<?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-5414995257408256464</id><updated>2011-04-21T23:33:41.002-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eakers of Hope</title><subtitle type='html'>well...I stole my name from a Shane and Shane song.  I hope they don't mind!  You will really only get it if you know that my last name is pronounced like 'acre', like the measurement.  Anyways, the reason for the title is that this blog is for one purpose only: to glorify the Lord who has given me life.  He has given me so much more than an "eaker" of hope and I want the world to know it!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8051517762858644681</id><published>2008-08-14T20:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T20:42:37.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am getting married...and starting another year of school</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So I haven't written on the 'ol blog in a while. The title explains why...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I hope even though I have been bad at bloggin that you all haven't left me. I need your help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you have ever gotten married, you all know that it is a lot of details to work out. If you have yet to get married, I have one piece of advice...have a short engagement!! Short engagment = less time to stress over details. It is wonderful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, so I need some girl help here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One very vital part of the wedding day is hair. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234552984779022530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SKTeNK-24MI/AAAAAAAAAH8/K9mOtTBHyto/s400/updo.png" border="0" /&gt;I need someone to tell me on my wedding day,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Gurrl, you own that pony tail...work tha' updo!" (if you don't get this...please go to YouTube and search for the Mad TV skit, "can I have your number")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my question is, have any of you lovely ladies ever had an updo in this town? Do you have any hairdressers that you can suggest for me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need the body now. hehe...no really I am not that dramatic, but I really do need suggestions!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8051517762858644681?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8051517762858644681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8051517762858644681' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8051517762858644681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8051517762858644681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-am-getting-marriedand-starting.html' title='I am getting married...and starting another year of school'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SKTeNK-24MI/AAAAAAAAAH8/K9mOtTBHyto/s72-c/updo.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-7228533865031640756</id><published>2008-07-19T09:38:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T09:29:50.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Faithfulness is His Very Character"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;"Faithfulness is your very character"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Psalm 89:8&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But I will never stop loving him,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;nor let my promise to you fail,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will not break my covenant,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will not take back a single word I said."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Psalm 89:33-34&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 years ago I sat on my dorm room praying. I was praying that God would fix my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;brokenness&lt;/span&gt;. I was praying that I would stop wasting my time dating the wrong boy. I was praying that God would heal my broken attraction that kept attracting me to the wrong boy. Out of the blue, God said, "Ryan Price is your husband". Now I didn't hear an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;audible&lt;/span&gt; voice, I heard a voice in my soul that didn't sound like mine. It freaked me out. I didn't tell anyone for like 2 weeks. But the Holy Spirit kept &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;gnawing&lt;/span&gt; at my heart. So I told my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt;. I still remember feeling so nervous to voice this thing that seemed CRAZY to me. I thought she would think I was a psycho. But she didn't. She said 4 words to me that carried me to July 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"well, let's believe it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we did. We believed it and then on July 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, 2008 Ryan Price asked me to be his wife. I couldn't be more excited to be his wife. I couldn't be more blessed to be engaged to this wonderful man of God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But most of all, I feel so blessed that God used this entire relationship to teach me about how God speaks. God works. God moves. God is faithful to finish what he starts. Before I get to the exciting night of the proposal, I have to glorify the Father that brought us to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If any of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;yall&lt;/span&gt; know Ryan and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;I's&lt;/span&gt; story, it is not full of easiness of trusting God that Ryan was my husband. I felt like a stupid girl a lot of times. I know a lot of girls think that the Lord has told them who their husband is...I always thought those girls were crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then God humbled me. He made me one of those girls. But God did this because my faith was so very weak and it needed to be strengthened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I often wished that our story was that Ryan fell in love with me and I didn't have a clue and he had to woo me and get me to like him. I often hated that I had these crazy strong feelings for him. But now that I sit here 3 years later, looking back at the journey that God took me on, I am so thankful that it was exactly how it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the quick version of Ryan and I is that about 4 months after I heard God tell me this, we started dating. We dated for 7 months, then broke up for 11 months, and then got back together...for good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So our journey to engagement and soon marriage was needless to say a tough one for me. However, the sweetness of God healing both of our souls and reuniting us and bringing us to this point is so incredible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were a lot more details, but for now, I will get to the engagement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing for sure, Ryan's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;proposal&lt;/span&gt; was worth waiting for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At 3:00, on July 17&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, I came home from a day of computer training at school and found a beautiful dress on my bed and a note that told me to put on this pretty dress and accompany Ryan to dinner that night at 6:30.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224739419218839010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SIIA0eaFBeI/AAAAAAAAAHk/xKw66LZF5_Y/s400/DSC00672.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At this point, I was really excited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I got ready and he came to pick me up at 6:30. When I opened the door he was standing there with a dozen red roses!! It was like a dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224740144720646594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SIIBetHMEcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/khzKE2YNsL0/s400/DSC00676.JPG" border="0" /&gt;So then he whisked me off to dinner at Maddens. We had a wonderful dinner! Then we walked around downtown for a bit, and I thought it was a very nice night, but apparently if you were in pants and a tie, it was rather hot! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;! (the one time it is nice to be a girl!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then we got in the car and Ryan just started driving. On a normal night, I would have probably asked a lot of questions, but I didn't want to ruin Ryan's surprise, so I just decided to do what I do best...just talk!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When we were getting close to a park that was very special to us, I started to get the hint. At that point I had to go to the bathroom and I knew I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; be able to go at the park, so I told Ryan that I needed to stop. So on the night of my proposal I got to stop at a gas station in my nice dress and go pee! so great!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So then we got to the park and Ryan had a blanket and candles. He started a very nice speech and told me a lot of wonderful things. He also told me about how he wanted to see what I looked like when I got old. I love his humor!! Then he said the sentence I will never forget, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Sara, I would be the happiest man in the world if you would marry me."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course I said yes!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then he showed me the amazing ring that he bought me! It was so beautiful and in a box that he had bough in Malawi for that purpose. The felt inside the box was from his mom's engagement ring, which was really special!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224741943819140242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SIIDHbRsfJI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aKbjBJjESdk/s400/IMG_6365.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then we sat and talked for a while. I shared with him the story of God's faithfulness in our relationship. I had never told him any of this. It was really special.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then we came back to my apartment and a lot of people I love were there!! We had a great celebration and a time of prayer. It was really great.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that is the story of God's hand in our relationship. It is such a sweet time of rejoicing and praising God for all that He has done. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank you for all of you who have walked through this with me. I couldn't have made it to this day without your faith!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-7228533865031640756?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/7228533865031640756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=7228533865031640756' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7228533865031640756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7228533865031640756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title='&quot;Faithfulness is His Very Character&quot;'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SIIA0eaFBeI/AAAAAAAAAHk/xKw66LZF5_Y/s72-c/DSC00672.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-919481142869396073</id><published>2008-07-01T21:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T21:53:50.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Move Number 3...CHECK!</title><content type='html'>Yep, that's right, I just finished moved number 3. I have moved 3 times in the last year and a half. For those of you that hate to do math, that is once every six months. It is insane...but it just has to happen. For the first 18 years of my life I never moved. My parents bought the house I grew up in and moved in when I was 6 weeks old. I never had to pack a box or load all of my belongings in a car...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I moved to college. I was pretty stable for the first 4 years. I only moved twice. After college my life has been less &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;predictable&lt;/span&gt;...thus the moving so often. Let's just say, after move three, I have more than made up for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;stability&lt;/span&gt; I enjoyed the first 18 years of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So move three went great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "CHECK" part of this title would not be there without a few amazing people. Without amazing people to help me, it would say, "move number three...in process...for eternity".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, Ryan Price is one of the most amazing men I know. He borrowed a truck from these amazing people, the Hendricks. Seriously, who lets you borrow their truck for a whole day?!? The Hendricks. I love those people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan helped me load all of the stuff that the two of us could handle. He was so patient with me and carried all the heavy stuff. He knew how to secure &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;furniture&lt;/span&gt; on a truck. He drove slow to keep all of my stuff protected, and he did it all with a happy smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I got frustrated, he just happily put his muscles to work for me. He is the most amazing man I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for some of the major stuff, we needed more help. I don't know if you have checked out my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;biceps&lt;/span&gt; lately, but they are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;whimpy&lt;/span&gt;. Ryan needed a man to help him move our extremely heavy couches and my bed. As soon as I voiced a need to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kaylene&lt;/span&gt; and Carlos &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Carpio&lt;/span&gt;, they agreed on the spot (well...after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kaylene&lt;/span&gt; checked her calendar, but that is a given with her ;)!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlos and Ryan were AMAZING!! We have two hide-a-beds and one skinny entry way. They turned those couches every which way and got them in. THEY WERE SO HEAVY! But they are supermen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they got both Blaire and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I's&lt;/span&gt; beds up the skinniest stairway I have ever seen. They seriously spent 30 minutes just trying to figure out how the bed would fit. Then just like magic, they got it. INCREDIBLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Kaylene&lt;/span&gt; did not let her hands be idle one second. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kaylene&lt;/span&gt; is a superstar organizer. She knows where to put things and how to make snacks easy to grab. She likes to make labels and know where everything is. She rocks my world. Our whole kitchen is unpacked because of her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Blaire's parents are some cleaning machines. They made the place we were leaving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;IMMACULATE&lt;/span&gt;! I have never seen it this clean. We would still be cleaning if it weren't for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a beautiful day of watching God provide sweet servant hearts into my life. I love all of the wonderful people that helped move me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-919481142869396073?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/919481142869396073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=919481142869396073' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/919481142869396073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/919481142869396073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/07/move-number-3check.html' title='Move Number 3...CHECK!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-5438758570553406320</id><published>2008-06-24T12:17:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T12:41:38.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My summer addictions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I confess...I am an addict. Summer brings out the addict in me. It is not that I don't have addict tendencies during the school year...I just don't have as much time for them, or for that matter time to write about them. But in my effort to be a bimonthly blog updater...I had to get another post in before June passes us by!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My number one addiction...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215498980214444210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SGEssIoYELI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Px7QY9ILZ74/s400/flip+flops.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;FLIP FLOPS! Even though there are many studies that show I will be experiencing horrible body problems later in life because of my flip flop wearing...I don't care. They are so darn comfortable and so darn easy that I can't give them up. If it means I will be in a wheelchair at 35...bring it on! I will be riding with my flip flops. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, this summer addiction comes on really before the "official" start of summer. Any time the temperature gets above 57 degrees...I am wearing flops. You see 57 rounds up to 60 and I think that 60 is a perfectly normal temperature to wear flip flops.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honestly, I am quite puzzled why doctors say flip flops are going to cause me so many problems, I mean people in Jesus' time wore sandals all the time and there is no record in the Bible of their back problems. I guess only time will tell what I am doing to my body with this addiction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The second addiction is purely a summer addiction...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215500233577586450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SGEt1Fxb3xI/AAAAAAAAAHU/HM0BdPtWcnU/s400/main_popice.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;POP-ICE!! Seriously, have you guys eaten one of these this summer? You need to!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The best part about this addiction is that it is cheap! It cost about $3 for a box of a 100 of these things! They don't take up all your freezer space, because you just freeze the pops as you use them. They are best after they have been in the freezer only a couple hours and they are still a little slushy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love how clean this snack is. All the juice stays in the little pouch, so after you have enjoyed your ice, you get to suck up all the sweet juice! It is amazing. I am getting so tempted to have one just as I am writing this. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Go today to your local grocery store or wal-mart and buy these babies...you won't be disappointed!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My third addiction is the habit I want to kick...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215501193815904482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SGEus-8F0OI/AAAAAAAAAHc/LjdQh5Q-nOo/s400/boxes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;MOVING!  Yes, I have an addiction to moving.  On July 1st, I will be indulging in this addiction once again and moving to a new apartment.  This doesn't really qualify as a summer addiction as I have moved every 6 months over the last year and a half...This is one of those addictions that I desperately want to stop.  I really dislike moving...it reminds me how much I hate having so much stuff.  The only good thing about it is that it makes me get rid of clothes that I don't wear anymore and keepsakes that really aren't that keep-worthy.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Every time I get my boxes out to pack, I find stuff that I did not use the entire 6 months that I was in this place and that stuff goes to Good Will or gets chunk!  It keeps me free of clutter that is for sure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But even with those positives, I am ready to settle down so I don't have to keep taking my bed apart and moving all my furniture.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Recently, I was involved in a car accident and the cop looked at my drivers licence address and asked me how long I have lived here.  I embarrassingly told him 5 years and he replied, "you should really get your address updated".  I wanted to tell him, well once I find a house that I will live in for more than 6 months, I will get right on that.  I can't imagine going to the DMV every 6 months, waiting in that long line, just to change my address.  I think I hate going to the DMV more than I hate moving...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So those are my summer addictions.  What are yours?!?  I need to pick up a few more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-5438758570553406320?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/5438758570553406320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=5438758570553406320' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5438758570553406320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5438758570553406320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-summer-addictions.html' title='My summer addictions...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SGEssIoYELI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Px7QY9ILZ74/s72-c/flip+flops.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-198025356762998163</id><published>2008-06-05T23:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T00:00:10.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'>School's Out for Summer...Reflections on My First Year</title><content type='html'>Well, I have been out of school for officially one week!  I am not going to lie...I am loving it.  Maybe in a month, I will get tired of being free and living the good life, but for now I am enjoying it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year was tough, amazing, challenging, encouraging, and exciting all wrapped into one.  I learned a lot of things as God took my "this is what I am going to do after graduation" spiel and fleshed it out into my reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a little bit nerve wracking when you spend 5 years of your life talking about what you are going to do, and then meeting that moment where you stop talking about it and start doing it.  You spend 5 years dreaming about your life after you graduate from college only to find, that for the first 4 months of it, all you can do it wish you were back in college!  But by the time April hit, I pretty much settled with the reality that I will wake up, teach kids, grade papers, have 3-4 hours of free time, and then do it all over again the next day.  I was thankful that the Lord allowed me to adjust to my new stage in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I had to sum up my first year in one word, I think it would be...HUMILITY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was humbled by...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not being good at consistent discipline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not being able to teach and communicate some math concepts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not always having truth on my tongue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not always knowing what to say when a student tells me about a difficult situation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not always loving my students the way they needed to be loved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not always speaking kindly to my students&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;not always being patient and quick to forgive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and realizing that many days I tried to teach and train students in my own strength rather than relying on my Heavenly Father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that last one is really what I think the definition of humility is...God reminding us by little things in life, "psst...hey...Sara...you are human...you are limited...you can't do these things without me...they are impossible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I would wake up every morning and pray for my day that was ahead of me, many times I would close my Bible and journal and function as if that prayer and scripture were meaningless.  Usually...those were my worst days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Often my best days were the mornings that I would wake up, have no energy, no joy, no love for my students, and beg God to do a miracle in my heart.  He was always faithful.  He never let me give up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year was really interesting.  I met a lot of people that were WAY different than me.  I taught kids who went to a different high school than I did.  I am not just talking about the name on the building...I am talking about the high school experience.  I taught a hundred kids this year, 5 of my kids were either pregnant themselves or were father's of recently pregnant girls.  I taught girls that already had 1-2 kids.  I had girls talk to me about their boyfriend's that were in jail.  I had girls talk to me about suicide.  I didn't deal with this stuff when I was in high school...heck some of them were dealing with things I have still YET to experience.  All of these situations made me question why I was the teacher standing before them.  I questioned why I was the one God put as the ear to these conversations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I am real honest with you...I still don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say, I know exactly what God was doing and I could see how he was pursuing each of these students through me...but I can't say that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time I had to teach them math, and there were not a lot of opportunities for me to point blank speak God's truth to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were times I felt disregarded because I was white.  I was ridiculed for wearing "white" clothes (i.e. things from Gap).  I kept asking God, why me?  Why did you call me here?  They don't want to listen to me, they don't trust me...someone else would be more effective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, I still ask these questions...I am still humbled...humbled by the fact that because I am human, I might not get to know all the answers.  I might never get to understand what is going on.  But I am thankful for God's promise of another year to do it all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really explain why I have the drive to come back another year apart from the hope of God and apart from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt; of knowing teenagers I would never know apart from this job, teenagers that God cares very deeply for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you thought this post would be all the wisdom I have learned and all I have seen God do in the last semester...but it isn't.  It is a post about the journey of humility and about being on the road as His follower, one who FOLLOWS, and being excited that I know not what that means...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."&lt;br /&gt;-Hebrews 11:1&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-198025356762998163?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/198025356762998163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=198025356762998163' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/198025356762998163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/198025356762998163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/06/schools-out-for-summerreflections-on-my.html' title='School&apos;s Out for Summer...Reflections on My First Year'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-7037325124309160991</id><published>2008-05-25T10:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T10:40:59.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing But Smiles...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SDmIZbMOT8I/AAAAAAAAAHE/jLBxfXgDQtY/s1600-h/b5g+s053e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204340814780452802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 387px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="355" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SDmIZbMOT8I/AAAAAAAAAHE/jLBxfXgDQtY/s400/b5g+s053e.jpg" width="142" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what my face has looked like for the past 36 hours. Yep...even when I am sleeping. Though it is not the most flattering picture of me, I think it best represents what I have been feeling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ryan has returned from Malawi! It has been a great time of talking (me in my man voice because I have a cold), laughing, and even some dancing (because we went to a wedding yesterday!!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ryan has adjusted well to the time change. He has been sleeping through the night...like a big boy...sorry I just couldn't resist, as soon as I wrote that it sounded like I was talking about a newborn baby!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so glad to have him home...if this picture doesn't tell you all the emotions I am feeling then I don't know what else will!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has been so faithful! I will write more about it later, but right now i am going to go enjoy the fact that I can talk face to face with my amazing boyfriend!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-7037325124309160991?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/7037325124309160991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=7037325124309160991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7037325124309160991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7037325124309160991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/05/nothing-but-smiles.html' title='Nothing But Smiles...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SDmIZbMOT8I/AAAAAAAAAHE/jLBxfXgDQtY/s72-c/b5g+s053e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-6691080203281625933</id><published>2008-05-16T12:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T13:18:23.285-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Week...7 days...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SC3Plana-FI/AAAAAAAAAG8/T2wUo7wVu60/s1600-h/calendar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201041386389567570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SC3Plana-FI/AAAAAAAAAG8/T2wUo7wVu60/s400/calendar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is right...7 days. Ryan will be home in exactly 7 days! I am so pumped. I have been enjoying my count down for the last 16 days! You see, I did not allow myself to count down the days until Ryan got home until the month of May. I did not want this 9 month trip in Malawi to be "counted down" in a sense. I wanted to be thankful that he was there. I wanted to enjoy hearing stories and knowing about Malawi on a deeper level than I would if Ryan didn't go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I haven't been counting. I figured once May happened it would be pretty much impossible for a numbers girl like me not to know how many days it was until he got home. I mean when it is the 3rd of may...of course he is coming home in 20 days. My mind would not be able to write the date without doing that simple calculation. So here I am...7 days away from him coming home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I just can't wrap my mind around the thought that he is coming home, and other times when I am going some where like watching my students in a choir concert and I have to leave early and walk a long way to my car in the dark...I just wish he was already home. You know girls are freaks because we just can't walk any where in the night without looking over our shoulder constantly and when we unlock our doors checking in the back seat before we get in. I want Ryan to come home because always looking over my shoulder for an attacker gives me a crick in my neck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My students at Bryan High also have been counting down with me. They constantly ask me when "my man" is coming home. The new phrase they started on Thursday was, "your baby's daddy", which I had to quickly inform them that Ryan was NOT my baby's daddy...I didn't have any babies. To which their reply was..."well when he gets home then you can have some babies", to which I quickly, awkwardly said, "that is not going to be happening until we get married!" Teenagers say the craziest things! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But my favorite thing that happened on Thursday was that I was passing out the homework and one girl just said to me, "you got 8 days Ms. Eaker". Like we weren't even talking about Ryan. I was a little confused at first, but then I realized she was talking about Ryan coming home. I was like, how do you remember that! They can't remember 12 + 4 is 16, but they know how soon "my man" is coming home!! It made me laugh...and then feel a little special because I know they care about me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7 days until I get to hear his voice and see his face at the same time, 7 days until I get to see his smile and give him a big hug, 7 days until I get to have long conversations with him without a delay or saying, "wait, it cut out, what did you say", 7 days until I get to hear him play beautiful piano music (well...he probably won't be doing that the FIRST night he comes home, but it sounds better), 7 days until I get to ride around with him and close my eyes because he always knows how to get places and I never have to worry about getting lost, 7 days until I get Ryan back!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alright, well that might have been too much for all of y'all, but I just wanted to share my excitement! Unfortunately, for most of you who read this, he will not be back in college station for a bit, so your count down isn't 7 days! Sorry! But I know we are all ready to hear his fingers play wonderful piano music...and he will be back to do that real soon!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201041377799632962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SC3Pk6na-EI/AAAAAAAAAG0/ozXx6ZvLMjc/s400/Ryan+at+a+bus+stop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;May 23rd here I come!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-6691080203281625933?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/6691080203281625933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=6691080203281625933' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6691080203281625933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6691080203281625933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/05/one-week7-days.html' title='One Week...7 days...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SC3Plana-FI/AAAAAAAAAG8/T2wUo7wVu60/s72-c/calendar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-6024456253065703928</id><published>2008-05-01T17:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T21:53:40.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Divorce Rings</title><content type='html'>So today I was giving the ever pleasant TAKS test...so I actually had time to read the newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read about the new developments in the CPS case versus the polygamists Mormon ranch in San Angelo, I read about bone chips found that could be the missing Prince Alexius from the Romanov family, and I read the always enjoyable comics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I fell upon an article that was truly disturbing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Divorce Rings".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195606655663260418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SBqAuc92wwI/AAAAAAAAAGs/-RWeQ418km4/s400/Divorce+Rings.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, that's right, American jewelers are now marketing a ring to celebrate America's new favorite pastime, divorce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, I think my blood pressure rose about 100 points (or whatever the units of blood pressure is) when I read this article. At first I thought this ring was so that people could be like WHOO HOO!! I got a divorce! That made me really angry, but the more I read I realized that was not what it was about. But in actuality, the more I learned and the more disturbed I got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out that the ring was first created by a woman who had been through a divorce and wanted a ring to signify her survival admits the deep pain of divorce. She wanted a ring to remind people there is hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am all about hope. I love hope. I think every person has hope in every situation, but I only believe that because I believe Jesus Christ is our only hope and he came for everyone in every situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this whole thing just shouldn't exist. God NEVER designed marriage to look this way. God never designed us to have to deal with the agony of a broken marriage. Marriage is suppose to look like Him and how He loves the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you visit this &lt;a href="http://www.divorcedjewelryco.com/"&gt;website &lt;/a&gt;you will see that the first thing they did for every ring was break the symbol of the never ending circle. Marriage is symbolized by a ring because the bond was not designed to be broken. God did not design us to enter the intimate bond of marriage and then just break the bond whenever things got tough. That is not how His love is and it is not how we are suppose to represent his love through marriage. Divorce is painful and horrible because God never designed it to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These people are JOKING themselves if they think that their ring can help "build self-esteem one person at a time", which is the company motto. The only thing that can build us up admits this kind of deep pain is the love from a father that is never ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It pains me that God has been so removed from marriage that we can think that we as people can put back the pieces of a devastating event on our own, through building self esteem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It devastates me that these rings even have to exist. It pains me that 50% of people who say "I do" will know a some point the pain of "oh no, wait, I don't". It pains me that Christians will know this pain in the same rate that lost people do because our marriages look no different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, this is one of the craziest things I have ever heard of! What do y'all think? Did you know these existed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I am sorry that I have been such a blog slacker. I have a bimonthly blog updating goal, but I have failed april. April went by without a flash...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-6024456253065703928?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/6024456253065703928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=6024456253065703928' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6024456253065703928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6024456253065703928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/05/divorce-rings.html' title='Divorce Rings'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/SBqAuc92wwI/AAAAAAAAAGs/-RWeQ418km4/s72-c/Divorce+Rings.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-2861501615464475984</id><published>2008-03-30T13:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T14:38:59.614-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little bit closer to Africa...</title><content type='html'>But, I am still 12,000 miles away. I didn't get any physically closer to Malawi...but Malawi got a little closer to me! &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183615526027963698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m22EYrTI/AAAAAAAAAGE/OA9OZ3voeo4/s400/African+Skirt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See my skirt? Isn't it beautiful?!? My studly boyfriend who is in Malawi stinkin HAD IT MADE FOR ME!! His lovely parents just brought it back with them. I just need to say...I am so blessed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This amazing man picked the fabric out himself and had a wonderful Malawian woman make me a skirt! Who does that! Ryan Price...that is who!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This biggest miracle in all of this is that even though the lady did not have any measurements for me, the skirt still fits perfectly. Alright girls, let me get a witness...how hard is it for find FITTED clothes that fit you perfectly...so hard! I am telling you, I think something miraculous happened as this skirt traveled across the Atlantic ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my skirt. This morning when I was getting ready for church, I just was giddy because I knew I was about to put it on. It makes me feel like Ryan is not so far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on May 23rd, Ryan won't be far away anymore. That's right...in less than 2 months I can see him when I talk to him, I can call him at any time when I need directions somewhere, I can call him and ask him dumb questions like what does an acupunture do?, I can go grocery shopping with him, I can hear his fingers make beautiful piano music, and I can listen to all the things that go on in his heart. I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe that God has already carried us through 7 months of separation and unified us all the while. I thought we would have some point that was really hard and I would feel really distant from him and I would doubt that this could even work...but it didn't happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I have missed him. I have had days that he doesn't seem real. I have had days that I just thought I couldn't make it one more day without hearing his voice. But those feelings usually only lasted a day or two. God always took care of me and constantly reminded me that He brought us together, and He would sustain us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the months before he left for Malawi, I just couldn't imagine how I was going to make it. When I would worry about it, God would just draw me to prayer. One thing he laid on my heart to pray was,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God make this this sweetest part of our dating relationship." The first time I spoke those words, I laughed a little to myself. I thought, how in the world am I going to get to say this after 9 months of not seeing this amazing man? Am I really going to be able to tell people that this was the SWEETEST part of our dating relationship. But I will tell you...God has been faithful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that has always been a struggle for me in our relationship is being verbally affirmed. I don't know if any other girl out there has ever struggled with this...but I wanted to hear good things about me all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, that sounds icky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We don't like to say that outloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We like to mask this desire by saying, "my love language is words of affirmation", but what we really mean is, please tell me how amazing you think I am...I won't be happy until I hear that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most major thing God has freed me from during this time is verbal affirmation. In my mind, I thought this would maybe be the sweetest time because it would force Ryan to say everything outloud to me. I was getting ready to be verbally affirmed for 9 months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, God had different plans for me. God started revealing a lot of sin and insecurity I had in my heart around October. He showed me that this need for Ryan to tell me how much he valued me came from my insecurity of wondering how much he liked me. I didn't trust God for that security. So as I was constantly asking Ryan to affirm me, it was never enough. God kept working on me, finally in December He slapped me in the face and showed me that the bottom line is that I feared man's approval about God's. He showed me how that made me foolish. And he showed me how destructive it was on my relationships in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, as I laid on my floor crying to the Lord, I told Him that I could not free myself from this. I needed the Lord's help. Of course there were some things I HAD to do. I had to be really honest with Ryan and with other people in my life that I was seeking affirmation from. I had to evaluate every email I sent Ryan and ask myself, "am I saying this self deprecating thing in hopes that he will reply back with some affirming thing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women...we are master manipulators, and unless we are honest, we cannot be freed from manipulation. I think this may be one of the single hardest sins to find freedom from, because often our sisters cannot see it to call us out on it. It is all in our minds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God was so good to bring freedom. Then everything Ryan ever said to me became 100 times sweeter because I didn't have this attitude of "oh good, he said exactly what I wanted him to say" or hurt of why hadn't he said this more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea that this was God's plan of how he was going to make this the sweetest part of our dating relationship. But what I love is that this was a WAY better way to answer that prayer, than what I had in mind. His ways are so much higher, and so much sweeter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not the only thing that has made this time really sweet. Here is a quick list of a few:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pretty much every morning (given his internet is functioning properly) I have an email in my inbox. Most people who wake up at 5:30 don't have emails in the inbox, but that is the beauty of Malawi being 7 hours ahead of us!&lt;br /&gt;2.I have an Africa skirt...enough said.&lt;br /&gt;3. I got to stinkin go to Africa...I mean that has always been a dream of mine, so pretty amazing that it has already come true.&lt;br /&gt;4. All the physical temptation crap, is completey not an issue.&lt;br /&gt;5. Just getting to hear his voice means so much more now. I hope for as long as I live, I will never take for granted getting to hear the sound of his voice.&lt;br /&gt;6. God has taught me to trust Him and not circumstances to be the unifier of our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now girls, I am not suggesting that you ship your boyfriends off to a far away land...and I hope Ryan doesn't think that just because it has been the sweetest time of our relationship thus far that I am not ready for him to come home...because I am...but I am thankful for the way the Lord has used this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you don't believe me about how much I miss him... here is some more evidence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183615538912865602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m3mEYrUI/AAAAAAAAAGM/KEBe2t2W-BU/s400/R+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183615547502800210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m4GEYrVI/AAAAAAAAAGU/22DTVVGwhTM/s400/Y+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183615556092734818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m4mEYrWI/AAAAAAAAAGc/ud511avEev8/s400/A+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183615560387702130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m42EYrXI/AAAAAAAAAGk/hdZyJ5G1S7Q/s400/N+pic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my humble attempted at spelling Ryan's name out...and just one more chance to show my skirt off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, yay for African skirts and God's faithfulness. That is good stuff...and Ryan, I can't wait to show you the skirt in person!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-2861501615464475984?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/2861501615464475984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=2861501615464475984' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2861501615464475984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2861501615464475984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/03/little-bit-closer-to-africa.html' title='A little bit closer to Africa...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R-_m22EYrTI/AAAAAAAAAGE/OA9OZ3voeo4/s72-c/African+Skirt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8846987216016307967</id><published>2008-03-08T22:23:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T23:05:58.667-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaking Point...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R9NuzbqA7nI/AAAAAAAAAF8/XNl9kRjk08k/s1600-h/crying+woman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175602226655194738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="198" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R9NuzbqA7nI/AAAAAAAAAF8/XNl9kRjk08k/s400/crying+woman.jpg" width="304" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A week and a half ago I met my breaking point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't know he was there inside of me. But we were introduced on Wednesday, February 27&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't wake up that morning knowing that I would meet him...he just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snuck&lt;/span&gt; up on me. When he stuck out his hand to introduce himself he took my composure, my patience, my smile, and my feeling of "I can do this".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A week and a half ago, God reminded me that I am human.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I "teach high school geometry"...that is my job title. That is what Bryan &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ISD&lt;/span&gt; tells the state I do and they give me a pay check twice a month for doing it. However, that is just a cover. My real job is that I am a person motivated by the love of Christ to love high school kids in hopes that they encounter Jesus in me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like to think that I am an undercover cop. It makes my job more exciting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But like I said, I hit my breaking point about 2 weeks ago. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't one thing that broke me...it was a myriad of things. The disobedience I encounter on a daily basis was just too much on that Wednesday. I couldn't handle one more teenager ignoring my simple requests. I couldn't be patient as one more student refused to sit in their assigned seat. I couldn't handle one more student talking while I was talking. I couldn't handle one more attitude or an under the breath comment like, "I hate you" or a not so under the breath comment, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aww&lt;/span&gt; miss, you are annoying me!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I broke down and cried after 3rd period...that's right, I am not ashamed to admit it, I cried. But not in front of the kids. By the end of 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; period, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. I just broke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The day was hard. I was weary. I went home right after school and just cried with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;roommates&lt;/span&gt;. That is when it hit me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God doesn't have a breaking point. He was gracious to show me that all the disobedience I have experienced over the past 2 months...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has seen it since the creation of man. He has seen people read His commands and ignore His simple requests. He has spoken truth to people only to get people talking right over Him, so they can't hear him. He has heard the most hurtful insults...He knows the insults that haven't even been spoken, and yet...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He does not break.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Do you not know?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Have you not heard?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;The LORD is the everlasting God, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;the Creator of the ends of the earth. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;He will not grow tired or weary, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;and his understanding no one can fathom. "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Isaiah 40:28&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God reminded me, by breaking me, just how strong He is. God reminded me that as my love wears out, His never does. God reminded me that even as a youth, I will grow weary. He reminded me that He is my only source of power and strength. He showed me how deeply He loves us, even though we are disobedient.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I understand a little better why God would destroy whole cities for their disobedience. I think I understand a little better why His son had to come and get nails pushed through His skin. Disobedience causes pain. It is not just disappointing...it is devastating.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Wednesday I was broken and empty. I had nothing left to give...and yet the hope I held on to is that I know a God who will never meet His breaking point, because it simply doesn't exist. He is everlasting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His love is amazing. I know I cannot fathom it and I will probably never understand the great deepness of His love. However, my prayer is that as each time He pushes me to love harder and deeper and at each new breaking point, I will get a little closer to understanding just how far He goes to love us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8846987216016307967?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8846987216016307967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8846987216016307967' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8846987216016307967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8846987216016307967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/03/breaking-point.html' title='Breaking Point...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R9NuzbqA7nI/AAAAAAAAAF8/XNl9kRjk08k/s72-c/crying+woman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-5832286123465986982</id><published>2008-02-15T18:19:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T18:58:17.260-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections on Valentine's Day...</title><content type='html'>I want to begin by saying, I am not a hater of valentines day. I think any holiday that is all about candy and wearing pink is alright with me. I know some people are really passionate about hating the day they so dearly call, "single awareness day"...but that is not what this post is about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This valentine's day (p.s. I hate using the ' apostrophe...it is hard to type, so I am going to leave it off from now on. English teachers sue me... but I am just not into doing it, it is inconvenient.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the day with 100 teenagers. Yes, I work at Bryan High. The whole day was like a balloon/stuffed animal explosion/flower explosion. And it got me thinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;who decided that those would be the things sold on valentines day? Did companies have to compete to try and get there product sold on valentines day? Like why don't we give lamps on valentines day? Or pencil sharpeners? Who got to decide that flowers, balloons, and stuffed animal companies would make it big on this day? And that is where I have to ask,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167372160217181330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R7Yxmg_87JI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ooJKKEdCaNw/s400/v-day+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHY STUFFED ANIMALS? Does any girl like to get that on valentines day? Like I am not judging, but I just wonder, is that anyone's greatest desire? I mean I have received two stuff animals before when I was in my younger, more stupid years, and I was like "seriously, what do I do with this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flowers are pretty, and they die so you can throw them away...good gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chocolate...always a good gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even balloons...I mean it wouldn't be my first choice of gifts, but it will eventually deflate and then I will throw it away. So even if I don't care too much for balloons, eventually I won't have to see it anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But stuffed animals never go away. And lets be honest, when I was 17 (and now for that matter) what use did I have for a stuffed animal?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what gets me are the HUGE ones. (yep this one is 8 feet tall...and someone spent their hard earned money on  this!)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167373998463184050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 229px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="212" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R7YzRg_87LI/AAAAAAAAAFs/Ey_HjbYpRDA/s400/large+bear.jpg" width="197" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s almost like diamond rings. The bigger the stuffed animal the more you love someone. But for me, the pleasure I receive from the stuffed animal greatly decreases once it hits a size that would take up a whole corner in my room. Literally, like maybe it brings pleasure in the moment, but when the girl gets home I have to think she asks herself, "what in the HECK do I do wit this now."&lt;br /&gt;And that is just the thing...its all about show. It was about show when I was in high school and it’s about show now. I remember when I was dating a boy my junior year of high school and he came over the night before valentines day to give me my gift. He said he wanted to give it to me the night before so I didn't have to carry it around school. In my mind I am thinking, "THAT IS THE WHOLE POINT OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND ON VALENTINES DAY" but I couldn't very well tell him that, I didn't want to look superficial, but in my mind, I totally was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I know things haven't changed is because I had a girl tell it to me straight yesterday. I asked her who she got her bears from, and this is what she said...&lt;br /&gt;"Well I got this pink one from my mom, because I didn't think I was going to have a valentine, so I asked her to buy me one so I could carry it around school...but then it turned out that this boy gave me one, so I had two."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is right; this girl brought a bear FROM HOME to school...just to have something to carry around.&lt;br /&gt;Now she is stuck with two stuffed animals that she has absolutely NO use for. Why stuffed animals? Why, WHY couldn’t we just be happy with the flowers and candy?&lt;br /&gt;But I mean maybe I am the only girl who thinks this. Maybe every other girl gets great joy from receiving a stuffed animal. My question is, if other girls feel the same way as me, do we need to start a campaign to set the record straight so that guys stop wasting their money on crazy big stuffed animals...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what is the consensus? Any other thoughts on this highly commercialized holiday?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-5832286123465986982?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/5832286123465986982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=5832286123465986982' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5832286123465986982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5832286123465986982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/02/reflections-on-valentines-day.html' title='Reflections on Valentine&apos;s Day...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R7Yxmg_87JI/AAAAAAAAAFc/ooJKKEdCaNw/s72-c/v-day+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-2816536239164199420</id><published>2008-01-21T18:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T21:43:17.003-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrations...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have had a wonderful weekend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a weekend of happiness and celebrations. I added another year to my life and a dear friend added a diamond to her left hand. It was such a happy time full of memories, laughter, and excitement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The weekend started Saturday morning when I got a call from Aggieland Florist. They were informing me that I had a delievery that they wanted to drop by. Though I was still in my pj's, I was happy to open the door for beautiful flowers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158100528925860994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R5VBGi5hZII/AAAAAAAAAE0/eUyvlibkUdw/s400/DSC00540.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a very sweet card enclosed letting me know that a very amazing man in Malawi was responsible for these beautiful things appearing at my door. It was such an amazing way to bless me from 12000 miles away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I immediately got on the phone (and by immediately...i mean I am dealing with calling Africa so it takes me about 45 minutes to get through) and got to talk to the most amazing guy on this earth (This was the best part of my birthday I must say).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest of the day was pretty low key.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, that night something exciting was happening. One of my close friends, Kelly Imrie was getting asked if she would spend the rest of her life with this amazing guy named Chris Haney. So at 3am I was woken up by this girl who squeled "I am engaged!" It was the best way to spend the 3am hour of my birthday! There is something so exciting about the engagement of two people who desire to follow the will of the Lord. I couldn't fall back to sleep for a while because I was just so happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next time I woke up on my birthday morning, I actually got up and got ready for church. My next surprise was waiting in my inbox. There was this incredibly sweet poem written by the one and only Ryan Price. Now many of you think that playing piano and taking wonderful pictures are his only talents...but don't let him fool you. He is so gifted in the arts. The poem blessed me so much...and I will spare yall the mushyness and just let you create in your own minds an amazing poem!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I went off to church and got to spend the first 2 hours of my birthday with my amazing church family. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning of my birthday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I came home I found my house had been overtaken by pink streamers and ballons.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sweet roomate had decorated while I was gone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158103496748262546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R5VDzS5hZJI/AAAAAAAAAE8/QN163DLSCBM/s400/DSC00539.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Later that day we made cakes for our "Celebration Night!" I say "we" because each of my roomates took a different part of the cake making process. Mixing, baking, icing, and decorating...it was a team effort! We made a birthday cake and a "Happy Engagement" cake.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158104583374988450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R5VEyi5hZKI/AAAAAAAAAFE/o80fUsZxa-M/s400/DSC00544.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was so fun!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158104587669955762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R5VEyy5hZLI/AAAAAAAAAFM/7kwcnbDC9AY/s400/DSC00546.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The night culiminated in the gathering of great friends. We ate together and all sat and listened to Kelly share the story of her knight in shining armor ask for her hand in marriage. It was so sweet to get to share this time together. I couldn't have asked for a better weekend of rejoicing in the blessings from the Lord.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-2816536239164199420?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/2816536239164199420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=2816536239164199420' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2816536239164199420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2816536239164199420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/01/celebrations.html' title='Celebrations...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R5VBGi5hZII/AAAAAAAAAE0/eUyvlibkUdw/s72-c/DSC00540.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-5240385460705685701</id><published>2008-01-16T21:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T21:57:44.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Painting Pictures of Egypt...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R47RlS5hZGI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TgVLtXkLzzY/s1600-h/Egypt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156289062044263522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R47RlS5hZGI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TgVLtXkLzzY/s400/Egypt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sara Groves has this really great song called, "Painting Pictures of Egypt" the chours goes like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I've been painting pictures of Egypt,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;leaving out what it lacked,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;the future feels so hard, and I wanna go back,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;but the places that used to fit me, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;cannot hold the things I've learned,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;and those roads are closed off too me while my back was turned."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This song resonnates in my soul. I am guilty of singing this tune too often in my life. I am always wishing I was somewhere else in life. I am like those silly Israelites that yearned for Egypt...the very thing they prayed for God to deliever them from.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is me. I am guilty. The future feels so hard, and I wanna go back. This semester I started real life. You know that thing that you spend 4 solid years telling people you are going to do when you finish college...I am doing it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actually, I have been telling people that I am going to be a math teacher for like 6 years. Now I am a math teacher. Yeah...like a real life person with a paycheck and insurance and all that stuff. I have life insurance. gulp! seriously, I feel old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While I was in college I longed for the days of no tests and no difficult math proofs. I longed to do something I cared about and something that mattered. I was so ready to graduate last may. but now...often I find myself painting pictures of the past...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(of course I mean that figuratively because have no artistic ability)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find myself wanting to stay up late and take afternoon naps, I want to have a flexible schedule. I want free time. I know you college students are reading this thinking you have no free time...but it isn't true. If you can go to the grocery store between the hours of 8-5..you have free time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I have a problem. Its a huge problem. It is called discontentment...and it is not okay. I have to fight the thoughts inside of me that "if I could just be there...then it would be easier." I have to fight the thoughts of "I wish I was her...she has it good". I am discontent. That is not pleasing to the Lord.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-1 Timothy 6:6-8&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Godliness with contentment is great gain...wow. That is a verse I could sit on for a long time. I want to know that great gain. Then I love how verse 8 says, if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that...we will. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not: we should or you better be or we might be, but WE WILL. God is telling us to be content all we need is food and clothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have clothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God's word says I will be content. Thus I am living a lie by not being content. I need to live by truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to start painting pictures of Bryan High because this is where I am, and I am not going back.&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/5414995257408256464-5240385460705685701?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/5240385460705685701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=5240385460705685701' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5240385460705685701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5240385460705685701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/01/painting-pictures-of-egypt.html' title='Painting Pictures of Egypt...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R47RlS5hZGI/AAAAAAAAAEk/TgVLtXkLzzY/s72-c/Egypt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-6047501149609987913</id><published>2008-01-05T15:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T16:46:41.032-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Home in My 7 Exit Town!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'M BACK HOME!! It feels so good. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152127578036855890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R4AIvC5hZFI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CLj2Q5e0h5w/s400/College+Station.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I was driving on my beloved highway 6 and I saw the sign, "College Station, next 7 exits". I love that this town has 7 exits. I love that there is one highway that runs through here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love that we have a "rush half hour". I love that no place takes more than 20 minutes to get to. I love how every time I come back some new place has popped up...and I realize it because I know about every store and restaurant in this town. It's so good to be home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now of course what I really love about this town is my amazing church, but those are just a couple of the other things I love. You see I didn't grow up in a 7 exit town. We have about 3 times that many highways, let alone a killizon amount of exits. So I appreciate the "small" town life of college station.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the best parts about being back is that I know without a shadow of a doubt that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be. I have been waiting to write a blog entry on this until my job became offical, and then I was in Africa, and then I was in Colorado, so I am just now sitting down to get this baby out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So as I was finishing up my last semester of my senior year, last april/may, I was also concluding my time in the Her Hands class. On the last night, Heather shared with us the challenge to really ask the Lord where He wanted us to go in our future, rather than just picking up and leaving this town because it is what everyone else does. I knew that I had one more semester here anyways because I was student teaching. But I knew that after that I did not have plans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Heather expressed to us how blessed we were to live in a town that had a church that preached truth and had believers that cared about mentoring. I knew she was right. Living Hope has been one of the most tremendous blessings in my walk with Christ that I can't imagine leaving it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I started praying. I knew that my parents would want me to get a job when I finished student teaching. And with all the lessons I have learned, I would be a fool not to follow their advice. I was pretty sure that me being a math teacher I could find a job in December in a big town...but I wasn't so sure about finding a job here in the 7 exit city. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I also knew 2 truths.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God desires us to know truth and to live in a body of authentic believers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God knows how to give his children gifts. (&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew%207:9-11;&amp;amp;version=31;"&gt;Matthew 7:9-11&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I just kept on praying for a job. All semester as I was student teaching at Bryan High School I prayed for a job. Some days I didn't think about it. Some days it was heavy on my heart. Some days I would have faith that I would be here in January, and some days I doubted that that was God's will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked my hope group to pray. I asked my friends to pray. I know the power of prayer, and God kept my faith that He was in control.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So then came my last week of student teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At this point I knew that Bryan would hire me to be a substitute, but my parents weren't crazy about that. They wanted me to have a full-time job.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That Wednesday night in hope group I just begged them to pray for me to get a full time job here. I was so desparate to remain here, but I knew I had to have a job to live under the submission of my parents. I started considering that maybe this is not where the Lord wanted me to be. Maybe my desires were different than His. So as I was praying for a job I started to ask God to make my heart desire leaving here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then Thursday night came. The night before my last day of student teaching, still no jobs available at Bryan High or College Station High School. I spoke to my parents on the phone and they said that I needed to work over Thanksgiving break to find a job in Dallas since I couldn't find one here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got off the phone and I was devasted. I just didn't want to leave. I couldn't understand why God wanted me to leave this place of ministry and community. So the only thing I knew to do was to pray. Pray hard. And to ask other believers to pray for me. I sent out some emails that night and just asked His people to pray. I also asked them to pray that my heart would change about going to Dallas if that was His will. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was amazing, Friday morning I woke up and I felt completely different. My heart was ready to move where ever the Lord wanted me. His joy replaced my doubt and saddness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I went to school. I was emotional about my last day and leaving my kids, so I wasn't thinking too much about anything more than that. About mid-morning an administrator came in with our math coordinator and said, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sara, we really want you to teach here next semester."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I replied, "well, so do I, but you don't have a position available"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She then said, "Well, we have created a position for you. It would be a full-time teaching job will all the benefits and everything. Would you like to accept?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I seriously almost fell out of my chair. I was speechless. Then the math coordinator just talked about how she new this is where I needed to be and they were so excited that they could create this position.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was stunned. Great is His faithfulness. Great is His desire for us to live in a community of believers. Great is our blessings when we submit to the Lord and our authority. Great is His provision if we will only trust Him. Great is His love for His children. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So of course I accepted, and I am set to start this amazing job Monday January 7th. I could not be more excited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to thank my dear brothers and sisters who partnered with me in prayer and rejoiced with me as we saw the Lord be faithful. Most of all, I am thankful to the Lord for His great love in which He constantly desires to grow our faith.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Praise God for bringing me back to my 7 exit town!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-6047501149609987913?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/6047501149609987913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=6047501149609987913' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6047501149609987913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6047501149609987913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2008/01/back-home-in-my-7-exit-town.html' title='Back Home in My 7 Exit Town!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R4AIvC5hZFI/AAAAAAAAAEc/CLj2Q5e0h5w/s72-c/College+Station.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8512298956887048785</id><published>2007-12-23T20:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T11:42:10.115-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some wonderings on Mary and Joseph...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R28kGS5hZEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/26t-0N8GJu4/s1600-h/nativity-scene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147372589678683202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R28kGS5hZEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/26t-0N8GJu4/s400/nativity-scene.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have some questions about Mary and Joseph. They aren’t nice church questions. They are questions I have because I know that Mary and Joseph were human beings. Questions I have because I know they aren’t those meek smiling little people represented in every nativity scene that we have. They aren’t questions like “How much did you love Joseph when he proposed?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are questions like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did Mary ever lie and tell someone she wasn’t a virgin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did she ever get tired of feeling like a freak when she told someone that an angel appeared to her, so she just told someone she had had sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did Joseph ever in a moment of wanting to feel macho with ‘the guys’ say, “Yeah I knocked up Mary before we were married…she hot, right?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did he ever just want to end a conversation quickly so he said he was just doing the ‘right thing’ by not leaving Mary, instead of that he had a dream where an angel of the Lord told him not to leave his fiancé?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are questions I wonder because I know that Mary and Joseph had to be a lot like me. And although I hate to admit it, I have denied God’s work before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve had moments where it is cooler to say that I had sinned when I really hadn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been tired of giving God the credit and having people look at me like I just walked off a UFO, so I’ve told a story in a more “believable” way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been ashamed of amazing things that God has done and ways that He has spoken to me…so when I know someone is not going to respond well…I often just change the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate writing these things for all the world to see, but they are true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could say I did all of these things before having a strong relationship with the Lord…but I can’t. I still mess up. I still deny Him. I still at times choose fearing men over fearing God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I messed up big time this summer. I had these people at work asking me about my relationship with Ryan and our story in how we got back together. Instead of telling them about all the amazing things God did and how it was so hard, but I clung to the promises of my faithful God…I told them that I trusted Ryan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was afraid that they would think I was crazy, so I told them something easier to believe, “that the guy was this wonderful guy worthy of trust.” But as the words came out of my mouth my heart began to ache. I knew I had denied the power of the Lord. I hated myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got me thinking about Mary and Joseph. I began to wonder if they had any moments like that. I have to think that sometimes the weight of what they were experiencing made them say some things they were ashamed of. Now I am not sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible gives us no indication that they messed up in that area. So I just get to wonder. I have to know that they made some mistakes…I mean they weren't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Jesus, so they had to. And that just gets me thinking about grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is as much about grace as Easter is. Christmas is a story of grace because God used a regular, sinful woman to carry His precious son. He used two people that He knew would mess up and fear men more than they feared God to raise His Son. It’s hard for my “works based” mind to fathom. I so much want to think that Mary and Joseph were these perfect people and that’s why God chose them…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they weren’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace. It’s by grace He came. By grace that we can say “O come, o come Emmanuel”. It’s by grace that He chooses to reveal Himself to us. It’s by grace that He uses us to carry out His work. It’s all about grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could know Mary and Joseph. I wish I could sit down and have a cup of coffee and just talk to them about this experience in their life. I want to know where they messed up and where they were victorious. I want to know their hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know these people in the Bible are so much deeper than we get to see from the passages of scripture. This Christmas I am just dying to get inside Mary's and Joseph's minds. But alas, I am left to my own wonderings...so I will keep on wondering...but I think that's what this season is about, questions. Is this the Messiah? Who is this baby? How did these shepperds know where we were? Is this really the One we have been waiting for? The first Christmas was all about questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So maybe I am closer to knowing Mary and Joseph than I think...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8512298956887048785?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8512298956887048785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8512298956887048785' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8512298956887048785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8512298956887048785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/12/some-wonderings-on-mary-and-joseph.html' title='Some wonderings on Mary and Joseph...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R28kGS5hZEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/26t-0N8GJu4/s72-c/nativity-scene.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3379431354967765997</id><published>2007-12-21T18:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-21T22:32:25.222-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'M BACK!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Yes, it is true, I am back in America safe and sound. Well, sound would imply that I am in good mental standing...and we are just never sure about that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got back Thursday around noon after a wonderful time in Malawi. I could not have asked for a more precious gift this Christmas than getting to spend two amazing weeks with the most incredible man of God I know. Ryan's blog can give you the run down of what we did over those two weeks, so check that out! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146649798222373938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R2ySuS5hZDI/AAAAAAAAAEM/mHbq5nLqdjE/s400/Ryan+and+I.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan blessed me so greatly by taking me around the country and helping me understand all the things going on there. It was so great to be there and experience things that I either hear about over the phone or read about in his blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the main things was what Ryan writes about poverty. I think I understand his perspective a little better now. I got the blessing of taking a 2 day trip to a village down south and a couple other village experiences, and what I learned is that those people were not "poor". Now sure, images that I saw looked like they came straight out of a national geographic magazine. People living in huts, cooking their food over a fire, and spending all day outside where it is "cooler" (its hard to say cooler when you are still sweating profusely). But I couldn't see these people as poor. They were living, and living very contently. They weren't begging us to give them money or to give them my tv that I have at home. They were happy to share a meal with us. They were happy to share a smile with us. The more I thought about it the more I realized that poverty is an idea that is birthed from disparity and discontentment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who live in the city of Malawi see people that have a lot of stuff. Then when they don't have it, they feel less. They want things, so they beg for them. People in the villages, everyone living together, are content. They aren't poor. Yes, they live on practically no money, but I am sure they would not call themselves poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course these are my thoughts after spending only 2 weeks in the country, so let me put a disclaimer on them that they are most likely ignorant and undeveloped. However, they are my thoughts and so I wanted to share them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I definitely wished I could have stayed longer and truly gotten to know the culture better, but alas I had to come back. I had to leave Ryan...let me tell you, it wasn't easy. But I try not to be sad and just focus on the absolute joy that it was to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that I have finished my serious post for my time in Malawi I wanted to give you a highlight of some of the other moments of my trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Almost running out of gas and having to buy "petro" (gas) off the black market&lt;br /&gt;2. Having a woman bring a chicken to offering during a church service&lt;br /&gt;3. Huddling together with singing Malawian women during church to stay dry as the rain came pouring in the room.&lt;br /&gt;4. Having Ryan constantly impress me with his amazing cooking from scratch abilities!&lt;br /&gt;5.Buying like 50 tomatoes on the side of the road for a dollar!&lt;br /&gt;6. Eating mangos while swimming at the natural pools at Mt. Mulanje&lt;br /&gt;7. Taking a "bucket shower" while spending the night at a village. (basically this means pouring water over myself to shower)&lt;br /&gt;8. Wearing a skirt almost every day...actually its kinda fun!&lt;br /&gt;9. Walking through the market and hearing people say "sister, sister, come look at my paintings"&lt;br /&gt;10. Getting to talk to Ryan face to face about all that he is experiencing&lt;br /&gt;11. learning to salsa dance...no, no they didn't have this there, I brought a dvd!&lt;br /&gt;12. Trying to say "Muli Bwanje" to local people and them having NO CLUE what i was saying!&lt;br /&gt;13. Spending 14 days with Ryan!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-3379431354967765997?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3379431354967765997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3379431354967765997' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3379431354967765997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3379431354967765997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-back.html' title='I&apos;M BACK!!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R2ySuS5hZDI/AAAAAAAAAEM/mHbq5nLqdjE/s72-c/Ryan+and+I.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3103280903773464354</id><published>2007-12-10T09:13:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T10:48:08.703-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Loving Malawi</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqGFT8VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/y4HubwMaBCo/s1600-h/Mulanje-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqGFT8VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/y4HubwMaBCo/s400/Mulanje-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142381421923660114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Well...I have now been in Malawi for 5 days...and can I just say, I LOVE IT.  I mean a big part of it is that I am getting to spend so much time with Ryan...but another big part is that I just love to be in new cultures!  (p.s. Ryan is hard at work right now...so I thought I would take this opportune time to update people I love!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well let's start from when I arrived.  I got here Wednesday night at 10:00 pm.  I got here all in one piece and so did my luggage!  Praise the Lord.  I was so nervous about traveling all that way by myself, and I really felt the prayers of my brothers and sisters back home!  I could not have asked for a smoother travel experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked out of the customs room and saw Ryan's smiling face every moment of the 15 hour flight crammed in the middle was worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was dark that night so I didn't get to see much of Malawi until the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning started my tour of Malawi.  It is SO beautiful here!  It's not really what I expected, get desert Africa out of your mind.  It is rainy season so everything is green and lush (I love that word) and mountainous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove around town and then we went to the market to buy some vegetables.  It was so nice being with Ryan and letting him handle the buying aspect so I could let the millions of thoughts run through my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we drove up, like 10 kids swarmed our car and asked us if they could carry our vegetables.  Ryan got a boy (his name was Medicine) that he had befriended in his previous times to the market to carry our vegetable.  I liked how communal the whole experience was.  I liked that Ryan already had a relationship with a small boy and the way that he talked to the people selling in the market.  It made me want to know them and know their stories.  I loved how they smiled as Ryan waved at them and stopped by their booths.  I loved how they enjoyed bargaining with him.  I loved the man that encouraged some other seller to give us a good price because he liked Ryan.  I know that I was walking among people that live on very little money, people that we would have labeled in the west as poor,  but that's not really what I was thinking about.  I felt like I was suppose to be having this emotional experience where I thought about their poverty, but actually what my mind focused on was that they were people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These people were wives, mothers, brothers, husbands, fathers, sons, daughters, and friends.  These people had lives.  They had hurts, struggles, joys, and fears.  Just as I have hurts, struggles, joys, and fears.  I know I have only been here a couple days, so I am sure the weight of everything that is going on around me has not sunk in, and it may never since I am only here two weeks.  However, the more I meet people, the more I see people.  I don't really think of how we are different or that in the West I spend more in a day than they do in a month.  I really don't know if that thought would help anybody anyways.  I just see them as people, and maybe if I just let my thoughts rest there, I can really love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hanging out a few days in Blantyre (the city Ryan lives in) we traveled to a big ol mountain near by.  It is called Mt. Mulanje.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqWFT8WI/AAAAAAAAAD8/u-EOy61Nko0/s1600-h/Mulanje-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqWFT8WI/AAAAAAAAAD8/u-EOy61Nko0/s400/Mulanje-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142381426218627426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I just say, God is a stinkin good artist.  He creates like no one else.  It was beautiful.  The mountain was really big and though I wanted to...Ryan said we couldn't climb to the top!  (if you believe that I actually wanted to exert strenuous physical activity, you must be new to reading my blog!)  We drove up a VERY, VERY bumpy trail in a Pajero...basically a HAUS of a SUV.  Ryan is the best standard driver I have ever met.  He is my driving hero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the car miraculously made it to a certain area, we then hiked a little ways and made it to a beautiful waterfall.  It was so beautiful and we were the only ones there!  I thought, you know God is smart because I never would have thought that water falling off a cliff would be pretty, but it is.  (I don't want you to think that I have never seen waterfall before, I just had this thought this time.)  I just had to thank God while we were there for making something so beautiful and then letting us enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqmFT8XI/AAAAAAAAAEE/aoP_ekZgO3E/s1600-h/Mulanje-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqmFT8XI/AAAAAAAAAEE/aoP_ekZgO3E/s400/Mulanje-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142381430513594738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we went down to some natural pools and met some local guys there.  It was so cool to build a friendship with these guys just for the hours that we were there.  What was cool was that they were willing to talk to us and get to know us.  They taught us where it was deep enough to jump off rocks into the water and how to sit under a waterfall.  They were unlike people in America who are so individual.  When we go somewhere we keep to ourselves and are awkward about talking to people we don't know, these guys weren't like that.  Seriously, they became our friends in a matter of minutes.  They shared mangos with us and even wanted to give us a bunch without taking anything in return.  They were living off the land and sharing what God had provided them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a lot of other cool things these guys taught me, but I will just have to share that when I get back.  I got to save something to keep yall talking to me in real life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, tomorrow we are heading to a village in southern Malawi.  I will get to see the Home Based Care program that is going on there.  I am super excited to see what God is doing there through this program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that is the update for now.  Thanks for all your prayers!  I love you guys and miss you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-3103280903773464354?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3103280903773464354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3103280903773464354' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3103280903773464354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3103280903773464354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/12/loving-malawi.html' title='Loving Malawi'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R11oqGFT8VI/AAAAAAAAAD0/y4HubwMaBCo/s72-c/Mulanje-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-6632828477448016847</id><published>2007-12-03T00:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T01:00:27.429-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Malawi!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R1Oo9WFT8UI/AAAAAAAAADs/U6N0nuEmTpI/s1600-R/Malawi.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139637371613212994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R1Oo9WFT8UI/AAAAAAAAADs/6tRcIq5ci_0/s200/Malawi.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In about 36 hours I will be getting on a plane to go to Malawi, Africa! I am so stinkin excited that I could pee in my pants...and since Heather Hendrick said that everyone &lt;a href="http://allthingshendrick.blogspot.com/"&gt;should experience that&lt;/a&gt;...maybe I just will!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am going to Malawi to visit my boyfriend who has been obedient to God's call to go to Malawi, work with an organization called SIM, share about how Christ has changed his life, and answer God's call to serve the widows and orphans by educating people about HIV. I get to stay with some other girls who are missionaries there, and who I am excited to meet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I get to be there for 2 weeks. It's incredible. And its all because 9 months ago I decided to shut up and start honoring my parents. You are probably wondering how these two things EVEN connect, but they do!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see I don't know the future. I don't know what will happen tomorrow or next week or next month. All I know is what is happening currently. Luckily, I know that God does know the future. He sees everything. That means I don't have to. A lot of times I live my life knowing that God knows the future, and yet I act like I have to know things. So I try to plan my life out and figure things out that I CAN'T POSSIBLY KNOW. The result is stress and anxiety. Those feelings aren't from the Lord. Jesus said He is a God of &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2011:28;&amp;amp;version=31;"&gt;peace&lt;/a&gt;. Peace means no stress and anxiety. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So like its so dumb that I do this, it's like if you saw someone running down the road next to their car running, but they weren't riding in it...they were running beside it. Even though the car has a motor that makes it run and go places, that person insists on running himself. Now I think running is insane in all circumstance, but if I saw that I would laugh even harder. I would make fun of that person and call them a fool...and that's what we should do when we don't let God be in control. We look like fools.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I digressed. Anyways, so in God's word it says, "Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land which the Lord you God gave you." - Exodus 20:12&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not going to lie...that sounds pretty sweet. So 9 months ago God finally got a hold of me and said, "Sara, hush up, and submit already." My mom wanted me to do student teaching and I wanted to take a job in Houston. I was silly, I thought I was ready for a job...I wasn't. God could see the future. God could see that if I did student teaching this fall I would have time off to go to Africa now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let me tell you, last March I was not even fathoming going to Malawi. I had told myself, "Sara, face reality, you won't see Ryan for 9 months, and you won't see this place where God will teach him so much and use him so well" I had swallowed that reality alright...especially in March, I mean really it was far away. (Things are easier to grasp when they seem to unreal)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in my mind I thought I could handle teaching right away and I didn't think there was any reason I would need time off to go travel to Africa. But God had taught me through a mission trip of my own that submitting to my parents is for my protection. So I sucked in my pride and said, "Okay, mom I will do student teaching" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I am not going to sit here and tell you I was honoring them with my heart. My words finally honored them but my heart still doubted submission. He convicted me of that and daily He teaches me more and more how my heart can submit more joyfully to my parents. He has taught me the BEAUTIFUL blessings I receive when I humble myself and follow His commands. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has taught me so much that now I WANT to hear what they have to say. Do I always think they are 100% right?...that they know exactly what God wants for me? No, I don't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's why submission takes humility. I have to admit that 1. I don't always know what is best for me and 2. They might make a mistake, they are human. BUT I do know exactly what God wants me to do in all situations...honor my parents. His word is clear about that. Honoring them is what I am required to do. And He blesses that obedience like crazy!! He blessed my student teaching, He blessed me with a stinkin perfect job in the town I wanted to be in, and He HAS BLESSED ME WITH THIS TRIP! He is so full of grace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, on Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning I begin my trek to Malawi. I could not be more thankful to be going. I can't wait to see Ryan, I can't wait to see Malawi, I can't wait to meet God's people that He created there, I can't wait to pray for people that I meet, and I can't wait to see God be mighty in another part of the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, my excitement is not without some worry. I know, I am not suppose to do that, so I need prayer. I am scared about traveling all this way by myself. But I remember, God has put this trip in my lap, I believe He has given me this blessing and to worry about it would be like saying I had something to do with me going...I didn't. I don't want to hurt the Lord by worrying about my travel, so pray for me please? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pray that I would trust God in every moment of my 30 hours of travel. Pray that I would get sleep because my heart would be so at rest in God's control. Pray that things go smoothly and I would continue to be obedient to the Lord even as I travel far away from home. I will miss my church body...and I will be praying for you while I am gone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been blessed...now it is time for me to go and be a blessing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-6632828477448016847?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/6632828477448016847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=6632828477448016847' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6632828477448016847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/6632828477448016847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/12/off-to-malawi.html' title='Off to Malawi!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R1Oo9WFT8UI/AAAAAAAAADs/6tRcIq5ci_0/s72-c/Malawi.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3605703644399257273</id><published>2007-11-27T21:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T22:16:33.960-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Boxes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R0zrYDtAvsI/AAAAAAAAADk/m-mv2sx-XE0/s1600-h/boxes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137740073466379970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R0zrYDtAvsI/AAAAAAAAADk/m-mv2sx-XE0/s200/boxes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am moving again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's the plight of the young adult. Constantly a vagabond.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In effort to not fall into the sin of complaining I am going to leave out how much I hate moving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have SOO much to be thankful for. I am first of all thankful that I need boxes. I need boxes not because I am moving away, but because I am moving across town. God is so good to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God wants me to stay in this town. God cares about not ripping me from the body of Living Hope and me having to live transitionally in another town to take a job so I would be honoring my parents. God let me honor my parents and stay here. He wants me here. He cares about our involvement in the body. YAY. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(more on the amazing story of how God provided a job for me when it is no longer confidential.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So anyways, I need boxes. I need brown pieces of cardboard to put stuff in. I was a loser and I did not pick up boxes when I was at home. So I am asking if anyone would let me have some boxes or point me to the direction of free boxes. Free being the operative word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks and gig 'em&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-3605703644399257273?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3605703644399257273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3605703644399257273' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3605703644399257273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3605703644399257273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/11/boxes.html' title='Boxes'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/R0zrYDtAvsI/AAAAAAAAADk/m-mv2sx-XE0/s72-c/boxes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-4095981311536608483</id><published>2007-11-08T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T21:42:28.568-06:00</updated><title type='text'>6 days</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RzPWrPIZyvI/AAAAAAAAADc/bEqshz_hCA0/s1600-h/math+class.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130680438789622514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RzPWrPIZyvI/AAAAAAAAADc/bEqshz_hCA0/s200/math+class.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 days...that's how many days of student teaching I have left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to teach kids geometry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to put check marks on papers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to help kids solve for 'x'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to be patient and kind to 16 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to tell precious girls they don't have to marry the boy they are dating in high school&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to ask kids to take off their hats&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to tell kids the f- word is not in the Bible (that happened today!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Spanish&lt;/span&gt; speaking kids teach me new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Spanish&lt;/span&gt; words&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to have students teach me about how my own lack of obedience transfers into how I don't require obedience from them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to have God teach me that my love needs to be without hypocrisy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to learn that kids can tell when you don't trust them&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to learn that students want the benefit of the doubt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to learn that I have a lot to learn.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6 more days with these precious kids that God has allowed me to love on this semester. I hope that I have taught them a little math. I hope that I have helped them feel successful. I hope I have inspired them to work hard. I hope that I have made them believe in themselves. I hope that I have inspired them to think for themselves and to not cheat. I hope I have helped them see that their intelligence is not determined by a grade, but by their attitude. I hope a lot of things...but I might never know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my love languages is words of affirmation. However, this love language often turns into an idol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I must confess somethings ugly...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like hearing "good job", I fish for someone to tell me, "you are so amazing", I ache for someone to tell me, "you have made such a difference in my life"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could tell you I am humble, but I am not. I am on the road to humility. When I say I am on the road, I mean I am standing on a road begging God to make my heart humble, because without Him...I can't. I stand because I am so prideful that I can't even walk towards humility...its such a foreign idea to me that I need His help to even know what that looks like. But as I stand on that road begging....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God gave me student teaching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Student teaching has been a big answer to that prayer. I teach 81 students. 1 student has told me I am a good teacher. It happened on one day. This whole semester. For a girl who craves words of affirmation...that just isn't going to cut it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has challenged me this semester to serve with diligence no matter the words that come my way. God has challenged me to encourage kids even when I feel no encouragement. It has been hard, but oh so good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has taught me to love these children unconditionally. I am going to hate to leave. I am going to hate that I won't be the one that tells them to divide by two to solve for x or to make pumpkin triangles for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;halloween&lt;/span&gt; or tell them great job when they finally get it. I don't get to do that anymore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will probably cry...I do at most things...maybe not at school, but sometime I will cry. But I will not stop talking to God about them. I will not stop praying for their salvation and blessings for their lives. I will not stop praying for their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;repentance&lt;/span&gt; and freedom from so much. My students live tough lives...they are warriors. I pray that God would save them from their battles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The beauty of being a Christian is that no matter where God takes you...you are never too far a way to pray for the ones you love. I love my students and I will miss them dearly...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will enjoy the next 6 days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-4095981311536608483?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/4095981311536608483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=4095981311536608483' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4095981311536608483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4095981311536608483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/11/6-days.html' title='6 days'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RzPWrPIZyvI/AAAAAAAAADc/bEqshz_hCA0/s72-c/math+class.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8234690337935542481</id><published>2007-10-23T21:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T21:43:28.639-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bicontinential Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rx6vmByYA3I/AAAAAAAAADM/eGR4-g53h80/s1600-h/the+world.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124726493843817330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="171" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rx6vmByYA3I/AAAAAAAAADM/eGR4-g53h80/s200/the+world.jpg" width="222" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;disclaimer: I do not like the 3rd "stanza" and this poem is written in Sara's form of free verse...so please don't hate on my humble attempt at writing a poem for this amazing guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bicontinential&lt;/span&gt; Birthday&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the day that Ryan Price was born!&lt;br /&gt;23 years ago his mother’s womb was torn (hope that’s not too graphic)&lt;br /&gt;It’s not a birthday like all the rest,&lt;br /&gt;With party hats and cake and a whole lot of mess.&lt;br /&gt;But do not be sad or tell the sky to be gray,&lt;br /&gt;Today Ryan gets to experience the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bicontinential&lt;/span&gt; birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two continents of people celebrating your blessed day,&lt;br /&gt;A birthday that does not last only 24 hours, but 31…because of time change!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s many that celebrate in America:&lt;br /&gt;Your Mom who gave birth and life to you,&lt;br /&gt;Your Dad who taught you manly things,&lt;br /&gt;This girl, Sara, whose heart you make goo,&lt;br /&gt;And a family of believers, all that sing…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We miss your pretty piano playing,&lt;br /&gt;We miss your curly hair,&lt;br /&gt;We miss all the dates you were paying (for)&lt;br /&gt;We miss how well you can sit in a chair”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan, on this day we celebrate you,&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that all your new African friends are celebrating too!&lt;br /&gt;I am so jealous that you have two continents of people rejoicing on your special day,&lt;br /&gt;But My only hope is that by this you will know that you are “one &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;krunk&lt;/span&gt; guy”…in the words of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;LeCrae&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124727447326557058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rx6wdhyYA4I/AAAAAAAAADU/vVkT2JUei_s/s200/Ryan+Krunk.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hope you enjoyed that little ode to Ryan's birthday. I am not a poet...I just like being silly. Anyways, Ryan's birthday is actually October 24&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;, but to encompass both time zones...I had to post it now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN!! You're quite a stud!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8234690337935542481?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8234690337935542481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8234690337935542481' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8234690337935542481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8234690337935542481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/10/bicontinential-birthday.html' title='The Bicontinential Birthday'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rx6vmByYA3I/AAAAAAAAADM/eGR4-g53h80/s72-c/the+world.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3211012216958810290</id><published>2007-10-17T18:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T19:47:23.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'>If God Sent Text Messages...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RxarTRyYA2I/AAAAAAAAADE/0ZiVIyFlKkE/s1600-h/text+message.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122469973861073762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RxarTRyYA2I/AAAAAAAAADE/0ZiVIyFlKkE/s200/text+message.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If God sent text messages...would they sound like this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I just wanted to let you know that I miss you. I can't wait to talk to you soon! Hope your day is going well."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Would they? Would they say, "Sara, that 47 minutes you gave me this morning when you were half asleep weren't enough?", or "I wanted to know every detail of your day and what you thought about it. I wanted to know your struggles and your victories." "Sara, can you tell me what you learned today?" "You are my beloved, I just want to have one of our amazing conversations tonight". He would say all these things not because He has some magic amount of time you need to talk to Him, but because He desires a relationship with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These crazy thoughts came into my mind this afternoon when I received a text message from Ryan. I know...Ryan is in Africa and I can still get the occasional text message...technology is amazing! Anyways, for the next two weeks Ryan does not have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; so we cannot correspond daily. Stinky...but not impossible. I of course miss him. I miss him because I just want to tell him about my day. I want to tell him big things that happened and little things. I wanted to tell him how I had a hard day because I had to discipline a kid. I wanted to tell him so many things, and I wanted to ask him so many questions about what he was experiencing. But I couldn't. So I missed him. And because this was the only communication I have with him, I have bit of a confession to make...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read the text message 3 times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was 3 sentences long and I read it 3 times like it was difficult to comprehend. I acted like I was reading the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Iliad&lt;/span&gt; or something.  I read it 3 times because it was my only way to communicate with him. And then I got to thinking...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I read God's word like that? Do we spend too much time getting frustrated that God doesn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;audibly&lt;/span&gt; speak to us and say, "Be a doctor" when we don't even cherish the word He has given us. God's word is clear, as long as we are in body form, we are separated from the Lord.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Therefore, always being of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-2 Corinthians 5:6&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not with God. I may have His Spirit inside of me, but I am not with Him. I don't get to go to Target with Him. I don't get to sit face to face with Him when I talk to Him. I don't get to dance with Him. I don't get to hug Him. We can communicate, but we are separated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I read His text message (the Word) 3 times just so I know everything that He said is written in my heart. Because this is the way He has chosen to communicate with me while we are separated, do I cherish His words? Do I act like David and say,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sustain me according to your word, that I may live."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Psalm 119:16&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I miss Him when we don't have a lot of time to talk? Do I miss Him when I haven't gotten to read His word?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am talking Living By the Book from the amazing Rusty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bacaak&lt;/span&gt;, and I have been learning a lot about cherishing God's word. (P.S. Everyone should take this class...it's wonderful!!) I want to cherish my time in the word more than my text message from Ryan. I want my soul to groan as I am separated from the Lord like it talks about in 2 Corinthians 5.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Lord is convicting me a lot and showing me areas where I get more excited about talking to Ryan than talking to the Lord.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ouch (in the word of Heather Hendrick!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That hurts...but I have made our relationship an idol before, and I DO NOT WANT TO GO BACK!!! I am thankful that God is daily putting a check on my thoughts and emotions and desiring my first "swooning" emotion to be His. (swooning emotion, is that feeling you get when you read a sweet note and you get that little smile on your face and you feel all gushy inside.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God is the ultimate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;swooner&lt;/span&gt;. He has sent us sweet text messages in the form of a thick book. He has challenged me to let Him be my ultimate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;swooner&lt;/span&gt;. So even though He isn't talking to me via my cell phone, He has written me so many love notes.  And I am pretty sure that if you are that crazy about text messages...you could get bible verses &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;texted&lt;/span&gt; to your phone.  Hey if I can  text someone in Africa...I am betting this is possible....so really we have no excuse!  Oh the 21st century!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(p.s. here is one of my favorite "make you swoon" (so I don't think swoon is even a word and I have used it like 7 times in this post! Good thing I rebel against grammar rules!) messages from the Lord....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"For your husband is your Maker,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whose name is the Lord of hosts;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Who is called the God of all the Earth."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Isaiah 55:5-6&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-3211012216958810290?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3211012216958810290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3211012216958810290' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3211012216958810290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3211012216958810290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/10/if-god-sent-text-messages.html' title='If God Sent Text Messages...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RxarTRyYA2I/AAAAAAAAADE/0ZiVIyFlKkE/s72-c/text+message.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-1454427083267123312</id><published>2007-09-30T14:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T14:58:40.899-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How Great is Our God!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today, church was really amazing. God definitely met with me and broke me for the lost that are around me. It was such a sweet time of brokeness. Our pastor just returned from India and challenged us to live with the gospel as our number one priority. I am so thankful to go to a church that speaks truth!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was reminded of this experience today at church, and actually every time I sing the song "How Great is Our God". It fit well with the topic of missions, but its also just one of my favorite memories of my 22 years here on this earth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two summers ago I went to East Asia. I met a girl named Katherine there. She was the asian me! She was so fun and we laughed A LOT!! She said awkward things like, "Sara you shouldn't drink coffee because it makes your "chest area" smaller." Since I love to say awkward stuff like that...we were SO friends! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also could have serious talks. I was so blessed that God gave me the opportunity and time to share the gospel with her. Actually, we had planned to watch this movie about Jesus' life, because she had wanted to know about Christianity, she was a devout Buddhist, but she was interested in knowing the differences. But the movie didn't work on her computer so then I just got my Bible and got to share the INDEPTH story of Jesus' life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was finished I was so nervous if I had communicated the details well and if she understood. All she did was look at me and say the words I will never forget...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sara, the only words I can say is, God is great."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was beautiful. The Lord had spoken His greatness to her in her apartment through my mixed up crazy words. She didn't believe in that moment, but in that moment she acknowledged His greatness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is why that song, "How Great is Our God" means something different to me. It's a call to missions. When I sing the line, "sing with me, How Great is Our God", I think of Katherine and how she was ready to sing about His greatness after hearing about Him. It's a call to go and tell people about Jesus so that they can stand with me in their own language and sing about how great our God is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Katherine believe in Christ 2 weeks later. She denounced Buddhism, though she had a devout Buddhist family, and she joined the Kingdom of God. She wrote this in her journal the night she believed and shared it with me the next day,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Jesus is my Lord! Jesus is the sacrificer. He died for us. I accept Jesus! I did evil deeds, and I know I am sinful. But tonigh I am reborn. I feel finding home after 26 years of losing my way."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will never forget that as long as I live. This beautiful girl will always be a reminder of the greatness of our God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116088734988204610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rv__mShZekI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zAG6L_9SFyM/s200/IMG.jpg" border="0" /&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/5414995257408256464-1454427083267123312?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/1454427083267123312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=1454427083267123312' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/1454427083267123312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/1454427083267123312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/09/how-great-is-our-god.html' title='How Great is Our God!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rv__mShZekI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zAG6L_9SFyM/s72-c/IMG.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-7234052797073040132</id><published>2007-09-10T17:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T22:20:37.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace through Tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RuYJSPZIKNI/AAAAAAAAAC0/DlyCVm77GV0/s1600-h/Austin+Weekend+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108781036272625874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RuYJSPZIKNI/AAAAAAAAAC0/DlyCVm77GV0/s200/Austin+Weekend+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My eyes have been kinda watery lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just another time when I remember why I do not EVER purchase mascara that is not waterproof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m a crier. I actually love to cry and am really not embarrassed to do it in front of people. But I have to remember that it embarrasses some people. Like this weekend, Ryan and I were at dinner at this adorable little Italian restaurant and this stud of a man that I am so blessed to be dating asked me if there was anything more he could do to make me feel secure in our relationship as he headed off to malawi. WOW...I dont think you even have to be a cry-kinda person to let out tears in that situation. I wanted to hold back tears so I wouldn't embarrass him in public (or put our waiter in an awkward positon), but I am not really good at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I told him, "Just to let you know, I am going to cry. Is that going to embarrass you? Because if so, then maybe we can talk about this later." But he was so amazing, he wasn't embarrassed. He is one incredible guy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the reason tears came into my eyes is that today Ryan leaves for Malawi. He is this amazing guy that has been obedient to the Lord's call. So this means he is not going to be here for 9 months. I am so happy to know this man who is choosing to be obedient, and to fear God more than he fears tears of his girlfriend. It is so exciting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most amazing thing in this is that this weekend, every time I cried, it was tears accompanied with peace. Because I am a crier, I know that there are many types of tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of joy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of heartache&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of conviction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of insecurity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of shame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of thankfulness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of sadness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tears of loneliness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have known them all. I have spent intimate time with each one of these types of tears, but very rarely do I get to experience tears of sadness accompanied with peace. It’s a peace that allows me to finally stop asking “God what in the heck are you doing?!?” and allows me to say, “God I don’t know what in the heck you are doing, but I know I need it.” I know I need Ryan to go to Malawi. I know that there is not a more perfect way to draw selfishness out of my heart. I know there is not a more perfect way to understand how God felt when He sent HIS son as a missionary into a world where He knew they would beat him and kill him. There is not a more perfect way for God to remind me that this life is not about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of this is easy to learn. None of that makes missing him hurt any less. I cry often. I cry at random times. I cry when I pass by an Acupuncture Sign, knowing that I can no longer call this knowledgable man and ask him “what in the heck do acupunctures do? And why do people pay money for that sort of thing?!?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…but now when I cry I get to rest. I rest in His arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rest in the peace of Ryan’s obedience. I rest because God has brought Ryan and I SO far in the past year individually and in our relationship. I rest because we finally were humbled to the point to listen to godly counsel and talk openly about the future of our relationship. We finally stopped rebelling and started taking steps toward wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You younger men likewise, be subject to your elders; and all of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, for God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble. Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God that He may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your anxiety upon Him, because He cares for you.”&lt;br /&gt;-1 Peter 5:5-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn’t be able to cry with peace if any one of these things had not happened. Peace only comes with humility through submission and casting my anxieties on the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so thankful for God’s grace to bring me peace through various act of obedience that I had no idea would bring me the peace I find myself in today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prayer is and I ask for your prayers that I would not for one day in this 9 months let Satan steal my peace. I will be sad; I will not always have it all together. But God is a God who knows about sadness. However, He is not a daddy that knows of confusion or unrest. So I pray that I will always be crying with peace in Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find REST for your souls.”&lt;br /&gt;-Matthew 11: 29&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-7234052797073040132?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/7234052797073040132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=7234052797073040132' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7234052797073040132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7234052797073040132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/09/peace-through-tears.html' title='Peace through Tears'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RuYJSPZIKNI/AAAAAAAAAC0/DlyCVm77GV0/s72-c/Austin+Weekend+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-586971762165065730</id><published>2007-08-28T21:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T21:38:02.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Women and haircuts...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RtTb-_ZIKMI/AAAAAAAAACs/TdndrQpYn3g/s1600-h/hair_much_ado_about_nothing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103946152932812994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RtTb-_ZIKMI/AAAAAAAAACs/TdndrQpYn3g/s200/hair_much_ado_about_nothing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So I have a question that has been welling up inside of me the past few days. A question that I feel needs immediate attention...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why in the world do women care so much about if someone notices that they got a haircut?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why is it that every time we go to the hair salon, we come out just hoping desparately that someone will notice? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I don't really care who it is. If the mailman would just say, "hey did you get a haircut?" (even though he has never met me before the haircut day) I would be happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why do EVERY TIME, even when we get an inch off, we expect some male in our life, who by the way is not good at observations anyways, to notice our new hair?!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I don't expect a boy to notice when I cut my toenails. Why do we set ourselves up for heartache?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I honestly do not understand myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This came to mind when I recently got a hair cut. When I left the salon, I was fully satisfied with my hair. It wasn't too short, but the cut definitely took off like 3 inches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I remember thinking to myself, " Sara, you are perfectly happy leaving the salon...do not hinge your happiness of this haircut based on how many people notice." And yet...with each person I ran into that didnt notice, I got a little more sad, maybe even irritated that no one was noticing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;THIS IS SO STUPID! When I told my mom that I got a haircut, she was like, "oh, I thought your hair looked extra nice!" But of course, that wasn't good enough because I had to tell herthat I got the cut. I wasn't satisfied with the fact that she thought it looked good, I wanted her to notice...dumb, dumb, dumb me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I didn't really know how much I cared about this until I was in Austin with Ryan's family. His sister, who I have met 3 times, noticed my hair. I was like, "Oh my gosh! You are the first person to notice!" Those words just came out of my mouth like pee when you laugh really hard, it was uncontrollable. So that's when I knew I had a heart issue about this. God says,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." -Matthew 12:34&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I wish I could control my overflow a bit better. My mouth sure does flow, exposing so many things I had no idea were in that heart of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Of course as soon as you say, "you are the first person to notice!", you immediately make everyone around you feel bad for not noticing. So basically, this desire is stupid and it hurts people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So I just had to get this one out there ladies. We have got to give this one up. because even though I can notice when my dad gets a centimeter shaved off his head, I can't get upset when he doesnt notice me. It's not about my hair...wow the more I write on this post, the more I realize how silly this is. Maybe I am the only girl who is feeding this crazy desire...I don't know, but I need some healing! Let's stop the craziness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-586971762165065730?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/586971762165065730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=586971762165065730' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/586971762165065730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/586971762165065730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/08/women-and-haircuts.html' title='Women and haircuts...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RtTb-_ZIKMI/AAAAAAAAACs/TdndrQpYn3g/s72-c/hair_much_ado_about_nothing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3120129310285339061</id><published>2007-08-13T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T00:26:30.161-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Community</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Community...ahh, its like a breath of fresh air on a crisp, perfect day in october or april (at least if you live in Texas...those are our weather perfection months where you never want to live anywhere else!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Community...its like a warm chocolate chip cookie that just came out of the oven and has a little dough left in the center.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098413867394444882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RsE0Zlv4rlI/AAAAAAAAACU/MRToVFuSzy0/s200/Michael+and+Alex.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Community...its like the most amazing thing...and I have missed it. Don't get me wrong...I have had a WONDERFUL summer at home with my great family. It is nice to be home with my mom and dad who love me so much and are constant reminders of God's unconditional love for me. But there is something about seeing people who are your community... who are your Acts 2 group. People who pray for you, people who know your junk, people who ask how you are doing and want to know what God has taught you this summer, people whose lives are a constant encouragement whether they are older than you or younger than you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...There is something about sweet hugs from little boys...that makes you just think, "this is what it is all about."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098413626876276290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RsE0Llv4rkI/AAAAAAAAACM/tSlirG4OVo0/s200/Carpios.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend I got to be home in college station. I got to see my precious hope group families, my sweet mentor/prayer partner/amazing godly woman Liz Amy, and many more precious women and their families that I love so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098414022013267554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RsE0ilv4rmI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ur79YYoJv14/s200/My+Sweet+Liz.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098414172337122930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RsE0rVv4rnI/AAAAAAAAACk/GjVyoPw8-94/s200/Hendricks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I found myself asking God so many times this weekend..."Why me?" Why did I get to receive this AMAZING blessing of community. Why did I get to be a part of a church that is constantly trying to figure out how to be more like the church talked about in &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%202:42-47;&amp;version=45;"&gt;Acts 2:42-47&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just thank God that though I am undeserving, He is gracious! Living in community with people is one of God's most amazing blessings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I used to think you didn't need people to increase your intimacy with the Lord. No, I was never one of those people that didnt go to church because I thought I could do it on my own...I LOVE people too much. You see I let the devil tell me the lie that because I desired to live with people so much that it was sinful. Now don't get me wrong, people can become idols...i know that from experience. But I used to believe that if I admitted that my relationship with the Lord was less intimate since I wasn't around a strong community of believers that I was some how admitting that God was not enough to satisfy. That is not true! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God put in us a desire to live in community because it increases our community with Him! (or it should!) This summer I felt the reality of being separated from my body. I didn't like it, but I knew God was calling me to be home this summer. Dallas was not my first choice of locales...but I am so thankful for the time with my family! Though I was surrounded by Eaker love...I felt the separation from my body. I am sure this is how an arm feels that is amputated and separated from its blood supply. It's just not how arms are suppose to be. It's not how we are suppose to be. We are suppose to be CONNECTED!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so thankful that the Lord provided for me to be able to live in college station this semester (and hopefully a few more) so that I could live in community with this AMAZING church body. You see, God had to do big things for me to live in college station. He had to get me enough money that I could rent an apartment, eat, and give to my church so that I would not have to borrow money from my parents. I knew that God did not desire for me to be in debt, and since i am doing student teaching this semester (which pays -$2000...you have to pay tution) God had to hand me the money. So He gave me a great job this summer that allowed me to save money all summer so I could live debt free next semester. He worked out an apartment that is real cheap with an amazing godly girl so that I could not have to borrow one penny! God is so good!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He desires us to live in community and He makes it happen so that we can do so without having to sin! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am thankful to be home. I am thankful to be with people who humbly try and figure out God's will. I am thankful to be reattached to my body...Praise God for community! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(p.s. these AMAZING pictures were taken by the INCREDIBLE Ryan Price...he has more posted via his blog...you should check them out!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/5414995257408256464-3120129310285339061?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3120129310285339061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3120129310285339061' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3120129310285339061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3120129310285339061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/08/community.html' title='Community'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RsE0Zlv4rlI/AAAAAAAAACU/MRToVFuSzy0/s72-c/Michael+and+Alex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-4755469548093810229</id><published>2007-07-17T22:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T22:54:33.119-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Eye Doctor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rp2OEVTtTyI/AAAAAAAAACE/FQHv_nWGJPU/s1600-h/Eye+Exam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088379359088955170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="163" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rp2OEVTtTyI/AAAAAAAAACE/FQHv_nWGJPU/s200/Eye+Exam.jpg" width="98" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rp2N1FTtTxI/AAAAAAAAAB8/CFLUSFilLHo/s1600-h/Eye+Exam.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I went to the eye doctor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not my first experience. I have been going since I was in sixth grade. The first time I went to the eye doctor I almost passed out from the stress. They don't call it an eye EXAM for no reason. It's a stinkin test...and you pay for it! So the first time I went, I SOO didnt want my eyes to be bad. I was so nervous when the lady asked me to read the letters. I didnt want to be wrong. I didnt want to disappoint her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...But I was wrong. I had to get glasses. That meant I had to keep going to the eye doctor and take this "exam" every year. i thought I was going to get uclers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So every time I went to the eye doctor a wave of nervousness came over me. I hated hearing that my eyes got worse. I hated putting my eye up to a machine and the lady saying, "don't blink" knowing you were about to get a puff of air in your eye. You see the PURPOSE of blinking is to keep stuff like that out. God designed our eyes so that we would blink in those situations. So basically she is asking you to go against your natural design...its just not right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I dont have glacoma...so that is a positive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another point of stress is the peripheral vision test. You have to stare at this black square and hit a button every time you see a flicker on the machine. I get so scared that I am going to miss a flicker if I blink and they will think I can see out of my peripheries, so I sit there keeping my eye's plastered open, so they dry out, get blurry and then I get worried that I can't distinguish the blurry from the flicker. I am pretty sure I must have failed this before, but they probably have just not wanted to brake the news to me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One visit I asked the doctor, "so you know how perfect eyes are 20/20, what are my eyes?" He looked at me and said, "Sara, our machines only measure up to 20/800, meaning that what normal people can read at 800 ft away, you would have to stand 20 ft away...well your eyes are worse than that. We cant really measure where you are at...you are off the charts. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And while being "off the charts" is all well and good when you are talking about IQ, its really not a claim to fame at the eye doctor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after that visit i decided I didnt need to worry about reading the letters correctly off the chart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But for some reason, even though I was basically blind the nurse lady still made me take off my glasses and try to read the chart. She would put one row up on the screen and ask me to say it. I would kindly tell her, "I can't even see letters". Then she would put the biggest thing they had and ask me to read it. In my mind I am thinking "remember now I am trying to basically reading a sign that is 800 feet a way...why is she making me do this!" I am blind! I admit it! Please just dont make me read these letters! So anything she put up there I would tell her, "i am sorry, I cant read that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...her response..."REALLY?!?" I thought to myself, hey I am putting food on your table with these eyes...I would be a little kinder to them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now they don't make me do this anymore. Heck, they don't even let me walk by myself without my glasses anymore. Which is a good thing, because after the nurse led me out of the room today, I almost sat on a man's lap because I couldn't tell that there was someone sitting there until I got right up close to him...whoa it was almost bad!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The one glimer of hope in all of this is my pupils. For some reason, God has giving me supernatural amazing pupils. Some people are star athletes, some people are world-renown cooks, I on the other hand have no-need-to-be-dialated-pupils. According to my doctor, my pupils are so big that he can easily see into my eyes. A couple years ago, he told me I had large pupils so instead of dialating every two years on me, he would do every 3 years. This year as he is looking into my eyes (in a completely unromantic sort of way) he exclaims, "Man your pupils are amazing! I can see so well! I might never need to dialate you again!" so right then I decided that the next time I am sitting in a circle and someone asks the question, "what is on interesting fact about you" I am going to tell them, "i have extremely large pupils." That should be a crowd pleaser!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So aside from the puff of air, the stressful test, and the periphery test that makes me want to pluck my eyeballs out...I learned that I have a unique pupil gift...and that is enough peace of mind to keep me going back to the eye doctor!&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/5414995257408256464-4755469548093810229?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/4755469548093810229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=4755469548093810229' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4755469548093810229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4755469548093810229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/07/eye-doctor.html' title='The Eye Doctor'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rp2OEVTtTyI/AAAAAAAAACE/FQHv_nWGJPU/s72-c/Eye+Exam.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-5555058881149702678</id><published>2007-07-13T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T20:38:12.815-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God Provides on Highway 45...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rpgoz1TtTwI/AAAAAAAAAB0/x-AtofHxxGg/s1600-h/road+trip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086860650063154946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rpgoz1TtTwI/AAAAAAAAAB0/x-AtofHxxGg/s200/road+trip.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So last weekend…(yes I realize this is an outdated post, but my life has been crazy busy since then) I was driving back to Dallas when I hit a really LARGE pot hole! It was horrible! I was talking to my parents on the phone and they heard the noise! Apparently, according to my very wise father, all this rain has been tearing up our roads…another reason we should boycott all the rain we are getting this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So nothing noticeably happened that effected my car's driving performance, but I decided to pull off the road just in case to check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I started praying right away that nothing was wrong with my tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two major reasons I did not want my tire to be flat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086859945688518386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RpgoK1TtTvI/AAAAAAAAABs/4bn9qFZ7v90/s320/flat+tire+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all…I can barely bench press a loaf of bread let alone get those tire screw thingys off when you have to remove the flat (yep…that IS the technical name for them!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see I do technically "know" how to change a tire. My daddy gave me a lesson when I turned 16 so I wouldn’t be one of those helpless little girls on the side of the highway, but unfortunately education cannot remedy the weak muscles of my little body. So alas, I am one of those helpless girls on the side of the highway…(this is why God's provision is so amazing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I needed to get home in a timely manner because I was house sitting a person's house that night and it was already late. I needed my tire to be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, when I stopped in a very shady Texaco in who knows where I was, my tire was leaking air. You know it’s a bad sign when you hear a hissing of air leaking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hissing sound was definitely mocking me…probably because it knew there was no way I was going to change that tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first plan of action was to try "fix a flat". This is a lovely can of air that seals holes in your tire. The only problem was that the pot hole had dented the rim of my tire so I was unsure if fix a flat was going to work. But I was so desperate not to have to change my tire I wanted to be extra hopeful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I filled up Mr. Hissing Leak and drove about 10 miles down the road. I decided to get off in Corsicana because I knew I would have more options. For those 10 miles I was just praying that God would miraculously hold my tire together for the remainder of my way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get off the road and turn into a gas station that has a wendy's. If I am going to have to change a tire, I am going to need a frosty to do it! Anyways, just as I turn in I see this guy walking his dog. He is none other than a guy who grew up with me at my church back in carrollton. Not only is he one of the nicest guys I know…he is also an eagle scout. Those boys live for these moments of doing things like changing a tire. I could not believe it! God had brought me a tire changer!! I hopped out of my car and told him, "boy am I glad to see you!" I told him about the tire and sure enough… fix a flat had NOT done its job… it was still hissing…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time not mocking me, because I had an EAGLE SCOUT in my midst! My friend Colby, just happened to be on his way back to Houston and he was stopping to let his dog out. Praise God that he led both of us to the same exact gas station at the same exact time! The only way that could ever happen is with God being in charge! I just marvel at how completely sovereign God is!! WOW!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe God didn't miraculously fix my tire with fix a flat, but he miraculously provided me a way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God answers prayers…not always exactly what we ask for, but in a way that is INCREDIBLY more amazing than I could have ever imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God provided on highway 45! (it almost rhymes!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&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/5414995257408256464-5555058881149702678?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/5555058881149702678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=5555058881149702678' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5555058881149702678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5555058881149702678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/07/god-provides-on-highway-45.html' title='God Provides on Highway 45...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rpgoz1TtTwI/AAAAAAAAAB0/x-AtofHxxGg/s72-c/road+trip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-7009844283942608442</id><published>2007-06-24T16:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T16:46:51.901-05:00</updated><title type='text'>As good as gold…actually better…</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rn7mBeOcWMI/AAAAAAAAABU/TvA3WoUiUZc/s1600-h/gold.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079750342688397506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 105px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="101" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rn7mBeOcWMI/AAAAAAAAABU/TvA3WoUiUZc/s320/gold.jpg" width="142" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I love my church, Living Hope.  I love it because it is filled with members who just PASS out GOLD!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now before you people who call yourselves “poor” college students drop everything and make your way down highway 6 to think you are about to get some free money, let me tell you what I am talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How much better it is to get wisdom than gold!  And to get understanding is to be chosen above silver.” –Proverbs 16:16&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wisdom is better than gold.  Wow.  Until this year I didn’t know about this amazing thing called wisdom.  I knew that the Bible had wisdom, but I didn’t realize I was missing so much wisdom by not listening to people that had gone before me.  I never knew what a rich blessing it was to sit down and listen to the ugly crap people have had to go through because they did not listen to the word of God, and have them look at you in the eye and say, “you don’t have to live in that crap, you don’t have to rebel.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But until this semester all I wanted to do was rebel.  Let me set you straight…I am not an outward rebel.  I hate when people yell it me, I hate doing things that will disappoint other people, I hate the feeling of the moment you are caught doing something you shouldn’t.  So I try to avoid that by just following the rules.  You see I was a quiet rebel…that is why it was so hard for me to discover it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are some areas…where I just didn’t want to take the gold from my elders.  Dating, obeying and honoring my parents, gossip, confronting my fellow sisters in sin…I mean the list could go on.  When people talked to me about these areas in my life I would spend half the time not listening and thinking of why whatever they were saying didn’t apply to me.  But the beauty about my church is that God used bold people to just keep on talking even as I tried to shut them out.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; Fools despise wisdom and instruction.”  -Proverbs 1:7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is foolish to disregard the wisdom of others.  FOOLISH!  That is a powerful word.  But God says that it is better than gold to get wisdom.  I am thankful for the class Her Hand and for Heather and Jenn who started me on this process.  I am thankful that Aaron posts videos online of people’s testimonies of our church so that as I am away from our body…I can still get this GOLD!  I have never been so thankful for the internet!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never repay Butch and Michelle, Eric and Wendy, Heather and Aaron, and Cindy and Ken for getting up in front of our church and telling of the Lord’s power and just handing out that gold to our body.  A church that is built on confession and teaching truth is a church that I want to be a part of.  Keep being awesome you Titus 2 men and women!  You are a blessing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-7009844283942608442?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/7009844283942608442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=7009844283942608442' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7009844283942608442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/7009844283942608442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/06/as-good-as-goldactually-better.html' title='As good as gold…actually better…'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rn7mBeOcWMI/AAAAAAAAABU/TvA3WoUiUZc/s72-c/gold.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-1775504329798003908</id><published>2007-06-05T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T21:29:35.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Automatic Toilets and Preferred stalls...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYb7uOcWLI/AAAAAAAAABM/fkF1jxakoQo/s1600-h/Toilet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072772743114283186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 181px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="212" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYb7uOcWLI/AAAAAAAAABM/fkF1jxakoQo/s320/Toilet.jpg" width="138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize whoa...I haven't posted in a while and then BAM! TWO posts! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know, its crazy, but I just had to write more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I work 40 hours a week in a health insurance company. Praise God for this job. It is a blessing that He is providing me money that I can use to live in college station next semester and student teach. I am really excited! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the thing about this job is that it doesn't require a lot of movement. I sit at a cubical for most of the day...except when I either really have to go to the bathroom or I just get so antsy that I go to the bathroom and try to squeeze any pee out of me that can make the bathroom trip valid. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So in a given day, I probably take 6 trips to the bathroom...that gives me a lot of time to think. You see these bathrooms have automatic toilets. This invention is just funny to me. Why did we decide this was a device we needed to automate. Why didn't we first automate a sandwich maker or a dog poo picker upper...those are two things I would like automated BEFORE I would like to have a toilet automatic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These toilets just stress me out!! First of all, they either flush too much or not enough. I hate when you are wiping and the toilet flushes...and then flushes again...and you feel bad because we are just now getting out of a drought! What if my 6 bathroom visits push us back into a drought?!? I also think about the children in Ethiopia who don't have enough to drink, and I just wasted another 7 gallons with my automatic toilet! It's very depressing!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then there is the problem of not flushing when you want them to. There is just something about my waste that I dont want other people looking at it. So I stand there and wave my hand over the little sensor...but nothing happens. So I have to leave my pee...it just stays there and hangs out. So maybe there are enough times that it doesnt flush and people come and plop down on the seat, pee, and then it doesnt flush for them either. I guess I got my 7 gallons back...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But really, toilet inventors...I didnt mind using my foot to push the handle and flush the toilet. I would welcome the chance to lift my leg a little (it would be the most exercise I would have all day!) to make my pee go down with just the right amount of water. I really wouldn't mind at all. I am thinking about writing the toilet makers of America and asking them if they wouldn't mind ending world hunger before making another object automatic that simply doesn't need to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Second public bathroom thought:Is it just me or does everyone have a preferred stall or urinal (for the boys) that they use? You see I always go into the second stall...unless I am in the SCC, then for some reason I use the first, I dont really know why I am different there, but I have just always had a weird affinity to the first stall in that bathroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, my preferred stall is the second. I had a theory that everyone used the first stall so the second would be more clean. I am not really sure if that is true...that is part of me wanting to take this poll. I really just love the second stall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I go in it every one of my six trips to the bathroom daily. Even though this means I have to read the same paper that is on that stall every time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I checked the other stalls, they have different papers...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but I wont ever get to read them because they aren't in the second stall...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All around the world, I am loyal to my second stall (besides the exception previously discussed) When I was in East Asia last summer, I went in the second stall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYay-OcWJI/AAAAAAAAAA8/bg6_hrbmV34/s1600-h/squatty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072771493278800018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYay-OcWJI/AAAAAAAAAA8/bg6_hrbmV34/s320/squatty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(Picture of a China Toilet)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know what it is...am I alone in my stall preference? Are there others of you out there with stall preferences? I really need to know...I hope I am not alone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well that is all...just something to think about the next time you use a public restroom!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/5414995257408256464-1775504329798003908?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/1775504329798003908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=1775504329798003908' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/1775504329798003908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/1775504329798003908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/06/automatic-toilets-and-preferred-stalls.html' title='Automatic Toilets and Preferred stalls...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYb7uOcWLI/AAAAAAAAABM/fkF1jxakoQo/s72-c/Toilet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-258680013628365160</id><published>2007-06-05T20:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T20:57:53.782-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This will be the summer of refinement…</title><content type='html'>First of all, I am sorry I have not posted in a while…I am a slacker, but I was having problems the last couple of days logging on…so that is my recent excuse…no former excuse here…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Task one: Unwholesome Talk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be a summer of purification.  This will be a summer of refinement.  Am I on a mission trip? No.  Am I a stranger in an unknown land? No.  Am I being pushed out of my comfort zone?  No.  I am home, living with my family and working 40 hours a week at a health insurance company.  And yet I feel like it’s my biggest test yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And I will bring the third part through the fire, Refine them as silver is refined.  And test them as gold is tested.  They will call on My name, and I will answer them:  I will say ‘They are my people, and they will say, ‘The Lord is my God.”  -Zechariah 13:9&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYTGuOcWII/AAAAAAAAAA0/m_e8yze92i4/s1600-h/Fire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072763036488194178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYTGuOcWII/AAAAAAAAAA0/m_e8yze92i4/s320/Fire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last four years He has been sculpting me.  He has been growing my faith.  He has been bringing the dark lies that I believed to light.  Last summer He asked me to go spread His gospel to a dark world, East Asia.  This summer He asked me to walk through fire, daily, hourly, minutely (I am not real sure if that is a word!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing I learned: my pride isn’t the only thing that is hindering my relationships.  One of the most influential verses I learned last year was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pride leads to arguments; those who take advise are wise.” –Proverbs 13:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year, I was having a lot of arguments with my mom and then…He whips out proverbs to show me that is was because of MY pride…but that was last semester.  So I come home this summer praying desperately for God to humble me…but He shows me its not just about my pride…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go figure, my sin is way more complex!  When I live in college station, surrounded by the friends I have chosen I feel like a kind, loving person.  I am sarcastic about myself and others, but my friends love it…they laugh, I feel good about myself…and yet, it is unwholesome.  But I never knew it was unwholesome until May 28th rolled around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was camping with my family and I said something about something we had looking like “white trash”.  Go figure…that hurt my mom’s feelings.  Why shouldn’t it?  That is a mean thing to say.  However, if I was with my friends they would have laughed it off, knowing that I loved them and I didn’t mean what I said.  My mom didn’t laugh it off.  She confronted me.  As my mom is confronting me, my flesh wants to get upset and say, “geez it was just a joke.”  But then the Holy Spirit starts His work in me, and speaks this verse over me,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do not let any &lt;strong&gt;unwholesome talk&lt;/strong&gt; come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”&lt;br /&gt;-Ephesians 4:29&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before this moment, I thought my mouth was cleansed of unwholesome talk.  I thought that was only concerning sexual and crude jokes…which He had done a lot of changing in me my freshmen year.  I thought I was done.  I thought I was purified in that area.  He said no.  He said, “Sara, I am no longer letting you get away with this.  I have brought you home this summer to bring you into a very hot fire.  I have many areas to show you where thus far your fire has only been lukewarm.  Your friends are only a lukewarm fire in the area of unwholesome talk.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So refinement area one: Unwholesome talk...there isn't a check mark next to this because He's not finished.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-258680013628365160?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/258680013628365160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=258680013628365160' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/258680013628365160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/258680013628365160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-will-be-summer-of-refinement.html' title='This will be the summer of refinement…'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RmYTGuOcWII/AAAAAAAAAA0/m_e8yze92i4/s72-c/Fire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-3992530009933959440</id><published>2007-05-06T00:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T00:35:21.114-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crawfish bowl...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Today I had a new experience...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I attended a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boil. One of my favorite things to do in life is to do something I have never done before. It's like an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;adrenaline&lt;/span&gt; rush. You just never know what it is going to be like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I like trying new thing with a mixture of people who have done the thing before and people who have also never had the experience before. I like the people that are experts to educate me and make the experience truly educational, and I like the people who are newbies because their facial expressions are priceless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So today, I went to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boil. Ryan is 76.56 % &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Cajun&lt;/span&gt; so needless to say, he has been to a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boils in his life. HE LOVES &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;CRAWFISH&lt;/span&gt;. (Which is another thing I like to have when I am experiencing something new: a person who LOVES what you are about to do...i just love when people are passionate about random things)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So this is what I learned from my expert teacher: Right before you boil the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt;...THEY ARE ALIVE!! I never knew that! I am a city girl and really naive to a lot of these things. Ryan told me this fact so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;nonchalantly&lt;/span&gt;, like he had just said "when you mix red and yellow, you get orange". Anyways, this thought of their way of death HORRIFIED ME! I don't know why this horrified me so, I think its because my greatest fear is to die drowning. Now drowning in boiling hot water is pretty much the worst thing ever. You know when people ask you that question "would you rather burn to death or drown to death" I always say burn...but think drowning in boiling water is kinda like those two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;methods&lt;/span&gt; combined! It has to be horrible for them! Those poor little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061315790598156802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rj1n5UKtsgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/pYV1UR42cZA/s320/crawfish.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;However, this sad thought of how they die did not keep me from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;eating&lt;/span&gt; them. Let me tell you...those poor little boiled &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;crawmen&lt;/span&gt; were tasty!! I LOVED it! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;For those who are like me and have never been to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boil, you need to try it! There is a science to opening a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt;...Ryan and my friend Juliette, the girl who put on the boil, were very patient teachers! I am not a pro, but i am hoping I will get more practice later!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So during this "opening process" your hands get extremely messy. I enjoy getting messy so I liked this part. There is another benefit to the messy hands that Ryan brought to my attention. He said, "When you are at a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boil, you are all there.  If your cell phone rings, you can't answer it because you can't get it out of your pocket or open the phone" Really that is a beautiful thought! There are few things in life that we are all there for. It is wonderful to give your total attention to the group of people you are with. Some days I just want to go back to the life before cell phones...just for a minute...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;ahh&lt;/span&gt; feel the relaxation!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So with all that being said: great food, messy hands, a great group of people, spending time outdoors, being all there...I give my first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;crawfish&lt;/span&gt; boil an "A plus" and look forward to repeat experiences!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-3992530009933959440?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/3992530009933959440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=3992530009933959440' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3992530009933959440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/3992530009933959440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/05/crawfish-bowl.html' title='Crawfish bowl...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rj1n5UKtsgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/pYV1UR42cZA/s72-c/crawfish.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-2191124348716928807</id><published>2007-04-15T22:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T23:41:21.789-05:00</updated><title type='text'>test Me now in this...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I can't get Malachi 3:10 off my mind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know what you are thinking, not the typical verse to have running through your mind. Its kinda like saying I have Leviticus 4:19 on the mind, but really the book is amazing! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You should stop and read it right now if you never have! (its only four chapters, one of those books that makes you feel real accomplished because you can read it in like 20 minutes, and then you are like, hey I just read a whole book of the Bible..in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unboastful&lt;/span&gt; sort of way &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;of course&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways, Malachi 3:10 says "Bring the WHOLE tithe into the storehouse, so that there may be food in My house, and &lt;strong&gt;test Me now in this,&lt;/strong&gt;" says the Lord of hosts, "if I will not open for you the windows of heaven, and pour out for you a blessing until it overflows."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WOW! Did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;yall&lt;/span&gt; know that was in this Book! I feel like God is just constantly putting in front of me pictures of the sacrifices He desires. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;emphasized&lt;/span&gt; WHOLE because God &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; want a part of your offering, He wants the whole. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; want part of your life, He wants the whole. God is a total kinda God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For those of you who were at breakaway the week Ben talked about Cain and Able know that God also desires our sacrifices to be our first fruits. I have been challenged to ask the Lord what are my "first fruits"? He has shown me that praying at night right before I get in bed, after I have checked my email 3 times, made sure I don't have a message on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;, checked the blogs for new posts, washed my face, brushed my teeth, talked to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt;, and checked the weather for tomorrow is not my first fruits. When I put Him behind all those frivolous things, that is giving him the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wimpy&lt;/span&gt; vegetables. I am giving Him the bruised apples. But I have also learned that "first" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; mean the first thing you do in a day. I used to try and do my quiet time first thing when I got up...I thought that was my first fruit, but again sleep was conquering me. I was like "Lord...what is wrong, I am trying to sacrifice for you." Then He showed me if I would just take a shower first I would be so ready to meet with Him. My first fruits then were when I was most attentive and awake enough to hear from His Spirit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its not just about sacrificing our time...i mean as an extremely wealthy compared to others but think I am "poor" college student I would much rather give God my time than to sacrifice my money. But I think this Malachi verse is specifically talking about our things. I mean it could apply to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;multitude&lt;/span&gt; of things, but it has really convicted me about money. God says bring the whole tithe into my house and TEST ME...see if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; provide for you! This is the one time in the Bible God asks us to test Him. He is begging us to just test Him in our giving. We should not be scared to bring the first fruits and whole sacrifice, we should desire to test him in this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The reason we should not be scared is that God says He will open the windows of heaven and pour out blessing...WHOA...that's a lot better than opening the window at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;McDonald's drive thru&lt;/span&gt; and having them pour out your food on you...God wants to open the windows of heaven! Do we not get to see the windows of heaven because we would rather rely on ourselves and settle for the McDonald windows?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053879349192043154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RiL8fdJGKpI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Nl_-t7HQp4w/s320/McDonalds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;yall&lt;/span&gt; but I would much rather see the windows of heaven open than this drive &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; window open with a woman in a visor reeking of french fries smell asking you if you want ketchup to go with your fries.  It just blows me away that our God is a God would desires to open up blessing for us.  He does not ask us to give of these sacrifices so we can be empty handed and live without.  He is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;desperately&lt;/span&gt; crying out to us to test Him to see the kind of blessings we can only see when we give in such a way that we cant rely on ourselves to provide.  I know I have a lot to learn about sacrifice.  I am still holding on to part...I have a hard time giving the whole, I still give Him the extra fruit I have lying around, but God is at work.  And I hope to one day live in the freedom of constant dependence on Him testing Him in my giving.  He is worthy of that test...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-2191124348716928807?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/2191124348716928807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=2191124348716928807' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2191124348716928807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/2191124348716928807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/04/test-me-now-in-this.html' title='test Me now in this...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/RiL8fdJGKpI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Nl_-t7HQp4w/s72-c/McDonalds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8409473389487234536</id><published>2007-03-19T00:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T00:49:37.562-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Spring Break Highlights!</title><content type='html'>So here are my amazing spring break highlights in a somewhat sequential order...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Watching the Lord paint a beautiful sunset over Lake Travis in Austin with 3 great friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Getting peer pressured by my typically low maintenance sister to get my eyebrows waxed with her for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Watching a dear family friend, who I like to call my cousin, marry his beautiful bride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Having amazing car conversations on the road to and from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Vidor&lt;/span&gt;, Texas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Experiencing Vidor, Texas in the daylight (I had only been there at night before!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Taking a swim at night in the cold gulf in Florida...which was as I liked to say, "strangely exhilarating"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Sitting outside on a BEAUTIFUL white sand beach with a good book and great company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Getting really sunburned, but not really tan at all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Riding the waves on a boogie board...i just love to boogie down!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Drinking crisp limeade on the porch overlooking the DEEP blue ocean and listening to the crashing waves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Walking up and down the beach trying to avoid "jellies" (which for those of you who do not think like me that is what I call jelly fish...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ryan&lt;/span&gt; is so cute he was like, "I have never heard them called "jellies" before, rather than saying, "you are a freak...no one calls them jellies!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Getting 2 holes in one on a really fun put-put golf course&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Stopping in New &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Orleans&lt;/span&gt; on none other than St. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Patrick's&lt;/span&gt; Day...enough said on that one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Stopping at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Mulats&lt;/span&gt; (a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Louisiana&lt;/span&gt;) and getting a TRUE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Cajun&lt;/span&gt; experience right down from the pecan pie to dancing (sorta) to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Zydeco&lt;/span&gt; music!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Back in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Vidor&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;eating&lt;/span&gt; a bowl of raisin bran looking out into the beautiful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;vidorian&lt;/span&gt; woods and listening to Ryan play the piano...it was pretty much perfect!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Peering through binoculars to watch Eagles...no not the band, our national bird, with a bunch of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;vidor&lt;/span&gt; locals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Witnessing a bunch of people be obedient to the Lord and get baptized!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep that is only 16 of the amazing things the Lord allowed me to experience this spring break. Oh Praise Him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(p.s. unfortunately i do not have my cord to transfer pictures from my camera to my computer, so i cannot post any pictures, but you can always give Ryan's facebook a gander if you want to see the visual representation of much of my spring break!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8409473389487234536?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8409473389487234536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8409473389487234536' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8409473389487234536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8409473389487234536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-spring-break-highlights.html' title='My Spring Break Highlights!'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-8221440483407020237</id><published>2007-03-06T16:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T16:44:42.054-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sighing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Lord all my desire is before you; And even my sighing is not hidden from you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Psalm 38:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I never sighed!  No I am not talking about the sigh of relief when you realize you haven't locked your keys in your car or you didn't actually forget your calculator for your midterm (Math majors have that sigh more than others maybe).  I am talking about the sigh of discontentment.  I am talking about the sighing of dissatisfaction.  I think that is the sighing that David is talking about here.  The sigh I let out when that interaction with someone close to me didn't go exactly how I wanted it to go.  The sigh I let out when I feel like no one understands or no one cares.  The sigh I let out when things don't go exactly how I planned.  The sigh I let out when I hear a lie from the enemy and though I know its a lie, it hurts to hear.   The sigh I let out when I am having one of those weeks that I just don't think I am pretty (girls, you know what I am talking about).  I never realized I sighed so much until a couple of weeks ago when Christy Nockles shared this verse in Psalms with us.  I thought the verse was amazing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God cares about our sighing.  But I think the most incredible thing is that this sighing comes from our inability to be satisfied in the Lord.  Everything I just listed shows me that I still am not fully content in Him.  The sighing is hurtful to Him...and yet he knows about it.  God's will for my life is to be joyful always, praying continually, and to give him thanks (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18), I don't see sighing ANYWHERE in there.  So i hate that I sigh because I know its not what God desires for me.  Though He does not desire sighing; He cares about our sighs.  I have been clinging to this verse ever since that night knowing that even when I am not experiencing a time of emotional distraughtness (i made up this word...so i hope you catch my meaning) or deep pain, when it is just a sigh, its not hidden from Him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ironic thing is a sigh is meant to be hidden.  It's a sigh because its not something worth fully verbalizing because if you did, you know it would sound stupid and petty, it's just a sigh...and yet its not hidden from Him.  God is so amazing!  His love is so perfect and so intimate...i mean if someone can hear my sighs, He is pretty darn intimate with me.  I think the beauty of that is that when I realize He hears my sighs, I realize I have no reason to be sighing.  David reminds me in this Psalm that there is no area in my life that God doesn't minister to.  So I put on thankfulness for this love that is so perfect and so deep.  And thankfulness is the cure to discontentment which is the cure to sighing...ahh now that's a sigh of relief.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-8221440483407020237?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/8221440483407020237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=8221440483407020237' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8221440483407020237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/8221440483407020237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/03/sighing.html' title='Sighing...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-4264670226258496119</id><published>2007-03-03T00:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T01:00:54.655-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Instant Oatmeal...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rekb9AhTbgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VD2uYb5KXl4/s1600-h/oatmeal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037588393116265986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rekb9AhTbgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VD2uYb5KXl4/s320/oatmeal.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a beautiful creation in this world that many people neglect to notice...Instant Oatmeal. You might be skeptical of its amazingness...but really it is. Not only is it warm goodness on a cold day and serves as a reminder that life is not all about cold cereal...but it is also a morning milk crisis saver! It is a lifesaver in the morning when you wake up and dum dum dum...there is either NO MILK in your refrigerator...or worse...very expired milk! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's those mornings that I just fall deeply in love with Mr. Quaker, like I want him to be the father of my children! You see breakfast is my favorite part of the day and cereal is an essential part of that in my life. No milk or sour milk can most certainly put a damper on my morning! But not with Mr. Quaker and his amazing instant oatmeal...just add water and you can have a tasty breakfast without milk! Many nights I lay in bed about to fall asleep realizing I again procrastinated on my grocery shopping and I start to worry about my milk supply...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but then I rest easy knowing Mr. Quaker lives in my pantry!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-4264670226258496119?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/4264670226258496119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=4264670226258496119' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4264670226258496119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/4264670226258496119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/03/instant-oatmeal.html' title='Instant Oatmeal...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_wiInNqdPyio/Rekb9AhTbgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VD2uYb5KXl4/s72-c/oatmeal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5414995257408256464.post-5509992364206509404</id><published>2007-02-25T17:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T17:37:47.313-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Things you need to know to read my blog...</title><content type='html'>well...okay I have never posted anything on a blog before, but I thought what the heck!  I created this so I could comment on other people's blogs, but I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to be that boring person who has nothing posted on their blog so that when i you click on my name you see nothing...that is so depressing.  So anyways, things you need to know to read my blog are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;1. I am not an exceptional writer...in fact the thought of writing a paper makes me want to vomit.  Therefore, I will never have a thesis statement in my blogs.&lt;br /&gt;2. I cannot spell...luckily there is spell checker, but if i forget to use it, read at your own risk!&lt;br /&gt;3. I use way to many commas and I enjoy run-on sentences.  I like to talk and i usually just write exactly what I would say to people and when I am having conversations I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; pause for a period, so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; expect me to do so in the blog either.&lt;br /&gt;4. I might not really write on here that much...i hate the pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, i might think of more warnings later, but as for now that's what I got.  Basically, if you are one of those people that cringes every time someone uses incorrect &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;grammar&lt;/span&gt;...MY BLOG IS NOT FOR YOU!!  My advice: to avoid cringes...avoid my blog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5414995257408256464-5509992364206509404?l=eakersofhope.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/feeds/5509992364206509404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5414995257408256464&amp;postID=5509992364206509404' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5509992364206509404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5414995257408256464/posts/default/5509992364206509404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://eakersofhope.blogspot.com/2007/02/things-you-need-to-know-to-read-my-blog.html' title='Things you need to know to read my blog...'/><author><name>SaraEaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687566694115845847</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
