<?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-6042778990074517723</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:25:10.417-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a child of twenty-five</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-7995477223695804886</id><published>2008-06-12T09:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T09:19:58.842-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the past and the pitcher</title><content type='html'>Go &lt;a href="http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/05/past-and-pitcher.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  What a beautiful picture of the gospel.  Our God is so good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-7995477223695804886?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/7995477223695804886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=7995477223695804886' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/7995477223695804886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/7995477223695804886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/06/past-and-pitcher.html' title='the past and the pitcher'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-8749916550506960204</id><published>2008-03-26T19:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T19:47:17.342-05:00</updated><title type='text'>only because i love kim and caroline</title><content type='html'>I feel the need to put a disclaimer here that I never do these survey things...but I'm bored...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten years ago...I was 16 years old and a sophomore at Stamford High School.  Stamford's a boring town and it was a pretty boring life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My to do list today...1.Find out what I lack in being ready to apply for licensure in Texas. 2. Fill out form Dr. Cokely sent me; 3. Order cap and gown for graduation (did not do...shoooot); 4. Unpack from this weekend (again..not accomplished); 5. Procrastinate by messing around on my blog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire...pay off my student loans; give a ton away - to compassion international, my church, my parents, my brother and his soon to be wife; sponsor a ton of compassion kids and send them all to college; travel the world and maybe settle in Africa for a while - set up a clinic there and a school for the deaf; buy a lot of cute shoes and purses &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three of my bad habits...1. Biting my nails;  2. Starting a bunch of books at the same time.  I think I have 5 on my bedside table right now.  I just can't wait to finish one before I start another one;  3.  Procrastinating about taking out the trash&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five jobs I've had...1.  Worked at Pizza Pro; 2.  Mentor, site supervisor and then assistant to the director of Waco Reads; 3.  Radiology file clerk at Hillcrest in Waco; 4. "Guest Service" at Target (THE worst job ever...imagine being the person who has to tell you no because Target has the dumbest return policies ever) 5. Audiology Intern at Arkansas Children's Hospital&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things people don't know about me...&lt;br /&gt;1.  I don't drink water through straws.&lt;br /&gt;2.  I am a published author.  When I was in the 4th grade I sent a story that I wrote to 20 or so publishers and one of them actually put it in a book!  I still love to write and I really want to take a creative writing class sometime soon.  I'm taking a break from school at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;3.  I was a drum major my senior year in high school...and had maybe the worst uniform ever...skirts with go-go boots...unfortunately my mom proudly displays a picture of this at home.&lt;br /&gt;4.  When I was little I used to call salt and pepper, sausage and black sausage.  Sunglasses were sackies and I called my uncle Frank, Bocky...I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;5.  I want to adopt a baby from Africa one day even if I never get married.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-8749916550506960204?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/8749916550506960204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=8749916550506960204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/8749916550506960204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/8749916550506960204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/03/only-because-i-love-kim-and-caroline.html' title='only because i love kim and caroline'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-962683158498771105</id><published>2008-03-25T15:59:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T08:29:58.475-05:00</updated><title type='text'>news!</title><content type='html'>Ok, so maybe it's not news if it's two weeks old....but for those of you who haven't heard, I am moving back to Dallas on May 8! WOOO HOOOOO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am in the process of figuring out where I am going to live, so if you know of anyone who needs a roomate, please let me know or pass my name on. I'd like to live in the Lewisville area and I have a dog that they will need to be ok to live with. Other than that, I'm pretty flexible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all the random news I have for today. I hope everyone's Easter was fantastic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-962683158498771105?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/962683158498771105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=962683158498771105' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/962683158498771105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/962683158498771105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/03/news.html' title='news!'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-6163026363903089494</id><published>2008-02-26T20:28:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T20:34:11.345-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i mean, really????</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I am just watching American Idol and this is what Paula Abdul said to some poor 17 year old boy:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I wanted to squish you, squeeze your head off and dangle you from my rearview mirror."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can anyone think of any other context where saying something like this is ok and would not result in some sort of legal action? yeah, me neither...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-6163026363903089494?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/6163026363903089494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=6163026363903089494' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6163026363903089494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6163026363903089494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-mean-really.html' title='i mean, really????'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-3676850882286172174</id><published>2008-02-04T18:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T21:38:23.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>meet my inner church kid...she's kind of a brat</title><content type='html'>I was an easy kid. I was the kid that rarely got into trouble, and when I did, my parents did not have to punish me because I have always been fabulous at doing it myself. My mom could give me a look and I would fall to pieces. I was not even good at being bad.  I tried to shopift once, but as I had just had gymnastics, there were limited places to stash the tube of chapstick and my dad totally saw me pick it up.  My self-punishment did not end with things that I had done wrong. In the 3rd grade, I got my first B on a report card. Chances are I hadn't worked super hard that 6 weeks, but that grade should not have blown my world apart. Oh, but it did...because it was not perfect. The next 6 weeks, not only did my grades come up in that class, I got 100s in 4 different subjects. Even after that, I can almost guarantee that I carried around shame about that grade for a while (and the fact that I remember it probably means I might still...). I probably walked into Mrs. Michaels' class every day and avoided eye contact with her, kept my head down and did everything she said to the letter for a while until I felt that I had redeemed myself in her eyes. Now, while I am sure that my drive for perfectionism began well before this, that is one of my first memories of it really affecting me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I grew up, I became the crown of every "good Christian family" in the Bible Belt - a good church kid. I was that kid a church that people knew they could depend on to do the right thing. I was there every time the doors were open and involved in EVERYTHING. I think looking back that I must have been incredibly thirsty for grace - I say this because once I finally got a taste of it, my soul (after a little pushing back) soaked it in like a dry sponge - but at church, what I got was a lot of rules and values to live by. Now that is a language I understand! I am by nature a rule follower. Man, I love the rules. They make me feel safe and happy (yes, that's present tense...and not always in a good way...we're working on it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you had known me in high school, you probably wouldn't have liked me. I was nice enough outwardly, but the truth is if I disapproved of anything you were doing, I probably made you feel like crap for doing it. I don't recall ever actually saying something to someone outright. However, I was self-righteous and I'm sure people caught on that I thought if you didn't live life like me, you were just wrong. What didn't show on the outside of that was that I loathed myself as much as others felt like I loathed them...probably more. You see, I knew that I was a fraud. I spent lots of energy trying to prevent other people from finding out, too, because then they would have known that I wasn't perfect (gasp!!!). When you are that person, it makes it nearly impossible - strike that - completely impossible to have authentic deep relationships with anyone. It is lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, just so this isn't the longest post in the history of the world, fast-forward 8 years to now. Through very limited effort of my own, the Lord has been really gracious and I can honestly say that I am a different person. I have amazing friendships where I can be transparent and extend and be extended very tangible grace. A lot of things have changed, but I will tell you one thing that hasn't...I am still a church kid at heart. Up until about a month ago, I really thought I had this under control (clue number one that I didn't....it was something I thought I had taken care of...). Then I had a very small corrective comment from my boss work me over big time. I stayed at work that night until 7pm to "fix" what I thought was broken and had trouble speaking to my boss or looking her in the eye for a couple of days (hello! welcome back to the 3rd grade). A week later something went wrong at a shower I helped plan (seriously could not have been a smaller detail) and I fell to pieces again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here is what you might be thinking: "uh, Stephanie, what do these have to do with church-type things?" Well, I will tell you. I had (shoot...still have) a wall around the Law that is set up in my heart. So, Jesus, being the clever guy that He is...actually being the gracious, wise, loving, gentle guy that He is...got to those parts of my heart in a round-about way while my guard was down...He's wiley, I tell ya. During both of the situations that I mentioned above, he whispered into my anxiety and frantic attempts to fix the situation and exposed that this is exactly what I do with any failure (perceived or real) in my life, including how I deal with my wicked heart and its manifestations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bottom line: I love the Law. I love it like it is going to save my life. What sucks about this is that I am a sinner and I will eventually screw up and when I realize I can't fix it, I will try even harder and so the cycle continues. I have spent the last 4 years pleading with the Lord to losen my grip on it. I can feel that He has begun...maybe pried off a finger or two...but there is still work to be done, pride to be destroyed - ultimately, I know that this is at the root of this love affair. I have been reading Galatians over and over again since September - don't judge me...I'm a slow learner. It has been eating my lunch, too. Anyway, there is a verse in there that I kind of laugh at every time I read it. It's almost as though Paul is really frustrated with language and can't quite figure out strong enough words to get his point across so he uses the same ones over and over in the same sentence. Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galatians 2:16 - Nevertheless, knowing that a &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;man is not justified by the works of the Law&lt;/span&gt; but &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;through faith in Christ Jesus&lt;/span&gt;, even we have &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;believed in Christ Jesus&lt;/span&gt;, so that we may be &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;justified by faith in Christ&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;not by the works of the Law&lt;/span&gt;; since &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;by the works of the Law no flesh will be justified. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;How I wish this verse would penetrate my heart! Christ's repetition of the gospel over and over to &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. He's whispering it in my frantic moments and, at times, screaming it through the people who He has graciously placed in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;So today I can't give you a story of instant healing. I write as a person who has spent a lifetime trying to earn what was freely given. Slowly, He is turning my stone heart to flesh and I am begging Him to let my story be that I continually throw myself on His mercy and wholly rely on the righteousness of Christ.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize for the length of this post...but thanks for letting me process :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-3676850882286172174?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/3676850882286172174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=3676850882286172174' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/3676850882286172174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/3676850882286172174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/02/perfectionism.html' title='meet my inner church kid...she&apos;s kind of a brat'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-1462219679051285528</id><published>2008-02-04T15:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T16:00:29.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>correction</title><content type='html'>ok, so I said in my last entry that there were 59 Compassion centers in Kenya....apparently there are over 250.  I'm not sure where that first number came from.  I went back to the website to see where I found it and I can't find it again.  Sorry for making things up :)  Just thought I'd correct it since that number was waaay undershooting what this organization is doing there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-1462219679051285528?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/1462219679051285528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=1462219679051285528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1462219679051285528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1462219679051285528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/02/correction.html' title='correction'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-1412255294365015114</id><published>2008-02-02T17:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T14:21:26.989-06:00</updated><title type='text'>andrew ongama</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6UF-Dq2GhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/BMb57k_tr94/s1600-h/DSC_0289.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162539111545182738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6UF-Dq2GhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/BMb57k_tr94/s320/DSC_0289.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This month is blog month for &lt;a href="http://www.compassion.com/"&gt;Compassion International&lt;/a&gt;. They are asking sponsors to write about their experiences. This is an incredible ministry that is working to release children from poverty in Jesus' name. I am privileged to take part in it and will probably write a little more about it, but today I want to introduce you to a really cool kid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Meet Andrew Ongama Mahagwa. He is the child from &lt;a href="http://http//www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/africa/12/31/kenya.elex/index.html"&gt;Kenya&lt;/a&gt; who I sponsor(sorry he's a picture of a picture and not so clear...) This picture is a little old and apparently he wasn't happy to take it :) He is 7 years old now and he does very well in school. At the end of last year, he was 1st or 2nd in his class in every subject. He's an overachiever. No wonder I like the kid :) I guess it's good that he's smart because he wants to be a professor when he grows up. I think that's pretty cool. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He also happens to be one heck of an artist. I get pictures every time he writes me a letter. I can't tell if he is trying to play a game with me, but he always draws a picture and then writes three choices (in ENGLISH...see...smart) for what that picture might be. Maybe he's getting an early start on that teaching gig. Usually there is a theme to the pictures, but always present is the "man" picture. This man is always holding a gun. I used to feel sorry for Andrew because this seemed strange and very sad to me. Then I went to Africa and saw at least one reason that he draws those pictures. Very few people trust the police, and for good reason. Government on the whole there tends to be corrupt and available for sale to the highest bidder. For this reason, private security companies are hired to guard everything. Houses, banks, restaurants, hotels, etc. The guards almost always carry a big gun. When I was in Mozambique last year, it took a while to get used to this, but it eventually became no different than when we see policemen walking around. The guards at our hotel had large guns, but I never felt afraid of them. They also proved to me just how handy a machete can be...but that's another story for another blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I took what I knew and added it to the idea that Kenya really has been one of the safest places in Africa to feel ok about the fact that Andrew's man always carries a gun. I am sure it is because it is almost too much for me to think about what actually living where he lives must be like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;But now I can't avoid thinking about it. Andrew no longer lives in one of the safest places in Africa. He lives in a place that is scary and where violence is spreading rapidly and where the men with guns are not the good guys. I am helpless to do anything for him now but pray. He is being raised by his aunt (along with 4 other children) so I pray mostly for her. I cannot begin to imagine how hopeless she must feel. I pray that she knows the Lord and that he is near to her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So I just wanted to introduce you guys to this little boy and urge you to pray for Kenya (and Andrew specifically). Sometimes it helps to put things into perspective when you have an individual face to put on it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Compassion has a total of 59 centers in Kenya and 39 of them have been affected. Because most of the violence has been occuring in the poorest areas and slums, many children and families who are supported by Compassion have been displaced. Andrew's center is not yet on the list of those that have been affected, but if this continues, it is likely that it will be soon. The following is a list of specific prayer requests listed on Compassion's website. Please pray. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Pray that mediation efforts to resolve the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.compassion.com/sponsordonor/crisisupdates/advisory-riots-in-kenya.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;post-election violence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; bear fruit and break the political stalemate in the government.&lt;br /&gt;Pray that the Church will rise up to her prophetic role and address the conflict in the country.&lt;br /&gt;Pray that God provides for the needs of the people displayed by the political violence, and that He guards the hearts and minds of the children affected by and witnessing the violence.&lt;br /&gt;Pray that peace return to the country and the economy recover quickly.&lt;br /&gt;Pray for the widows and orphans of the violence.&lt;br /&gt;Pray for the health and well-being of all Kenyans. The availability of medical care has been affected by the fighting&lt;br /&gt;Pray that children may soon be able to return to school and resume normal lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-1412255294365015114?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/1412255294365015114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=1412255294365015114' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1412255294365015114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1412255294365015114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/02/andrew-ongama.html' title='andrew ongama'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6UF-Dq2GhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/BMb57k_tr94/s72-c/DSC_0289.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-5744184022599126634</id><published>2008-01-26T08:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T08:20:38.187-06:00</updated><title type='text'>nyquil</title><content type='html'>i took nyquil for the first time yesterday at 3....woah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i woke up at 6:30 this morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and burned 4 pieces of toast before i finally got to eat breakfast&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-5744184022599126634?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/5744184022599126634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=5744184022599126634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/5744184022599126634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/5744184022599126634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/01/nyquil.html' title='nyquil'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-6153830448178306370</id><published>2008-01-21T12:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T14:21:31.617-06:00</updated><title type='text'>cassie's shower/anne's wild ride</title><content type='html'>I love any excuse to go to Dallas and this weekend was full of them. Friday night was Cassie's bridal shower and on Saturday Anne and I finally got to take her helicopter ride that she got for her birthday.  We flew over downtown Ft. Worth and over to Arlington to see the new Cowboys stadium and Six Flags. Here are some pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tlc458OII/AAAAAAAAADk/vU8u8ErEof0/s1600-h/DSC_0083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157999757720565890" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tlc458OII/AAAAAAAAADk/vU8u8ErEof0/s320/DSC_0083.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mal and Jess - Greeters extrodinaire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TldI58OJI/AAAAAAAAADs/60-lZK1lwfI/s1600-h/DSC_0088.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157999762015533202" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TldI58OJI/AAAAAAAAADs/60-lZK1lwfI/s320/DSC_0088.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caroline and Kim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TldY58OKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/t38n91r_3b4/s1600-h/DSC_0089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157999766310500514" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TldY58OKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/t38n91r_3b4/s320/DSC_0089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cassie getting ready to open gifts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tldo58OLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/R9zEoZsBZkc/s1600-h/DSC_0094.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157999770605467826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tldo58OLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/R9zEoZsBZkc/s320/DSC_0094.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure what's happening here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tld458OMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/CbnAkrB76cE/s1600-h/DSC_0096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157999774900435138" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tld458OMI/AAAAAAAAAEE/CbnAkrB76cE/s320/DSC_0096.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne and Kim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnDI58OOI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LKkuuGo4dUQ/s1600-h/DSC_0109.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158001514362190050" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnDI58OOI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LKkuuGo4dUQ/s320/DSC_0109.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fake laugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnCo58ONI/AAAAAAAAAEM/OgU6fshalIw/s1600-h/DSC_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158001505772255442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnCo58ONI/AAAAAAAAAEM/OgU6fshalIw/s320/DSC_0099.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnDo58OPI/AAAAAAAAAEc/hGlgr7_Id_8/s1600-h/DSC_0125.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158001522952124658" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnDo58OPI/AAAAAAAAAEc/hGlgr7_Id_8/s320/DSC_0125.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne's wild ride begins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnD458OQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/qhIhI-yJR2Y/s1600-h/DSC_0163.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158001527247091970" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnD458OQI/AAAAAAAAAEk/qhIhI-yJR2Y/s320/DSC_0163.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new Cowboys Stadium from above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnEo58ORI/AAAAAAAAAEs/GOLSb6hrTsE/s1600-h/DSC_0184.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158001540131993874" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5TnEo58ORI/AAAAAAAAAEs/GOLSb6hrTsE/s320/DSC_0184.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vanna White-ing the helicopter&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-6153830448178306370?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/6153830448178306370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=6153830448178306370' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6153830448178306370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6153830448178306370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2008/01/cassies-showerannes-wild-ride.html' title='cassie&apos;s shower/anne&apos;s wild ride'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R5Tlc458OII/AAAAAAAAADk/vU8u8ErEof0/s72-c/DSC_0083.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-3813163358887406990</id><published>2007-12-07T07:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T08:48:56.737-06:00</updated><title type='text'>names</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Names are important - for a lot of reasons.  I had a professor in graduate school who said that something doesn't exist if it doesn't have a name.  That makes sense to me.  I know that I really like it when someone remembers my name and uses it.  I make every effort possible to remember a person's name at least by the second time I meet them (and I make an even greater effort to actually remember meeting them the first time...how can you be introduced to a person 5 or 6 times and have no memory of even one of them?....but that's another pet peeve...).  I happen to be a person with a common name.  My parents swear that they did not personally know any Stephanies when they named me, but somehow I guess the popularity of it grew very quickly around the time that I was born.  In my pledge class at Baylor, there were 5 of us.  5 out of about 40 girls.  That's a lot.  That's why most people who knew me at Baylor call me StephCox.  I was never fond of that nickname, but it stuck because there was no other way to know who they were talking to or about without it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Being someone who shares her name with a few of her friends, I understand the temptation to come up with something "unique."  Some parents go to extreme lengths to ensure that their child does not end up like me with many same-named peers.  I am not sure that this is more evident than when you work with young children (many babies) every day.  I guess as time goes on, more and more names become common and parents feel the need to get really creative.  I have seen quite a few unusual names here.  There are some I would not even attempt to pronounce on my own, so I have had to devise a clever way of asking the parents how to say the name without actually saying, "Your kid's name is so weird, or you have chosen the most outrageous spelling for [insert incredibly common name here] that I have ever seen, and I am afraid to try to pronounce it for fear of hurting your feelings or having you rudely correct me as if I am the one that needs to learn to spell."  So now as they walk in the door I simply ask who this patient is, as if I have no idea that I have just paged them to come to the clinic.  This seems like a simple question, but sometimes it backfires and they only tell me the child's last name.  Then I have to think on my feet and often end up having to ask how to say their first name anyway.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anywho, I am rambling.  The reason I wanted to write this post was to share with you my 2 favorite names I have heard so far.  The first one I heard was a child with the name Lovemiracle.  All one word and when the mother was asked how to say it,  she acted like that might be the dumbest question she had ever heard.  Here's the worst part - this was a boy.  Poor thing, I hope he's really athletic and scary when he grows up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My alltime favorite is a girl whose middle name is Dynamite.  I wish I could tell you the rest of her name, but I can't because it would be breaking the law.  Truly, the whole name together is something to enjoy and I am sad for you that you don't get to hear it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And that's it for my random name post.  I really just wanted to share a little part of my job that   makes me giggle.  Names are fun.  Just don't give your kid a weird one&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-3813163358887406990?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/3813163358887406990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=3813163358887406990' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/3813163358887406990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/3813163358887406990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2007/12/names.html' title='names'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-1779748869083851063</id><published>2007-10-18T18:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T17:55:45.111-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the move</title><content type='html'>Ok, so no post since May 25 makes me a bad blogger, right? Yes, it does. I am still computer-less at home and so my only access to the internet is at work where, well...I am working and have little time to blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that this move has absolutely been one of the hardest things I have ever done. While I love where I work and I know that I am getting experiences here that would not be possible most anywhere else, I still do not know people. It has been an exceptionally lonely time. I spent the first 3 months here scheming and finding reasons to make trips back to Dallas or to have people come to visit me. Basically, finding any way I could to make it not feel like I had moved. And when I was in Little Rock, I was usually pouting about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last trip was on my birthday in September (that means it's been 6 weeks...I'm pretty proud of me). It was a turning point. I had a couple of good conversations where I was reminded that this was a step of obedience and how much it would suck to not experience all that God has for me here because I am thinking of how great life was there. Since then, I have started working in the children's ministry at my new church and I'm really excited about some opportunities there for me. I still don't know that I will ever love Little Rock. I mean....it's Arkansas....let's be honest, it still feels a bit like punishment at times. But right now it is absolutely where I need to be and while I am still lonely and still get sad when I talk to friends at home and wish I could be there too, it isn't overwhelming anymore. I do have some hope - which is a step. So, I will make an effort to blog a little more often (for Sarah, because I'm pretty sure you're the only one who reads this, friend :) ). God is working in me right now...it is not pretty and I can't say it's all that enjoyable, but it is neccessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe my next story will be about some interesting Arkansans I have had the pleasure of meeting here at the hospital...let me tell you, my job is nothing if not entertaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-1779748869083851063?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/1779748869083851063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=1779748869083851063' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1779748869083851063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1779748869083851063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2007/05/move.html' title='the move'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-8454222000749632743</id><published>2007-05-25T08:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T14:21:35.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>grateful</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlblJPloyYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9yAjRaXASMI/s1600-h/IMG_1334.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068490377618049410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlblJPloyYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9yAjRaXASMI/s320/IMG_1334.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have the greatest friends in the world. The last week has been full of reminders of God's grace and generosity in my life. Last Saturday my sweet friend Maury hosted a Blessing Party for me. I had never been a part of something like that. It was humbling and encouraging. I was thinking about how we just don't get a lot of chances to hear what other people see in us. It's kind of funny that I can tell you what about me bugs my friends more than I can tell you why they are actually friends with me. So it was really amazing to be encouraged in that way and a really special way for me to be sent into this next season of my life. I want to make an effort to let my friends know what they mean to me more often. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That night, Maury's 2nd grade daughter, Gracie, hosted a slumber party for me. I've taught Gracie in Kid's Village for 2 years. She's a special girl with an amazing heart and I will miss her dearly. I cannot wait to see who she will be as she gets older. So that night, I got to spend the night with some of my favorite girls. It was so so fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night, me, Cassie, Anne, Jess and Hillary got all dressed up and went to Simply Fondue (and missed Mallery the whole time!) because I have never had Fondue before. It was good and we feasted. Here are pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068493452814633362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/Rlbn8PloyZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/KyBjjUKQ16Q/s320/IMG_1323.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Me and Cassie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlboYfloyaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/bceEq1d9644/s1600-h/IMG_1324.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068493938145937826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlboYfloyaI/AAAAAAAAAAc/bceEq1d9644/s320/IMG_1324.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cassie and Jessica&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpmvloyfI/AAAAAAAAABE/2TeCaepMk4c/s1600-h/IMG_1329.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068495282470701554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpmvloyfI/AAAAAAAAABE/2TeCaepMk4c/s320/IMG_1329.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpiPloybI/AAAAAAAAAAk/9afhS1LDLZU/s1600-h/IMG_1325.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068495205161290162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpiPloybI/AAAAAAAAAAk/9afhS1LDLZU/s320/IMG_1325.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpjfloycI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KaSBX464REo/s1600-h/IMG_1326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068495226636126658" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpjfloycI/AAAAAAAAAAs/KaSBX464REo/s320/IMG_1326.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Who knew they played We Are Fam-i-ly at a Fondue restaurant? Jess must sing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpkvloydI/AAAAAAAAAA0/NsgfmHlIEzQ/s1600-h/IMG_1327.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpkvloydI/AAAAAAAAAA0/NsgfmHlIEzQ/s1600-h/IMG_1327.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068495248110963154" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbpkvloydI/AAAAAAAAAA0/NsgfmHlIEzQ/s320/IMG_1327.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Me and Cassie....and Anne's bread&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbplvloyeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ynOZrndaBLM/s1600-h/IMG_1328.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbplvloyeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ynOZrndaBLM/s1600-h/IMG_1328.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068495265290832354" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbplvloyeI/AAAAAAAAAA8/ynOZrndaBLM/s320/IMG_1328.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Woah...Sorry she's sideways...can't figure out how to turn it &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrDfloygI/AAAAAAAAABM/nAYnTQd__IM/s1600-h/IMG_1330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068496875903568386" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrDfloygI/AAAAAAAAABM/nAYnTQd__IM/s320/IMG_1330.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrEPloyhI/AAAAAAAAABU/tQyhj2FXHxQ/s1600-h/IMG_1332.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068496888788470290" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrEPloyhI/AAAAAAAAABU/tQyhj2FXHxQ/s320/IMG_1332.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrEvloyiI/AAAAAAAAABc/zERixJWzeeI/s1600-h/IMG_1333.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068496897378404898" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlbrEvloyiI/AAAAAAAAABc/zERixJWzeeI/s320/IMG_1333.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hill and Me...ooo...steamy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Here is what I know. I am blessed beyond anything I could deserve. The Lord has surrounded me with women who are wise and who chase after him. I pray that Little Rock has the same for me. I'm almost done packing. Hillary is moving out today. It's sad, but every day I am feeling more and more at peace with my decision to move. Still, I want to trust him more than I do. I still need him to pry my fingers off of the things that I assume bring me life and joy and force me to grab him around the neck and hold on for dear life. So I worship as I pack up my life here and get ready to go somewhere that I can only hope will make me more like him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-8454222000749632743?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/8454222000749632743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=8454222000749632743' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/8454222000749632743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/8454222000749632743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2007/05/grateful.html' title='grateful'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/RlblJPloyYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/9yAjRaXASMI/s72-c/IMG_1334.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-1492310852753260170</id><published>2007-05-01T19:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T12:57:44.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i am the crazy cat lady</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I was at Baylor, my college pastor used a the most powerful word picture for sin that I have ever heard and I can't get out of my head.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He told a story about a trip that he took to Mexico.  He was in a village walking down a road when he looked into an alley and saw a group of boys playing with something.  They were using sticks to throw it in the air.  Some of them would use their hands to pick it up and toss it at the other boys.  They were laughing and screaming.  This looked like a very fun game.  He was too far away to tell what it was in the beginning, but as he got closer, he was disgusted at what he saw.  These boys had found a dead cat and they were playing with it as if it was a normal everyday toy.  His immediate reaction was, "Why would they pick up something dead and play with it?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anytime I have ever shared this story with other people, their reaction has been that of disgust.  Almost like they wish I wouldn't have told them.  It's gross and offensive.  But isn't that the point?  Sin should disgust us. &lt;strong&gt;Why would &lt;em&gt;we&lt;/em&gt; pick up something dead and play with it?&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;But I pick it up.  And I do more than throw it around.  I hand a deliver an invitation for it to come and visit.  I cuddle with it.  I give it a bath and a special bed.  I even feed it.  Even though scripture demands that I flee from sin, I don't.  I treat it like a friend.  And at any given time, if you could take a peek into my soul, I may resemble a crazy cat lady, collecting the ugliest animals you have ever seen (and dead on top of that). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Phillip Yancey in &lt;em&gt;The Jesus I Never Knew&lt;/em&gt; says "How easily do we who live in material bodies devalue the world of spirit.  It occurs to me that although Jesus spent much time on issues such as hypocrisy, legalism, and pride, I know of no television ministries devoted to healing those 'spiritual' problems; yet I know of many that center on physical ailments.  Just as I begin feeling smug, however, &lt;strong&gt;I remember how easily I feel tormented by the slightest bout with physical suffering, and how seldom I feel tormented by sin&lt;/strong&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am not tormented by my sin and I am not digusted by it.  I feel guilty.  I feel shame.  It doesn't take me long to stuff those feelings, though, and make a decision that it will never happen again.  So my pride convinces me that I've got this and I have to just deal with the feeling of separation from God until I've "done my time" and then I can feel better.  This is madness!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;What I forget in all of this is that the penalty for my sin has already been paid.  That is not to say that there will not be consequences for it.  If there weren't, then God would not be loving.  He disciplines and it is not fun, but I know that this is the priviledge of His children to receive that discipline and be sanctified by it.  Micah 7: 7-9 says, "But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation.  My God will hear me.  Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy.  Though I fall down, I will rise; though I dwell in darkness, the Lord is a light for me.  I will bear the indignation of the Lord because I have sinned against Him, until He pleads my case and executes justice for me.  He will bring me out into the light and I will see His righteousness."  That entire chapter is a story of redemption.  It is the story of His redeeming me.  The Lord will trample my iniquity.  He will cast my sin into the depth of the sea.  Therefored, I will gladly accept His discipline because little by little it makes me more like Him.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So as He sanctifies, I pray that I will begin to feel about my sin the way I would feel about playing with a dead animal.  Let it disgust me.  But more than that, I want to remember what was purchased for me so that I would not have to settle for that.  God offers me more.  He offers Life.  Why, then, do I choose to play with something dead?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-1492310852753260170?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/1492310852753260170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=1492310852753260170' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1492310852753260170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/1492310852753260170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-am-crazy-cat-lady.html' title='i am the crazy cat lady'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6042778990074517723.post-6018305294894901165</id><published>2007-05-01T18:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T22:50:18.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hello, my name is stephanie....and i am a blog stalker</title><content type='html'>Yes, that's right. I have a problem. I could sit for hours and read about other people's lives - their struggles, their joys, their victories. There are some women on here who are striving and fighting to be Godly. A lot of them are wives and mothers and a lot are single women like me. They make me want to strive even harder in my fight. So I write. I write because I should not live vicariously through others and I write in hopes that through this the Lord will stir my heart and others' hearts more toward him because of the story He is writing with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bear with me because I have written little in the last 3 years that doesn't have to do with ears. I'll try to keep those out of it (unless I see something really cool :) ). Give me a few posts to get back into the swing of non-academic things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Name&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name comes from a Snow Patrol song that talks about taking first steps as a child of 25. I chose it because I very much still feel like a child for a lot of reasons. I have always been in school. That has a way of making you feel young, no matter what age you are. So it doesn't matter that I have a degree hanging on my wall, full time grad school still makes me feel like a child. But now that class is over (I say class, because I won't officially be done with school until May 2, 2008 - one year from tomorrow...woah), I will finally be able to set my own schedule. Go home at night and not feel guilty if I'm not doing homework, studying, working on projects. Make enough money to fully support myself. I was walking the other day and that last one hit me the hardest. I have never done that before (and I have the student loans to prove it!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also still feel like a child because I am constantly being taught how completely helpless I am. This is not a bad thing. It's actually been a while getting to this point and has taken some painful falls to realize it, but God continues to shape me and remind me of my weakness...it's miserable and really really beautiful because as the pride and self sufficiency gets pried out of my grubby little hands and chiseled away from my heart and as the lenses that I see through are cleaned, I get these glimpses of the power of the Lord. I still fight (and lose), but He is patient and continues to give me what's best even when I mess up (thank you Kids' Village for kicking my tail...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hope this blog will be the story of my growing up in a lot of ways and of my becoming more and more childlike in my weaknesses and in my faith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6042778990074517723-6018305294894901165?l=stephceleste.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/feeds/6018305294894901165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6042778990074517723&amp;postID=6018305294894901165' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6018305294894901165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6042778990074517723/posts/default/6018305294894901165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stephceleste.blogspot.com/2007/05/hello-my-name-is-stephanieand-i-am-blog.html' title='hello, my name is stephanie....and i am a blog stalker'/><author><name>Stephanie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11987166036666873568</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_mVWVvb4x8BA/R6ew9zq2GjI/AAAAAAAAAFE/ksNGYGWj2ls/S220/122.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
