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no_tellin
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Name: Rachel
Country: United States
State: South Carolina
Metro: Spartanburg
Birthday: 6/6/1989
Gender: Female
Interests: i like to read, thats the main thing. i like to draw, some say im good, but thats mainly my friends and family, and they don't usually tell u the truth on that cause they will have to see u again eventually. i like working with kids. and other normal stuff kids my age like, like hanging out with friends and all that. and of course, the ever popular comment, guys, and more guys.
Expertise: reading, talking, saying the first thing that pops into my head.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  godstalkativegrl
Yahoo:  godstalkativegirl
Member Since:
12/13/2004
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| wow, the last time i posted, it wasn't even my own thoughts... im neglecting this page so bad. im sorry jennifer... but really, get a myspace!! MAN! it would be so much easier. and we could talk more. because i hardly ever get on here. then again you haven't posted much of anything to comment on. so i guess its my turn. ahhh, pisgah youth rally was interesting. lots and lots of hot guys... and most of them were in my group for the activity. it was nice. though jennifer wasn't in my group, that sucked. then we went to a nursing home, and all of last year came back. i don't think i have ever told anyone how it was in the end.... i don't think i ever will be able to. its like a dishonor to her memory. she was such a strong and brave person, stubborn, but so very special. elegant, and morally concious (sp?) dignified, but could act like a teenage at the slightest hint of playfulness from another. someone who knew how they should live their lives and tried to abide by all the things God commands.... i was blessed to know her...to live with her every day.... and now im starting to cry... sorry....there is love and pain attached to her memory... pain i caused myself... by how stupid i was...i didn't realize what a precious gift God had given me until it was to late... i have never felt so foolish in my life... she had so much to teach me, but i wouldn't listen.... now i will never get that opportunity... then i hear people say how annoying their grandparents are.. and i think, i was once one o those people...one of those foolish, stubborn people. please, please, don't take your grandparents for granted... or your parents. this isn't somekinda of pity party... this is a rememberance for the wonderful life she had. and how she impacted people.... her nurses, i never knew how much she touched them. some people never had the fortune to meet her, and im deeply sorry for your misfortune. wow, it has taken this long to finally talk about any of this without being stupid about it. i think....well, i think when ever i talked about it with someone i really wasn't thinking about her, i just gave the ordinary response. nothing with and real feeling.... ok, well, later. i really didn't mean to spill my guts...but you never know, maybe this will help someone. its true, God works in mysterious ways. | | |
| I long for the mighty hero of legends old. That noble lord who earns the crown of gold, that fearless knight upon his great white steed, that slayer of drangons fresh from valiant deed. Come rescue me, O hero bold. Come rescue me ere the night unfold. I wait for the mighty hero of legends old. That gallant victor over evil stronghold, that brave defender of woman and child, that charging conqueror of darkness wild. Come rescue me, O hero bold. Come rescue me ere the night unfold. -Sally John if only this poem were true to today's modern times! i don't think there is a girl out there that would not love to be swept off her feet! | | |
| well, school has started, and so far its going good. my classes are really easy except for english. which isn't hard, just challenging. but its good. i have friends in every class now. i didn't at first, but then i made new friends. but whats really creepy about school is, there is a guy there that looks EXACTLY like my ex boyfriend. and i keep looking at him, just because he looks like him. i mean, he isn't cute or anything, jsut creepy. but the bad thing is, is that he catches me looking at him, and i glance at him at least 20 times in the hour and 45 mins i have of that class. well, i did, but not as much. because i think he is getting the wrong idea. so now im making sure that i don't look at him, which is hard, because he is right across from me. but w/e. my art teacher has it out for me. whenever she wants an example of something, she uses my art work....sounds like a good thing right....think again, she uses it as what NOT to do. like this bottle i drew in 9th grade (first thing i ever drew, and it was a still life, so it changed everyday) she just disected it.... not enough shades, bad position, poorly thought out ( i don't get that one, how can u plan out a still life? u draw what u see!!) and on and on!! i felt like the dumbest person alive. and then everyone was looking at me. my friend brandon was trying to make me feel better by kidding me about it. but it didn't help, because after the ART TEACHER saying how horrible it was, the teasing brandon did only pointed out the things she missed.
but my english teacher is cool, he is really funny!! and he makes you think. he is also in my drivers Ed class. there are three teachers in there. and they are all kinda funny. they are all coachs, or have been coachs at one point.
and then my us history teacher is nice, and interesting. sometimes she is a little annoying because she gives to many notes. anyways, im pretty happy with my classes. peace-out! | | |
| i finally figured out when i am getting paid!! thursday!! but i still have no idea how much. no one seems to understand that i love my job, and it wouldn't really matter how much i get paid!! its good experience, and it helps me see what i would be getting into if i taught as a kindergarten teacher!! it feels good to know that i can handle a bunch of crazy kids!!
lol, i haven't had to change a dirty diaper so far...i think they realize that i would probably suck at that. i have a hard time figuring out which is the front with some of the kids pull ups. and even though this is a part time thing...well, i guess its just a fill in thing, anyways, i might get some more days in to work!! lol, i know what ur thinking, she has got to be crazy to want more work...but im NOT!! i love my job, the kids gave me a few rough first days, but we got it straightened out that im the boss.
and there is this little boy, that doesn't listen to hardly anyone, but he obeys me!! WOW!! i think its because i try to be his friend, but also let him know that he has to listen. the other people just try to keep him from killing himself. but i get him to obey, listen, and participate!! and he is really a sweet kid. he just doesn't like to be bossed around a lot. so i try to give him options. i say, u can come and listen to the story or, sulk in the corner, and not have fun. so i make whatever i want him to do, sound more appealing that what he intends to do.
i know this is probably boring to ya'll, but im proud of myself!! im not good at sports, i get ok grades, i don't really shine at the stuff most kids do. like drama and art and stuff. but this is something im good at. so i guess i get carried away.
lol, a boy told me he loved me...of course he is like four. but its cute. and i get hugs every morning when i come in...the first week (last week) i worked afternoons, but this week i work mornings.. so when i came in monday morning, these kids just about toppled me over cause they all wanted to give me hugs!! it was so CUTE!!
ok ok, im done. just wanted to let u know oh my life is going. peace-out!! | | |
| > > >THE ROOM
>
>
>
> > >17-year-ol d Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for
>a
> > >class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later
> >told
> > >his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing
>I
> > >ever wrote.." It also was the last.
> > >
> > >Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it
> >while
> > >cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian
> >had
> > >been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece
>of
> >his
> > >life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
> > >
> > >Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about
>encountering
> > >Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the
>teen's
> > >life.. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore
> > >realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes
>such
> >an
> > >impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr.
> > >Moore said.
> > >
> > >Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was
> >driving
> > >home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in
> > >Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck
> > >unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocut ed.
> > >
> > >The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family
> > >portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I
> > >think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs.
>Moore
> > >said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's
>vision
> >of
> > >life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know
> >I'll
> > >see him."
> > >Brian's Essay: The Room.
> > >In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the
> >room.
> > >There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered
> >with
> > >small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list
> > >titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files,
> >which
> > >stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either
> >direction,
> > >had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the
>first
> >to
> > >catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it
> >and
> > >began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to
>realize
> > >that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without
>being
> > >told, I knew exactly where I was.
> > >
> > >This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for
> >my
> > >life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small,
> >in a
> > >detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity,
> >coupled
> > >with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and
> > >exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a
> > >sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my
>shoulder
> >to
> > >see if anyone was watching.
> > >
> > >A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have
>betrayed."
> > >The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have
> > >Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have
>Laughed
> > >at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've
>yelled
> >at
> > >my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My
> >Anger",
> > >"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased
> >to
> > >be surprised by the contents.
> > >
> > >Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than
>I
> > >hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
> >Could
> > >it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these
> > >thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this
>truth.
> > >Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
> > >
> > >When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I
>realized
> >the
> > >files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly,
>and
> > >yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I
>shut
> > >it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast
> >time I
> > >knew that file represented.
> > >
> > >When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run
> >through
> > >my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its
> >size
> > >and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.
> > >
> > >I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost
> >animal
> > >rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see
> >these
> > >cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In
> >insane
> > >frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to
>empty
> >it
> > >and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it
>on
> > >the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and
> > >pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to
> >tear
> > >it.
> > >
> > >Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.
>Leaning
> >my
> > >forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
> > >
> > >And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel
> >With."
> > >The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I
> > >pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long
> >fell
> > >into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
> > >And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt.
> >They
> > >started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and
> >cried. I
> > >cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of
> >file
> > >shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of
> >this
> > >room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away
>the
> > >tears, I saw Him.
> > >
> > >No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched
>helplessly
> >as
> > >He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to
>watch
> >His
> > >response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face,
>I
> > >saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
> > >
> > >He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to
>read
> > >every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He
> > >looked at me with pity in His eyes But this was a pity that didn't
>anger
> > >me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry
> > >again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so
> >many
> > >things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
> > >
> > >Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one
>end
> >of
> > >the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name
> >over
> > >mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to
> >say
> > >was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on
> >these
> > >cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.
>The
> > >name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently
> >took
> > >the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I
> >don't
> > >think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next
> >instant
> > >it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.
> > >
> > >He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood
> >up,
> > >and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There
>were
> > >still cards to be written.
> > >
> > >"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13
>"For
> > >God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever
>believes
> >in
> > >Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way
> > >forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My
>"People
> >I
> > >shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?
> > >
> > >IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE
> >WORLD,
> > >IT IS THIS ONE, FOR THE CHRISTIAN OR NOT! MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
> > >
> > >You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether
>you
> >did
> > >or not, but you will know and so will He. | | |
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