I almost gave up on the whole things. But then I reasoned with myself that this lady couldn't be the final word, so I gave the second on the list a try. I left him a message and he returned my call the following day telling me that he would be able to find a stud for me to use, under certain agreements. I could write another blog about this man and the "agreements" but I won't. <br /><br />I bet by now you have lost hope that I will ever explain the title of this post. Sorry, I'm often slow at getting to the point and I thought some history could be helpful in the explanation. Most people have their dogs fixed as a puppy so they can avoid all the unpleasantries that go along with not being fixed. I think it must be obvious why those unpleasantries would be even worse with a girl dog. Hence the title. Maggie needs a diaper. Once ever 6-9 months Maggie needs a diaper. The reason I did all of my explaining earlier on is so that you will understand that there is a reason why we put up with this rather repulsive inconvenience. It's all for a good cause. <br /><br />The diaper is hilarious. There is a hole for her tail and it has little doggie bone decorations. We are not the type of people that care to accessorize their dog, but I think if I could always have Maggie in a diaper I might. She's cute on an everyday level, but give her a diaper and the funny and cute mix together perfectly to create the most amiable creature you've ever stumbled across.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-67203231875439595002010-02-01T21:12:00.000-08:002010-02-01T22:31:02.720-08:00Sad StoryI have been thinking a bit about doggies lately. I love dogs. I'm obviously a big fan of my own dog. In fact, we are planning on getting Maggie bred which will hopefully mean 6 or 7 new little puppies around :), we won't keep them all. I've heard about some doggie rescues lately, brave people saving dogs from running into streets. I also just finished watching The Sandlot with Amanda - in that case people are running from the dog instead of the dog running away. This reminded me of a sad event in my life, one with my dad. It was a rescue attempt. <br /><br />I was in high school, not sure how old. It was night time and my dad and I were driving in Santa Clarita, Canyon Country to be exact. I think we must have been on Sierra Hwy. I'm pretty sure I was in my pajamas. I'm not sure why I would be in my pajamas, driving around at night with my dad, but that's what I remember, so work with me. <br /><br />Sierra Hwy is a pretty busy road, one of Santa Clarita's major roads with lots of traffic. As we were passing through we noticed a scuffle on our left side as we were driving along. There was a man running down the road and yelling, who soon slowed and put his hands to his head. We looked down the road and noticed a little black dog running down the sidewalk as fast as he could. Both being dog lovers my dad and I felt for the guy and wished there was something we could do. My dad looked over at me and said, "let's head him off." Or something like that. I eagerly agreed to the challenge. I was already imagining the fun of having a cute little black dog in my lap as we drove him back to his owner, and the joy of seeing the relief and thankfulness of the owner at our successful return. My dad drove down the road ahead of the dog and took a quick left into a group of homes. We parked and ran out of the car. Our plan was to meet the dog as it ran, to greet it with open arms. We ran to the road and I saw the little guy running furiously toward us. I remember my dad calling the dog to us, I think he just said hi in a calm, kind voice. I can't remember if I said anything or not. All I remember is seeing the dumb little thing spot us and take an immediate right into the heavy traffic. After calling after the dog in horror I turned away. I knew the inevitable had to happen. I could tell you about the sound but I will spare you.<br /><br />And here's the part where I confess. My dad and I got back in the car and drove away. On the ride home my mind kept returning to the man with his hands on his head who would eventually follow his dog's trail to the end of his little friend's life. I had wondered if my dad and I should have waited for the man, if we should have explained how we had tried to help, how our intentions were nothing but honorable. Maybe that would have been the better way, but then maybe the man would have wondered the same thing as me... Why hadn't his dog just trusted us and made the right choice? The truth is, neither of us wanted to see the man's reaction to what happened and we certainly didn't want to be held responsible, and boy did I feel responsible. Later that night I wondered, why couldn't we have just minded our own business and left well enough alone? Maybe then the dog would have stayed on the sidewalk and eventually his master would have caught up to him. The "what ifs" killed me. <br /><br />I don't feel so guilty now, now that I know we tried our best and now that I know sometimes the next dog is the best dog :) (sorry Higgins)... The other day I saw a dog crossing Newhall Ave. and I actually shut my eyes for a few seconds, but my dad wasn't driving this time so I had to open them. Thankfully the dog had made it safely to the other side. This time I didn't stop to try and help it. Instead I remembered my sad story and wondered if I would ever have the guts to try again.<br /><br />So, for all of you would be dog rescuers, I hope you have a better time of it than my dad and I, and remember that dogs don't really make choices, they just react. <br /><br />--this post is dedicated to the little black dog and his owner... sorry.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-81081086259011434842009-10-27T10:40:00.000-07:002009-10-27T10:47:22.023-07:00Cool HymnI stole this from Chris Powell who mentioned this hymn when he was teaching at Bible study at my house. Really encouraging.<br /><br />Day by day, and with each passing moment,<br />Strength I find to meet my trials here;<br />Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,<br />I've no cause for worry or for fear.<br />He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,<br />Gives unto each day what He deems best,<br />Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,<br />Mingling toil with peace and rest.<br /><br />Every day the Lord Himself is near me,<br />With a special mercy for each hour;<br />All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,<br />He whose name is Counselor and Pow'r.<br />The protection of His child and treasure<br />Is a charge that on Himself He laid;<br />"As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,"<br />This the pledge to me He made.<br /><br />Help me then, in every tribulation,<br />So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,<br />That I lose not faith's sweet consolation,<br />Offered me within Thy holy Word.<br />Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,<br />E're to take, as from a father's hand,<br />One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,<br />Till with Christ the Lord I stand.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-48073588858006384402009-10-11T17:13:00.000-07:002009-10-11T17:19:10.881-07:00From "The Power of Prayer in a Believer's Life""The Story is told that as the Athenian senate met together in the open air, a sparrow that was pursued by a hawk flew in the direction of the senate. Being hard pressed by the bird of prey, the sparrow sought shelter in the bosom of one of the senators. Being a man of rough and vulgar mold, the senator took the bird from his bosom, dashed it on the ground, and so killed it. Whereupon the whole senate rose in uproar and without one single dissenting voice condemned him to die for not rendering aid to a creature that confided in him. Can we suppose that the God of heaven, whose nature is love, could tear out of His bosom the poor fluttering dove that flies from the eagle of justice into the bosom of His mercy? Will He give the invitation to seek His face, and when we with so much trepidation summon courage enough to fly into His bosom, will He then be unjust and ungracious enough to forget to hear our cry and to answer us? Where do such thoughts come from?"Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-52480189195704267242009-06-08T20:51:00.000-07:002009-06-08T21:21:52.774-07:00Oh Maggie!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn63D6uuzjAh0YqJQF3pjou8cBPWNEsM-b-1v3B20ws2PoEdhyphenhyphenlJMsnqPT-rJOHHq8v-S3-DJ4gTfLiv9lDdpg3mDi-gJwrRqJRYSbuxoPdOUvHcsuxX2E9eQlHS6gXCSuxe3L/s1600-h/New+Camera!+063.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn63D6uuzjAh0YqJQF3pjou8cBPWNEsM-b-1v3B20ws2PoEdhyphenhyphenlJMsnqPT-rJOHHq8v-S3-DJ4gTfLiv9lDdpg3mDi-gJwrRqJRYSbuxoPdOUvHcsuxX2E9eQlHS6gXCSuxe3L/s400/New+Camera!+063.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345178284815135186" /></a><br />On Sunday afternoon I heard Maggie, my cute puppy, barking outside. This isn't an abnormal occurrence; she often goes outside to bark with our neighbor dogs. But this time I couldn't hear any other dogs barking. My dad made some remark like, "Now, what's she barking at?" And my mom, probably knowing Maggie best since she is around her so much replied, "She's probably playing with some poor bug."<br /><br />I had heard about Maggie "playing" with bugs from all members of my family, but I had never had the opportunity to see it for myself. So, in hopes that my mom was right, and Maggie was "playing" with a bug; I quickly went into the backyard to investigate.<br /><br />I found Maggie near our patio table, nowhere near either side wall (where she would normally be if barking at the neighbor dogs). She saw me come outside and she quickly glanced at me and then back at what she was doing. She let out a bark, literally the cutest bark I've ever heard. I don't know how to not sound biased, but I really do believe that it is one of the cutest sounds I've ever heard. It's a mixture between a howl and a woof - it usually sounds like she's telling someone to come play with her - kind of impatient but longing. <br /><br />I quickly looked where she had now placed her attention, on the ground at a little struggling bee. If you've ever seen a bee that has been drowning in a pool until someone decides to splash it back on shore, then you can picture what this bee looked like. After the bee has been rescued from the water it kind of wriggles pathetically, its legs moving in all directions, body convulsing - trying to go back to its natural form of life. At this point Maggie was just looking at the bee and I was trying to figure out what she had done to cause the bee this kind of torture and then she showed me...<br /><br />I don't love cats, but one of the most endearing things a cat can do (in my opinion) is when it paws at something, like a ball of yarn. It just looks really cute. Well, you can imagine how cute my already adorable puppy looked pawing at the bee. She pawed at it with hesitation and curiosity, mingled with a desire for the bee to react. I don't think she realized the bee was already too injured to do any sort of fighting back or "playing". When the pawing didn't create the desired effect, Maggie tried a different tact, the fake eating game. I saw Maggie come down on the bee with her mouth and I thought that the show was over, without a doubt. But once she put the bee in her mouth she spit him out again. She did this a number of times, and would afterward look at the bee intently and expectantly. <br /><br />At this point I was shocked the bee was still living, but it still struggled in it's poor pathetic way. If I hadn't been so entertained by Maggie I might have been a little more compassionate towards the bee. Maggie went back to pawing some more at the bee. He had to have only moments left. I was sure that soon his struggling body would become still and peaceful. <br /><br />Then, she ate him.<br /><br />After she swallowed the bee she looked around for awhile. She must have assumed she had spit him out again, but she finally gave up on her search and came back in the house.<br /><br />Those were two really entertaining minutes of Maggie.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-67186523844880237322009-02-12T14:36:00.000-08:002009-02-13T10:28:12.320-08:00Embarrassing MomentThis is an old story, but the other day some of us were chatting in the office about the Crossroads volleyball tournament that raises money for short term missions, and so it came to my mind. I told Lisa Martin about it and she told me to blog about it, so here you go. One of the most embarrassing moments I have experienced happened at one of these tournaments.<br /><br />The day before the tournament I had rediscovered a pair of khaki capri pants that had been missing. Do you know that feeling of losing an item of clothing that you would wear all the time and fit just right and looked just right - it's a horribly sad feeling. After about a year I had given up hope of ever finding them and had come to grips with the loss. But they reappeared - they had been stored away in some "summer clothes" storage box that had never been unpacked. The morning of the tournament I excited pulled them on - they were a little more snug then I remembered, but they still fit. I performed the usual stretching techniques and was ready to go. <br /><br />The tournament began and I was feeling good. I was on a team with some good friends and my hilarious Bible study shepherd. He was hilarious for many reasons, but this day in particular he was funny because of his competitive nature. He was serious about winning, the only problem was that our team just wasn't cut out for that sort of thing, including him. It was funny to watch him scurry all over the grass going for the ball and calling out commands to the other team members. I also happen to be competitive, especially in sport games. I'm not much good at volleyball, but was still getting a little caught up in the competitive spirit. In one of our earlier rounds, at the upper field, the ball came to me. The ball was coming in too early so I was really going to have to stretch to get it. I did what was necessary. I took a giant step with my right leg, bringing my left knee to the ground, I heard and felt a rip the sucked all the air from my body and then made contact with the ball. The ball sailed safely over the net to the other side. It may have been a moment of glory, with people cheering for me and giving me pats on the back, but I quickly said "sub! sub!" and ran off the field behind a friend of mine. <br /><br />After making contact with the ball I looked down at the damage and it was great. The rip started at my knee and went <em></em>all<em></em> the way up. The rip was not on a seam either - it was shredded. I've never felt so exposed in all my life, hiding behind a friend of my mine while people looked at me strangely... I needed to find a bathroom and fast, I also needed new pants. There was still a lot of volleyball to play and I was stuck there until the end of the day. Thankfully, Becky, the friend I had found refuge behind, had an extra pair of pants, but she had to get them from her car which was very far away. I found a bathroom in that time and waited it out, thinking through the incredible embarrassment that had just occurred and laughing to myself. She came back with some rust colored capri pants and they were such a relief to put on. I threw away the greatly anticipated khaki capri pants, knowing they could never be rescued from the destruction they had gone through.<br /><br />There were a few people that questioned me as to why I had a different pair of pants on. Some people got the story, others... a very generalized something.<br /><br />I don't know what it is about ripping pants, but it is really humbling, and not just from this experience do I know this, but it happened to me in junior high as well. And there is no worse time to rip your pants than in junior high, I'm sure all of you will agree with me. And you know in the movies... when people rip their pants in the back, right along the seam? That doesn't actually happen to anyone right? That's what I thought. But no... it happens and I know from personal experience. In 8th grade I would sit on a brick wall with my friends at lunch, the brick wall was just low enough to take one giant step to climb up. So I, in my freshly washed jeans, took my giant step onto the wall. "RIIIIPPPPPPP!" It was horrible and right down the center. I had to spend the rest of the day with my jacket tied around my waist - hoping it wouldn't come untied or hike up a little. Somehow I made it through the day with little abuse, but it was pretty scarring.<br /><br />Embarrassing...Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-9973529421305258172008-12-09T13:15:00.000-08:002008-12-11T10:28:36.859-08:00Christmas FeverThat's right, it's happened again. The Christmas spirit has me. And I know that sounds worldly of me, at least I think it does. The Christmas spirit that I'm writing about is that warm and cozy feeling you get when you see Christmas lights, snowmen, snowflakes, drink hot cocoa and listen to jazzy Christmas tunes. I love to walk into my house after work and be greeted by the warm glow of lights from my Christmas tree and soft humm of carols. My family may go a bit overboard on the Christmas decorations but I love every bit of it. You can't go into a room in my house and not know that it's Christmas. My mom has even made Christmas pillowcases. <br /><br />The sad thing about all of this wonderful decoration is that I'm not at home most of the time; I'm at work. That needed to be fixed and my good friend Lisa who works with me agreed. So the two of us put our efforts together and created our own winter wonderland in the basement where no natural light shines. It is so pleasant to have decorations around; it's such a festive atmosphere now. We even made our own snowflakes. I don't know if any of you have tried that but it is quite crafty and easy to do. You cut out a circle of paper fold it up as much as you can and then make a bunch of cut outs,the more you cut the better it looks. You unfold it and miraculously have a beautiful snowflake. Lisa started getting creative on me and made a snowflake with Christmas tree cut outs. I had to copy her because it was so cool. The trees turned out nicely, but then I tried to make a gingerbread cut out and that didn't turn out quite as well. I don't know if any of you have seen "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" but my gingerbread men most closeley resemble the aliens in that film than actual gingerbread men. <br /><br />I have often struggled at Christmastime in not getting too caught up in the "spirit of Christmas" and remembering what I'm actually celebrating. While I love the pretty Christmas decorations and music the whole point of the holiday is to celebrate the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. So I'm making a pact with myself, that each time I get that warm cozy feeling from the enjoyments the holiday spirit brings that I remember Christ. This is when the real warmth and real joy comes because of Him I can live and rejoice with joy inexpressible because of the life I have in Him. So don't be scroogy and say that a true spiritual person can't have fun with decorations, Christmas trees, and snowmen, because every good gift is from above and as long as we give Him the glory and honor and attention we can enjoy those gifst.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-7068715869727137102008-11-26T10:53:00.000-08:002008-11-26T11:39:39.156-08:00Tribute to Jeremy and Amanda<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx9SzlOGfPOkJJd-KJ-vnV17DnT6tJX1eFE2oEoMr_pdbIIYiaiptGSo6zDezLlSsXU9JSETW3EIL3sGF_Bk8ozF3bd7dSc4i-gqkJ0K3OLFXQ1ommDunkdQeSvyVt4sStbvu/s1600-h/n159900427_30264885_1100.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx9SzlOGfPOkJJd-KJ-vnV17DnT6tJX1eFE2oEoMr_pdbIIYiaiptGSo6zDezLlSsXU9JSETW3EIL3sGF_Bk8ozF3bd7dSc4i-gqkJ0K3OLFXQ1ommDunkdQeSvyVt4sStbvu/s400/n159900427_30264885_1100.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273053213753407874" /></a><br />In the spirit of Thanksgiving and simply the fact that I really love these people, I wanted to write a brief post about why these two members of my family are so incredibly amazing. <br /><br />I was recently thinking about how my sister is my very best friend. It's kind of nice to have that knowledge, I remember the drama of the "best friend" status in grade school. I wanted to be my best friend's best friend. I didn't know then that Amanda was my best friend, we have grown closer over the years. Now I no longer have the "best friend" drama because she is it and that won't change. She is a pretty great one too, it will be impossible to expound on all the ways she qualifies, but here are a few. She loves me, she cares for me, she teaches me, she's patient with me, she laughs with me, she laughs at me, she makes me laugh, she listens to me, she confides in me, she gives to me, she prays for me, she considers me, she forgives me, she includes me, she's honest with me, she shares with me, she's silly with me, she understands me... I could go on and on. I wish all of you could understand the context in which all of these individual things have taken place and how many times, pretty cool. So anyway, love you Manda.<br /><br />Then there's Jeremy. As I was thinking about how Amanda is my best friend, I think about my really close friends, but suddenly as I was sitting in Jeremy's truck with Amanda I realized that Jeremy is my second best friend. I haven't told him this before, maybe he just knows that it's true. I have always been close with Jeremy, he was my buddy growing up and now he is my friend in Christ which is so much more meaningful and he's still my buddy. I have some great times with Jeremy, I've already written about the laughing game, but there are so many more silly, fun things that the cousins to together. But recently in addition to those things Jeremy's relationship to me has changed, he is an encourager, a convicter, a confider, and many more things. But the fact that I can say those things about our relationship now is totally a testimony of God's grace and power and how little trust I have in Him. Never in my wildest dreams or most doubtful prayers did I imagine this kind of deep relationship with my cuz. It's truly a blessing. <br /><br />The three of us have often spoken about how we always want to be together, near enough to spend time together. We have talked about how our possible future spouses will have to get used to our strange closeness and have to come to enjoy the cousin hang out time. What a sweet relationship the Lord has given to us. I can honestly say I get a glimpse of heaven and the way relationships will be there when the three of us are at our best together. I love you both mucho!Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-14356692702421502862008-11-06T11:16:00.000-08:002008-11-06T13:19:16.879-08:002nd Annual Sister Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-GcU2T8ADJXEUHOUq0zNHcnw9Hb11r7Gm8HxE4yW5QPyBEI8wGuyX1bqu23n964Q5uJqdmHuyFCUAcw2c55oaJYL-d6Kot_uyw3KR6BzjqSTI-xd1o3g4h2pw4K5suZiXUGW/s1600-h/AR-M550N_20081106_111425.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-GcU2T8ADJXEUHOUq0zNHcnw9Hb11r7Gm8HxE4yW5QPyBEI8wGuyX1bqu23n964Q5uJqdmHuyFCUAcw2c55oaJYL-d6Kot_uyw3KR6BzjqSTI-xd1o3g4h2pw4K5suZiXUGW/s320/AR-M550N_20081106_111425.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265627184459327714" /></a><br /><br />Today is the second annual sister day for Amanda and I. She posted on our last year's sister day and she will probably post again, but I wanted to post too. Especially since part of this post will be a sequel to one of my earlier posts "Louie Lee". Amanda and I went to breakfast, per usual, at the Egg Plantation. At the restaurant we did our gift exchange - because sister day isn't sister day without presents, I mean come on! She opened my present first, there were four goodies in there for her. Of course she pretty much always outdoes me both in style and quantity. My favorite part about her gift, and hers too, is that she gave me two cards. The first was titled "card #1 - Happy Sister Day" and was a very sweet card about our close relationship. The other card was titled "card #2 Because on Sister Day you can do Whatever you Want (pretty much.)" Needless to say I was intrigued by this card #2. I opened it and found the picture above and inside there was no explanatory funny saying that explained the picture - it was a blank card - with her writing in it of course. This is what I found inside... (please keep in mind "Louie Lee" at this point)<br /><br />"A Short Story<br /><br />Little Lee lee always worked hard. (That was why her real name was Emily, which means industrious, or something like that.) Lee lee had 2 dreams. One was to fly. The other was to marry a man bearing the last name of Lee. That way she could have the amazingly unpredictable name; Emily Lee Lee. She worked hard at achieving both goals. Starting at the age of 2. (Lee lee was always a brilliant child, a true prodigy.)<br /><br />At the age of 3, Lee lee had already bought a plane making kit. She worked hard on building that thing every day after preschool. Neighborhood kids mocked her. They didn't understand why she never came over to hang in their crib. (Literal use of the word.) But Lee lee had a dream.<br /><br />At the age of four, Lee lee was almost done with work on the plane. She thought she would finally allow herself to try her first ice cream cone. (Up until now she had been watching her weight so that the plane could actually take off with her inside it.)<br /><br />She rode her trike down to one of the parks in Newhall where she met up with the neighborhood ice cream truck. She paid the man her quarter and turned around, ice cream cone in hand, only to trip on a green shoe. Amazingly enough, the ice cream cone was still in tact. As she lifted her head she was suddenly gazing into the eyes of an Asian boy. He pointed out that she had skinned her elbow in saving her ice cream. I say pointed because the only English word he knew was "yes." Lee lee asked if he happened to have the last name of Lee? He replied, "yes." Lee lee was overjoyed! She ran home, got a band aid from her mommy and proceeded to puffy paint her purple shirt with one word. She put in on and went to go sit in her almost completed plane. She had a feeling it would fly the next day.<br /><br />The End."<br /><br />Yes, that is my sister, and that is how much she wants me to be Emily Lee Lee. The rest of our day will consist of more normal activity and behavior, hopefully. We will probably go see a movie after work in Pasadena, hit up some shops, have dinner at Hurry Curry and then dessert it up at the Melting Pot - we've never been there before. It should be fun, and yes, all of you who do not practice sister day or who don't have a sister should be sad you don't get to experience such a day of fun. You should start a sister day of your own, or a sibling day, or a brother day, or a friend day, depending on your own circumstances. It is highly enjoyable!<br /><br />I love you Amanda!Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-25207560527097331112008-10-06T09:43:00.000-07:002008-10-07T09:58:17.249-07:00Louie LeeEvery Sunday night a bunch of us SCVers go to the VanStraatens' house for some fun fellowship time. I was very excited because this week Caitie and Justin Wade came for the first time. I don't get to see Caitie as much since she's been married so I cherish the times I get to spend with her, Justin is pretty fun to be around too :) <br /><br />Anyway, Michelle and Caitie started talking about this one conversation we had a number of months ago in Caitie's car while eating Golden Spoon. We were talking about relationships because Caitie was dating Justin at the time. Somehow this led to me telling the girls that I only had two physical requirements in the man that I will one day marry. I don't think that's being too picky. Anyway, the two requirements are that one, he is taller than me (I am only 5'3 so how hard can that be) and two, he is able to carry me across the threshold. No one wants to have the embarrassing moment after their married, the husband goes down to sweep up the wife's legs and then collapses from the effort, both landing on the ground in an awkward way. These requirements I now realize shouldn't be requirements but only strong desires, because Michelle and Caitie immediately started to picture my future husband as a midget with no arms. Of course they thought this was hysterical, and I have to admit it was pretty funny. We went on and on describing how I wouldn't be able to help it because I would love him so much that I wouldn't be able to hold to my requirements. Caitie started mimicking how he would move and wave at people, this became funnier and funnier.<br /><br />So last night while Michelle and Caitie were both there the conversation came up again. Only this time everyone that was there got involved, especially Justin. Now my future husband has a name, Louie Lee. This name is also just to spite me because I've also said I don't want to marry anyone with the last name Lee because then my name would be EmiLY Lee Lee. Everyone thinks this is hilarious, especially my loving sister. So not only will my husband be a midget with no arms, but he will have a ridiculous name and harry ankles for some reason. I don't really remember how that developed. <br /><br />In closing I have some advice for everyone... don't state your requirements for something because either it will eventually come true, you will have the fear of it coming true, or you will simply be mocked until it doesn't come true. <br /><br />Thanks for reading,<br /><br />- The Future Mrs. Louie Lee Lee Lee Lee Lee...Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-42621097418477857772008-09-19T15:02:00.000-07:002009-04-23T14:17:06.018-07:00Surfs up!Believe it or not I'm posting again, and believe it or not the title means what you think it means. I went surfing, well... kind of. If any of you reading this have ever been surfing you will know that first time you go you don't actually surf, well maybe some people do, but I'm not some people. But man what I did was super fun! <br /><br />I went with some pretty great girls. My friend Erin was the ring leader, the only one of us who had surfing experience, and let me tell you that experience is extensive. She brought three of her boards along with her, all different sizes (she actually has 5 boards total) cool huh!? The plan was for her to train us on proper balance, jumping up into position, and then riding the wave. Any confidence which I may have had quickly disappeared when I tried the first step, getting from the lay down position on the board into the stand up position. We did this on land at first. I watched Erin do it, no sweat. I got on and felt like an overlarge whale trying to stand on my fins. It was pathetic. Erin told me that I should start out as if I was going to do a push up. Having my toes planted on the board helped a lot and a small bit of confidence returned when I got to the standing position. But if it was already this hard to do on land, how crazy hard would it be in the water!? <br /><br />We got into the water and I was ready to surf, also somewhat doubtful. Erin helped each of us lay on our boards and pointed us in the right direction. For awhile the three of us just rode the waves on our tummies, sometimes being dumped into the water after losing our balance. Erin had to give me several boosts from behind so that I would actually catch the wave, she didn't have to do this with the other girls. I was a bit disappointed in myself. Erin assured me that it was probably because I had the smallest board which therefore made it the most tricky to learn on. I kept trying, sometimes I would catch the wave pretty good, other times I would just lay there after the wave had already passed me by. After a few attempts at standing on the board (I'm sure all humorous to behold) we took a slight break to give us the chance to watch Erin do her thing. Of course she was really good and cool to watch. The three of us got back into the water, for awhile I did some body surfing and watch the others improve their surfing skills, both Amanda and Hannah were having great success standing on their boards. After awhile Erin let me use here board for awhile which was the longest board of all. This board was much easier to catch waves with, and after awhile I began to stand up to. Mind you, we were standing up on the very end of these waves, fully white water, but it was still a cool feeling. After about two hours we were all sufficiently pooped and satisfied with our progress. <br /><br />It was a very fun day of surfing and spending time with some of my favorite people. Now I feel that I can fully live up to my status as a California girl.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-37130464243083366392008-06-06T17:20:00.001-07:002008-06-06T17:20:51.664-07:00The New LifeAmanda wants me to post again. I honestly think that is the only reason why I continue to post. So thank her if you happen to enjoy what I randomly write on this. If you only knew about some of the drafts I have on here that I think twice about before posting. You would probably really enjoy those. <br /><br />Anyway… this post will be about the newest part about my life. People often ask me the question; “What’s new?” and I always answer, “Nothin’ much.” I finally have an answer to that question that is actually pretty significant, at least for me. I have my first real, full-time, grown-up job. And there is a cool series of events that I must tell you about before you can know what the job is, although most of you who do read this probably already know what it is. <br /><br />I am the type of person that freaks out about the future. So in getting close to graduating from college and having no idea what I wanted to do with my life afterword was making me pretty crazy. One day in Crossroads, Austin Duncan, the High School pastor at my church came to the front to make an announcement. He was advertising for college people to come on high school staff and he was also making it known that there was a secretary job for the student ministries office available. I kind of thought, “mmm… interesting…” but then about 5 people that I know, sitting around me, looked at me and made comments like, “that job was made for you.” Of course all these people knew my desperate state of being completely at a loss as far as jobs went. <br /><br />Later that night my good friend Michelle reminded me of the great opportunity this could be for me, and so right then and there I emailed Austin to apply. He got back to me the very next morning and the interview was set up for later that week. I met with him on a Thursday; for what I’m sure was the most enjoyable and entertaining interview possible and he told me that he would get back to me early in the following week. He got back to me on Tuesday and I had the job. All I can think is how amazing God’s timing is and how He provides me with something I don’t deserve in the slightest. I started working the Monday after graduation. I mean, the timing can’t be any better than that. <br /><br />Three weeks into the job, I really love it, there are some stressful and difficult aspects of it and I’m being forced to grow in areas that I’m weak in. But hey, that’s one of the reasons this job is so great.<br /><br />Another part of the newness of my life is that I am now on high school staff. I was planning on joining staff in another year, but this job put that idea on fast forward a little bit. I have to admit that it is a little difficult for me to get into a new group of people and to make new friends, but I’m excited to be involved in a ministry where I can really practice the command of discipling younger women.<br /><br />So that is that, my new life… hope you liked it.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-54100150476752925342008-05-08T00:25:00.000-07:002008-05-08T00:37:07.660-07:00TaggedThanks for tagging me Amber.<br /><br />Five things on my To-Do list:<br />1. Move out of my dorm room.<br />2. Buy foot cushion thingies.<br />3. Wash my car.<br />4. Start my new job.<br />5. <br /><br />Five favorite snacks:<br />1. Anything chocolate<br />2. Crackers (especially Wheat Thins)<br />3. Cherry tomatoes<br />4. Bread with honey<br />5. Diet Coke<br /><br />Five things I would do if I was a billionaire:<br />1. Support missionaries<br />2. Pay off school loans<br />3. Buy a house by the ocean, Monterrey area<br />4. Stuff for my parents, maybe a house by the sea, they'd want to be near me<br />5. Give money to TMC and TMS to support the work they do.<br /><br />Five places I've lived:<br />1. Saugus, the house I don't remember living in - one story<br />2. Saugus, the house I still live in with my family - two story<br />3. Waldock dorm at Master's<br />4. N/A<br />5. N/A<br /><br />Five jobs I've had:<br />1. Transciptor for Grace to You<br />2. Student Finance Center Intern<br />3. COC Public Information Intern<br />4. Secretary for Junior high/High school ministry at G.Com.<br />5. <br /><br />Five people I'm tagging:<br />1. Amanda Taylor<br />2. Hayley Hayes<br />3. Kim Archer<br />4. Mariejte Van Straaten<br />5. Nicole PickardEmily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-20319323794699100402008-04-24T15:59:00.000-07:002008-04-30T12:48:50.121-07:00Heels<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtUF8Xf8btXaFQ27SQ0Qe7grVZf2lSp_Lb6N1_Zus77WP0MkGvazukbLZMeISyclnVCkUeibDo9Y9xrNv6BDAbvxe-nT5wu_erWVR61DL2THHO6QEPM8BtT-j_U5bH2yyetzJ/s1600-h/bettembourg_22_2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtUF8Xf8btXaFQ27SQ0Qe7grVZf2lSp_Lb6N1_Zus77WP0MkGvazukbLZMeISyclnVCkUeibDo9Y9xrNv6BDAbvxe-nT5wu_erWVR61DL2THHO6QEPM8BtT-j_U5bH2yyetzJ/s320/bettembourg_22_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195127623254635122" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFJi6EcrnMqzEgthGCOc4gX0jl8NQTF5QO6GlNUIMgm7Te4lFeD9I7vFTZU2BiWhSIvQ9gKZe5BC0CZRBbdtpQObS9R3KoC_2gCHnKaDRRCr-wZq1PBPweB7554F_nHYW6Ah2/s1600-h/146919_5904.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFJi6EcrnMqzEgthGCOc4gX0jl8NQTF5QO6GlNUIMgm7Te4lFeD9I7vFTZU2BiWhSIvQ9gKZe5BC0CZRBbdtpQObS9R3KoC_2gCHnKaDRRCr-wZq1PBPweB7554F_nHYW6Ah2/s320/146919_5904.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195127524470387298" /></a><br />"I don't do heels." This is something one might hear me say on occasion. I have a number of good reasons for this. <br /><br />1. I am a klutz, simple and true.<br /><br />2. They aren't very comfortable.<br /><br />3. I never buy shoes anyway, unless they are flip flops.<br /><br />4. I broke my ankle last summer.<br /><br />The fourth reason has recently gone up in the list of importance based on experience, which I will explain later. Two important events are coming up, my lovely friend's wedding (my first wedding party experience) and my college graduation. Come to find out, events such as these typically require fancy footwear, to put it another way, heels. So what the heck, as a member of society I decided to compromise in my desire for comfort and safety. <br /><br />My mom and I went out to find some strappy, brown, high-heeled shoes and a pair of red shoes for my graduation. On our first attempt we went to the mall and looked in Macy's and J.C. Penny for some shoes, there were none that grabbed our attention. I never knew I could be that picky about something I don't even care about that much - shoes. Finally we found a few pairs of brown shoes that could work at another shoe store in the mall. All three pairs had heels that were about three inches high and as wide as a toothpick. Ok, so not that thin, but still, the thinnest I think I have ever seen. But those were the only types that met the criteria of brown, strappy heel in the store. So we bought the prettiest and least uncomfortable. When I put them on at the store I felt a little awkward, like this was never what nature intended. I think heels are definitely a product of the Fall. But they didn't feel too bad. When I came back to school, ready to show them off to my friends who know me to be an avid flat shoes wearer, they were shocked and I think a little amused. "Emily, I don't even think I would buy those kind of heels!" was my loving roommates reply. Now I started to get a little doubtful. I have to walk down the aisle in these puppies and what if I fall and make an idiot out of myself. I knew extreme measures needed to be taken. By extreme I mean breaking them in at work. And it really has been extreme for my poor inexperienced feet. And let me tell you, my supposedly healed ankle injury still has a lot of stiffness to work out. I look like a limping, stiff, jerky, weirdo by the end of the day. I only hope I can wear them enough before the wedding to get myself looking like only a partial idiot. Ayayay!<br /><br />After this experience one would think someone would learn to stay away from dramatic heels and stick to flats, especially in very important and public situations. Not me. My mom and I went shopping another day for the red graduation shoes, and let me tell you it took forever. I did not want to repeat what I had done with the brown shoes, in know way did I want to fall on my face as I climbed the stares to receive my diploma with John MacArthur looking at me with pity. I was looking for low heels, but I wanted a really pretty red. Everything that looked like a possibility failed by either being too orange, too flat or too high. Finally, when we were both at our wits end, we found them. But they broke the rules. They are certainly a thicker heel than the previous pair of shoes, but they are still quite high. Man, I seriously don't know what happened to me. One might think that I am actually growing up. But why in the world should growing up equal wearing uncomfortable heels?Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-11202851650852853552008-04-06T13:33:00.000-07:002008-04-06T23:49:31.872-07:00The Waldock Wings<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWRWNVb7aLIUiFqQ15Tyr5NtxRNcaUZW9TRXVkpfexmh_Lh-vSzIK0JFq0DronjPJZ_PTNKGvWQR775WUTgD1e5xwaZbjR2AeSQOC7hrfSspLJO_c-ovG_P5LQIomFXOkyOsC/s1600-h/n159900928_30271848_2459.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWRWNVb7aLIUiFqQ15Tyr5NtxRNcaUZW9TRXVkpfexmh_Lh-vSzIK0JFq0DronjPJZ_PTNKGvWQR775WUTgD1e5xwaZbjR2AeSQOC7hrfSspLJO_c-ovG_P5LQIomFXOkyOsC/s400/n159900928_30271848_2459.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186391715601804258" /></a><br />I have written a little about my dorm in the past on this blog, but now I would like to go a little more in depth. Waldock, an all girls dormitory, is the greatest dorm on The Master's College campus. Every dorm has a stereotype to it, but I'm still not exactly sure what Waldock's is, but I have heard from some people that we are considered the weird dorm. If that is the case, then cool, being weird is much more interesting than being normal. I'm not ashamed to admit we are weird because we have a lot of fun with our weirdness, thus explains the Waldock Wings.<br /><br />On Friday night the women of Waldock gathered together for the second annual Waldock Wings competition. The competition is loosely based off the most prestigious, Master's Cup competition, with the same intensity and twice the creativity. This year the competition was organized around reality tv, meaning that each event was based on a different reality tv show. The first competition was based off the show that involves fashion designers. So all the wings were required to show up in a specific collection of clothing design. Our wing chose to represent Japanese, crazy combinations collection. This meant that we dressed in the brightest clothing possible, added a lot of accessories and smeared pink lipstick on both cheeks in a small circle. We then took turns walking down a runway constructed in the lower lounge of Waldock. Our wing won this competition, firmly beating the gangster wing, the hats wing, and the Hotchkiss wing. Things were off to a good start. <br /><br />The next event was based off the show, "Trading Spaces". Every wing had to fill a basket up of things from different rooms in their wings to decorate an empty room with. Our wing went to work overflowing our basket with the best looking stuff from our rooms. We went out to the lounge and stood around our towering basket trying to keep everything from tumbling down. Too bad we didn't think things through very wisely. We seemed to forget that in "Trading Spaces" the people on the show fix up somebody else's room. So each wing had to pick someone else's basket to decorate their room. Because we had won the last event we had to pick last, so of course we lost all of our stuff for the most measly basket in the bunch. Needless to say, we received last place in this event.<br /><br />The next event was even more ridiculous... the mind wonders how, but it really was. This event was based off of "The Bachelor". The host of the evening started out by collecting everyone's cell phones. Then we were told we had seven minutes to round up as many bachelors as we could and bring them back to the lounge. So in the ensuing minutes there were about 40 girls running wildly into the depths of The Master's College desperately asking the deer-caught-in-the-head-lights male to come with them for some reason or another. You must remember that all the girls looked very very strange, most of us on the ugly side. But the competition helped us fight against all odds and we pounded on doors and yelled out for the men to come. We wound up having seven I think, some other wings definitely had more than us, but one of the girls on our wing had stolen some of the guys as they came in, too confused to argue. I think we might have cheated a little in the scoring of points because we won the round somehow, but cheating in the Waldock Wings is kind of expected and in a funny way appreciated. <br /><br />I was surprised that so far the competition had avoided the disgusting side of things, the year before we had been asked to do some pretty yucky things, and I was hoping this year to be different. It was worse. The next event was "Fear Factor" and we had to go outside where there awaited for us, four pans of oatmeal with gummy worms mixed in. Each girl had to take a turn and dip our faces into the slop and pull out a gummy worm, each time a girl went she had to come back with a gummy worm, there were no passes. We had to dunk for 15 worms and spit them into our RA's hands. It was really gross when you went after someone who had a lot of trouble finding a worm and they took a lot of bites, found no worms, and then spit it out to look for another. We wound up with second place in this event, not too shabby I must say.<br /><br />Then there was the dreaded "American Idol", both humiliating and hilarious all at once. All the wings had ten minutes to practice a song that was written by some of our very own Waldockians and had no tune. Our group had one strong singer and we decided she would lead us and the rest of us would do as little singing as possible. We started out with her singing operatically while a few of us did some beat boxing, in practice it sounded pretty cool. Sadly during the actual performance, the two girls doing the interpretive dance of a blossoming flower sent the beat boxers over the edge and our whole group lost composure. We soundly lost this competition, but at least we got to see some other pretty hilarious acts. <br /><br />The final competition was rather easy, "America's Next Top Model". While we had first entered the whole competition, showing off our outfits, our photos were taken at the end of the runway. The host had put these photos in a slideshow and we went to the upper lounge to see all of them. It was amusing to see all the poses both practiced and accidental. The RA from each wing picked which girl would represent the wing and then those pictures were judged for who would win this event. I'm still not exactly sure of the standings of this event because it was the last one and all everyone wanted to know was the final score. But I think we had to have won because the girl we picked Lottie looked fantastic and had the best model look ever. <br /><br />We all gathered with bated breath as Jen, our RD started to give us the final standings. It came down to our wing and one of the upper wings; at this point it really could go either way. I was trying to think negatively; I didn't want my hopes to be crushed. But then it happened. Lower West had won, we were awarded the wings and there was great rejoicing. The nine of us girls jumped up and down, screamed, high fived, body slammed each other... whatever kind of celebrating action, you name it and we did it. We literally were awarded with wings that one of the girls on our wing had actually made herself. They were pink with a "W" in the middle like a seal. We all kissed the seal and then took a picture. This all might seem very strange to an outsider, but the nine of us experienced a moment of intense bonding and intense emotional satisfaction in that moment. Our little wing had accomplished the prestige of Waldock Wing champion, what is there more to accomplish in life than this may I ask? Ok, so there's a lot more, but just let me have my moment.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-67811645876018685482008-03-28T14:36:00.000-07:002008-04-01T16:08:42.092-07:00LaughterSitting at lunch today with Michelle and Megan - very fun and interesting people in my life - we started an interesting conversation about laughter. The conversation mainly consisted of storytelling and mocking, but that's pretty much commonplace for most of our conversations. Laughter is quite strange if you really think about it... something is so funny that your body simply has no other way to contain the funny thought or circumstance than to blurt out a weird combination of awkward sounds. Maybe that's why so many laughs only create more laughs because they are simply that ridiculous. <br /><br />It seems that everyone has a laugh for different situations. Let's take Michelle. When she thinks something is funny she will do her "dolphin laugh", just imagine Flipper with red curly hair and much cuter and you have it about right. When she thinks something is sort of funny she will simply "ha" a few times with a rather low pitch. When she thinks something is really funny she will make a ridiculous looking face, open her mouth noislessly, look down, and then a much louder quicker dolphin laugh emerges. This is quite entertaining. There are many more variations of laughter that she does but I have neither the time or the space. Michelle is famous for the "that's funny" saying. Whenever I hear someone say this with no trace of laughter in their voice, I simply cannot believe them. Funny will come out, but not in a bland statement.<br /><br />Megan is another one with laugher full of variety. Her hardest laughter is my favorite variation. She is my roommate, so there are of course many opportunities for her to laugh her hardest because I am so funny... just kidding. But I have seen her laugh really hard. Most of the time I witness this event I am sitting across from her on my bed. She will lean forward on her bed, where she is sitting, squint her eyes up, looked shocked, open her mouth, make a few voiceless laughs, and then rock around laughing out loud. She often tears up when she laughs this hard. Very funny. Then of course there is her "I want to laugh but I'm not going to face", you have to see it to truly appreciate it, describing it would take away from its splendor. She has one of the most unconvincing fake laughs you have ever heard. She will squish up her face and laugh like an old nerd - again you have to see it to truly understand and agree with me.<br /><br />I guess in publicly, or however public this blog is, poking fun at my friends I need to involve myself in this. I have many laughs, many. It all started with the donkey laugh which I adopted as a younger person in grade school. A portion of that laugh still lives on in my vault of laughs, but it is much more mature now. The way I laugh now comes out in many forms, but the one in which we were discussing today at lunch is a laugh that has not been replicated since. One night in South Africa with Michelle and my sister we got into a laugh attack. It was late at night and we were all a little out of it - so when I started laughing in cycles of "hahaha, hehehe, hohoho" the humor of it got blown way out of proportion and Michelle will never let me live it down. Another laugh that my sister would add to the list if she could would be my most recent, still unreplicated laugh, that took place a week ago at Chipotle. It was a very windy afternoon and I was wearing a dress. As I was stepping into my cousins, overly large truck, the wind started to pick up my dress in a bad way. So I blurted out a completely uncontrollable "Woohoohoo" and it happend to be a very low pitched "Woohoohoo". My sister of course laughed her head off. And being herself, a major STASM (small things amuse small minds) she kept on trying to repeat my laugh and in so doing would crack herself up. She did this repeatedly until we arrived home. <br /><br />I love laughter and I'm so thankful that God created us to react to funny situations with it! I think it probably makes Him laugh too.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-48500383821452031372008-03-15T16:14:00.000-07:002008-03-15T16:35:38.074-07:00The Little Guy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcaVPJI38J0fTyzSP1hYFkhUcve_fZx5aT_69MiwnuBqb1OsT2cTR5e8CrGtfz1mqmCaFzWxd_BIvBri7hHMz57Q-Ny6AddPV1XcBnyuGJePJzv0fCd0atRLHg-Nmd5oU3Aact/s1600-h/fan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcaVPJI38J0fTyzSP1hYFkhUcve_fZx5aT_69MiwnuBqb1OsT2cTR5e8CrGtfz1mqmCaFzWxd_BIvBri7hHMz57Q-Ny6AddPV1XcBnyuGJePJzv0fCd0atRLHg-Nmd5oU3Aact/s400/fan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178115147047773954" /></a><br />My roommate and I live in a dorm called Waldock. I love this dorm and will have a deep loyalty to it until the day I die. But it does suffer from one major flaw, central air. Every single other dormitory on The Master's College campus has rooms with their very own air systems, but not Waldock. So every time the air conditioning unit decides to die, we all die of asphyxiation, and every time the air conditioning decides to blast away we have to bundle up in five layers before going to bed. So far this year has mainly been hot rather than cold so my roommate and I decided to do something about it. Megan (my roomie) lived in C. W. Smith dorm before she moved in with me and so she had her own little unit and she would always have the fan going when she went to bed, it helped her sleep. So she went out and bought our "little guy". I don't know if you have seen the little baby fans that are out there but it is quite a pleasing little fan both aesthetically and usefully. We do not always treat our little fan very kindly, we will forget about it and leave it running sometimes all day. I would come in after a long day of classes and realize the poor "little guy" had been working hard all day for no one in particular. I would go over and turn him off, patting him affectionately for a job well done. Just recently our "little guy" has started to have a little trouble. We will turn him on and nothing will happen. We might here a little start noise, like an engine trying to catch, but the little fan won't spin. Then, ten or so minutes later it will finally get started as if nothing was wrong. It has been doing this for months now and it hasn't died yet. Now Megan and I root him on each time we turn him on, "You can do it 'little guy'" and when he finally turns on, "What a good 'little guy'". This may be strange to those of you, strange enough to read my blog, but the little fan has really become a significant part of our little room. It will be a very sad day when he just can't spin anymore, heaven forbid. So enjoy your fans and treat them with some respect, don't leave them running when they don't have to be, otherwise you too will find out too late, what a good thing you had while it lasted.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-85676921897942537422008-01-18T16:48:00.000-08:002008-03-15T16:41:09.470-07:00The Flap Hat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFfsH7M3_j5FFnUnRcohq82BqkS-zuAoSk3CwsPM_PpCCw9HT3eCoc89hC-d4P4UlUTrNV1yAhVddHc8tjxC026pPKUwoxJriV8D-aOuHORHCnHJwHFcSzwtBRb4MLbH2ainZ/s1600-h/n159900483_30252674_8282.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFfsH7M3_j5FFnUnRcohq82BqkS-zuAoSk3CwsPM_PpCCw9HT3eCoc89hC-d4P4UlUTrNV1yAhVddHc8tjxC026pPKUwoxJriV8D-aOuHORHCnHJwHFcSzwtBRb4MLbH2ainZ/s400/n159900483_30252674_8282.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178117620948936466" /></a><br />So I haven't posted on this in a long time, I just have not felt the inclination. The last time I felt inclined to write I wound up being lazy and didn't bother. So I will now write about what I felt inclined to write about earlier but didn't. <br /><br />After Christmas I did a little return shopping with my mom and sister. On one of these occassion we decided to go to the Simi Valley mall because Mom needed to go to an Eddie Bauer store to return something and we don't have one in Santa Clarita. If any of you have not gone to this mall you should seriously consider it. It is a really nice mall, enclosed, but still open air. It makes you feel less claustraphobic. Anyway, usually I hate malls, but this one is ok. <br /><br />We made our way to Eddie Bauer first because Mom wanted to get her spending money from her return. I don't enjoy my trips to Eddie Bauer, because in my mind that store does not offer a lot to a 21-year-old girl. I have had negative past experiences. But I went in with my Mom and sister just so we would stick together. While my Mom was taking care of her business, Amanda and I did some recon. I typically walk quickly through one of these stores, looking for things that I can try on without going into a dressing room, I really dislike dressing rooms. As we were walking around I saw a lone hat sitting on a display pocket (I have no idea how to describe this display thing). It was one of those hats that you see "mountain men" wear, but it was on the woman's side of the store. It was a red plaid hat with gray fuzzy inside. This was something that screamed out for me to try on, so of course I did. When I tried it on the flaps were up, so one could see the gray, fuzzy inside of the hat. I turned to Amanda to see her mixed look of amusement and disgust. I then looked into the mirror; I liked it.<br /><br />It's just one of those things, I still had 20 dollars left of Christmas money and I feel that when you are spending money that is not your own, that is the time to get things you wouldn't normally get. My mom like the hat as well which helped me make my decision. <br /><br />If you were to ask me now, whether or not I regret the decision of buying the hat, I would have to say no. Although I have not had many opportunities to wear it yet (I did wear it for a walk once and when my sister and I went ice skating) I look forward to my future ventures into the snow. Then I will look at Amanda with a look of amusement and disgust, because then she will look out of place without the very practical flap hat. I may post pictures later.Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-16670534135435449502007-12-03T08:36:00.000-08:002007-12-03T08:46:50.106-08:00Late NightI don't really have words. You must go to the link and then do it yourself, it is pretty much one of the funniest things I have seen and done in a long time. Just click on the title of the post, "Late Night".Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-90816230998978919482007-11-04T22:31:00.001-08:002007-11-05T08:15:49.306-08:00Camping<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeZ7Dzd4DbYYynoSBTVULWI8nFiqr1NC-BuR3JVCzQ7RT6ax89L-CDkl9XFgUIY7oT9bICe_ugB4IYCU9zEl_EE3eWzPUXk2lONsbbJx-XkL0RSzi4x5DXpHKm0kfVnDPmJOM/s1600-h/n562851966_403061_1792.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129390672136479778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeZ7Dzd4DbYYynoSBTVULWI8nFiqr1NC-BuR3JVCzQ7RT6ax89L-CDkl9XFgUIY7oT9bICe_ugB4IYCU9zEl_EE3eWzPUXk2lONsbbJx-XkL0RSzi4x5DXpHKm0kfVnDPmJOM/s400/n562851966_403061_1792.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>It has been a long time since I have last camped in the mountains. My family and I used to go camping all the time on our way to Montana or <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Michigan</span> to visit our grandparents. We have also gone camping at the beach often enough, but in the last seven years or so there has been a serious lack of hard core camping in my life. So when the opportunity came to go camping with some cool people from my amazing Bible study I was very excited. We drove up to Sequoia National Park and camped in a beautiful area surrounded by large trees and mountains. My car and the other car we were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">caravanning</span> with, filled with a bunch of fun girls, got to the campsite at around 6:30 pm. We were told to pack warm clothes because the nights were cold, but I was taken by surprise by the reality of the chilliness. I wound up borrowing an extra beanie and extra gloves from someone because I had been somewhat unprepared. It was dark at this time of night and the group that had arrived earlier in the day had already started a fire. After we took a hurried and much needed trip to the bathroom we unpacked our stuff and waited for the men to put our tent up. That's what boys are good for! We then crowded around the fire and cooked our hot dogs and roasted marshmallows. When we were through eating and just hanging around the fire, the normal camping routine did not occur. We were all too cold to pursue playing any sort of game, our musical man had forgotten his guitar so we didn't sing, and no one really wanted to tell any ghost stories. But that is the great thing about the people in my Bible study, we can talk it up and have a great time. I'm not a huge talker, even if it is a smaller groups (about 19 of us came) so I was mainly observing and listening, which I have grown to enjoy a lot over the years. I think you can learn quite a bit about a person by listening to what they say, what they think is funny, and watching to how they react to certain things, whether it be silly or serious. After hours of conversation and warming by the fire, most of the girls headed to bed. A few stragglers waited up for two or our group who had to leave from home later than anyone else (they didn't arrive until 1 am).<br /><br />The boys made fun of the girls on this camping trip for many reasons, but the biggest one had to be the bathroom scenario. Boys always seem to find it quite amusing how women will go in packs to the bathrooms. I think we had good reason in all going together this time. It was so cold at nights and no camping bathroom has a heating system, so by packing seven bodies into a little room we basically made our own little heating system. Each of use went through our own routine, some taking longer than others, but we all waited for one another to walk back to camp and get in bed. Getting into bed was another interesting adventure. In my seven year absence from camping I seem to have forgotten how cold it can get in the evenings. As I made my way to the tent I was looking for it to be like a little house and be nice and toasty inside, but I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">disappointed</span>. Everything was cold, my pajamas that I put on and the sleeping bag I wriggled into, cold, cold, cold. Thankfully my good friend Michelle is always prepared for everything, and since I was sharing my air mattress with her she shared her liner and comforter with me, so when getting into bed was all said and done I was actually quite toasty, apart from my bum that is. I find it very frustrating that the meatiest part of my body was the thing that got the most cold, I then am led to question "what is the meat good for", answer "nothing" so I have decided to get rid of it.<br /><br />I slept quite well and was excited to start out our only full day of camping in the Sequoias. All the girls were awake quite early in my tent and were all anxious to go to the bathroom. For some reason, in my morning idiocy, I thought they were all getting up for good to help with breakfast or something, so I begrudgingly got up with them and traveled over to the bathroom. As soon as we got back everyone went back to sleep, in our once again cold sleeping bags. If I had known it was only an emergency run I would have stayed behind and waited for the real thing. We got a couple more hours of sleep and then headed back for the bathroom for the real stuff, brushed our teeth and some of the girls washed their faces and then we finally joined the rest of the group around the fire for breakfast. We had eggs and bacon and some wonderful little muffins that one of the girls made, so yummy! After a few hours of hanging out and cleaning up we split up into groups of what we were going to do with the day. Some of us went on a scenic drive, some went on a little hike to see the General Sherman tree, one of the oldest Sequoias, and my group went rock climbing.<br /><br />My cousin drove us on this escapade, and if you know Jeremy you know he is kind of crazy in most of his endeavors, and driving is no different. There were a lot of iffy mountain turns and crazy bumps along the way, but thankfully we made it there safe and sound. We got to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Buckrock</span> Lookout. There was a tower on top on this big rock and we climbed many stairs to get to the top and the view was well worth the huffing and puffing. High elevation always takes me by surprise. We talked to the ranger lady in the lookout tower and she told us there were great places to climb on the rock and so we went back down and the boys started attaching their ropes to the anchors at the tops of the rocks. Melissa and I were the only two girls that went, and we definitely got showed up by the boys in climbing, as we should, since we have much smaller muscles, but it was annoying just the same. The cliff was hard to climb because the tilt of the rock was opposite of what you would normally expect it to be, instead of leaning inward as you go up, it went outward. So it was basically like <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">climbing</span> out and up the whole time. Needless to say it was too difficult for me and I was forced to be content with my few feet of climbing and watching some of the athletic ability in our family be put to use by my insanely strong and athletic cousin. At first I wondered if I had made the right decision of where to spend my day, part of me had wanted to stay with the bigger group of people and not risk doing a poor and disappointing job of climbing. Even though I was disappointed with my climbing, I was thankful to see the ways God is faithful to change and grow us. A year ago I would have been so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">embarrassed</span> and so angry that I had failed that much in a physical endeavor, because that is normally where my talent lies. But I was almost happy that I couldn't climb it because it helped to remind me how weak I am and how small I am and how much I need to rely on God. As I sat on a rock, my hands shaking from the intense gripping on the rock, I gazed at the immense beauty of the mountains covered with majestic trees and the misty blue sky all around. I was happy I made the choice to come climbing because I was blessed with the reminder of how great our God is and how grateful I am that He has saved such a weak, prideful soul like me. It was also a blessing to spend time with the group I was with, they were a fun bunch.<br /><br />We got back to the camp and all our food for dinner was laid about before us. We were going to make "hobos" Basically was stacked potatoes, meat, carrots, various other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">vegetables</span>, and seasonings in a piece of tinfoil and then wrapped it all up and threw it in the fire. It was really fun and easy make and turned out very tasty, that was definitely a new camping highlight for me. After that we made "banana boats." Another weird thing about me is that I do not like any cooked fruit, if the fruit is hot you can usually count me out, but since this was a special camping experience I decided to try it out. We cut a banana down the middle, stuffed it with pieces of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Hersheys</span> chocolate and peanut butter, and then wrapped it in tinfoil and put it in the fire. When it came out I am shocked to say it was amazing and I loved it. I would definitely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">recommend</span> trying it sometime.<br /><br />Man oh man this is really long and I'm really tired, so maybe I'll finish it later. If I don't I will tell you this: We talked around the campfire again and slept in our tents again, I took a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">prescription</span> sleeping pill that was not my own, we got up the next morning, ate breakfast again, cleaned up again, packed up our stuff, some of us met at this cool pizza place for lunch, and then we came home and showered. Wow, this post could have been a lot shorter. Good job for those of you who made it this far!</div>Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-84777396658949752482007-10-27T21:46:00.000-07:002007-10-27T22:20:11.801-07:00Murder Mystery<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7XACj0TzSUoOT0q4x0sxYOLZGNkoJ67zY-hSZ7wr4m8pblT2x7uJGQQqTCZzWyqJL7tIu2oIcm7RgU_bcAiCmdgjdict_DI8QmDgw2l-TE2hi8FNYndFNnegLmwrabG0GpVz/s1600-h/n159900483_30204918_8196.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126253024291078210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7XACj0TzSUoOT0q4x0sxYOLZGNkoJ67zY-hSZ7wr4m8pblT2x7uJGQQqTCZzWyqJL7tIu2oIcm7RgU_bcAiCmdgjdict_DI8QmDgw2l-TE2hi8FNYndFNnegLmwrabG0GpVz/s400/n159900483_30204918_8196.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My Bible study has implemented something we call, Dinner for 8. This is a dinner where 8 random people from our very large Bible study all go to dinner together as an opportunity to get to know one another better. This Dinner for 8 actually turned out to be a dinner for 17. Two of the groups wound up coming together so we could play the murder mystery game. I have heard of these from my sister and some other friends that have done them, but I myself had never been involved with one before. I was excited to get my chance to see what it was all about, especially since we got to dress up in 1920s gear, which is one of my favorite decades. The hosts sent all the guests background information on their specified characters and then general information on all of the other characters. I had no idea it was going to be so detailed! My character's name was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Rebbecca</span> Ravioli, the daughter of the head of the Chicago mob, Don "Big Jim" Ravioli. And in my background information I found out I was going to be the murderer and I was going to kill my father. After reading this the party was starting to lose a little of its attraction. I'm not good at playing parts in front of large groups of people and I'm really not good at making a lie look convincing. I started to think about how awkward being someone who is not myself, that is a murderer, that can't let anyone know I was a murderer, would be. If you know me well you know I don't have the easiest time just being myself in larger groups, so I began to worry that pretending to be someone else would be ten times worse.<br /><br />The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">beginning</span> of the night was a little awkward as people were arriving. It was hard to transition from saying hi as our real selves to getting into our assumed characters. Our host Meme Wannabe officially began the evening by explaining the rules of the game and then all of us sprung into our characters full bore. It turned out to be a lot easier and more fun than I had imagined. Everyone was really good at playing their parts and really got into the game. After dinner the murder occurred and then everyone started to question each other about the clues different people knew from their secret packets they had <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">received</span>. They were trying to figure out the identity of the murderer. This part was interesting for me, as people I had an alliance with came up to me for tips on who the murderer could be. Lying turned out to be pretty easy because my character was supposed to be a pretty shady person so I just lied the way I thought she would have lied if she was real. No one really seemed to suspect me, which I was very surprised and happy about, but there was Scott, or should I say the Congressman. He knew it was me and I'm still not quite sure how. Whenever he would see me in the house he would make eye contact and say, "Guilty!" I tried to stay away from him so that his suspicions wouldn't affect the others.<br /><br />Another murder took place during the evening. I didn't do the murdering this time, it was actually my newly ex-husband, Sly Sleaze (Joe) that had done the killing. Shortly after that the game came to a close and everyone filled out a paper that noted who was the suspected murderer, who was the best dressed, and who had done the best acting. We found out the results of the murder after all the cards were collected. There were of course cries of shock and horror and then everyone talked about who they had guessed and why; it was very fun. We all had dessert as our normal selves. It was very relaxing just to be Emily again and to take off my hat and other uncomfortable costume items. We hung out for awhile afterwards and ended with a very fitting game of mafia.<br /><br />So if you have the chance to play Murder Mystery, do it! Even if you think it might be awkward, it's fun, and believe me it is a little awkward. And a little awkward never hurt anyone, in fact I would venture to say it is good to have a little awkward in your life.</div>Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27879204.post-38292122966990882632007-10-09T08:30:00.000-07:002007-10-09T09:04:52.706-07:00Cold Turkey<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pN8r3krO2gPu7JJyELWf5dwSEt6IAeMlY9MtsQwXJ8CLkvwrM_yCwdEp-IwBGU5EBwKFZnLG_q-DvcnTaIUYiyqPq99KQN-SrPzFsb3ycmlcOx_WQSzFts8KlTvhcbg5q6Tt/s1600-h/n159900869_30197310_6167.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119368561074210930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4pN8r3krO2gPu7JJyELWf5dwSEt6IAeMlY9MtsQwXJ8CLkvwrM_yCwdEp-IwBGU5EBwKFZnLG_q-DvcnTaIUYiyqPq99KQN-SrPzFsb3ycmlcOx_WQSzFts8KlTvhcbg5q6Tt/s400/n159900869_30197310_6167.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I don't know what all of you think of street/campus/door to door evangelism, but I have always been scared out of my mind to do it. I have done a couple of campus evangelism outreaches and been to USC Medical Center to share the gospel. Each time I have had high hopes of sharing the gospel with unbelievers with boldness and joy. Sadly this was never the case. On these evangelism excurrsions one always gets paired up with someone else. I always seemed to get paired with someone who is much more comfortable in sharing the gospel than me, and I would sit back and let them take care of business while I twiddled my thumbs in the background. I have been constantly convicted by this fear in my life. Evangelism is the one thing we can do on earth that we won't be able to do once we get to heaven, and it is the last thing Jesus commanded His followers to do while He was still in the flesh. "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Mat. 28:19, 20. I have known this truth for a long time and yet I remained disobedient because of fear and a sense of hopelessness. It felt similar to how I felt about being baptized. I know I was commanded to do it in the Bible, and yet I was just too afraid to go in front of so many people and share my testimony. I think back now and think of how much more scary it should have been to me that I was disobeying my Heavenly Father.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Anyways, Outreach Week was this past week at Master's. For those of you don't know what Outreach Week is, it is when a group of college students from Master's go to different churches in the area and do whatever is needed. This year I went to Grace Baptist Church of Wilmington. I knew before I started out on the trip that we were supposed to be doing campus evangelism and small work projects around the church. This didn't bother me too much because I just assumed I would participate in my normal routine of standing next to someone while they shared the gospel. This is my senior year and I was the only senior on this team of people from Master's; I began to realize that I had no excuse to stand behind someone and let them do the talking. I saw that some of the girls in my group would need a leader in this because they were even less bold than myself. I started to feel a little panicky because I was being put in a position I didn't feel I was ready for. We finally arrived at Harbor College, a community college about ten minutes from the church. We had tracts to go through with people and informational cards about the church to hand out. As I stepped onto the campus and saw all the students walking around I thought about all of the people that were probably on there way to hell and suddenly I wasn't as afraid anymore. This change in me can only be attributed to the power of God in my life. He needed people to step up that day and share the gospel and He chose me. After the fact I realized how it truly is the work of God to save souls. We are His tools, yes, but He is still the one that gives the tools the ability and courage to speak. Nothing I have within me apart from Christ could have spoken up to complete strangers about the gospel. As I walked away from every person I spoke with about Christ I had a peace because I knew that it is God who works in the hearts of unbelievers and all I can do is tell them the message and pray; it is God who changes hearts. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Most of you reading this are probably far beyond me in your boldness in evangelism. But if this post can be of any encouragement I hope it is in this way. I have prayed and prayed and struggled and struggled to obey God in this area of my life and I reached a point where I never thought I would get over my fear and selfishness. With any other sin I needed to die to myself and turn this area of life over to God, but it was so hard. God is so much greater than us, and even if we think we are a lost cause and completely useless-we are, but through Christ we are slaves to sin no more and have the ability to battle the sin in our lives. So if there is a sin or a fear bogging you down in your Christian walk, don't give up. Keep fighting and our loving Lord will be faithful and gracious.</div>Emily Taylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503847385460774934noreply@blogger.com0