<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478</id><updated>2011-07-29T02:14:47.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year</title><subtitle type='html'>When missing you became a fact, life became fiction. The written account of a Tessa Elizabeth MacMurchy, a figment of imagination.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>145</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8807453723321546505</id><published>2010-03-15T22:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T22:17:28.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ithinkhere.tumblr.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8807453723321546505?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8807453723321546505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8807453723321546505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8807453723321546505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8807453723321546505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/03/ithinkhere.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5012878268150455989</id><published>2010-03-15T21:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T21:37:25.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hi. It's the end of this blog. The beginning of a new one.&lt;br /&gt;Blog name to come. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5012878268150455989?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5012878268150455989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5012878268150455989&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5012878268150455989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5012878268150455989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/03/hi.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5449385232901211580</id><published>2010-03-09T09:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T09:25:18.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S5aESVai_TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rx7xhGhNbFI/s1600-h/1+028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446686249872194866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S5aESVai_TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rx7xhGhNbFI/s320/1+028.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm sick of being so wishy washy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would really like to be content for days to come, not just one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know that it's about a choice that you make, to make the day the best it can be, it's about a choice to wake up in the morning and follow the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I want to do that. I want to wake up and follow the Lord, no strings attatched, no complaints, no excuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, Tomorrow, and Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I get afraid of living with someone forever, but for some reason I never get afraid of having my life commited to God forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5449385232901211580?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5449385232901211580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5449385232901211580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5449385232901211580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5449385232901211580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/03/im-sick-of-being-so-wishy-washy.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S5aESVai_TI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rx7xhGhNbFI/s72-c/1+028.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2284815248071161354</id><published>2010-02-24T09:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T09:31:36.059-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S4ViarGwOJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/mx8nBkRhEaM/s1600-h/ya.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441863935134283922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S4ViarGwOJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/mx8nBkRhEaM/s320/ya.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we think we need to make God feel real...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we don't, because he already &lt;strong&gt;is&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2284815248071161354?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2284815248071161354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2284815248071161354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2284815248071161354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2284815248071161354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/02/sometimes-we-think-we-need-to-make-god.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/S4ViarGwOJI/AAAAAAAAAG0/mx8nBkRhEaM/s72-c/ya.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2769580420294819550</id><published>2010-02-13T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T18:31:20.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got eaten by a dress this week.&lt;br /&gt;It attacked my face!&lt;br /&gt;Then I bit my lip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And....I think that I'm wondering why guys like curvey girls.&lt;br /&gt;Cause, I don't really like being one. Just sayin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also,&lt;br /&gt;A scheming hat seller tricked me into buy two hats!&lt;br /&gt;I love them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2769580420294819550?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2769580420294819550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2769580420294819550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2769580420294819550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2769580420294819550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-got-eaten-by-dress-this-week.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8157180868152381157</id><published>2010-02-11T20:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T20:43:38.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqFfe6Y97Yc&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;YouTube - Doris Day - Day by Day&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...if no one has ever heard this song, I think you should really listen to it.&lt;br /&gt;It's beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8157180868152381157?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqFfe6Y97Yc&amp;feature=related' title=''/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8157180868152381157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8157180868152381157&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8157180868152381157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8157180868152381157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/02/youtube-doris-day-day-by-day-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7291513257624862534</id><published>2010-01-30T11:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T11:09:05.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In China, Cherry Blossoms mean that it's spring.&lt;br /&gt;But...It's not spring here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7291513257624862534?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7291513257624862534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7291513257624862534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7291513257624862534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7291513257624862534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/01/in-china-cherry-blossoms-mean-that-its.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5315403031473371618</id><published>2010-01-27T23:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T00:46:39.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Give it up Tess, would you?</title><content type='html'>Give me the opportunity to do something nice for someone Lord,&lt;br /&gt;give me to chance...because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be able to see when peoples feet need washing,&lt;br /&gt;I need to be able to see when people need tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's throw me out and get a new one because I'm just not matchin up to my thought of me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend loves at all times, But who a better friend than you?&lt;br /&gt;A child so carefree in your arms, Who a better father than you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have so many plans of my own, so many questions that I have for you Lord...&lt;br /&gt;Like what in heavens name is with this bible study idea?&lt;br /&gt;Why tea with people that need to know you, not me?&lt;br /&gt;Why face my fears when they are so much more easily vanquished into storybooks and fairytales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to be love, and have love, and not just that sort of romantic love either."-Hathaway&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lately I've been questioning why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is he home so unfrequently?... And why do I want to badly to just speak with him? And could I just have some dang time to figure it out?....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sadly enough I've been making a list of to do's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To do...&lt;br /&gt;1. Go to van. Why? -rule out as dumb idea....unless.&lt;br /&gt;1. a) revised...Go to van and have tea with two lovely ladies.&lt;br /&gt;2. Have a bible study. Why?&lt;br /&gt;SO MANY GOOD REASONS--who is there out there who needs not to learn? And furthermore, acting on the faith that I know is missing, will create it. God be my guide. And I don't need to speak the right words, I don't need to be intense or unique. I don't even need to say a word. Because his word is sufficient.&lt;br /&gt;3. Go to tea with people that are important to him...because, well because he's important to me and because God is love...and love is relationships.&lt;br /&gt;....side note....&lt;br /&gt;Is it not weird that it's always about goin out to tea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like...there's so much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Talk to dad.&lt;br /&gt;5. Call Ontario...call all.&lt;br /&gt;6. Cut hair.&lt;br /&gt;7. Read books.&lt;br /&gt;8. YOU KNOW??????????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him." --John 1:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want my love to be recognized by the world...but by the word, by God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't want to be dumb anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Love...and Pray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5315403031473371618?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5315403031473371618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5315403031473371618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5315403031473371618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5315403031473371618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/01/give-me-opportunity-to-do-something.html' title='Give it up Tess, would you?'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4186209749436668159</id><published>2010-01-26T23:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T23:16:02.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Somewhere between this morning and tonight,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to the conclusion that you are definitely just as good of a friend, as you are a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that I've lost what I'm looking for.&lt;br /&gt;I was waiting for an answer, something to give me the go on being with you for this time...&lt;br /&gt;And I'm not sure if this calm reassuring peace means anything,&lt;br /&gt;But it's been a constant stance in my heart that's beating.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if you can see me,&lt;br /&gt;But I'm breaking in an unexpected way.&lt;br /&gt;All of the things that have torn me down, are being discarded.&lt;br /&gt;You're showing me how to be a servant,&lt;br /&gt;How to show the Lords love...his grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lay awake at night. Cry, you know it's not alright to feel like your falling into nothing, you can learn to fly, just call his name."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think I'm just growing a mess of nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;It's so rediculous.&lt;br /&gt;It's almost as though I know I don't need you,&lt;br /&gt;But I would rather not leave without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than that though, I want to know you. I want to know what makes you angry, I want to know what makes you sad, I want to know how you drive, and what your hair looks like when you wake up in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;It's so dumb because I would like to know how you show so much love for the Lord, and how I can do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say that you'll wait until you're 40, that you are at peace with waiting for me to look to God and find an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wonderful question is, what if I never do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4186209749436668159?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4186209749436668159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4186209749436668159&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4186209749436668159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4186209749436668159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/01/somewhere-between-this-morning-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2574979765369428458</id><published>2010-01-21T21:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T21:33:34.702-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I want to know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2574979765369428458?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2574979765369428458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2574979765369428458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2574979765369428458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2574979765369428458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-want-to-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-271511803854921551</id><published>2010-01-09T18:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T22:23:46.817-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories</title><content type='html'>There's one simple action I have remember for as long as I can think of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day my mother and I were at Tim Hortons.&lt;br /&gt;We'd grabbed our meals, held hands, and prayed for the meal.&lt;br /&gt;When we were halfway done eating a lady from a couple tables away from us got us and walked past us, before she left, putting a napkin beside my mum on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum looked at me, looked at the ladies back as she walked away and picked up the napkin.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure she had no idea what to expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she looked at the napkin there were a couple words on it. Something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's so great to see those who love the Lord, praying together in worship of him. Thank-you for encouraging those around us, and thank-you for renewing my hope in this world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why but I've never been able to get that lady out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it so simple to encourage others in their faith. Isn't it so easy to sit and pray before a meal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-271511803854921551?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/271511803854921551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=271511803854921551&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/271511803854921551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/271511803854921551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2010/01/memories.html' title='Memories'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6240065947771233307</id><published>2009-12-30T12:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-30T12:17:41.208-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>5 seconds away from drowning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6240065947771233307?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6240065947771233307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6240065947771233307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6240065947771233307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6240065947771233307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/12/5-seconds-away-from-drowning.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2979680543169410980</id><published>2009-12-25T18:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T18:37:51.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Note to you.</title><content type='html'>Note to You: It's hard here. I'm getting sick of being treated like it isn't. I've almost never felt more alone in my life. Try it sometime. And I'm sorry, for your loss...but don't pretend mine isn't any less real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2979680543169410980?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2979680543169410980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2979680543169410980&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2979680543169410980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2979680543169410980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/12/note-to-you.html' title='Note to you.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2436346695340477041</id><published>2009-12-25T14:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T14:58:06.631-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Jesus. Thank you.</title><content type='html'>Lord, there can be no goodness in us, if you withdraw yourself.&lt;br /&gt;No wisdom can benefit us, if you cease to guide us.&lt;br /&gt;No strength can preserve us, if you no longer defend.&lt;br /&gt;No purity can be secure, if you do not guard it.&lt;br /&gt;No watchfulness of our own can protect us, if you do not keep watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you abandon us, we are soon lost and perish. But if you come to us,&lt;br /&gt;with your grace, we are lifted up to live again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are weak, but you make us strong.&lt;br /&gt;We are cold and dull, but by you we are set ablaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Thomas a Kempis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2436346695340477041?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2436346695340477041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2436346695340477041&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2436346695340477041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2436346695340477041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-birthday-jesus-thank-you.html' title='Happy Birthday Jesus. Thank you.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7607185954256880575</id><published>2009-12-22T15:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T15:11:16.995-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SzFSBQ3i0QI/AAAAAAAAAGI/uiRglXwqPPU/s1600-h/heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SzFSBQ3i0QI/AAAAAAAAAGI/uiRglXwqPPU/s320/heart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418202008364699906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate how it has to be this way.&lt;br /&gt;I've lived my whole life working to separate myself from you,&lt;br /&gt;from people like you who could get under my skin.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've met you I'm convinced I could never get hurt,&lt;br /&gt;Only because I refuse to open  up myself to something to cynical as "love".&lt;br /&gt;Not to say that I love you, or that you love me...but I know that in the future&lt;br /&gt;this could be a possibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to run from you.&lt;br /&gt;I want want to tell you that I so often run, why would I want to worry you.&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes silence is so much worse as an unspoken.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes my silence means a patter of footsteps down a cement sidewalk,&lt;br /&gt;One that is never ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like somethings wrong with me.&lt;br /&gt;I know it isn't anything to do with you.&lt;br /&gt;You're probably the best thing that's happened to me... in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;But if so, why am I getting this unexplainable urge to take the 1000 meter dash away from here,&lt;br /&gt;and away from you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7607185954256880575?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7607185954256880575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7607185954256880575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7607185954256880575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7607185954256880575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-hate-how-it-has-to-be-this-way.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SzFSBQ3i0QI/AAAAAAAAAGI/uiRglXwqPPU/s72-c/heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-9095029580189211596</id><published>2009-11-30T13:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T22:19:02.172-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is me not really being okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not really being upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not being content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is such a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clouded in the vision of all of this indecision is a brief feeling of okayness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like somehow in the midst of all this crap there is also a reason to be thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that families being united would bring me a sense of conclusiveness. But it hasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's brought the same doubt as before. The same worry and the same lack of involvement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I wanted us to all be together. I thought I wanted to know, and now I find out that I don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-9095029580189211596?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/9095029580189211596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=9095029580189211596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9095029580189211596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9095029580189211596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/this-is-me-not-really-being-okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7947923729747277014</id><published>2009-11-18T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T13:18:48.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The beginning of the rest of your life is now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7947923729747277014?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7947923729747277014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7947923729747277014&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7947923729747277014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7947923729747277014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/beginning-of-rest-of-your-life-is-now.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-24472293772750350</id><published>2009-11-11T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T21:14:12.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not scared you'll walk away anymore. Sometimes I wish you would.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SvuZf1N-JUI/AAAAAAAAAGA/FIL5TjfKdSA/s1600-h/never.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403080950101714242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 223px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SvuZf1N-JUI/AAAAAAAAAGA/FIL5TjfKdSA/s320/never.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can't be that person for you anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For everyone I've left behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord gave and took away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like he took me away from everyone in Ontario because he knew that I needed to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because there were some who relied on me to be the love from Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because there were those who relied on me to tell them right from wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be able to tell you, to help you, to encourage you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't think I'm allowed to anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been enabling everyone to live in sin, because i've enabled them to pretend that they don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you everytime you seek insight, to turn to Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You need to go there on your own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will never leave you of forsake you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will never bring you into the pit of dispair without offering a miraculous way out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will never bring you to your knees without offering you a hand up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please...turn to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-24472293772750350?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/24472293772750350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=24472293772750350&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/24472293772750350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/24472293772750350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-not-scared-youll-walk-away-anymore.html' title='I&apos;m not scared you&apos;ll walk away anymore. Sometimes I wish you would.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SvuZf1N-JUI/AAAAAAAAAGA/FIL5TjfKdSA/s72-c/never.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8048551500542214683</id><published>2009-11-11T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T21:02:18.788-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You know who you are...</title><content type='html'>And, to think that I'm sitting here, almost crying.&lt;br /&gt;I know that I haven't been there for you, and it's because it's too hard.&lt;br /&gt;I try to call. I try to get a hold of you but it seems like everything I do is completely for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;You're never home, when you are you aren't there.&lt;br /&gt;And even this now is a sort of excuse for calling you up.&lt;br /&gt;It's too late and I don't know what you're up.&lt;br /&gt;It's too late and I just don't have the mind to call,&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the excuses to explain why I haven't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet I do.&lt;br /&gt;The time change is too different and have you even tried to call?&lt;br /&gt;Have you left your comfortable zone of not speaking with me to give me a call.&lt;br /&gt;You know, I've talked to everyone else more than I have you.&lt;br /&gt;I've talked to people that haven't spoken with me for real, in years.&lt;br /&gt;And then there's those others who were closest to me who don't even give me the time of day.&lt;br /&gt;Where the heck are you guys?&lt;br /&gt;Where are you?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll go on living the way that you do, as will I.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you don't need me and I don't need you,&lt;br /&gt;Although I wish you were back in my life.&lt;br /&gt;I know that I can't ever do anything right enough for you.&lt;br /&gt;Every single call is too short, each message I leave not good enough for your time.&lt;br /&gt;And no, I'm not angry.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like you don't care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like it doesn't matter to you so much that you have no one, that it's me who is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm being selfish, you're probably thinking, "What a spoiled brat!"&lt;br /&gt;And you know, I am spoiled.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm also hurting.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also lonely.&lt;br /&gt;I'm also confused.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know when to call, when you'll have time for me.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what you're doing, if you even want to talk.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if you'll be watching t.v., too concentrated on that to talk with me.&lt;br /&gt;So I won't call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my cry out to you.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you're hurting. I know that it's hard.&lt;br /&gt;But I also know that you don't know how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;I also know that we're both too busy with our own hurt to see each others.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you don't think it's difficult for me out here anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's a rundown, since we never have time to talk anywhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'm doing with the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;I'm struggling because my family needs me, my sisters need me, and yet I don't know if God needs me elsewhere...I can't hear him.&lt;br /&gt;I work. Maybe not as much as you but I work all weekend, I have 7 classes that I have to uphold...classes that give me so much work that I'm up to my ears every night...&lt;br /&gt;I drink tea to stay awake and read my bible in the morning so I don't cry myself to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I breathe deeply and live ONLY for today because tomorrow would be too hard to think about.&lt;br /&gt;I'm embarrassed. Every day I am met with humility. I can never be good enough down here.&lt;br /&gt;I'm more alone that you realize. My only friends are gone, in Ontario, Alberta, around the world...All gone. I don't dream about hope anymore, I just try to grasp it as reality. I am exhausted and I don't really know where to go anymore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But so overwhelmed with feelings of compassion, feelings of hope, feelings of unrest. I'm in such a lack of serinity that I don't know what I'm looking for anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm okay.&lt;br /&gt;If this is too much for you don't call. If you have too much on your plate you know I will call soon. When I call it'll be to hear a friendly voice. That's all I need. But I can't read your mind. I'm not perfect. I won't call when you need me, sometimes not even when you want me. Sometimes I won't call at all.&lt;br /&gt;But I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I will always love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8048551500542214683?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8048551500542214683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8048551500542214683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8048551500542214683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8048551500542214683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-know-who-you-are.html' title='You know who you are...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8375260374821063005</id><published>2009-11-09T13:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T14:52:07.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes you can be in a house full of people and feel the same dissatisfaction than as if you were alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're sayin he'd listen if I'd like to speak. Who is this Jesus you speak of?&lt;br /&gt;He'll take you out of this puddle you're drowning in. Listen , the good news is coming. Soon the end will come and restoration and peace will be in front of your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what are we then to do when the darkness is closing in and our feelings are breaking thin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breathe deeply, take in today. Pray for the peace and the pace that is needed to step through each day. Smile and nod. Love others. Treat the way you would want to be treated. But most of all love.&lt;br /&gt;Love. Most of all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8375260374821063005?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8375260374821063005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8375260374821063005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8375260374821063005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8375260374821063005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/sometimes-you-can-be-in-house-full-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3880800536295180220</id><published>2009-11-02T20:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T20:19:40.595-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>What if we learnt something from everything that happened to us?&lt;br /&gt;What if we learnt how to love, how to be faithful, how to be just, how to be patient from something/everything that happened in our lives. What if we learnt compassion from a walk in the park?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I prayed that I would learn how to serve while I was sick. I hope I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3880800536295180220?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3880800536295180220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3880800536295180220&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3880800536295180220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3880800536295180220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/11/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7001854635760683614</id><published>2009-10-29T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T06:51:40.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Contented</title><content type='html'>I am contented with the way that the wind whistles through the trees,&lt;br /&gt;Contended to be busy, protecting...&lt;br /&gt;I'm contented to hear your voice on the end of the phone,&lt;br /&gt;Even if I sometimes wish that you were home.&lt;br /&gt;I'm contented to breathe the air of a hug,&lt;br /&gt;Contented to know that your happy where you are.&lt;br /&gt;I'm contented to know that you'll always be around&lt;br /&gt;Really contented to know that this is God's plan.&lt;br /&gt;I don't need love letters, flowers, or dates.&lt;br /&gt;I really don't need chocolate,&lt;br /&gt;BELIEVE ME.&lt;br /&gt;I'm good with not hearing words of adoration&lt;br /&gt;and sometimes only hearing you speak every couple of weeks.&lt;br /&gt;I'm contented to know that God has a plan,&lt;br /&gt;Amidst all of my worries and all of the scams of this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just contented to know,&lt;br /&gt;And contented to not...because sometimes the things that you don't know, are the things you forgot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7001854635760683614?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7001854635760683614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7001854635760683614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7001854635760683614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7001854635760683614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/10/contented.html' title='Contented'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1628562504759221207</id><published>2009-10-15T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T20:47:24.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>...I'm giving up because all I know is that I'm breathing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss home...I miss everyone and I don't know what I have down here. I miss the comfort of my bed, I feel as though I come to a strangers house after school, after work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He can't come to prom. And I do care. And...I don't want to go now. And this is something that shouldn't matter to me in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't go to Nicaragua and...maybe that's God's will. And maybe it's not because I don't want to just fundraise anymore, I want to love and be loved and give love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...But if we met on the street I wouldn't even see you, because I'm blind from this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't find myself, I can't find any strength. I just want to give up and sleep for the rest of this time...For the rest of my time. And I know that it isn't my time yet, that there's still things for me to do here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick of this frustration. So sick of being tired and giving up. I'm so tired of not having faith, of not having hope. I just don't want to care anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1628562504759221207?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1628562504759221207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1628562504759221207&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1628562504759221207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1628562504759221207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4193461886527660375</id><published>2009-10-10T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T01:10:07.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/StA_37lVy3I/AAAAAAAAAF4/CBc0qFjEGm8/s1600-h/the+knight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390878984082148210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/StA_37lVy3I/AAAAAAAAAF4/CBc0qFjEGm8/s320/the+knight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's something about love...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and the way that it swiftly binds people together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something about peace and the joy in brings among people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something about the complete &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;serenity&lt;/span&gt; of hope...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's something about today,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About the controlled atmosphere that is awaiting tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;People are waiting, across the world, for love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They look for it under rocks, in pets and food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They look for fufillement in romantic entanglements, in money, in family...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They look for love on street corners, in coffee shops, online...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I've come to the sad conclusion that no one really looks for love in their hearts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being bold and strong and courageous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being filled with life and completeness,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being unhurt, unheld, and unabolished.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is only a figment of imaginations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is real, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is plausible&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;is HURT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What happens is pain,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But what also happens is love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love has the ability, the endless proportion to spill from the insides, the cracks and spaces of endless time. Love has the ability to curb a hungry stomache, to calm a whirling mind. Love is what we see and what we do not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But most of all, Love is God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People are so content on looking for love in storybooks, in fairytales with knights in shining armour...But who are these guys?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who are they...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, they're people. They are people who have the ability to make mistakes; who fall off of their horses every once in a while...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the problem is that while we are looking for these knights we miss the KNIGHT. The King. The Savour in shining armour...Our prince.&lt;br /&gt;With our minds so full of love that is "real"....we miss the real thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With our minds so full of the love we &lt;em&gt;think &lt;/em&gt;we want...we miss it. I think a lot of the time, we miss him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4193461886527660375?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4193461886527660375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4193461886527660375&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4193461886527660375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4193461886527660375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/10/knight.html' title='The Knight'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/StA_37lVy3I/AAAAAAAAAF4/CBc0qFjEGm8/s72-c/the+knight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8430899903643193786</id><published>2009-10-03T21:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T20:48:48.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where has the time gone?</title><content type='html'>It's been dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world is a constant swirl of business and I realized that if I don't change it, it'll never get better.&lt;br /&gt;I work, work, work all the time and somehow I think I used to believe that the world would slowly begin to give me a pace that fit better in my mind, that fit better into my life.&lt;br /&gt;"Get out of bed, your stronger than before." The world isn't changing for the better but somehow I figure that if I stay in bed long enough, it'll be back to the way it should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have two jobs. I tutor 5 days a week and then work 3 days a week at please mum. I have school every day, on Wednesdays, Mondays, and Fridays it goes until 5. I don't have time to fuss and fight. I don't even have time to go for a walk and listen to the wind and water flow around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the simplicites of life. I miss my ability as a child to sit and play in dirt and right now I'm just wondering if I'll ever have time to sit down and play in the dirt again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8430899903643193786?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8430899903643193786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8430899903643193786&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8430899903643193786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8430899903643193786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/10/where-has-time-gone.html' title='Where has the time gone?'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3858556842734479796</id><published>2009-09-19T21:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T23:45:22.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>And these are the nights i sit and reminisce, and wish.&lt;br /&gt;Why have you left me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3858556842734479796?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3858556842734479796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3858556842734479796&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3858556842734479796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3858556842734479796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/09/and-these-are-nights-i-sit-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7157131194519161967</id><published>2009-09-08T00:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T00:59:44.971-07:00</updated><title type='text'>His Voice</title><content type='html'>"...evangelism without His Presence is nothing but clanging cymbals, like form without substance; so in the same way only intimacy with Him begets true evangelism, an overflow of his Presence in our lives unto the lives of others..."-Sam&lt;br /&gt; Once again a reminder that I don't have to be perfect to stand before the King: that I don't have to 'feel Him' or 'hear Him' to know that He is there. Sometimes I get boggled down with the upstanding assumption that "We must always preach, We must always evangelize the Lord." instead of realizing that holding back and allowing him to help me hear his voice, is what is most needed in my life. I get so ashamed that I can't hear his speaking that I feel I must speak, when instead the only voice I need to hear is not my own, but his.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7157131194519161967?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7157131194519161967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7157131194519161967&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7157131194519161967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7157131194519161967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/09/his-voice.html' title='His Voice'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4713947400483691432</id><published>2009-09-08T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T00:44:33.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want...</title><content type='html'>My joy's been slowly flitting away,&lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering now if I want it to stay.&lt;br /&gt;These thoughts all bottled up here,&lt;br /&gt;I want to hear Jesus coming near.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of these stupid lies that tell me I'm not good enough,&lt;br /&gt;Make me want to compromise,&lt;br /&gt;What I know is true in my life...&lt;br /&gt;I want to be loved, and have love...and give love.&lt;br /&gt;I want to show others what it means to be unconditional.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be real,&lt;br /&gt;not like the cartoons on Disney.&lt;br /&gt;I want inspirations,&lt;br /&gt;A breathe of revitalization.&lt;br /&gt;There's a new wind blowing.&lt;br /&gt;I hope it isn't fake or unreal because I'm unwilling to steal another's glory.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to see anyone else being put below me.&lt;br /&gt;I should live to be a servant not a ghost,&lt;br /&gt;Like Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be like Ruth; selfless and deserving,&lt;br /&gt;Like David; afraid but yearning,&lt;br /&gt;Like Paul; brave and sure,&lt;br /&gt;Like Peter; shown mercy....&lt;br /&gt;All of these willing to endure hardships.&lt;br /&gt;To press unto joy until the end,&lt;br /&gt;Being sure of God, Messiah, Yahweh, Jesus Christ.&lt;br /&gt;Being sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;I want to have faith and joy.&lt;br /&gt;I want to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4713947400483691432?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4713947400483691432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4713947400483691432&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4713947400483691432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4713947400483691432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-want.html' title='I want...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6819559841065245701</id><published>2009-09-01T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T22:48:01.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Problems here. No one to talk to. I don't understand, I can't figure out what's going on. Am I falling away, or just falling asleep? Afraid of love but never wanting to loose this chance. I'm so unaware of the way that I feel until there's this time when I realize that I'm backing away.  I will never feel good enough. I can't compete against you anymore. I can't cheat this prize.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6819559841065245701?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6819559841065245701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6819559841065245701&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6819559841065245701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6819559841065245701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/09/problems-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5701126968636699494</id><published>2009-08-27T09:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T09:26:05.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"He came and preached peace to those near and far away, and wrote his laws on the hearts of his people, from the least to the greatest; so listen, those who pursue righteousness and seek the Lord: look to the rock from which you were cut, lift up your eyes to the heavens- His salvation will last forever, His righteousness will never fail, His peace will transcend all understanding, guarding hearts and minds against the thieves who steal, kill, and destroy... For nothing can make those who love your laws stumble, and in you the fear of men's reproach and the terror of insults are gone." (Eph 2 / Jer 31 / Isa 51 / Phi 4 / Psa 119)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5701126968636699494?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5701126968636699494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5701126968636699494&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5701126968636699494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5701126968636699494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/he-came-and-preached-peace-to-those.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5989632366915556036</id><published>2009-08-26T00:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T00:13:50.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do you know that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feeling&lt;/span&gt; you get every once in a while? It's like a loneliness mixed with a heavy pressure on your chest. It's the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feeling&lt;/span&gt; that no one ever wants to have, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feeling&lt;/span&gt; everyone hopes to get every once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I get that every night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5989632366915556036?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5989632366915556036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5989632366915556036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5989632366915556036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5989632366915556036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/do-you-know-that-feeling-you-get-every.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5792250499724489297</id><published>2009-08-19T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T10:25:46.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Stand At The Door</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Why is it that sooner or later I come to a point where closeness becomes too hard to face: where the shadow of others around me becomes a place to hide instead of face, where smiles and friendly hugs become a time to shrink away from the crowd, where there's nothing left for me but to cower?Why am I so impersonal?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I stand at the door; I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out.The door is the most important door in the world.It is the door through which men walk when they find God.There is no use my going way far inside and staying there.When so many are still outside, and they as much as I, crave to know where the door ought to be.They creep along the wall like blind men, with outstretched, groping hands,Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door, yet they never find it.So I Stand At The Door,The most tremendous thing in the world is for men to find that door…The door to God.The most important thing that any man can do is to take hold of one of those blind groping hands and put it on the latch… the latch that only clicks and opens to the man’s own touch!Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die,On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.They die for what is within their grasp,They live on the other side of it…live because they have not found it. Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,opening it, and walking in to find Him.So I Stand At The Door. Go in great Saints, go all the way in.Go way down into the cavernous cellars and way up into the spacious attics.It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.Go into the deepest of hidden casements of withdrawal of silence, Of Sainthood.Some must inhabit those inner rooms.And know the depths and heights of God.And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.Sometimes I take a deeper look in.Sometimes I venture a little farther,But my place seems closer to the opening.So I Stand At The Door.There is another reason why I stand there.Some people get part way in and become afraid.Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them.For God is so very great and asks all of us question.And these people feel claustrophobia and want to get out!“Let me out”, they cry!And the people way inside only terrify them the more.Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled for the old life… they have seen too much.One taste of God and nothing but God will do anymore.Somebody must be watching for the frightened who seek to sneak out just where they came in to tell them how much better it is inside.The people too far in do not see how near these people are to leaving,Preoccupied by the wonder of it all.&lt;em&gt;Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door but would like to run away&lt;/em&gt;. So for them too, So I Stand At The Door.I admire the people, who go way inside, but I wish they would not forget how it was before they got in... then they would be able to help the people who have not yet even found the door!Or the people who want to run away again from God.You can go in too deeply and stay in too long and forget the people outside the door. As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place.Near enough to God to hear Him and know that He is there,But not so far from men as not to hear them.And remember that they are there too.Where? Outside the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;door, Thousands&lt;/span&gt; of them… millions of them…But, more importantly for me, one of them, two of them, ten of them,Whose hand I intend to put on the latch.So I Stand At The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Door To&lt;/span&gt; watch for those who seek it. I would rather be a doorkeeper.So I Stand At The Door listening to God's word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Author Unknown&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5792250499724489297?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5792250499724489297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5792250499724489297&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5792250499724489297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5792250499724489297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-stand-at-door.html' title='I Stand At The Door'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-403425846352930760</id><published>2009-08-18T23:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T23:45:48.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"For this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I myself will search for my sheep and look after them... I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness... I myself will tend my sheep and have them lie down, declares the Sovereign LORD. I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak, but the sleek and the strong I will destroy. I will shepherd the flock with justice. I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he will tend them. You my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are my people, and I am your God, declares the Sovereign LORD." (excerpts from Ezekiel 34, NIV)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-403425846352930760?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/403425846352930760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=403425846352930760&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/403425846352930760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/403425846352930760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/for-this-is-what-sovereign-lord-says-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6022351819473757737</id><published>2009-08-16T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T20:43:45.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>She begins to forget what was blasting through her mind as the classical music drones out all sound.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6022351819473757737?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6022351819473757737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6022351819473757737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6022351819473757737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6022351819473757737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/she-begins-to-forget-what-was-blasting.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2097991858696432897</id><published>2009-08-11T15:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T15:20:06.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Paradox of Our Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SoHuX3CzBiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/bQ6BSmJdnmA/s1600-h/true+story.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368834324482426402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SoHuX3CzBiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/bQ6BSmJdnmA/s320/true+story.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.&lt;br /&gt;We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.&lt;br /&gt;We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.&lt;br /&gt;We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. &lt;strong&gt;We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.&lt;em&gt;We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.&lt;/em&gt; We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things.&lt;br /&gt;We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We write more, but learn less; we plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes, but lower morals; we have more food, but less appeasement; we build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality.&lt;br /&gt;These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.&lt;br /&gt;These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.&lt;br /&gt;These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.&lt;br /&gt;These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw away morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer to quiet to kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...We aim to advocate unity based on the assumption that compromising is the universal solution because we don’t know how to accept ‘agreeing to disagree’.Right has become more white, while wrong has become more black (through subliminal tactics, of course, which we're spoonfed one mouthful of commercial messages at a time)Even though we’re told our generations has the rights to free thinking and creativity, technology and the media has the ability to steal our individuality with things as simple as pre-programmed talking dolls.It's a war not many people are aware exists, and thus, not fighting....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2097991858696432897?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2097991858696432897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2097991858696432897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2097991858696432897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2097991858696432897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-little-something-to-think-about.html' title='The Paradox of Our Time'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SoHuX3CzBiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/bQ6BSmJdnmA/s72-c/true+story.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5791212519534515598</id><published>2009-08-09T22:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-09T22:51:31.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Light</title><content type='html'>Why do I care?&lt;br /&gt;That you got to be there and I here?&lt;br /&gt;My breathe infused with pain begins to slow as I look at photos,&lt;br /&gt;of the place I was suppose to be.&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that you got to see what I so wanted to?&lt;br /&gt;My mind is cursed to believe that this is;&lt;br /&gt;A missed opportunity or a flawed mind,&lt;br /&gt;A catastrophic change in time or maybe just a second that's gone by.&lt;br /&gt;There's no confusion in a world full of pain,&lt;br /&gt;As long as the hurt always stays the same.&lt;br /&gt;Look at me and tell me that you don't care anymore,&lt;br /&gt;Oh God, show me the answers to this silenced conversation of greif.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of sitting, trusting, waiting for your answer.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of wandering in disbelief, because the next minute was so obscure.&lt;br /&gt;I'm told that being joyful in a time of fear is a beautiful thing,&lt;br /&gt;but why am I never told that it aches like a head pounding...&lt;br /&gt;Pounding so loud that a beat is made out in my ears,&lt;br /&gt;And I can scarsely hear because this beat echoes over and over in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Lord, why have you left me here to wander aimlessly,&lt;br /&gt;why have you left me alone to wonder?&lt;br /&gt;There's no light switch in this dark room and neither any candles to brighten a corner.&lt;br /&gt;Where am I suppose to walk but out the door?&lt;br /&gt;I want to remember something that pertains to no life of my own,&lt;br /&gt;But how can I remember when I was obviously not alone,&lt;br /&gt;How can I remember when the tears slide down my cheeks&lt;br /&gt;And the memories pierce my heart?&lt;br /&gt;How can I remember when all I remember is being apart,&lt;br /&gt;without you...alone, desperately searching for a place to hide this broken smile.&lt;br /&gt;I've been doing so well without your spitting words,&lt;br /&gt;Doing so well without your dashing looks and rough hands,&lt;br /&gt;Doing so well without the words you displayed that dug into my soul.&lt;br /&gt;Doing so well...&lt;br /&gt;I was making friends, not hiding this frame of God given love.&lt;br /&gt;I am doing so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will continue to shine,&lt;br /&gt;for the Glory of God I will continue to gleam wonderfully amond the sad faces of this nation.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot let a simple boy stand in the way of God's life for me.&lt;br /&gt;I am not make whole by his existance,&lt;br /&gt;nor will I ever be made empty by his absense.&lt;br /&gt;My heart is hidden in a wall of forgiveness,&lt;br /&gt;And I will no longer plead for you,&lt;br /&gt;You are not my light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John 12:46 " I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5791212519534515598?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5791212519534515598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5791212519534515598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5791212519534515598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5791212519534515598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/light.html' title='Light'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6939391761746491626</id><published>2009-08-08T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T13:20:57.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;The Way Of A Rose&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the rose that sweetly grows&lt;br /&gt;Along the garden wall&lt;br /&gt;Thinks not of tears beyond the wall&lt;br /&gt;Or petals that may fall.&lt;br /&gt;It lifts its face to God above&lt;br /&gt;Serenely day by day&lt;br /&gt;And questions not, if it should rain,&lt;br /&gt;The wisdom of God's way.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the rose that sweetly grows&lt;br /&gt;Has burdens just as I;&lt;br /&gt;The weather's far too wet, too cold,&lt;br /&gt;And yet it asks not why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then how much more should I trust God&lt;br /&gt;When days are dark and drear;&lt;br /&gt;Then how much more should I give thanks&lt;br /&gt;That God is always near?&lt;br /&gt;Then how much more should I believe&lt;br /&gt;God understand-He knows?&lt;br /&gt;Then how much more should I trust God?&lt;br /&gt;Am I...less than a rose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phyllis C. Michael&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;...He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him I will trust&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Psalm 91:2&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6939391761746491626?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6939391761746491626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6939391761746491626&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6939391761746491626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6939391761746491626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/way-of-rose-im-sure-rose-that-sweetly.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1360570862220939432</id><published>2009-08-06T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T09:31:52.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sherlock,&lt;br /&gt;I miss our long talks on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;I miss how we used to cry every once in a while after not really speaking about what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;I miss how we would get stoked everytime we saw each other.&lt;br /&gt;I miss how I used to wake you up in the mornings during school.&lt;br /&gt;I miss listening to you sing and I miss getting yelled at everytime I hit the stool in your bathroom at 2am.&lt;br /&gt;I miss talking about boys.&lt;br /&gt;I miss our not-so-sappy lives.&lt;br /&gt;I miss how everything was so unique.&lt;br /&gt;I miss cutting your hair in the church bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;I miss being grumpy and having you tell me to suck it up.&lt;br /&gt;I miss thrift shopping.&lt;br /&gt;I miss that amazing lady who kept her store open for us.&lt;br /&gt;I miss trying on hillarious dresses.&lt;br /&gt;I miss your dance recitals.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you needing me.&lt;br /&gt;I miss talking to you until we were both too tired to talk anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I miss falling asleep to your corn breathe.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that God is taking care of you.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you have a boyfriend who loves you and friends that you go to concerts with.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you have people to call and work to go to.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you are having fun.&lt;br /&gt;But...I wish you would call me when you wanted to cry.&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I was the phonecall you'd make when you were frusterated.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you still needed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you here.&lt;br /&gt;I know you love me.&lt;br /&gt;But...I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1360570862220939432?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1360570862220939432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1360570862220939432&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1360570862220939432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1360570862220939432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/watson-i-miss-our-long-talks-on-phone.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5755280943938612161</id><published>2009-08-04T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T23:17:42.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank-you for this moment. I've got to say how beautiful you are. All the hopes and dreams I could have prayed for, here you are.</title><content type='html'>We have a great God who loves us. I've heard others saying this but didn't really grasp the meaning until today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been &lt;em&gt;selfish&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;foolish&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;spoiled&lt;/em&gt;...all of the words that you can think of for an annoying six year old because, until tonight, I have not been able to understand the magnificence of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight God showed me a part of himself I hadn't seen before, or hadn't allowed myself to see before. I went to a jam night with people that I didn't know very well. I had an amazing time. I spent too much time denying God's love for me that I couldn't grap onto the meaning of his perfect plan. When I met the people I call my "friends from up here", I allowed my insecurities to take place of the blessing that he had given me. When I talked to them about what mattered in my life, I allowed my annoyance of being placed somewhere where I didn't want to go, to overshadow his love for me. When I went to Jam Night, tonight, I came to the conclusion that I've been stupid and foolish, too ignorant of God's plan to even have the ablility to look upon his face. I feel like: Job: after cursing God, David: after sending that man to the front line, Jonah: after the Ninavites recieved the message of God...completely and utterly blind to God's wonderful grace and mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see...I came to BC with the hope that it wouldn't be anything like Ontario. I came with the quest of finding nothing, seeking to destroy all adventure I found, and not allowing God to work into my life. I was then introduced to 10 people that have changed my life in the 5 days that I have known them; not for the things they've done, but for the love that they have for Jesus Christ, for the acceptance that they have shown me, and for the guidence they have given without so much as a glance at my sins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has shown me that he has a plan, that he has friends here-fellowship that I didn't think was possible among people that I know I will grow to love. He has provided me with the revelation that there is no fear in moving on for me, that no matter where I go I will always love, always remember, always long to be with the people that I have known. But he has also shown me that he is able to fill the hole in my heart that has been growing as I moved from one place to another, that although the space of my best friends back home will never be filled, he will create new friends here that will provide me with the encouragement I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;Thank-you Lord. I've been so selfish, so blind to the plans you have for me. I've been such a clown in this mess. I love you&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5755280943938612161?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5755280943938612161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5755280943938612161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5755280943938612161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5755280943938612161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/thank-you-for-this-moment-ive-got-to.html' title='Thank-you for this moment. I&apos;ve got to say how beautiful you are. All the hopes and dreams I could have prayed for, here you are.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7195840643137355111</id><published>2009-08-03T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T11:02:17.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="text"&gt;"I'll tell you what happens. One by one, as everyone falls away taking that piece of you you so foolishly gave away, you're left with nothing to hold onto, nothing to hope for. Friends, family, best friends, loves, all are a thing of the past. You drove them away. All your hopes and dreams are shattered. I know you have trouble trusting people, I know. And now that you've finally found something to believe in, you give all your trust away, even though everything inside of you tells you not to, because everytime you have in the past, the consequence is regret and another piece of you gone. This lesson started in childhood, shouldn't you have learned it by now? You've lost people, but have not yet been left with nothing but yourself. Wait for it. There's nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. It's true. Through this inflicted indepence, you gain more maturity and self-realization then you ever have. You learn what to do to get through the day, without anything else. You learn to cry alone, to laugh alone, to live alone, to sleep alone, to strive for self-happiness, even though it seems unachievable. There are times you'll feel like giving up, there's really nothing left. But salvage everything you can, grasp anything that will let you-and give it to God. And the tables will turn, people forgive, friends return, but this time around, it's a lesson learned. A piece of you locked up, never to be ripped away. Freedom turns out to be freedom within yourself, realization that all along you were trapped. That won't happen to you, and you don't deserve it. You just need a realization of joy, you cannot love others until you love God, and love yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="text"&gt;"May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be and if you are not, may you chang without ignorance. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7195840643137355111?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7195840643137355111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7195840643137355111&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7195840643137355111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7195840643137355111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/08/ill-tell-you-what-happens.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-299115611713536730</id><published>2009-07-31T08:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T08:48:59.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You have to learn to live with the pain because &lt;i&gt;sometimes&lt;/i&gt; pain is God's way of saying, I'm not finished with you yet. &lt;i&gt;Sometimes&lt;/i&gt; pain is a harsh break of reality from the even harsher hell we would experience if not for that pain because every once in a while pain saves us from hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-299115611713536730?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/299115611713536730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=299115611713536730&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/299115611713536730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/299115611713536730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-have-to-learn-to-live-with-pain.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1652856733516483724</id><published>2009-07-24T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T22:20:33.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Am I To Throw The Stone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmqWF15kSKI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qZyxw9hIahA/s1600-h/hand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362263333450041506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmqWF15kSKI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qZyxw9hIahA/s320/hand.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;“If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” John 8:3-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grasping a pale grey stone in my white curled up fist, I heard Jesus speak the words of John 8:3-7. Words meant to calm made me more angry, more confused at the situation presented to me..and, I threw the stone. Guilt slowly filled my heart, closing in over my throat and I could hardly breathe but I bent over to pick up another stone. As I held this stone I thought about the story, about how Jesus had crouched in the sand near the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;prostitute&lt;/span&gt; and silently drew markings in the ground. I thought how he had looked with compassion, seeing right into her soul: the scorching pain that had kept her fleeing from love. As I turned the stone over in my palm, I drew in deep breaths as tears trickled down my cheeks, slowly hitting the ground beside Jesus and his hands. As he mixed my salty tears in the sand, he twisted his body to look into my eyes and said, "It is finished". Pleading with him to no go, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;grabbing&lt;/span&gt; at his garments, scurrying beside him I shouted, "Take me, I'm the one who threw the stone!" Deep sobs shook my body and I realized that he was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Lord, Father, Jesus...Please forgive me. I have no strength left to throw this stone in my hand, nor do I want to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1652856733516483724?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1652856733516483724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1652856733516483724&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1652856733516483724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1652856733516483724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/who-am-i-to-throw-stone.html' title='Who Am I To Throw The Stone?'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmqWF15kSKI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qZyxw9hIahA/s72-c/hand.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8745669131328057072</id><published>2009-07-22T19:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T21:00:53.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmfKf28aW0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/IL_DWGZwmvk/s1600-h/cool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361476530081520450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 574px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmfKf28aW0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/IL_DWGZwmvk/s320/cool.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8745669131328057072?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8745669131328057072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8745669131328057072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8745669131328057072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8745669131328057072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SmfKf28aW0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/IL_DWGZwmvk/s72-c/cool.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4910170696176312971</id><published>2009-07-20T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T20:43:59.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hold out for the prince&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4910170696176312971?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4910170696176312971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4910170696176312971&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4910170696176312971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4910170696176312971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/hold-out-for-prince.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3238016977362487919</id><published>2009-07-19T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T18:00:55.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For The Future</title><content type='html'>"In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord Determines his steps."-Proverbs 16:9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had it planned out as we saw fit. We thought we knew what God had in store for our future. We were wrong, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;we've&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;been&lt;/span&gt; given another chance. No matter what plans we make, God will determine our steps and place us in the lives/situations/relationships we should be. He determines where we will be at the end of day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't put &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;boundaries&lt;/span&gt; on God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to set my heart on a course that I'm not suppose to/will not be going on. I don't want to put my heart strings towards a future that won't happen. If we allow God to work, in our lives, surrendering our all to him, he will make our paths straight, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;whether&lt;/span&gt; or not it is with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I think, we must love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sherlock wrote some VERY amazing stuff on love and so I'll just give in short what I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love never fails&lt;/strong&gt;. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 1When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favourite part is that Love "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always persevers." AND " Love never fails."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How good and awesome is it to be able to trust in a Lord who's love never fails. It will always be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't need to entertain a future with you or pretend that I know what God has in store. God gives friends, and relationships in good time. Wait for his spectacular time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3238016977362487919?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3238016977362487919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3238016977362487919&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3238016977362487919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3238016977362487919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/for-future.html' title='For The Future'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4508771155405751044</id><published>2009-07-16T12:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T12:43:49.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ceasing Of Thievery</title><content type='html'>I don't know when this habit developed, but I've begun to notice that I think too much about the possibilities of my choices, both big and small, to the point where I paralyze myself from acting on anything because as I live out each option in my hyperactive imagination they somehow substitute themselves for the real experiences. It has seemed harmless until recently, where finally it hit me that my present realities are getting usurped by reveries, and that my life is wasting away because I am ignoring my ability to exercise will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In light of those thoughts, I took a quick break from my work earlier today and rode to the beach to have my quiet time with God. Lots of thoughts pinged through my spirit en route, and soon as I arrived I gladly jotted them down so that I will remember to renew my mind in this manner:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Sam, just choose. Choose life, optimism, adventure, identity, risk, love. Choose encouragement, hope, good, freedom, discipline, and the art of receiving. Choose to accept. Choose love. Choose forgiveness. Choose joy. Choose healing. Choose the present."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately I was reminded of an old journal entry I wrote some time ago, and I made a note to dig it up because I just knew it was what I needed to simmer on. It was written in February of 2008, right after I had done a bunch of designs under the theme "The Journey Home", an exploration of our identities as the sons and the daughters of The Most High, so you may or may not recognize the scripture mash-up from some older designs:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Thievery is a horrible crime... it's mind-numbing how much is stolen from us on a daily basis: the spoils of victory, the comforts of joy, the grandness of redemption- all of it seemingly so accessible to the thieves that stalk us from their dark alleyways and cowardly hiding places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what's more heartbreaking is that we unwittingly surrender our sovereignty over these things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... so in the end it's not thievery at all, it's more like a case of us delegating undue authority unto demons who have no right nor position over us until that moment when we actually open the door and lay out our welcome mats to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This unseen war between the dying flesh and the newborn spirit is an all-too-real one, with casualties far beyond our capacity to understand. Far too often it is our joy and our dreams that lay battered by the wayside, victims of unholy cunning and wit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say, enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I will delight over you with joy, calm you with my love, and rejoice over you with singing... for you are my beloved who has stolen my heart, my sons and daughters who have captivated my thoughts...&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thievery ceases in the presence of awakened identity."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't sure how to depict this thought of coming alive, until I saw in my notes that I had reminded myself a week ago to NOT FORGET and simmer on an excerpt from Henri Nouwen's book "The Return Of The Prodigal Son":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...it is amazing to experience daily the radical difference between cynicism and joy. Cynics seek darkness wherever they go, pointing to approaching dangers, impure motives, and hidden schemes. They call trust naive, care romantic, and forgiveness sentimental. They sneer at enthusiasm, ridicule spiritual fervor, and despise charismatic behavior... in belittling God's joy, their darkness only calls forth more darkness. [But] people who have come to know the joy of God do not deny the darkness, &lt;b&gt;but they choose NOT to live in it&lt;/b&gt; (emphasis added). They claim that the light that shines in the darkness can be trusted more than the darkness itself and that a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness. They point each other to flashes of light here and there, and remind each other that they reveal the hidden but real presence of God. They discover that there are people who heal each other's wounds, forgive each other's offenses, share their possessions, foster the spirit of community, celebrate the gifts they have received, and live in constant anticipation of the full manifestation of God's glory."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4508771155405751044?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4508771155405751044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4508771155405751044&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4508771155405751044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4508771155405751044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/ceasing-of-thievery.html' title='Ceasing Of Thievery'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7562384681584742197</id><published>2009-07-15T23:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T23:50:25.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I miss home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7562384681584742197?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7562384681584742197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7562384681584742197&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7562384681584742197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7562384681584742197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-miss-home.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1684003619624169037</id><published>2009-07-13T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T04:46:32.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Up</title><content type='html'>I have been up all night coughing my lungs out. It is 4:36 am and pretty down I'll be going back upstairs, settling into my bed, and attempting to sleep once again. I've been sick for so long and I'm SO tired. AHHHHH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-We've all become&lt;span class="status"&gt;&lt;span id="hsmStatus" class="hsmStatus"&gt; bored with the childish fear that we create; one of sleepless nights and fantasy worlds that crave excitement. It's begins to make normal days a blur of nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1684003619624169037?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1684003619624169037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1684003619624169037&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1684003619624169037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1684003619624169037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/up.html' title='Up'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8526216467007345228</id><published>2009-07-11T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T22:05:54.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Picking up your bags and heading West never seemed as real to me as it did sometime last week. As we packed every last one of our belongings into a moving truck and motor home, fear robbed me of the adventure that had been creeping around in my mind. I can't say that I didn't wish to stay in my comfortable home with all of my friends in reach whenever I needed them, but I also wanted to run away from the relationship problems that had been facing my happy teenage years in Ontario. Like a gust of wind, we were gone; 7 people piled into two vehicles, 3 cats, and two dogs, dissipating into a long highway to nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a tiring, cold, very very long, and slow process as we worked our way across the provinces to the beautiful British Columbia. Our car broke down a lot along the way. I met some new people, old friends of my parents. God worked in a lot of amazing, mysterious ways: fixing our truck with small pieces of wood from Rebecca so that we wouldn't be stranded, giving us the patience to endure a ride with flying animal hair and allergies, and showing us the precious gifts he's given us among friends. Our wits were tested hour after hour as we rode down a highway for 7 days straight. It was certainly a learning experience, people-person characteristics needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm finally at the house that God has blessed my family with here in BC. It's less spacious which will hopefully teach us how to be patient with each other and not be so attached to our worldly belongings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh. We're about halfway unpacked into our house. Emotions are whirling and everyone is exhausted. I'm sick, as always. But...miss stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I probably miss familiarity more than anything else. I miss being able to call people up to hang out. I miss being able to fall into a hug. I miss the smell of the water and the comfort of my own bed. I miss our church and the sweet voices of the people there. I think most of all I miss smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I really don't want to talk about it. It took a lot of long blank staring to get this much information about what's going on, written down on the computer. I'm sure more will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8526216467007345228?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8526216467007345228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8526216467007345228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8526216467007345228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8526216467007345228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/picking-up-your-bags-and-heading-west.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7624971261739146483</id><published>2009-07-10T15:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T15:34:47.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's all good</title><content type='html'>Actually....it's all good.&lt;br /&gt;Weird eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well..not ALL good.&lt;br /&gt;But I haven't any time to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Sherlock.&lt;br /&gt;And I promise I'll describe in detail. Maybe  whole page rant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7624971261739146483?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7624971261739146483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7624971261739146483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7624971261739146483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7624971261739146483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-all-good.html' title='It&apos;s all good'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7020929380359898896</id><published>2009-06-29T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T07:01:03.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God, I think everything will be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7020929380359898896?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7020929380359898896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7020929380359898896&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7020929380359898896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7020929380359898896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/god-i-think-everything-will-be-okay.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6352808517080186228</id><published>2009-06-27T12:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T12:17:45.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i'm running and i know it. i'm fine with running for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6352808517080186228?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6352808517080186228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6352808517080186228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6352808517080186228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6352808517080186228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-running-and-i-know-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1590583384943782642</id><published>2009-06-25T08:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T08:21:33.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God. I am trusting in your quiet, peaceful, reassurance that everything will be....more than okay. That everything will be excellent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1590583384943782642?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1590583384943782642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1590583384943782642&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1590583384943782642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1590583384943782642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/god.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2905310466072563850</id><published>2009-06-21T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T20:43:27.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am feeling so torn between you three. I love you all so much and I don't want to choose. Sometimes I don't call or talk to anyone because I'm afraid that I'll offend one of you. I'm all alone and I can't deal with it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I love you Sherlock, WWI and WWII but...I don't know what to do. I don't want to fight between you guys anymore, and I don't want to leave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2905310466072563850?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2905310466072563850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2905310466072563850&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2905310466072563850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2905310466072563850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-am-feeling-so-torn-between-you-three.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-315550654148297718</id><published>2009-06-21T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T12:04:17.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clothe me in humility...</title><content type='html'>"What makes you think I'll be able to make friends? What makes you think I'll even be able to breathe out there?..."&lt;br /&gt;The wind whispered around the trees, the sun cascading a brilliant sea of colors around every sort of shadow dancing in the door frames. A lawn mower broke through concentration and the constant screams of children bring her in and out of her debated self brooding of misery. She speaks, a soft voice breaking through the brash arrangement of furniture and silence,&lt;br /&gt;"What makes you assume that I can make it through these next few days, these next few hours? God, are you even listening?"&lt;br /&gt;She's pacing back and forth on the wooden floors. The groan and creaks of each step make her more anxious, more afraid of the words that are to come, or the silence. She's drawing pictures of stick figure masterpieces on the walls, listening to the clock tick, tock, tick, tock...waiting. Just waiting. And this waiting is making her mad with anticipation. Bringing her to a breaking discovery that she is going to have to surrender in humility.&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't you just speak to me? Lord, I just want a word of affirmation. I'm so afraid. How will I know if this move is what I'm suppose to do. It's so far away, so firm and ending once I get there. I feel like it's a place I cannot leave, I won't be coming back...Everyone is telling me that it will be beautiful and a fresh start, that I will fall in love with the scenery and the people, but why would I want to leave? What reason to I have to go except your gentle push, the persuasive voice coming from my family. I know you've heard me mutter under my breath how I feel, but Dad, I hate this. I really do...Do you care?..."&lt;br /&gt;She fights change. She fights the movement of difference, and yet, what is she to do when God calls her to a different place.&lt;br /&gt;No one believes it's the right decision. Her friends are all pleading with her to stay but God has aligned each and every step she is to go, with on foot in front of the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Clothe me in humility, remind me that I come before a King. He is seated on a throne of gold, dressed in white. Clothe me in humility, so I won't have to face my Father. The eyes of one who knows, but isn't disappointed. Clothe me in humility...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-315550654148297718?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/315550654148297718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=315550654148297718&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/315550654148297718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/315550654148297718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/clothe-me-in-humility.html' title='Clothe me in humility...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7708477502609995884</id><published>2009-06-20T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T21:44:12.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>no. i'm not okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7708477502609995884?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7708477502609995884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7708477502609995884&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7708477502609995884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7708477502609995884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/no.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5692438558104634620</id><published>2009-06-16T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T16:25:28.508-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace</title><content type='html'>Peace is the reassurance of knowing that God has a plan, that you are in it, and that you know you can wait for him to show you your future with patience: no anxiousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace is knowing that he knows and hurts for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and knowing that what you're doing is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace is knowing that he is just when the world is not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5692438558104634620?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5692438558104634620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5692438558104634620&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5692438558104634620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5692438558104634620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/peace.html' title='Peace'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4152552190835770091</id><published>2009-06-13T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T08:46:14.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't deal.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SjPJuhvQwpI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pp2y8KR5WYQ/s1600-h/tessa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SjPJuhvQwpI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pp2y8KR5WYQ/s320/tessa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346838983786676882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't deal with this...anymore. I can't deal with the fact that I don't have you to hug. I can't see you in the middle of the week, with the face that I want to. You are able to resist my smile and my hugs. I can't deal with the fact that when I move there will be no more chances. I can't deal with the fact that It'll be over once I move, for good. You won't look my way ever again and I can't deal with that. You have the ability to smile on a bad day and fake your sincerity but I know that it isn't true. I miss you. I miss your laughter and your smile. This is the plea of a friend who's walked for miles just to see your smile again, just to feel the peace in your arms, just to hear your comforting words again. This is the cry of a child, wanting to become more to her brother than he has ever wanted, wanting to be more than just the little one. This is the scream of a daughter, wishing that I was more than just a pawn, wishing that I had more talent, more smiles to make you proud. This is the wish of a broken heart. I can't deal with this anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I want to be loved, and have love but not just that romantic kind either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to love you my friend, my parents, my family. I want to be here...but how can I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4152552190835770091?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4152552190835770091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4152552190835770091&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4152552190835770091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4152552190835770091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-cant-deal.html' title='I can&apos;t deal.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SjPJuhvQwpI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pp2y8KR5WYQ/s72-c/tessa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7623855575840959131</id><published>2009-06-12T12:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T15:52:13.765-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;C.S. Lewis&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7623855575840959131?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7623855575840959131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7623855575840959131&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7623855575840959131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7623855575840959131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/to-love-at-all-is-to-be-vulnerable.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5586917946455794151</id><published>2009-06-11T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T20:30:01.524-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm afraid.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid that when I'm up in the late night that I won't be able to call anyone.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afriad that I'll be sitting alone every day, putting on a face of charade.&lt;br /&gt;This panic plantaid that keeps me breathing in smiles of faith,&lt;br /&gt;I can't create anything more than these unblemished words.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid that I won't have anywhere to call home and that tomorrow will be a yester-year away.&lt;br /&gt;This breathe is not my own, neither are these steps.&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to resist the constant stream of tears, but sadly enough, being screened out by fears.&lt;br /&gt;Each day defines my steps,&lt;br /&gt;Each smile defines-these 17 days-each blink of an eye-these nights.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I will be all alone.&lt;br /&gt;A few studdering moments, and this day shall be yours.&lt;br /&gt;Lord I'm giving you my heart, my soul and everything in.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of leaving everything I've ever known.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid of being lost.&lt;br /&gt;But most of all I think I seem to fear the broken.&lt;br /&gt;I fear being broken...being unalarmed, being unalive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5586917946455794151?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5586917946455794151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5586917946455794151&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5586917946455794151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5586917946455794151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-afraid.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5084815560974776147</id><published>2009-06-11T15:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T15:04:07.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sherlock</title><content type='html'>Sherlock,&lt;br /&gt;This is your superior, Watson, speaking. We need to set some ground rules here. In no time are you allowed to call yourself fat or I will have to poke your ovaries with a needle. We need a plan, quick time. And Sherlock, stop trying to solve the case of life. It'll never work. The big guy upstairs works in mysterious ways, and...man, is he a mystery we might never be able to concur. But Sherlock...I think we need to start earning some money for that vacation of ours to Boston Collage. Let's write out the plan.&lt;br /&gt;Over and Out.&lt;br /&gt;-Watson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5084815560974776147?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5084815560974776147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5084815560974776147&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5084815560974776147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5084815560974776147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/sherlock.html' title='Sherlock'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8813137066877348988</id><published>2009-06-07T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T17:23:21.291-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:)</title><content type='html'>"Tell me, hug me and wisper in my ear&lt;br /&gt;grab my hand.&lt;br /&gt;Touch my shoulder, look into my eyes&lt;br /&gt;anything."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was said to me and it is honastly the funnest thing I've ever heard. Don't think about it in the context that you would normally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8813137066877348988?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8813137066877348988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8813137066877348988&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8813137066877348988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8813137066877348988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title=':)'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4059300365424200948</id><published>2009-06-07T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T13:06:25.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm so sick of love songs and so tired of tears.&lt;br /&gt;So done with wishing you were still here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick of hearing everything about couples.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of others cuddling on couches  while I sit off to the side.&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of pretending it doesn't bother me that my whole family and every one of my friends have "guy" stories or are dating someone.&lt;br /&gt;I have no reason to be sick of this...but I am.&lt;br /&gt;God will provide for every one of my needs,&lt;br /&gt;I know this.&lt;br /&gt;I know he's going to fill the void of not having someone there while everyone I know does...&lt;br /&gt;But while they are with the people they love, who do I have on this earth?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4059300365424200948?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4059300365424200948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4059300365424200948&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4059300365424200948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4059300365424200948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-so-sick-of-love-songs-and-so-tired.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5038334589373209909</id><published>2009-06-06T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-06T19:05:57.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Past my Norm.</title><content type='html'>"So stand in the rain,&lt;br /&gt;Stand your ground.&lt;br /&gt;Stand up when it's all crashing down.&lt;br /&gt;If you stand through the pain,&lt;br /&gt;You won't drown&lt;br /&gt;And one day whats lost can be found.&lt;br /&gt;You stand in the rain"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went past my norm. Past my shield of concience safety. Past my protective helmet...and into the open of fear. I've always been told it feels good to do what you love, So why does this suck so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sang at a coffee shop tonight-My dream. I sang and a played guitar...and I did my best. I shook with fear, I stumbled with shadows of doubt, and I played on. I played with my heart on my sleeve, and the ability for everyone to percieve who I am. I played for my Dad, and I played for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But...I feel so insignificant. She played after me and it was as though I couldn't compare. She's going back and it's as if I don't dare play again. I'm afraid that once again I will go below the level of "goodness" that I should be at...And my God, he gave me this talent but I can't seem to begin to achieve what I should. I played for him and I feel so...small, useless, unworthy, second-best, miserable about the whole experience because I know that she did better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went past my norm. I sang by myself, and if it's something to feel proud about, why do I feel so sad?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5038334589373209909?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5038334589373209909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5038334589373209909&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5038334589373209909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5038334589373209909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/past-my-norm.html' title='Past my Norm.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1390524267249413758</id><published>2009-06-05T13:18:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T13:18:41.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is good day, day. Which means...If you don't feel like it's been a good day, make it one. So there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1390524267249413758?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1390524267249413758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1390524267249413758&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1390524267249413758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1390524267249413758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/today-is-good-day-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4672541986785487310</id><published>2009-06-02T19:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T19:24:22.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href ="http://www.jesusbranded.com/audacity"&gt;&lt;img alt="JesusBranded" src="http://www.jesusbranded.com/images/090602Audacity-244.jpg" border="0" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copyright 2009 &lt;a href="http://www.jesusbranded.com"&gt; JesusBranded&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be free from the things that are keeping you captive. Be freed from your fears, and your guilt.&lt;br /&gt;Be free.&lt;br /&gt;Freedom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4672541986785487310?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4672541986785487310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4672541986785487310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4672541986785487310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4672541986785487310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/06/freedom.html' title='Freedom'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6767596765468165042</id><published>2009-05-30T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T21:04:55.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daddy</title><content type='html'>Thank-you. Thank-you. Thank-you.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for showing me that after an insanely long phone call, I can praise you about nothing particular.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for allowing me to bring a little bit of love to a breaking heart.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for helping me to not care if anyone else cares about what I just did.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for continually allowing me to see that there is no shame in being afraid.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for bringing me peace when I didn't think it was possible.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for giving me time to talk with you while I was at work, even less alone then I should have been.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for sending the rain to me, to the flowers, to the trees, and to every other hurting person who wanted the world to reflect their tears.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for helping me to empathize and not sound like a hypocrite.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for loving me uncondishionally.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for sharing your sons with me.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for Will and Ame and Matt.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for this beautiful day.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for cameras that can capture a moment in time.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for the hope of tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for reassuring me that tomorrow will bring new sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But please...&lt;br /&gt;Please help him to see that you love him.&lt;br /&gt;Please help her to trust in you and show you how she feels.&lt;br /&gt;Please help him to understand pain he puts himself through.&lt;br /&gt;Please help her to stop hiding from your love.&lt;br /&gt;Please help her to rely on you.&lt;br /&gt;Please help him to see your love in a broken family, in a broken world.&lt;br /&gt;Please help this generation to stay strong.&lt;br /&gt;Please come and show us a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;Please speak into our lives, every second of every day.&lt;br /&gt;We want you to be real to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please bring me to a place where I can cry in your presence.&lt;br /&gt;Please bring me to my knees in worship.&lt;br /&gt;Please help me to be honast, and trust that you have the world in your hands.&lt;br /&gt;Please help me to hug with feeling, and love.&lt;br /&gt;Please help me to share with my heart on the line.&lt;br /&gt;Please speak to me with a miracle at hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you...and Please&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6767596765468165042?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6767596765468165042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6767596765468165042&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6767596765468165042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6767596765468165042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/daddy.html' title='Daddy'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3483380906020825039</id><published>2009-05-29T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T20:28:01.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something to affirm,&lt;br /&gt;This broken heart that's been so torn.&lt;br /&gt;Somehow to relate,&lt;br /&gt;This break of faith I can't escape.&lt;br /&gt;Missed that person to bring the bonds,&lt;br /&gt;Of holding hands-more than a touch.&lt;br /&gt;A brush,&lt;br /&gt;A blink.&lt;br /&gt;A singing song, a tear, a wink.&lt;br /&gt;I want to scream,&lt;br /&gt;Frustration blooms within these lips&lt;br /&gt;And I can scarsly see past your looming words.&lt;br /&gt;Get away from me,&lt;br /&gt;stop making me feel as though I've got no where to run.&lt;br /&gt;You're in my heart so you've spoiled my fun.&lt;br /&gt;I love you,&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but wonder how much of this is true.&lt;br /&gt;I've been searching for someone,&lt;br /&gt;Just never though it would be you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3483380906020825039?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3483380906020825039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3483380906020825039&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3483380906020825039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3483380906020825039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/something-to-affirm-this-broken-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4692378576376472104</id><published>2009-05-28T19:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T19:52:36.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My questions</title><content type='html'>Why do you not let me comfort you? Why are you allowed to get angry at me for turning away from you, when I am not allowed to frusterated with you? Why is it always me that you won't look at? Why do I have to be the one you won't let see your pain? Why am I the one who must work the hardest to figure out what is wrong with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it my fault for keeping my secrets from you, when you turn your face away from me in the midst of your shame? Why is it I who always feels left out? Why are you allowed to comfort me, and a couple seconds later you will not look at me, speak to me, let me touch you, let me talk to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is that fair? What do you think you're doing? How do you think it makes me feel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become completely helpless to this childish game that you play. Why am I always the one who feels hurt in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't me who has turned away, it's you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4692378576376472104?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4692378576376472104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4692378576376472104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4692378576376472104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4692378576376472104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-questions.html' title='My questions'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4457676139368010652</id><published>2009-05-26T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T13:38:56.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Self</title><content type='html'>You seem to constantly forget that you are wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;You forget that you were made for a purpose, and you forget to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;You regret the things that you've done and you let them stunt you in the future.&lt;br /&gt;You can't keep on living in the past.&lt;br /&gt;You hardly ever let people come near your heart, and when you do it's for a short time because you're afraid. You smile when you aren't happy and you laugh when you'd rather cry.&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;You've put up a wall around yourself to keep people out. You've convinced yourself that what you do and say is right even though it ends up hurting you. You don't believe that you are beautiful, that you are talented, that you are smart. You don't believe that you are worth the love that God has given to you. You don't believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start to see.&lt;br /&gt;Start to understand the concept of love, the beauty of forgiveness. Start to allow people to come close to you. Live like your father would want you to. Love like there will never be a tomorrow. Show people who God has made you to be, and stop being afraid.&lt;br /&gt;You have no reason to be.&lt;br /&gt;See yourself for who you are, see others as they see you.&lt;br /&gt;Refuse to judge, care with your heart on your sleeve, and breathe each day in and out.&lt;br /&gt;Believe in the The Hope.&lt;br /&gt;Dear Self,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4457676139368010652?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4457676139368010652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4457676139368010652&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4457676139368010652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4457676139368010652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/dear-self.html' title='Dear Self'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-573021473459737099</id><published>2009-05-25T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T16:35:15.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I miss you Lord,&lt;br /&gt;I miss your hand on my shoulder, Dad.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;I know your love isn't a feeling,&lt;br /&gt;but I miss when my mind was reeling with thoughts of you.&lt;br /&gt;Father, I miss you love.&lt;br /&gt;I miss knowing that you are there.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-573021473459737099?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/573021473459737099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=573021473459737099&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/573021473459737099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/573021473459737099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-miss-you-lord-i-miss-your-hand-on-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7510097603787998819</id><published>2009-05-21T20:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T20:41:53.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hating this.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7510097603787998819?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7510097603787998819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7510097603787998819&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7510097603787998819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7510097603787998819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/hating-this.html' title='Hating this.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8471686723341487586</id><published>2009-05-15T18:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T18:54:19.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't be fooled</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Don't be fooled by me.&lt;br /&gt;Don't be fooled by the mask I wear.&lt;br /&gt;For I wear a mask,&lt;br /&gt;a thousand masks,&lt;br /&gt;masks that I'm afraid to take off,&lt;br /&gt;and none of them is me.&lt;br /&gt;Pretending is and art that's second nature to me,&lt;br /&gt;but don't be fooled.&lt;br /&gt;For God's sake don't be fooled.&lt;br /&gt;I give you the impression that I'm secure,&lt;br /&gt;that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,&lt;br /&gt;that the water's calm and I'm in command,&lt;br /&gt;and that I need no one.&lt;br /&gt;But don't believe me.&lt;br /&gt;My surface may seem smooth but my surfaces my mask,&lt;br /&gt;ever-varying and ever-concealing.&lt;br /&gt;Beneath lies no complacence.&lt;br /&gt;Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.&lt;br /&gt;But I hide this.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want anybody to know it.&lt;br /&gt;I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.&lt;br /&gt;That's why I frantically try to create a mask to hide behind&lt;br /&gt;,a nonchalant sophisticated facade,&lt;br /&gt;to help me pretend,&lt;br /&gt;to shield me from the glance that knows.&lt;br /&gt;But such a glance is precisely my salvation.&lt;br /&gt;My only hope, and I know it.&lt;br /&gt;That is, if it's followed by acceptance,&lt;br /&gt;if it's followed by love.&lt;br /&gt;It's the only thing that can liberate me from my self,&lt;br /&gt;from my own self-built prison walls,&lt;br /&gt;from the barriers I so painstaking erect.&lt;br /&gt;It's the only think that will assure me of what I can't assure myself&lt;br /&gt;that I'm really worth something.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to hide.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to play superficial phony games.&lt;br /&gt;I want to stop playing them.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,&lt;br /&gt;but you've got to help me.&lt;br /&gt;You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last think I seem to want.&lt;br /&gt;Only you can wipe away from my eyes the bland stare of the breathing dead.&lt;br /&gt;Only you can call me into aliveness.&lt;br /&gt;Each time your kind gentle and encouraging each time you try to understand because you really care,&lt;br /&gt;my heart begins to grow wings,&lt;br /&gt;very small wings,very feeble wings,but wings!&lt;br /&gt;With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me.&lt;br /&gt;I want you to know that.&lt;br /&gt;Who am I, you may wonder&lt;br /&gt;I and someone you know very well.&lt;br /&gt;For I am every man you meet,and I am every women you meet&lt;br /&gt;Don't be fooled &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8471686723341487586?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8471686723341487586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8471686723341487586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8471686723341487586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8471686723341487586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/dont-be-fooled.html' title='Don&apos;t be fooled'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1732704440878192134</id><published>2009-05-13T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T19:33:11.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loosing it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SguCk6t4lSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/hwGE6N5Idcg/s1600-h/black+and+white.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335501754299094306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 315px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SguCk6t4lSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/hwGE6N5Idcg/s320/black+and+white.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The scariest thought of today is that I'm loosing it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm slowly letting go of the motivation I had to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've let go of everything I once cared about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do nothing, I say nothing about what is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm slowly letting go and I have nothing to say about it because I've just come to the realization&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that breaking free of the hold society had on me has brought me to a state of complete and utter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blindness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't see what is right in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't feel the touch of a finger on my skin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tears I'm longing to cry won't even emerge from my throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost it somewhere on this road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting for the thunder to give me a jolt of feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the sun to shine a brillant display of colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to feel his love again: to sense the sweet caring of my Lord's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be able to feel for other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care that I'm offshore and swimming farther away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I'm afraid that I'm loosing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is bittersweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/01/alone.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1732704440878192134?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1732704440878192134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1732704440878192134&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1732704440878192134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1732704440878192134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/loosing-it.html' title='Loosing it.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SguCk6t4lSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/hwGE6N5Idcg/s72-c/black+and+white.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5704170037748165911</id><published>2009-05-12T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T16:17:56.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Avril Lavigne-I will be</title><content type='html'>Nothing I could ever do to make you see&lt;br /&gt;What you mean to me&lt;br /&gt;All the pain the tears they cry&lt;br /&gt;Still you never said goodbye&lt;br /&gt;and now I know how far you’d go&lt;br /&gt;I know I let you down but its not like that now&lt;br /&gt;This time I’ll never let you go&lt;br /&gt;I will be all that you want and get my self together&lt;br /&gt;Cause you keep me from falling apart&lt;br /&gt;All my life I’ll be with you forever&lt;br /&gt;To get you through the day and make every thing ok&lt;br /&gt;I thought that I had everything&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t know what life could bring&lt;br /&gt;But now I see honestly&lt;br /&gt;You're the one thing I got right&lt;br /&gt;The only one I let inside&lt;br /&gt;Now I can breath cause you're here with me&lt;br /&gt;And if I let you down I’ll turn it all around&lt;br /&gt;Cause I would never let you go&lt;br /&gt;I will be all that you want and get my self together&lt;br /&gt;Cause you keep me from falling apart&lt;br /&gt;All my life I’ll be with you forever&lt;br /&gt;To get you through the day and make every thing ok&lt;br /&gt;Cause with out you I can’t sleep&lt;br /&gt;I’m not gonna ever ever let you leave&lt;br /&gt;You’re all I got&lt;br /&gt;You’re all I want&lt;br /&gt;Yeah&lt;br /&gt;And with out you&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know what I’ll do&lt;br /&gt;I could never ever live a day with out you&lt;br /&gt;Here with me do you see you're all I need&lt;br /&gt;And I will be all that you want and get my self together&lt;br /&gt;Cause you keep me from falling apart&lt;br /&gt;All my life (my life) I will be with you forever&lt;br /&gt;To get you through the day and make every thing okay&lt;br /&gt;I will be (I’ll be) all that you want and get my self together&lt;br /&gt;Cause you keep me from falling apart&lt;br /&gt;And all my life you know&lt;br /&gt;I will be with you forever&lt;br /&gt;To get you through the day and make every thing okay&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5704170037748165911?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5704170037748165911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5704170037748165911&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5704170037748165911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5704170037748165911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/avril-lavigne-i-will-be.html' title='Avril Lavigne-I will be'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4952291584932682156</id><published>2009-05-11T20:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T20:19:05.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mornings.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000000;"&gt;The wind whistles through the trees&lt;br /&gt;The sunrise sings in the quiet breeze.&lt;br /&gt;A gorgeous day has just begun,&lt;br /&gt;And I am running with the burning sun.&lt;br /&gt;My eyes adjust to streaks of light,&lt;br /&gt;As housetops gleam, my mind is bright.&lt;br /&gt;The Lord has brought a brand new day,&lt;br /&gt;For me to pray my sins away.&lt;br /&gt;Each day is perfect before the fall,&lt;br /&gt;When man wakes up and selfishness calls.&lt;br /&gt;I struggle with this every day,&lt;br /&gt;As the light cries in my cover's frays.&lt;br /&gt;Each blink I give my life away,&lt;br /&gt;To my great God, "Mold me, like clay."&lt;br /&gt;When each new sunrise makes days longer,&lt;br /&gt;The sunset shapes me into one much stronger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgjqGC_vLTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uL0yHaWQlqk/s1600-h/sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334771148224671026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgjqGC_vLTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uL0yHaWQlqk/s320/sunrise.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4952291584932682156?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4952291584932682156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4952291584932682156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4952291584932682156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4952291584932682156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-mornings.html' title='My Mornings.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgjqGC_vLTI/AAAAAAAAAEw/uL0yHaWQlqk/s72-c/sunrise.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2753135593256108474</id><published>2009-05-10T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T14:36:03.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I may still like you, but I'm over you.&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that you don't have any affect on me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;So there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2753135593256108474?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2753135593256108474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2753135593256108474&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2753135593256108474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2753135593256108474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-may-still-like-you-but-im-over-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1710604436875344420</id><published>2009-05-09T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T18:40:23.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Correction</title><content type='html'>Why do I do this to me?&lt;br /&gt;Why do I make it so easy for someone to talk&lt;br /&gt;and walk all over my heart.&lt;br /&gt;I open myself up to all of these fears,&lt;br /&gt;years that I hid are beginning to fade.&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I go and blame you.&lt;br /&gt;The blame is half mine.&lt;br /&gt;Would you please just give me a sign that shows you forgive me?&lt;br /&gt;I know you don't care for me the way I care for you,&lt;br /&gt;but can you forgive me for not watching what I do.&lt;br /&gt;I was stupid and I was blind,&lt;br /&gt;Please forgive me for trying to get the love I couldn't find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry about the things I've said,&lt;br /&gt;The lies I keep from you.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so covered up in these masks I've made,&lt;br /&gt;That I've run from every truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started feeling clearer,&lt;br /&gt;like everything had changed.&lt;br /&gt;But my fears came back, drown me out again,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm stealing away your ability to hear the truth.&lt;br /&gt;I've stolen your ability to have a normal friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I do this to me?&lt;br /&gt;Why do I fall so hard for the people who will leave?&lt;br /&gt;I can't possibly percieve how it feels,&lt;br /&gt;to have your heart really broken in two,&lt;br /&gt;cause this feeling I'm feeling is normal.&lt;br /&gt;This feeling is anything but new.&lt;br /&gt;I'm used to the lies and the fear in my face,&lt;br /&gt;but I'm not used to hurting you in this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't mean to hurt her,&lt;br /&gt;And you didn't mean, to seem, to cheat.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you do love her,&lt;br /&gt;More than you ever loved me.&lt;br /&gt;Please ask for her forgiveness,&lt;br /&gt;on my behalf.&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling so much guilt inside&lt;br /&gt;and I know it's no excuse&lt;br /&gt;But normally I don't let people in enough,&lt;br /&gt;to hurt me with their youth.&lt;br /&gt;Please tell her that I'm sorry,&lt;br /&gt;I never meant to interfere.&lt;br /&gt;Please know that she is very blessed,&lt;br /&gt;To have you be so near.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tempted just to step away,&lt;br /&gt;I'm causing so much fear.&lt;br /&gt;It would be easier for her to see,&lt;br /&gt;how much you care, without me here.&lt;br /&gt;My correction is to blame myself,&lt;br /&gt;for letting too much in,&lt;br /&gt;To ever let my heart back out,&lt;br /&gt;of the mess it finds within.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1710604436875344420?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1710604436875344420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1710604436875344420&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1710604436875344420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1710604436875344420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/correction.html' title='Correction'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3887066580974123606</id><published>2009-05-09T16:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T16:28:20.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgYRfikT1xI/AAAAAAAAAEo/is7nEjXUbvY/s1600-h/flower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgYRfikT1xI/AAAAAAAAAEo/is7nEjXUbvY/s320/flower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333970042219648786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             Why Do You Do This To Me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3887066580974123606?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3887066580974123606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3887066580974123606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3887066580974123606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3887066580974123606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/why-do-you-do-this-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SgYRfikT1xI/AAAAAAAAAEo/is7nEjXUbvY/s72-c/flower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7969743282830250831</id><published>2009-05-03T21:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T14:07:09.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of those nights...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9Y3w2uhfI/AAAAAAAAAEg/pkB2csFKAbc/s1600-h/Will3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 255px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9Y3w2uhfI/AAAAAAAAAEg/pkB2csFKAbc/s320/Will3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332078198860449266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of those nights when I am sitting up late wondering what went wrong. &lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering what I did, what I could have possibly said that made you go.&lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering how she has captured your heart, when I could not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure why these nights come. I'm not sure why my heart aches in loneliness when I can scarcely see because it's so late. It's 12:04, a start of a new day, and for some reason I cannot bring myself to start this day the way I should: On my knees in front of a Lord who loves me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hurting, I'm numb, I'm physically aching and yet I cannot bring myself to come into the presence of someone who will never leave me, nor forsake me. I've escaped dealing with this for too long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did he leave?&lt;br /&gt;Why did he walk away when I really did need him the most?&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that no matter what, each memory we've shared gets jaded by my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to forget but I cannot stop myself from making these forget-me-nots go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9YhJWHJzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/g3U6PHHFKcU/s1600-h/Will1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 265px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9YhJWHJzI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/g3U6PHHFKcU/s320/Will1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332077810297546546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Why? Why do you insist on talking about her? Do you ever think about how I feel, how it feels to have the reminder of this broken relationship in every conversation we have? Do you know what you mean to me? Do you know that the thing I fear the most is happening: you are slowly fading away. When I move I will be only a small reminder of a girl you once knew...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all should probably mean that you should not be seen in my life as more than a good memory, more than a boy that I once loved. But I've given you more than that. There was a time that I gave you not only my heart, but my intelligence, my insecurities, my passions, me...on the line...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always me on the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9YucP2jjI/AAAAAAAAAEY/_kcDjw_uU9k/s1600-h/Will2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9YucP2jjI/AAAAAAAAAEY/_kcDjw_uU9k/s320/Will2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332078038709866034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if you see what you put me through or choose to close your eyes to this. I'm not sure if you are blind when it comes to me. I have brought myself to this senseless worry of goodbyes. I keep on questioning what I'll do when you slowly fade away from my life when I'm gone but you are already moving into the distance, you're already becoming a figment of my past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually when I love this deep, when I feel this unfathomable feeling of desperate oneness, I cry out to my father in heaven with a plea of mercy. I pray that if there is nothing left to do, would he please hear this cry of mind. Would he please make it so that I finally get over this young man who I allowed into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't do it this time. The one time that I let my emotions get the best of me, the child in me ceased to exist, I gave up any hope of a lasting relationship. I cannot let that happen again. I was pulled out of the shame I was feeling, the profound feeling of 'not being good enough' that had convinced me I would never be enough. He made me feel as though I was good enough, he gave me a hope that God still thought I was good enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid that if I take the memory of him away I will disappear in such strong insecurity that I'll break everyone in my path. I loved him. What happened? What went so wrong that he left? What was the point of this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I know. I know that in my heart I know it was a building of me, a preparation to something better...but I don't want him to go. I don't want to loose what I thought would be perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been so many dreams brought into this past, I can hardly remember where they came from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf5vfdQ3MOI/AAAAAAAAAD4/UBbQXYIKmII/s1600-h/Will1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf5vfdQ3MOI/AAAAAAAAAD4/UBbQXYIKmII/s320/Will1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331821595075227874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7969743282830250831?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7969743282830250831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7969743282830250831&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7969743282830250831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7969743282830250831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/one-of-those-nights.html' title='One of those nights...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sf9Y3w2uhfI/AAAAAAAAAEg/pkB2csFKAbc/s72-c/Will3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3901174041119881792</id><published>2009-05-03T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T14:20:58.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What we need...</title><content type='html'>Listen to me-sit there and allow me to talk. No anecdotes or profound answers are necessary. I don't want answers. I just want you to be okay with my questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last with me-I long for someone to be there in those hours when I'm afraid to call anyone else. Be available to see me through the long haul. Show me that you will not abandon me like so many have. Model a friend that does not desert me or run away when things get hard. As the years go by, show me that you are not only someone I can look up to, but that you are also someone I can walk beside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love on me-Show me a love that keeps on loving even when I make mistakes or embarrass you. Show me that you can dream for me when I have no belief in my own capability. Show me that you believe in me when the world is telling me that I have failed. Be someone I can respect and look up to. Give me tangible evidence of unconditional love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn from me-Sit with me and learn from my life lessons. Hear what I have to say before you tell me all the things you know. It's freeing to encounter a woman who is humble enough to push her years and knowledge aside in order to hear mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live with me-I love to live abundantly and fully as possible but I don't want to do it alone. Show me your faith lived out. I'd rather see a sermon than hear one. I'd rather you walk with me and watch you point the way. I want to see you live a radical life, one that is extreme and irrational at times. I want to see who you are when no one is looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Caye Siller)-and other ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we all need to see the friend behind the mask of a frightened person in times of trouble. We all need someone to lean on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3901174041119881792?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3901174041119881792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3901174041119881792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3901174041119881792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3901174041119881792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-we-need.html' title='What we need...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6155789717149183128</id><published>2009-04-30T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T22:12:25.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writers-I love this guy.</title><content type='html'>"Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more." &lt;br /&gt;— Donald Miller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"ALONE &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my new housemates, Stacy, wants to write a story about an astronaut. In his story the astronaut is wearing a suit that keeps him alive by recycling his fluids. In the story the astronaut is working on a space station when an accident takes place, and he is cast into space to orbit the earth, to spend the rest of his life circling the globe. Stacy says this story is how he imagines hell, a place where a person is completely alone, without others and without God. After Stacy told me about his story, I kept seeing it in my mind. I thought about it before I went to sleep at night. I imagined myself looking out my little bubble helmet at blue earth, reaching toward it, closing it between my puffy white space-suit fingers, wondering if my friends were still there. In my imagination I would call to them, yell for them, but the sound would only come back loud within my helmet. Through the years my hair would grow long in my helmet and gather around my forehead and fall across my eyes. Because of my helmet I would not be able to touch my face with my hands to move my hair out of my eyes, so my view of earth, slowly, over the first two years, would dim to only a thin light through a curtain of thatch and beard. &lt;br /&gt;I would lay there in bed thinking about Stacy's story, putting myself out there in the black. And there came a time, in space, when I could not tell whether I was awake or asleep. All my thoughts mingled together because I had no people to remind me what was real and what was not real. I would punch myself in the side to feel pain, and this way I could be relatively sure I was not dreaming. Within ten years I was beginning to breathe heavy through my hair and my beard as they were pressing tough against my face and had begun to curl into my mouth and up my nose. In space, I forgot that I was human. I did not know whether I was a ghost or an apparition or a demon thing. &lt;br /&gt;After I thought about Stacy's story, I lay there in bed and wanted to be touched, wanted to be talked to. I had the terrifying thought that something like that might happen to me. I thought it was just a terrible story, a painful and ugly story. Stacy had delivered as accurate a description of a hell as could be calculated. And what is sad, what is very sad, is that we are proud people, and because we have sensitive egos and so many of us live our lives in front of our televisions, not having to deal with real people who might hurt us or offend us, we float along on our couches like astronauts moving aimlessly through the Milky Way, hardly interacting with other human beings at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue Like Jazz, 171" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;— Donald Miller &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I once listened to an Indian on television say that God was in the wind and the water, and I wondered at how beautiful that was because it meant you could swim in Him or have Him brush your face in a breeze." &lt;br /&gt;— Donald Miller &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things. ~ Donald Miller&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6155789717149183128?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6155789717149183128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6155789717149183128&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6155789717149183128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6155789717149183128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/writers-i-love-this-guy.html' title='Writers-I love this guy.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3904340648383807047</id><published>2009-04-29T17:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T18:17:20.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ame...</title><content type='html'>If ever there is a tomorrow when we are not together...there is something you should always remember. You are BRAVER than you believe, STRONGER than you seem, &amp; STRONGER than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I will always be in your HEART.&lt;br /&gt;-Winnie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just came to my new house. All I can think about is... &lt;br /&gt;-how you would love the overhang in my room&lt;br /&gt;-how we would have WAY too much fun playing in the forest &lt;br /&gt;-how everyone from Nathan's collage would think we were the craziest people ever&lt;br /&gt;-how we would laugh for about 2 hours about the name of where i live: "junglepot"&lt;br /&gt;-that every thrift store i see, i think of how amazing it would be to go there with no one else but you&lt;br /&gt;...and I'm sitting here writing this, honestly not, knowing what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house I will be living in is beautiful. The land is gorgeous and the horses that'll be here will be amazing. My bedroom is fun and I can be creative with it. It's big, new, and intriguing but more than that, it is the scariest thing that I have seen in so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a hand to hold when I come here. Rachel talks about her wanting Andrew here and I just want my best friend Ame. How does that work? I want to pray with her and read my bible with her. I want to talk about God, and boys, and just hang out. Why haven't we done that in so long?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that no one else would understand my disgust at using a beer labeled napkin as toilet paper. I realized that no matter who, sleeping in a bed with someone will never be as comfortable as it is with you. I'm staring at your facebook profile and I just miss you. I was the first one to fall up the stairs in my new house and only you would have thought it was funny. I ran into the granite counter and got a bruise and I know you would have laughed so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can think about is everything we've done and everything I don't want to loose with us. I miss you so much and I can't do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But..I guess the good thing is, is that it isn't done yet. I still have 2 months at home and we're going to make those 2 months better than you could ever imagine. Then we have the summer, and during the summer we'll get our calling and talking scheduled so when we get busy during school, we'll still talk. We still have time to eat icecream, applesause, and cauliflower. We still have time to cry with Matt during movies. We still have time. We're best friends. I'm not going anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you a whole heck of a lot and I'm not just :) for no reason. (You better know what I mean).&lt;br /&gt;I miss you, and I can't honestly say that there's someone else I'd rather be here with. I'm sorry that you can't be here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3904340648383807047?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3904340648383807047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3904340648383807047&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3904340648383807047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3904340648383807047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/ame_29.html' title='Ame...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4263236672566279173</id><published>2009-04-28T17:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T17:45:57.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2 things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sfei5webBRI/AAAAAAAAADw/ot4yhkgE4Wk/s1600-h/tessa.aspx"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sfei5webBRI/AAAAAAAAADw/ot4yhkgE4Wk/s320/tessa.aspx" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329907797165016338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 2 things that I have began to learn.&lt;br /&gt;1. I am the Lord's beloved. He loves me more than life and I should be committed to my relationship with him. I don't need to be going and looking for love from a guy because 'my guy' is Jesus Christ. He is forever committed to me. I owe him the same, and more.&lt;br /&gt;2. I need to acknowledge everything to him. The good, the bad, the smiles, and the sad. Everything should be given to him with love. Everything should be given to him in worship. I love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4263236672566279173?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4263236672566279173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4263236672566279173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4263236672566279173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4263236672566279173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/2-things.html' title='2 things'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/Sfei5webBRI/AAAAAAAAADw/ot4yhkgE4Wk/s72-c/tessa.aspx' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-9129362511942051954</id><published>2009-04-27T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T20:32:47.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I won't care anymore.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SfZ4zzliijI/AAAAAAAAADo/P9-8VRcR-20/s1600-h/RachelBC+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SfZ4zzliijI/AAAAAAAAADo/P9-8VRcR-20/s320/RachelBC+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329580040455883314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say goodmorning.&lt;br /&gt;You say goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;Bring the tea with that smile,&lt;br /&gt;This is me praying for your every breath.&lt;br /&gt;I need some clarity to see the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;I've been gone too short of a time to understand,&lt;br /&gt;The meaning of missing this.&lt;br /&gt;I honastly believed in you.&lt;br /&gt;but there isn't any reason for disbelief anymore.&lt;br /&gt;One word from your mouth steals my heart,&lt;br /&gt;One smile from your lips and I cannot stiffle my laughter.&lt;br /&gt;How fake were you,&lt;br /&gt;and even now I still belong to your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Even now I would still melt into your arms.&lt;br /&gt;But I've decided that I'm too strong for you.&lt;br /&gt;It's not possible for me not to care,&lt;br /&gt;But I won't hate you.&lt;br /&gt;I've heard your sincere apologies,&lt;br /&gt;And I've heard your voice when you say you miss me.&lt;br /&gt;But, I won't care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I won't tell you that I love... &lt;br /&gt;your hair,&lt;br /&gt;your smile,&lt;br /&gt;your eyes,&lt;br /&gt;your tears,&lt;br /&gt;your cross,&lt;br /&gt;your clothes,&lt;br /&gt;your smell,&lt;br /&gt;your what?&lt;br /&gt;I won't care anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I won't care&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-9129362511942051954?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/9129362511942051954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=9129362511942051954&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9129362511942051954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9129362511942051954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-wont-care-anymore.html' title='I won&apos;t care anymore.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/SfZ4zzliijI/AAAAAAAAADo/P9-8VRcR-20/s72-c/RachelBC+034.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-4028626767932668387</id><published>2009-04-27T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T12:16:16.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Right Nowish</title><content type='html'>Tessa has decided to convince herself that everything, down here, will be perfect, that it'll be a new adventure, that even though I'll miss everyone SO MUCH, maybe I'll be able to make new acquaintances/maybe friends. I'm going to learn how to trust God with my life and awknowledge him as more than just a God, but my best friend cause he deserves that much. That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Ame, your post is the one under this one. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-4028626767932668387?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/4028626767932668387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=4028626767932668387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4028626767932668387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/4028626767932668387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/right-nowish.html' title='Right Nowish'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1325171912357443947</id><published>2009-04-26T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T16:35:47.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ame...if i could make this into a post secret i would. It's for you. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I missed reading post secret with you. It's not as fun without someone to laugh with. I just really miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1325171912357443947?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1325171912357443947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1325171912357443947&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1325171912357443947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1325171912357443947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/ame.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2004852665053685563</id><published>2009-04-21T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T13:26:06.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Christ</title><content type='html'>Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face&lt;br /&gt;The kind you'd find on someone that could save&lt;br /&gt;If they don't put me away&lt;br /&gt;It'll be a miracle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe you're missing out?&lt;br /&gt;That everything good is happening somewhere else&lt;br /&gt;With nobody in your bed&lt;br /&gt;The night is hard to get through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will die all alone&lt;br /&gt;And when I arrive I won't know anyone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus Christ, I'm alone again&lt;br /&gt;So what did you do those three days you were dead?&lt;br /&gt;Because this problem is gonna last&lt;br /&gt;More than the weekend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus Christ I'm not scared to die&lt;br /&gt;But I'm a little bit scared of what comes after&lt;br /&gt;Do I get the gold chariot&lt;br /&gt;Or do I float through the ceiling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or do I divide and pull apart&lt;br /&gt;Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark&lt;br /&gt;This ship went down in sight of land&lt;br /&gt;And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're coming in the night like a thief&lt;br /&gt;But I've had some time, O Lord, to hone my lying technique&lt;br /&gt;I know you think that I'm someone you can trust&lt;br /&gt;But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up&lt;br /&gt;So do you think that we could work out a sign&lt;br /&gt;So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try&lt;br /&gt;I know you're coming for the people like me&lt;br /&gt;But we all got wood and nails&lt;br /&gt;And we turn out hate in factories&lt;br /&gt;We all got wood and nails&lt;br /&gt;And we turn out hate in factories&lt;br /&gt;We all got wood and nails&lt;br /&gt;And we sleep inside of this machine &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jesus Christ" by Jesse Lacey&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2004852665053685563?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2004852665053685563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2004852665053685563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2004852665053685563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2004852665053685563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/jesus-christ.html' title='Jesus Christ'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6652396882218760365</id><published>2009-04-13T19:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T20:59:34.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a new time.</title><content type='html'>So. This is a new blog for a new time. New inspirations. A new start without complaining. That is what this will be. It will not be a chapter of goodbyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm moving, but that is not the end of the world. I may be leaving this town, but I will be under the same sky as everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may be a little lame, and a little late but there is a couple things I want to say about my family. I love them a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom. She is the stronghold. She cries about silly things like people singing and dancing to 'The Sound of Music'. She laughs like a kid sometimes, letting her head fall back. The best thing you can do for her is make her laugh because when you see that, you see her soul. She loves Jesus and is really into have a relationship with him because she truly believes he understands completely. She is beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad. He really relies on me, trusts me, gives me something to live up to. He calls me his wise one when really he is the one that is wise. There's a common misconception that he is all about himself; he really is not. He's kinda short and he dances when he's happy. I really love him. I've cried with him, laughed with him, and talked about intense things with him. He really loves the Lord as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother. Nathan. He really is the big brother. I'm the youngest. He's beat me to be who I am to today, to say it literally. He is intelligent, good looking, popular, and brave. He's shown me what faith really looks like. He's had so many different beliefs and pressures upon him that I admire him for the person he's become. He is amazing, inside and out. He really cares for people, not just their faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister. Becca. What to say...Rebecca is sarcastic, blunt, opinionated, moody, and I love that gorgeous woman with all my heart. She is the kind of big sister you always want to be just like because of her incredible talents and the way she can voice her opinions in a brief second. She cries when she's hurt and doesn't cover what is going on in her life. She has told me I am worth it, given me the confidence I need to make it through. She is what keeps me praying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister. Ray. Oh Rachel. My amazing, climatic, bi-polar sister. Haha. You are my partner in crime, my Yin to Yang, my beautiful, wonderful sister. She has been paired with the amazing Andrew and I am so happy for her. When she smiles you really see her, and when she jabs at you, it really hurts. We were inseparable when young and now I've taken it as my personal quest to protect her. I haven't done a very good job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love them all. Way, way too much. And these are only the few things that make them wonderful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6652396882218760365?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6652396882218760365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6652396882218760365&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6652396882218760365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6652396882218760365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-new-time.html' title='It&apos;s a new time.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-411349919178864951</id><published>2009-04-11T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T15:57:20.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Good Enough</title><content type='html'>These words are not good enough to speak.&lt;br /&gt;These phrases, there's something more to seek.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick and tired of all these sighs,&lt;br /&gt;The running, fighting, and the cries.&lt;br /&gt;The sunrise comes and robins sing.&lt;br /&gt;The hope a brand new day can bring,&lt;br /&gt;Is snuffed out by all the lies and tears,&lt;br /&gt;There's only one future without fears.&lt;br /&gt;Every story has at least two sides,&lt;br /&gt;I'm never good enough, even in strides.&lt;br /&gt;There's too much of me that's way too tired,&lt;br /&gt;I'm giving up all that was desired.&lt;br /&gt;Tell me something I don't know,&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell me who I am or where to go.&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell me I'm not good enough for &lt;br /&gt;even the things that make me a bore.&lt;br /&gt;I'm really sick of being told I'm not good-&lt;br /&gt;enough. I don't want to hear what I should,&lt;br /&gt;Be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-411349919178864951?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/411349919178864951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=411349919178864951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/411349919178864951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/411349919178864951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-good-enough.html' title='Not Good Enough'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-3333477470513612187</id><published>2009-04-11T14:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T14:37:46.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have this funny feeling that I lost my best friends when they started dating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-3333477470513612187?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/3333477470513612187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=3333477470513612187&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3333477470513612187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/3333477470513612187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-have-this-funny-feeling-that-i-lost.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5802502210828490416</id><published>2009-04-09T04:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T05:32:45.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Move.</title><content type='html'>Watching my life change before my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to think, hard to synchronize,&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts and my feelings,&lt;br /&gt;All bundled up. My dealings,&lt;br /&gt;All a lie I've given so that I can see,&lt;br /&gt;Who I am and who I'm suppose to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's this girl I see every once in a while,&lt;br /&gt;She's exhausted, like she's been walking for miles.&lt;br /&gt;She would be looking back at me, eyes so intense,&lt;br /&gt;Like she's stuck in a yard behind a big fence.&lt;br /&gt;She looks like she can't make it through the next day,&lt;br /&gt;But then her face changes, she covers the fray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I look in the mirror the girl I've seen,&lt;br /&gt;Is looking back at me, extremely unkeen.&lt;br /&gt;It's scary to think that I'll do that today,&lt;br /&gt;When it gets far too difficult for my emotions to stay.&lt;br /&gt;I'll put them away like some change in my pocket,&lt;br /&gt;They'll go in a glass jar, and become a dry socket.&lt;br /&gt;I've been told is a barrier that makes me look proud,&lt;br /&gt;Tucking them away, like being wrapped in a shroud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's become a complete reaction to tears,&lt;br /&gt;That I've started to stifle, while meeting deaf ears.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of seeming like such a big fake,&lt;br /&gt;But I don't know how to break these walls that I make.&lt;br /&gt;Each day that goes by, it's like falling in love,&lt;br /&gt;Falling out of it, you need help from above.&lt;br /&gt;I need some directions for these murderous paths,&lt;br /&gt;Cause every one's anger is only suppressed to wraths. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only got a couple more chances,&lt;br /&gt;To make this day better then all of my dances.&lt;br /&gt;A prayer will rise from the ground to above,&lt;br /&gt;And as believing in blessings, they'll fly in like doves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5802502210828490416?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5802502210828490416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5802502210828490416&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5802502210828490416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5802502210828490416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/move.html' title='The Move.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-1852852699607348022</id><published>2009-04-08T18:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T19:01:53.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>School in BC...is going to suck. I will probably be there for 2 extra years. Lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you care to read more, do-under this. If not....please do not feel obligated to. It's just a rant that I will probably regret later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what kind of crappy course selection do they have in BC? They make grade 10's take physical education, they don't have any phycology without social studies, they have only 2 drama classes without plays(different grades), a band class, and a dance class. I CAN'T DANCE, They have "Enriched" English classes instead of Academic or Applied which means that I'll probably be taking a class that is either way too hard or way to easy. Exams are sometimes worth 40 % OF MY MARK = me crying while I fail. Can they do that?They have a bunch of courses about "First Peoples" and I have to take social studies before I can take any grade 11 Law, Social justice, Geography ext. classes. Basically, I am in grade 10 once again. So now instead of moving into grade 12 like I...shouldn't be but would have been, I am redoing grade 10. Joy oh bliss...(Some things don't even have exams or have 'optional' exams...why would you want to take an optional exam?) Everyone must also take math ALL (4 years but actually not four...its 5 because high school there starts at grade 8[my cousin will be in our high school]) throughout high school. It's getting hard to look at the brights side. I will tomorrow when I'm not quite as grumpy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-1852852699607348022?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/1852852699607348022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=1852852699607348022&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1852852699607348022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/1852852699607348022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/school-in-bc.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-9158902482082743176</id><published>2009-04-04T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T14:15:44.999-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toronto</title><content type='html'>During my walk in Toronto yesterday there was not a sound on the streets, just the beat of my own heart. As I looked around me, stunned by the amount of people sitting in the rain on the ground, shaking with the cold and hunger that they have to live with. Many people know these people as homeless but to me they are merely lost souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may be pathetic, but I don't care. I may be too compassionate but don't you dare make fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked past these 'homeless hobo's' tears were two seconds away from streaming down my face. I saw two homeless men: one in a business suit, lying on the ground with an umbrella over half of his body. he was curled up and all I could see was the bottom of his shoes and pant leg, and one sitting in the rain, shaking with a blanket over his dog, who sat beside him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart broke every time I walked past one of these men. I cowered in my mind thinking I couldn't possibly do something for them because I was a young and these were men who could possibly hurt me. I ran away without questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the day I couldn't do it anymore.I couldn't pretend that I was alright with the pain that was going on in those streets, in the minds of those people...and even much the same, in the minds of the people who could walk past them without a worry for their safety, their hearts, or even their souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just sad...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-9158902482082743176?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/9158902482082743176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=9158902482082743176&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9158902482082743176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/9158902482082743176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/04/toronto.html' title='Toronto'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-2884748988755021898</id><published>2009-03-30T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T20:54:49.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Desperately searching for a reason to open my eyes in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;Piecing together the pieces of my broken heart.&lt;br /&gt;Throwing back the covers and feeling the bitter air bite at my legs,&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to live another day in this pathetic existence.&lt;br /&gt;Every piece of my soul screams for a reason for this day,&lt;br /&gt;I bind back every scorching comment of my insincerity and insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of pretending that this morning when I woke up life was better than before.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick listening to my mind as it tells me the legistics of this day.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sick of staying up until my body no longer functions as my brain races with the worries of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;Lord, save me from myself and this place that I am at.&lt;br /&gt;I know that when things get bad to worse it becomes my fault when I steer away from the truth,&lt;br /&gt;But the truth of the matter is that I need you now more than ever.&lt;br /&gt;I ache with every mispoken lie, as tears roll down these cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you as each time I inhale the sweet air my glass heart begins to crunch and shatter against the concrete floors.&lt;br /&gt;I sigh with every missed opportunity, as each day rolls by.&lt;br /&gt;Please don't forsake me in times like these.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-2884748988755021898?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/2884748988755021898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=2884748988755021898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2884748988755021898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/2884748988755021898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/desperately-searching-for-reason-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7732866795292395923</id><published>2009-03-30T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T15:23:43.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex God, by Rob Bell</title><content type='html'>I know there's a lot of quotes from books lately but there's been a lot of good ones. Read this girls and be encouraged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You don't need a man by your side to validate you as a woman. You already are loved and valued. You're god enough exactly as you are. Do you believe this? Because it's true. You have limitless worth and value. If you embrace this truth, it will affect every area of life, especially your relationship with men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are worth dying for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You worth does not come from your body, your mind, your work, what you produce, what you put out, how much money you make. You worth does not come from whether or not you have a man. Your worth does not come from whether or not men notice you. You have inestimable worth that comes from your creator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have to give yourself away to earn a man's love. You're better than that. You're already loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your strength is a beautiful thing. And when you live in it, when you carry yourself with honor and dignity that are yours, it forces men around you to relate to you on more then just a flesh level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are worth dying for."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7732866795292395923?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7732866795292395923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7732866795292395923&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7732866795292395923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7732866795292395923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/sex-god-by-rob-bell.html' title='Sex God, by Rob Bell'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-8037314997516974023</id><published>2009-03-27T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T20:39:40.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About feeling too small.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;There are snowstorms. There are hailstorms. There are rainstorms. And their are doubtstorms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every so often a doubtstorm rolls into my life, bringing with it a flurry of questions and a gale-force winds of fear. And, soon after it comes, a light shines through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the storm comes after the evening news. Some nights I wonder why I watch it. Some nights it's just too much. From the steps of the Supreme Court to the steppes of South Africa, the news is usually gloomy...thirty minutes of bite-sized tragedies. A handsome man in a nice suit with a warm voice gives bad news. They call him the anchorman. Good title. One needs an anchor in today's tempestuous waters...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the storm comes when I'm at work. Story after story of homes that won't heal and hearts that won't melt. Always more hunger than food. More needs than money. More questions than answers. On Sundays I stand before a church with a three-point outline in my hand, thirty minutes on the clock, and a prayer on my lips. I do my best to say something that will convince a stranger that an unseen God still hears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I sometimes wonder why so many hearts have to hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever get doubtstorms? Some of you don't, I know. I've talked to you. Some of you have a "Davidish" optimism that defies any Goliath. I used to think that you were naive at the best and phony at the worst. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think that anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think you are gifted. You are gifted with faith. You can see the rainbow before the clouds part. But others of you wonder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wonder what others know that you don't. You wonder if you are blond or if they are. You wonder why some proclaim "Eureka" before the gold is found. You wonder why some shout "Land ho" before the fog has cleared. You wonder how some people believe so confidently while you believe so reluctantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a result, you are a bit uncomfortable on the padded pew of blind belief. Your Bible her is Thomas. Your middle name is Caution. Your queries are the bane of every Sunday school teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If God is so good, why do I sometimes feel so bad?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If his message is so clear, why do I get so confused?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If the Father is in control, why do good people have gut-wrenching problems?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wonder if it is a blessing or a curse to have a mind that never rests...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tough questions. Throw-in-the-towel questions. Question the disciples must have asked....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is God when his world is stormy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doubtstorms: turbulent days when the enemy is too big, the task too great, the future to bleak, and the answers too few...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When God comes," we doubters think, "all pain will flee. Life will be tranquil. No questions will remain."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And because we look for the bonfire, we miss the candle. Because we listen for the shout, we miss the whisper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it is in burnished candles that God comes, and through whispered promises he speaks: "when you doubt, look around; I am closer than you think."&lt;/blockquote&gt;(From In the Eye of the Storm by Max Lucado)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading my bible and this was in the Life Lesson on the side. It really spoke to me because sometimes I feel as though when: the answers are too few, the days bleak, and the storm too big I need to look harder for God to speak in huge ways too me. Sometimes I miss out on the candle because I'm looking too hard for a great big flame. Remember that you are never too small to make a difference and that life is never too hard. When you feel as though your world is crumbling down and that it is impossible to see God remember that he sees you. That he cries when you feel sadness and laughs at your jokes. He loves you a whole lot. Don't ever forget that you are never alone, even in times like these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-8037314997516974023?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/8037314997516974023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=8037314997516974023&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8037314997516974023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/8037314997516974023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/about-feeling-too-small.html' title='About feeling too small.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-7568625540297132357</id><published>2009-03-19T09:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:52:35.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love for the broken heart.</title><content type='html'>Tears stream down his stubborn face.&lt;br /&gt;Unwilling to let others see this take place,&lt;br /&gt;He leaves: judged, unloved, misguided.&lt;br /&gt;Each mock they make reminds him how divided,&lt;br /&gt;He is from this nation,&lt;br /&gt;Every step he takes farther from his generation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's stand in still belief,&lt;br /&gt;For these thoughts are all our grief.&lt;br /&gt;For these mornings we look up with frowns instead of smiles,&lt;br /&gt;Thinking we'll have to walk millions of miles.&lt;br /&gt;For these teens who only see what is wrong,&lt;br /&gt;But are truly beautiful and very strong.&lt;br /&gt;Let's stand with courage and right pride,&lt;br /&gt;Knowing there is always someone by our side.&lt;br /&gt;We must give love for the broken heart,&lt;br /&gt;And tears for the lives that are torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a stunning girl I see,&lt;br /&gt;Who'll raise her hand in such a plea,&lt;br /&gt;Comparing others to herself,&lt;br /&gt;Good enough, not, as dusty books on some shelves.&lt;br /&gt;Although she can make it through the night,&lt;br /&gt;She can't stand herself, closes her eyes at her sight.&lt;br /&gt;Plagued by her image in the mirror.&lt;br /&gt;She can never see herself any clearer.&lt;br /&gt;The only way to see her worth,&lt;br /&gt;Is to look for some beauty in her birth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have the ability,&lt;br /&gt;To stand with humility.&lt;br /&gt;To stop taking wrong from right,&lt;br /&gt;And start breaking up the fights.&lt;br /&gt;Others need to understand their worth,&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't come from face value or the earth.&lt;br /&gt;It comes from deep within their soul,&lt;br /&gt;A hole that's willing to be quenched and made whole.&lt;br /&gt;We must give love for the broken heart,&lt;br /&gt;And tears for the lives that are torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch as a grandmother cries tears from her heart,&lt;br /&gt;Her body shakes, her soul is torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;She is crying for all of those she's lost,&lt;br /&gt;And wishing they didn't have to pay such a large cost.&lt;br /&gt;A mother's hands shake from all that she's seen,&lt;br /&gt;Oh a conversation, how much would that mean?&lt;br /&gt;She's been left alone for far to long,&lt;br /&gt;Her tears not wiped, her rights been wronged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you not see?&lt;br /&gt;Can you not hear?&lt;br /&gt;These people are clawing to be free,&lt;br /&gt;From all of their life long fears.&lt;br /&gt;All they need is a gracious look,&lt;br /&gt;Someone not seeking for all that they've took.&lt;br /&gt;We must give love for the broken heart,&lt;br /&gt;And tears for the lives that are torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He mutters to himself, "Why did I walk away?&lt;br /&gt;Did I not have enough courage, enough pride to say,&lt;br /&gt;That's enough, stop that talk,&lt;br /&gt;Don't you have something else to mock?"&lt;br /&gt;She picks up her feet,&lt;br /&gt;Unwilling to meet defeat.&lt;br /&gt;Putting her head up high,&lt;br /&gt;She resists a sigh.&lt;br /&gt;She's muttering, "I'm beautiful, precious, and true.&lt;br /&gt;Didn't they have someone else to pick on, someone else to make blue?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children, these people, don't they deserve more,&lt;br /&gt;Then your stares and your frowns, making each breathe sore.&lt;br /&gt;It isn't about how much you know, but how much you care.&lt;br /&gt;Can you not see, it matters how they fare.&lt;br /&gt;This world is full of people looking out only for 'me',&lt;br /&gt;Is it too hard, to soon, to see,&lt;br /&gt;The tears streaming down children's faces,&lt;br /&gt;Tired of being put in such big spaces.&lt;br /&gt;We must give love for the broken heart,&lt;br /&gt;And tears for the lives that are torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He strikes his wrist,&lt;br /&gt;With a golden bliss.&lt;br /&gt;He's ready to end his life,&lt;br /&gt;To take one more breathe and then end this strife.&lt;br /&gt;But the phone rings and he can't make them worry,&lt;br /&gt;Picking up the phone, pushing away his fury.&lt;br /&gt;A voice whispers on the other line,&lt;br /&gt;"Don't take your life, your not alone this time.&lt;br /&gt;Your amazing, with worth that could move the sea,&lt;br /&gt;You need to stop looking to yourself with your plea."&lt;br /&gt;As he puts down his weapon still shaking with fear,&lt;br /&gt;His life he will live, finally with care near.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that's needed is a light in the dark,&lt;br /&gt;A good conversation on the swings in a park.&lt;br /&gt;People just need to know that someone will be there,&lt;br /&gt;When this world pushes down on them, threatening to tear,&lt;br /&gt;Their life in two,&lt;br /&gt;Their spirit right through.&lt;br /&gt;We must give love for the broken heart,&lt;br /&gt;And tears for the lives that are torn apart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-7568625540297132357?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/7568625540297132357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=7568625540297132357&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7568625540297132357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/7568625540297132357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/love-for-broken-heart.html' title='Love for the broken heart.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-6900450166233557036</id><published>2009-03-19T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:06:55.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful</title><content type='html'>Rolling around the word 'beautiful'.&lt;br /&gt;The smell of a Florida breeze as it sweeps past your senses. &lt;br /&gt;The look on a friends face after seeing her for the 1st time in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;A grandmother getting all dressed up for dinner with you.&lt;br /&gt;Waves lapping over sandy beaches.&lt;br /&gt;The realization that although nothing can ever be as it was, it can still be okay.&lt;br /&gt;These things are beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this world today miracles are only seen in fairy tales when in reality a baby being born, a mother beating cancer, having enough money to go on a trip, and seeing an old friend...these are all miracles, these are all beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are so rich, so spoiled, so blessed with all of these treasures of the world that we don't see the precious, beautiful miracles that show up in front of our faces every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As ridiculous as it seems, after playing volleyball with a mid 20 year old black guy on the beach, after talking to him about where he was from and who he was...I became to realize how blessed I was. While on vacation we like to shield ourselves from things that'll test us to do something that we don't want to do. We like to relax and ignore the things and people around us who are hurting. This young man had lost his little brother in a gunning in the 'ghetto' that he lived in. He told us that we were the nicest people he had ever met and all we did was invite him to play volleyball with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys, what kind of a world do we live in. Did you know that by the time Jesus comes there will be less than 1/10 believers. Less than 1/10 believers. Will you be one of them? Will you look in this world and see the beautiful miracles or become hopeless because of the depth of pain. Be the miracle. Be the believer. Please be beautiful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-6900450166233557036?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/6900450166233557036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=6900450166233557036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6900450166233557036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/6900450166233557036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/beautiful.html' title='Beautiful'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2474334640376330478.post-5082931788619472483</id><published>2009-03-10T14:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T09:21:04.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You'll never know.</title><content type='html'>You'll never know that... &lt;br /&gt;-I don't wear the necklace you made for me because I don't need more reminders.&lt;br /&gt;-I keep every one of your letters.&lt;br /&gt;-My favorite verse is Jeremiah 29:11.&lt;br /&gt;-Whenever I turned away from you, all I wanted was for you to wrap your arms around me.&lt;br /&gt;-I sing close to the mike because you told me to.&lt;br /&gt;-I cried and threw stuff when you told me it wasn't going to work out anymore.&lt;br /&gt;-I started to work out so I would be good enough for you but I lost you anyways.&lt;br /&gt;-I don't eat around you because I never want you to stop worrying or I'll be out of your mind.&lt;br /&gt;-Whenever I think or read about a missions trip, I think about how you will be going and I won't be.&lt;br /&gt;-I think about you whenever I look out my window.&lt;br /&gt;-"Death by chocolate" on a waffle cone reminds me of you.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't use seasoning salt without remembering how we poured it all over my deck.&lt;br /&gt;-I think of deep sea diving, swimming or sitting with you on the boat whenever I'm near the water.&lt;br /&gt;-When music plays in the summer air I can't help but remember that time you tried to make me dance with you on the lawn.&lt;br /&gt;-Your hugs are the best when you pull me towards you in the dark.&lt;br /&gt;-I wished I'd kissed you those tens of times I'd had a chance.&lt;br /&gt;-I keep the birthday card you gave me on my wall.&lt;br /&gt;-I hope to God the emails we shared will never get deleted but I'll never open them.&lt;br /&gt;-I keep on thinking I should give your sweater back to you (it's lost its smell) but it keeps me warm in freezing cold weather and makes me feel like I'm always wrapped in a hug.&lt;br /&gt;-I don't know why I can't make you smile anymore and every time you don't when you're around me, I remember how smiling and laughing was all you used to do around me.&lt;br /&gt;-I wonder if I ever meant anything to you.&lt;br /&gt;-I can only ever think about you sneaking around to hold my hand.&lt;br /&gt;-I regret every time that I ran away from you.&lt;br /&gt;-When we walked around behind your house and I told you that I was moving, that was the most peaceful I'd felt.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't eat cake without thinking of how we used to have cake fights.&lt;br /&gt;-Whenever I go to McDonald's I'm reminded that you know exactly what I always wanted when we went there and always bought it for me.&lt;br /&gt;-Meeting you was one of the best things that has ever happened to me even if you hurt me in the end.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't think about the like without thinking of how you threatened me, holding me over the edge while telling me I looked beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;-I keep my hair long because I know how much you like it.&lt;br /&gt;-I really just want you to hug me while I cry.&lt;br /&gt;-You are the friend I always want around no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;-It hurt me more than anything that you thought badly of my family.&lt;br /&gt;-You used to show me how you felt but now hid it from me. I want to be there.&lt;br /&gt;-I wish we had more memories.&lt;br /&gt;-I think of us throwing McFlurries and sundaes at each other and then helping each other wipe it off our fancy clothes. I can't get rid of those pictures.&lt;br /&gt;-You were always so concerned about how cold my hands were but you were the one with the bad circulation.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't listen to Delilah without thinking about you.&lt;br /&gt;-Whenever I talk about or hear about horses I think about our stupid "pleasure" joke.&lt;br /&gt;-I remember all those times you would come to my house sweaty and gross from biking for an hour and not be able to come in because of your parents hilarious rules.&lt;br /&gt;-You knew when you yelled at me it scared me so you would stop, hold my face in your hands and apologize until I looked you in the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;-It hurt that you didn't care about facts I gave you because you were too caught up in the fake truth that it was a one time thing.&lt;br /&gt;-Whenever I think of snowboarding, I think of how we couldn't go.&lt;br /&gt;-I miss your hugs.&lt;br /&gt;-All I want is for you to be really happy (I just need to see you smile again).&lt;br /&gt;-I go through the dumb bumper stickers that you sent me, over and over again laughing, but not really okay.&lt;br /&gt;-I've tried to write songs about what's going on, but I can't.&lt;br /&gt;-I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;-I will always remember those late night phone calls we had at Natalie's house and how you would sit and listen to me.&lt;br /&gt;-I will never tell you what was really on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;-I think you are so smart.&lt;br /&gt;-When you argue with me I actually physically don't feel well because I feel like we're breaking farther apart.&lt;br /&gt;-I talk to you in my head (weird, I know)&lt;br /&gt;-You will always be my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;-You have always known me without me having to tell you.&lt;br /&gt;-When I talk about you I have to try not to tell you what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;-I loved when you used to randomly play with my hair.&lt;br /&gt;-Your compliments meant the world to me.&lt;br /&gt;-I always wanted to walk with you in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;-I always felt so safe in your arms except for now that I have to watch my every move.&lt;br /&gt;-I always felt like your hand fit perfectly into mine (lame wishful thinking)&lt;br /&gt;-You never had to worry about your brother and me, there was never anyone except for you.&lt;br /&gt;-I thought we were going to get married and become missionaries.&lt;br /&gt;-I gave you my heart.&lt;br /&gt;-The random times I could make you laugh after 'everything' I didn't know if I would be able to breathe after that smile.&lt;br /&gt;-I dressed up so you would be proud to introduce me to your friends and you ignored me until they were out of the car. I wondered what I'd done wrong.&lt;br /&gt;-I nearly died ever time you were close enough for me to feel your breathe on my face.&lt;br /&gt;-I love your hair when it just curls.&lt;br /&gt;-I will never get rid of the books you gave me even if I never read them-just because they were from you.&lt;br /&gt;-I waited for hours for you to come online even if I knew you wouldn't talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;-You gave me so much hope.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't sleep because I can't get you out of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;-Our times in the sound booth when we prayed together were when I needed prayer the most.&lt;br /&gt;-I felt horrible when you didn't want to tell people how you felt about me. &lt;br /&gt;-I will probably care about you for years to come.&lt;br /&gt;-I thought I may have loved you.&lt;br /&gt;I changed my future from being the cat lady to being with you then switched back when you left.&lt;br /&gt;-I want to pray with you.&lt;br /&gt;-It hurt when you said my hands were gross after I played bloody knuckles-at first you kissed my hands.&lt;br /&gt;-I want you to know all of this.&lt;br /&gt;-If you would just read my blogs you would be reading everything you ever needed to know about me.&lt;br /&gt;-I think she's amazing.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't stand the thought of you breaking her heart-I know how it feels.&lt;br /&gt;-I love how deep your brown eyes are.&lt;br /&gt;-Your imperfections gleam beautifully.&lt;br /&gt;-I think you look amazing in those disgusting jeans you own.&lt;br /&gt;-I fell for you when I first saw you even though I promised myself I wouldn't give you a second glance.&lt;br /&gt;-At ATF you saved me from extreme embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;-You are my knight in shining armor.&lt;br /&gt;-I'd take you back in a minute.&lt;br /&gt;-I want to see you everyday-it's just wishful thinking.&lt;br /&gt;-I remember how supportive you were when I nailed my insecurities to the cross.&lt;br /&gt;-I didn't want to leave you that day.&lt;br /&gt;-I want to spend every second with you but I won't because I need to seem strong by myself...she needs you.&lt;br /&gt;-I love how you want me to stop working out.&lt;br /&gt;-The cross you made for me will always be on my wall intertwined with my flower.&lt;br /&gt;-I want the table you made for me.&lt;br /&gt;-I wish we'd taken more pictures when we had the chance so I could see you again.&lt;br /&gt;-I knew you stopped liking me (when you flirted with her and walked away from me)&lt;br /&gt;-I will always remember that amazing day we played pool together you were a hilarious gentleman.&lt;br /&gt;-I'm only starting to now realize that I have no idea how you got over me so fast after claiming that you thought you were in love with me.&lt;br /&gt;-I still try to catch your eye and make you smile.&lt;br /&gt;-I want to walk away because it hurts so much that I meant everything to you and you meant nothing to me.&lt;br /&gt;-I hated it when you were sick and wouldn't eat or do anything. It scared me.&lt;br /&gt;-I hated when you were angry at me.&lt;br /&gt;-I can't go through Newmarket without associating it with you.&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid your dad only really talked to me because he wanted us to get together.&lt;br /&gt;-I want to call you every night, I miss you all the time, and I don't stop thinking about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a moment goes by that I don't think of you. I ask myself what was so good about her but I can only come to one conclusion: She was, what I was not and...I'm sorry. I'm finally starting to be okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2474334640376330478-5082931788619472483?l=anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/feeds/5082931788619472483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2474334640376330478&amp;postID=5082931788619472483&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5082931788619472483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2474334640376330478/posts/default/5082931788619472483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://anewyear-tessa.blogspot.com/2009/03/youll-never-know.html' title='You&apos;ll never know.'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00104503047142713258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G8asgR9Z8Wg/STBx5hFMhXI/AAAAAAAAACk/efd4RJcqBcs/S220/tessa.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
