<?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-7624995537502342658</id><updated>2012-02-18T06:39:21.202-08:00</updated><category term='Giving'/><category term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Nana Stories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>254</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7920307580261151958</id><published>2012-02-17T14:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-17T14:15:20.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Otter Praise Him!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jp9fHAfpEqk/Tz7Ociy58cI/AAAAAAAAGEM/t6b9eNeZe2U/s1600/zm_praying_otter_jef_ss_120217_ssv.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jp9fHAfpEqk/Tz7Ociy58cI/AAAAAAAAGEM/t6b9eNeZe2U/s400/zm_praying_otter_jef_ss_120217_ssv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710228367324344770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This photo speaks volumes, doesn't it? It reminds me of Jesus' words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as he rode along, people spread out their coats on the roadway.  And as he approached the city, where the road slopes down from the Mount  of Olives, the whole crowd of his disciples shouted praises to God for  all the marvelous things that they had seen him do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Blessed is the  king who comes in the name of the Lord!” they cried. “There is peace in  Heaven and glory on high!” &lt;p&gt;There were some Pharisees in the crowd who said to Jesus, “Master, restrain your disciples!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To which he replied, “I tell you that if they kept quiet, the very stones in the road would burst out cheering!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Luke 19:38-40 Phillips New Testament&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/slideshow/photos-amazing-animals-8537483"&gt;Read about this photo.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7920307580261151958?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7920307580261151958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7920307580261151958&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7920307580261151958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7920307580261151958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/02/you-otter-praise-him.html' title='You Otter Praise Him!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jp9fHAfpEqk/Tz7Ociy58cI/AAAAAAAAGEM/t6b9eNeZe2U/s72-c/zm_praying_otter_jef_ss_120217_ssv.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3978053701188082505</id><published>2012-02-05T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T13:52:06.987-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hide His Word in Your Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpYEq7VgPzI/AAAAAAAAA5o/s5-zEUy1Wgk/s1600-h/19YouthSings.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 278px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpYEq7VgPzI/AAAAAAAAA5o/s5-zEUy1Wgk/s320/19YouthSings.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374488340842168114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to a small church in a tiny town when I was a child. We did not have a worship leader or children's pastor. A nice older man named Mr. Cochran drove 20 miles from Atlanta on Sunday afternoons to teach the Bible verses set to music. During the worship service on Sunday evenings, we would get to sit in the choir loft and sing songs like this one:&lt;br /&gt;Altogether lovely, He is altogether lovely&lt;br /&gt;And the fairest of ten thousand&lt;br /&gt;This wonderful friend divine.&lt;br /&gt;He gave Himself to save me&lt;br /&gt;Now He lives in Heaven to keep me&lt;br /&gt;Altogether lovely&lt;br /&gt;Is this wonderful Jesus of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bless those of you who are teaching your children to Hide God's Word in their hearts when they are young, and it will be better than buried treasure as they grow older!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Psalm 92:1-2&lt;br /&gt;"It is good to praise the LORD&lt;br /&gt;and make music to your name, O Most High,&lt;br /&gt;to proclaim your love in the morning&lt;br /&gt;and your faithfulness at night..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-3978053701188082505?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3978053701188082505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3978053701188082505&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3978053701188082505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3978053701188082505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/06/hide-his-word-in-your-heart.html' title='Hide His Word in Your Heart'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpYEq7VgPzI/AAAAAAAAA5o/s5-zEUy1Wgk/s72-c/19YouthSings.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8314993297888509222</id><published>2012-02-04T05:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T09:57:55.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>To Tickle Your Funnybone</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Because of a shortage of maids, the minister and his wife advertised for a manservant. The next morning a nicely dressed young man came to the front door of the parsonage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you start the breakfast by seven A.M.?" asked the minister.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Verdana,Tahoma,Helvetica;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;"I guess so," answered the man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;"Can you polish all the silver, wash all the dishes, do the laundry, take care of the lawn, wash windows, iron clothes and keep the house neat and tidy?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;"Say, preacher," said the young fellow, "I came here to see about getting married but if it's going to be as much work as all that, you can count me out right now."&lt;/span&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-8314993297888509222?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8314993297888509222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8314993297888509222&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8314993297888509222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8314993297888509222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-tickle-your-funnybone.html' title='To Tickle Your Funnybone'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2875675876817049210</id><published>2012-02-03T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T13:07:00.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Is Our Peace</title><content type='html'>Back in the early 90's, when the kids were still at home, our neighbors invited us over to hear a video produced by Integrity Music called "Rejoice Africa". It became a tool for inviting many neighbors for "pitch-in" suppers at their house on Friday nights. Several people gave their hearts to the Lord during those times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song was one of my favorites!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uswAKffJRKA" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2875675876817049210?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2875675876817049210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2875675876817049210&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2875675876817049210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2875675876817049210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/02/jesus-is-our-peace.html' title='Jesus Is Our Peace'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/uswAKffJRKA/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2330041918054835192</id><published>2012-01-25T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T10:58:30.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Addicted?</title><content type='html'>A woman walks into her doctor's office and says, "Doctor, I think I'm addicted to Blogger."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor says, "Excuse me? I'm not following you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2330041918054835192?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2330041918054835192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2330041918054835192&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2330041918054835192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2330041918054835192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/addicted.html' title='Addicted?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6607126008789904105</id><published>2012-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T10:50:25.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever!</title><content type='html'>I watched a movie recently where the character quoted the Bible where it says, "Let the redeemed of the Lord say so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always took that to mean that I should not hesitate to say that Jesus redeemed me from all my sins. (I'm not perfect - just forgiven!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However the character took it to mean: Whenever I feel threatened, say, "SO????"&lt;br /&gt;Because I belong to the Lord, He will take care of whatever concerns me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, I wondered if that was sacriligious. Then today I read a short post by Francis Frangipane along the same lines! Check it out at &lt;a href="http://www.frangipane.org/"&gt;http://www.frangipane.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6607126008789904105?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6607126008789904105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6607126008789904105&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6607126008789904105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6607126008789904105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/whatever.html' title='Whatever!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6135815153218112057</id><published>2012-01-21T13:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T13:14:10.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On My Knees</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XCOVqeoczmY" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6135815153218112057?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6135815153218112057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6135815153218112057&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6135815153218112057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6135815153218112057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/on-my-knees.html' title='On My Knees'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/XCOVqeoczmY/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5810658084135727955</id><published>2012-01-17T05:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T11:23:39.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Child Shall Lead Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JdcIl5LIBw8/Tdewia31WLI/AAAAAAAAFTM/6BcKsoBA7A8/s1600/prayer1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 135px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609145966288787634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JdcIl5LIBw8/Tdewia31WLI/AAAAAAAAFTM/6BcKsoBA7A8/s200/prayer1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As I am teaching in public school, I notice that God is left out of the books and the conversation these days, but, thankfully, one little first grader did not get the memo that she couldn't praise the Lord. As we were going out to recess, she burst out in song, "Oh, precious is the flow that makes me white as snow. No other fount I know. Nothing but the blood of Jesus!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all my hope and peace,&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but the blood of Jesus;&lt;br /&gt;This is all my righteousness,&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but the blood of Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;Robert Lowry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7CHddSMDXc"&gt;CLICK HERE&lt;/a&gt; to listen to Gaither choir sing acapella (beautiful nature scene video).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5810658084135727955?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5810658084135727955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5810658084135727955&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5810658084135727955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5810658084135727955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-child-shall-lead-us.html' title='A Little Child Shall Lead Us'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JdcIl5LIBw8/Tdewia31WLI/AAAAAAAAFTM/6BcKsoBA7A8/s72-c/prayer1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2167046443261759003</id><published>2012-01-15T13:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T09:36:51.465-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SNOW!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DiK2iYAHe5M/TxNMhvj1-1I/AAAAAAAAF9E/nejVx0sx-eU/s1600/snowman_deer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 171px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DiK2iYAHe5M/TxNMhvj1-1I/AAAAAAAAF9E/nejVx0sx-eU/s400/snowman_deer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697982096140008274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yfjXyjR9L7Y/TxNMeLvq_tI/AAAAAAAAF84/rT3DYEu_qV8/s1600/snow_freeze.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8rfGzWb5NYs/TxNMZgSzOXI/AAAAAAAAF8s/bx65RF_VPks/s1600/frosty-thesnowman-picking-his-nose-300x231.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 231px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8rfGzWb5NYs/TxNMZgSzOXI/AAAAAAAAF8s/bx65RF_VPks/s400/frosty-thesnowman-picking-his-nose-300x231.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697981954603039090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;"Right in the middle of the produce aisle, Frosty gets caught picking his nose!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had a light snow and much colder temperatures the last few days, so I thought I would post some funny snowman cartoons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2167046443261759003?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2167046443261759003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2167046443261759003&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2167046443261759003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2167046443261759003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/snow.html' title='SNOW!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DiK2iYAHe5M/TxNMhvj1-1I/AAAAAAAAF9E/nejVx0sx-eU/s72-c/snowman_deer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4414084538553595465</id><published>2012-01-11T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T11:11:05.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Most Wanted</title><content type='html'>My brother Larry sent me this cute story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larry's kindergarten class was on a field trip to their local police station where they saw pictures tacked to a bulletin board of the ten most wanted criminals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Larry pointed to a picture and asked if it really was the photo of a wanted person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes,” said the policeman. “The detectives want very badly to capture him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;”Larry asked, "Why didn't you just keep him when you took his picture?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4414084538553595465?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4414084538553595465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4414084538553595465&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4414084538553595465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4414084538553595465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/most-wanted.html' title='Most Wanted'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2718296623225753596</id><published>2012-01-06T12:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T12:55:09.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Technologically Savvy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Tech Support: "Ma'm, I need you to right-click on the Desktop."&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "OK."&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "Did you get a pop-up menu?"&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "No."&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "OK. Right-Click again. Do you see a pop-up menu?"&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "No."&lt;br /&gt;Tech Support: "OK, ma'm. Can you tell me what you have done up until this point?"&lt;br /&gt;Customer: "Sure. You told me to write 'click' and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WROTE&lt;/span&gt; 'click'." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2718296623225753596?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2718296623225753596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2718296623225753596&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2718296623225753596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2718296623225753596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2012/01/not-techologically-savvy.html' title='Not Technologically Savvy'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3345210722172615518</id><published>2012-01-04T06:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T08:39:33.039-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting</title><content type='html'>A friend at Bible Study pointed out to us that "wait" in the passage we were studying, didn't mean to be resigned and passive; it meant to watch intently and get ready to POUNCE like a cat!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about waiting for Daddy to come home when I was young. I would ride my bike around the corner and wait for him to come into view as he was driving home from work. (It was almost always exactly 6:15.) Then I would pedal as hard as I could back up the hill on Marietta Street, round the corner, and try to beat him into the driveway. I knew I could count on a big smile, and that he would be excited to hear about my day, before we went in for supper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next time I read "wait on the Lord", I will know that God delights in being "ambushed" by his children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. Psalm 62:5&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-3345210722172615518?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3345210722172615518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3345210722172615518&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3345210722172615518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3345210722172615518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/waiting.html' title='Waiting'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8382440748876725033</id><published>2012-01-03T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T08:23:01.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Wood</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SzGc_BEdJFI/AAAAAAAACPA/SQ35q4nDGic/s1600-h/fire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SzGc_BEdJFI/AAAAAAAACPA/SQ35q4nDGic/s200/fire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418284433136231506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our kids were young, our family used to deliver fire wood to earn extra money for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept plenty of firewood stacked outside, because the more logs you have on the fire, the greater the heat, and the brighter the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the way it is with the Word of God. The more I read it and obey it, the brighter my pathway will glow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:small;" &gt;Psalm 119:105&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8382440748876725033?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8382440748876725033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8382440748876725033&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8382440748876725033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8382440748876725033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/fire-wood.html' title='Fire Wood'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SzGc_BEdJFI/AAAAAAAACPA/SQ35q4nDGic/s72-c/fire.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-349110397724936143</id><published>2012-01-01T06:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T10:55:45.375-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Does Your Daddy Do?</title><content type='html'>As kids, a question we were often asked was, "What does your Daddy do?" Well, for several years, our Dad was a mechanic on the city buses in Atlanta. From going out on service calls to repair disabled buses, he came to know the city streets like the back of his hand. When I grew up and began to drive, I knew I could call Daddy for directions to anywhere in Atlanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As children of God, we need to know exactly what it is that our Father does. We also need to be CONFIDENT that He is on our side. He will help us when we call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to tell you a story to show my point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was six years old, our class took a field trip on the bus to Grant Park Zoo in Atlanta. I was excited on my first trip to the zoo and I ran ahead of my class and entered the Lion House. Back then, the lions were housed in small cages. I walked right up to the bars of the cage, and the full-grown male lion let out a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ROAR &lt;/span&gt;that echoed through that stone building. I will never forget that deafening sound or the feeling of fear!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, we face circumstances like that where we are afraid to stand up and do what we know is right. God gave me a picture that if I would stop running away from problems and stand up and face fear, that a hundred angels would stand up with me. Even better than that, my Savior Jesus stands with me, and He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah! Judah means PRAISE. Even when I feel uncertain, as I begin to praise, with my small voice, I have a Heavenly Choir of back-up singers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, back to my original question. What does my Heavenly Father do? He's a doctor, a lawyer, a righteous judge, a builder, a warrior, a singer, a dancer, a first responder, a counselor and best friend, just to name a few. He is always on my side, He answers when I call, and He knows which way I should go. His perfect love casts out fear. It is the only thing that does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-349110397724936143?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/349110397724936143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=349110397724936143&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/349110397724936143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/349110397724936143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-does-your-daddy-do.html' title='What Does Your Daddy Do?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6109174858473505465</id><published>2011-12-30T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T09:15:00.748-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;A little boy, who wanted $100.00 very badly,  prayed for two weeks but nothing happened. Then he decided to write GOD  a letter requesting $100.00.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  When the postal authorities received the letter to GOD, U.S.A., they  decided to send it to the President. The President was so touched that he instructed his secretary to send the boy  $5.00.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  The little boy was delighted with the $5.00 and immediately sat down  to write a thank you note that read: "Dear GOD, Thank you very  much for sending me the money. However, I noticed that you had to send it through Washington, D.C., and, as usual, they deducted $95.00.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6109174858473505465?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6109174858473505465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6109174858473505465&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6109174858473505465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6109174858473505465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/12/fun-friday.html' title='Fun Friday'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5686491253101869602</id><published>2011-12-29T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-29T12:39:18.461-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Debt-Paid in Full</title><content type='html'>In 1958, the “Don’t leave home without it” card was introduced by American Express. Now many people have thousands of dollars of credit card debt. I have heard it said that in the worsening economic crisis, it will be wise to have zero debt - everything paid off and your title deed in your hand so that no one can call in your debt and take what belongs to you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it wonderful to know that Jesus has paid the debt of sin I owed to God that I could never pay.&lt;br /&gt;‘This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days,  says the Lord: I will put my laws into their hearts, and in their minds I  will write them’.&lt;br /&gt;And then, he adds, ‘Their sins and their lawless deeds I will remember no more’.&lt;br /&gt;Where God grants remission of sin there can be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;no question of making further atonement&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Hebrews 10:16-18 Phillips New Testament&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5686491253101869602?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5686491253101869602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5686491253101869602&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5686491253101869602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5686491253101869602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-debt-paid-in-full.html' title='My Debt-Paid in Full'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5755711187946146850</id><published>2011-12-20T12:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T12:35:39.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowy Night in Georgia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A-A6lNho4e4/TvDxZ5yUIMI/AAAAAAAAF5I/fnDboHA1Gyc/s1600/kids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 116px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A-A6lNho4e4/TvDxZ5yUIMI/AAAAAAAAF5I/fnDboHA1Gyc/s320/kids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688311756679815362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a surprise to wake up to eight inches of snow! Grandpa always said, "If  it stays on the ground for three days, it will snow again, and it did!"  Then it thawed a little and refroze into a skating rink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In  Georgia, a white Christmas was rare. Usually if we built a fire in the  fireplace at Christmas,  we had to open the windows and doors to cool off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must have been eight years old the year it snowed, and we  kids wore ourselves out sledding down the hills.  Hardly anyone had a real sled in our warm climate, so we used trash can  lids, cardboard, or whatever we could find. No one had snow boots or  water proof gloves either, so Mother wrapped our mittens and shoes in  plastic bags fastened with rubber bands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We played out as long as  we could, and then came tramping in to get some of Mother's hot  chocolate and to track on Mother's clean kitchen floor, and then head  outside again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I live in Indiana, and snow falls  often and it gets much colder than in Georgia. Here we have a pretty  good chance for a White Christmas and a good-natured snow ball fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5755711187946146850?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5755711187946146850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5755711187946146850&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5755711187946146850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5755711187946146850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/12/snowy-night-in-georgia.html' title='Snowy Night in Georgia'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A-A6lNho4e4/TvDxZ5yUIMI/AAAAAAAAF5I/fnDboHA1Gyc/s72-c/kids.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4414895840828617311</id><published>2011-12-15T00:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T08:09:17.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ancient Relic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A little boy opened the big old family Bible with fascination, looking at the yellowed pages as he turned them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something fell out of the Bible and he picked it up and looked at it closely. It was an leaf from a tree that has been pressed in between the pages years ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mama, look what I found," the boy called out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What have you got there, dear?" his mother asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In astonishment the young boy answered, "It's Adam's underwear!"&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/7624995537502342658-4414895840828617311?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4414895840828617311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4414895840828617311&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4414895840828617311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4414895840828617311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/12/ancient-relic.html' title='Ancient Relic'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8996839537782536522</id><published>2011-12-11T13:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T13:12:08.401-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There Is None Like You</title><content type='html'>I gave birth to four children and none of them is like the other! Yet I love them all dearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my youngest child died at age three, a friend sang the Lenny Leblanc song, "There is None Like You" at his funeral. This song meant a lot to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people mistakenly thought that a parent would love a child less if he was born with defects and serious delays. I loved Caleb with all my heart and he loved me unconditionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics to the song were written for us to sing in worship of our awesome God, but I can imagine that God might sing them to us. After all, each of us is unique and each of us is His favorite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is none like you.&lt;br /&gt;No one else can touch my heart like you do.&lt;br /&gt;I could search for all eternity long and find&lt;br /&gt;There is none like you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8996839537782536522?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8996839537782536522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8996839537782536522&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8996839537782536522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8996839537782536522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/12/there-is-none-like-you.html' title='There Is None Like You'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7626053964456103273</id><published>2011-12-09T04:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-09T12:34:53.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord is My Shelter</title><content type='html'>The wind would come whipping down the street between the tall buildings, and rain would form rivers that overflowed my shoes as I walked to classes and up to Five Points to catch the bus to work. I went to Georgia State University in downtown Atlanta from 67-71.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember a handsome young man from the Baptist Student Union who came to my rescue one miserable blustery day with a huge rainbow-colored umbrella. He linked his arm in mind and escorted me to my destination, safe and dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verse that came to mind this rainy windy morning in February is: "The Lord protects you; the Lord is a shelter right by your side." &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 121:5 HCSB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard a testimony about another young man who was leaving the ball park one evening because a sudden storm had blown in. Just as he opened his little fold-up umbrella, he caught sight of two older ladies getting pelted by the driving rain. He obeyed the Lord's urging him to give them his umbrella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he trudged on across the huge Atlanta stadium parking lot, a fancy car stopped beside him. The driver rolled down his window and handed the young man a big expensive umbrella. Ahh! We can never out-give our God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7626053964456103273?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7626053964456103273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7626053964456103273&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7626053964456103273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7626053964456103273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/02/lord-is-my-shelter.html' title='The Lord is My Shelter'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7567883616136263345</id><published>2011-12-04T06:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T12:41:29.769-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is There a Problem?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPMAXzwoXYw/TtuGxA_YxDI/AAAAAAAAF18/I9IVrUmsg-g/s1600/sa100tc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682283531495588914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPMAXzwoXYw/TtuGxA_YxDI/AAAAAAAAF18/I9IVrUmsg-g/s200/sa100tc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was running the class "store" on Friday, where the students get to spend the tickets they earned that week for good behavior on small toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One little seven year old, who is a real wheeler-dealer, tried to hand me 5 tickets for an item that costs 10. "No, sir," I told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few moments he came through the line again with the same item and same 5 tickets (now torn in half) which he carefully counted out from 1 to 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave him "the look".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With his most serious face, he inquired, "Is there a problem?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, he should do well on the multiplication unit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7567883616136263345?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7567883616136263345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7567883616136263345&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7567883616136263345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7567883616136263345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/12/is-there-problem.html' title='Is There a Problem?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EPMAXzwoXYw/TtuGxA_YxDI/AAAAAAAAF18/I9IVrUmsg-g/s72-c/sa100tc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-411481702794924243</id><published>2011-12-03T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T06:53:11.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Present</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SsqXyRw6t9I/AAAAAAAABW0/ljC4MsYLgOU/s1600-h/PINK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SsqXyRw6t9I/AAAAAAAABW0/ljC4MsYLgOU/s320/PINK.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389286794120050642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time again for the annual Patriotic Parade in our small town, and later in the afternoon, the beauty contest. I was hoping Sandra would win. She sang a beautiful song and she looked lovely in her evening gown and long white gloves. She was a student at Georgia State (where I would someday go to college). I wanted to grow up to be like her: talented and a beauty queen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandra married a young man who lived on our street and they had three sons.  We were both members of the church choir. I would try to sit in front of her and pretend that her lilting soprano voice was coming out of my mouth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years Sandra was asked to sing at most of the funerals at our church. Hearing her familiar voice sing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Lord's Prayer&lt;/span&gt; was a comfort to the families, and I can't remember a Christmas that she didn't sing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O Holy Night&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As time passed, Sandra's voice began to quiver and break during her solos, but we didn't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later, our adult Sunday school class Christmas party was at a local restaurant. After  dinner, Sandra said that she had a gift for all of us. She stood and began to sing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;When I was but a youngster,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Christmas meant one thing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;That I'd be getting lots of toys that day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I learned a whole lot different,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;When my Mother sat me down,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;And taught me to spell Christmas this way:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"C" is for the Christ child, born upon this day,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"H" for herald angels in the night,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"R" means our Redeemer,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"I" means Israel,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"S" is for the star that shone so bright,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"T" is for three wise men, they who traveled far,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"M" is for the manger where he lay,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"A"'s for all He stands for,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"S" means shepherds came,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;And that's why there's a Christmas day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only saw Sandra once more after that before she joined heaven's choir. Even though she was battling cancer,  she came over to congratulate me on my new baby. Looking back, I would have wanted to be like her even if she couldn't sing and wasn't a beauty queen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I remembered this story because I am getting older  now, and my voice breaks when I try to sing, and sometimes I start to tell something and forget what my point was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's okay. Like Sandra, the gift she gave us was not presents, but her presence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-411481702794924243?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/411481702794924243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=411481702794924243&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/411481702794924243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/411481702794924243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/present.html' title='The Present'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SsqXyRw6t9I/AAAAAAAABW0/ljC4MsYLgOU/s72-c/PINK.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2237556798543413973</id><published>2011-11-27T06:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T11:13:34.195-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FROSTY- THE SEQUEL!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UW1xIq9uSLs/TtKKjtdcuaI/AAAAAAAAF00/HOo2xyGgvSU/s1600/pud.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UW1xIq9uSLs/TtKKjtdcuaI/AAAAAAAAF00/HOo2xyGgvSU/s200/pud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679754426170784162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;DID&lt;/span&gt; happen to Frosty the Snowman? I worried about him when I was a little girl. Where'd he go? And why did he seem happy to leave the children for new adventures?&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about evaporation, the three forms of water, and the water cycle, I thought it would be great to imagine all the fun the snowman would have through the seasons as the children wait for him to come back next Christmas Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where'd Mr. Snowman Go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's the puddle of slush&lt;br /&gt;that flows over your feet&lt;br /&gt;Numbing your toes&lt;br /&gt;as you trudge down the street.&lt;br /&gt;He's the crystals you see&lt;br /&gt;on your own windowpane&lt;br /&gt;As you wait for your school bus&lt;br /&gt;to come down the lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In spring, you hear him&lt;br /&gt;in quiet gentle showers&lt;br /&gt;That water new leaves&lt;br /&gt;and bright garden flowers.&lt;br /&gt;He cascades down streams&lt;br /&gt;'til they overflow&lt;br /&gt;Bursting over waterfalls&lt;br /&gt;onto rocks down below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In summer,&lt;br /&gt;he gives the trees a good drink&lt;br /&gt;As the thunder claps&lt;br /&gt;and lightning bolts blink.&lt;br /&gt;He rains on your picnic&lt;br /&gt;in the middle of July,&lt;br /&gt;Sends you running for shelter&lt;br /&gt;to keep yourself dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Autumn comes,&lt;br /&gt;and he's watching so proud&lt;br /&gt;From a gorgeous pink sunset&lt;br /&gt;on a cotton candy cloud.&lt;br /&gt;Then he teases the children&lt;br /&gt;with an early snow flurry&lt;br /&gt;To let them know&lt;br /&gt;winter will come in a hurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now December is back&lt;br /&gt;and we can't wait to hear&lt;br /&gt;If we'll have a white Christmas&lt;br /&gt;again this year.&lt;br /&gt;But "whenever great heaps&lt;br /&gt;of snowflakes fall"&lt;br /&gt;We'll build another snowman,&lt;br /&gt;the best one of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Karen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VISi8vV24N4/TtJYUEoGDdI/AAAAAAAAF0c/PR3gQx2DejA/s1600/build%2Bsnowman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VISi8vV24N4/TtJYUEoGDdI/AAAAAAAAF0c/PR3gQx2DejA/s200/build%2Bsnowman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679699181930155474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2237556798543413973?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2237556798543413973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2237556798543413973&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2237556798543413973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2237556798543413973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/frosty-sequel.html' title='FROSTY- THE SEQUEL!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UW1xIq9uSLs/TtKKjtdcuaI/AAAAAAAAF00/HOo2xyGgvSU/s72-c/pud.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2083892939193206655</id><published>2011-11-26T07:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T07:06:40.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Big Is Your God?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;One  day on the way home from church a little girl turned to her mother and  said, "Mommy, the preacher's sermon this morning confused me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Verdana,Tahoma,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"  &gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The mother said, "Oh! Why is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The girl replied, "Well, he said that God is bigger than we are. Is that true?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Yes, that's true," the mother replied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"He also said that God lives within us. Is that true too?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Again the mother replied, "Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Well," said the girl. "If God is bigger than us and he lives in us, wouldn't He show through?"&lt;/span&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-2083892939193206655?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2083892939193206655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2083892939193206655&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2083892939193206655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2083892939193206655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/how-big-is-your-god.html' title='How Big Is Your God?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8846595770085028502</id><published>2011-11-25T06:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T06:13:50.762-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubbling Over</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuvwrZa6qKI/Ts-iZC_PcaI/AAAAAAAAFy8/iwfJvWLEquk/s1600/bubbles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 137px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuvwrZa6qKI/Ts-iZC_PcaI/AAAAAAAAFy8/iwfJvWLEquk/s400/bubbles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678936206320038306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was blessed to spend Thanksgiving with my granddaughters who live near me. I was reminded that kids just seem to come into this world knowing that rain puddles are for jumping into, steps are for leaping off of, bath water is for splashing, and milk and straws are for blowing bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also couldn't help noticing yesterday that I feel older and slower and have more trouble keeping up with the little ones than in previous years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, this morning, this was the Bible verse that leaped out at me, letting me know I never have to stop bubbling over with hope in the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the God of your hope so fill you with all joy and peace in believing  [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy  Spirit you may abound and be overflowing (bubbling over) with hope. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Romans 15:13 Amplified&lt;/span&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/7624995537502342658-8846595770085028502?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8846595770085028502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8846595770085028502&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8846595770085028502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8846595770085028502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/bubbling-over.html' title='Bubbling Over'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuvwrZa6qKI/Ts-iZC_PcaI/AAAAAAAAFy8/iwfJvWLEquk/s72-c/bubbles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6040558204654014708</id><published>2011-11-23T06:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T06:16:34.825-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Righteousness, Peace, Joy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yq0XS9jKSIo/Ts5Q_it2gII/AAAAAAAAFx0/yrC25gBMxDY/s1600/sf_shalom_02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yq0XS9jKSIo/Ts5Q_it2gII/AAAAAAAAFx0/yrC25gBMxDY/s400/sf_shalom_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678565232741875842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,  let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily  entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Hebrews 12:1 NIV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In chapter 11 of Hebrews, we have a list of imperfect people just like ourselves, who made the Faith Hall of Fame. This  gives me hope. Unlike the Marines, who are only looking for a few good  men, God would like to recruit a few billion more not-quite-good-enough  people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that one of the sins that so easily besets me is discouragement. It makes no sense to go through a list of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what-if-only's&lt;/span&gt; all over again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This  year I want to tune in to "Righteousness, Peace, and Joy in the Holy  Ghost"! I cannot overcome depression by will power. I need God-Power,  because, before I know what hit me, I can let offenses, disappointments  and circumstances drag me down. Remind me, Lord, that the devil is a  thief, a murderer and a kill-joy, and if I give him a ride, he will want  to drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, help me to look up to see all You are doing for  me and all around me. Thank You that You are a covenant God, and that  Your everlasting covenant is with Your Son Jesus Christ who gave His life that I  might live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6040558204654014708?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6040558204654014708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6040558204654014708&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6040558204654014708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6040558204654014708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/righteousness-peace-joy.html' title='Righteousness, Peace, Joy'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yq0XS9jKSIo/Ts5Q_it2gII/AAAAAAAAFx0/yrC25gBMxDY/s72-c/sf_shalom_02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6856929410308434491</id><published>2011-11-18T14:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T14:13:47.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beeped Out!</title><content type='html'>I was teaching first graders, and another teacher loaned me an old "book-on-tape" for the kids to listen to after lunch. She said, "I know you  could read the story aloud, but this cassette tape has marvelous voices  and sound effects for this seasonal story."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dutifully put the  tape in, and sat at the front of the class, showing the pictures in the book.  Whenever it was time to turn the page, the tape would "BEEP" to remind  me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the story, a very serious little boy came to me and  said, "My Mommy doesn't allow me to listen to adult rated tapes, or  anything with bad words!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Honey," I said, "what did you hear on the tape that you thought was a bad word?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I couldn't hear the bad words," he told me. "They were 'BEEPED' out!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6856929410308434491?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6856929410308434491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6856929410308434491&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6856929410308434491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6856929410308434491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/beeped-out.html' title='Beeped Out!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1179524952855630891</id><published>2011-11-13T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T13:34:11.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The English Language</title><content type='html'>It cracked me up recently to hear a news reporter interviewing people through the gulf states and then up the east coast to Maine, because in every state, the people they interviewed had such different accents. It was hard to believe that the English language could sound so different within the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am from Georgia originally, and I have tried to "clean up" my accent  a little bit since moving to Indiana, mainly because I got tired of repeating myself to people who couldn't understand a word I said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week, we had a classroom helper with a strong Southern accent. She was calling out the spelling words for Friday's test. She said "told" and when we graded the papers, the kids had written: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;toed, towed, and toad,&lt;/span&gt; but not one &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;TOLD!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1179524952855630891?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1179524952855630891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1179524952855630891&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1179524952855630891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1179524952855630891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/english-language.html' title='The English Language'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3888088317344374279</id><published>2011-11-11T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T13:19:47.586-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Around the Table</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v7ku96LBVY/Tr2MOXxrXKI/AAAAAAAAFvA/Qhrt99TmUII/s1600/rockwell-thanksgiving.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v7ku96LBVY/Tr2MOXxrXKI/AAAAAAAAFvA/Qhrt99TmUII/s200/rockwell-thanksgiving.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673845284085128354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was remembering Thanksgivings past and getting together with relatives for a traditional turkey dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about "Aunt Sandra" who was like a sister to my Mother. Tired from being in the kitchen since early morning, Mother had put away all the food, cleaned the kitchen, and put on her nightgown when we heard someone tapping on the side door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm hungry for a turkey sandwich," Sandra sheepishly confessed. Mom pulled out all the fixings and we sat around the kitchen table for late night snack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sandra could get away with stuff with my Mother that no one else would dare try. Once she showed up with a bag of ice and a gallon of milk and "hinted" for Mom to get out the hand-cranked ice cream freezer, and it wasn't even summer - and she did it! Now that's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Heavenly Father wants us to know that we are "family". He wants His children around His table, day or night, in any season!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You serve me a six-course dinner &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      right in front of my enemies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   You revive my drooping head; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      my cup brims with blessing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; Your beauty and love chase after me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      every day of my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   I'm back home in the house of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-family:arial;" &gt;God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      for the rest of my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Psalm 23:5-6 Message&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-3888088317344374279?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3888088317344374279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3888088317344374279&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3888088317344374279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3888088317344374279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/around-table.html' title='Around the Table'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v7ku96LBVY/Tr2MOXxrXKI/AAAAAAAAFvA/Qhrt99TmUII/s72-c/rockwell-thanksgiving.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7070584557078300695</id><published>2011-11-07T04:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T04:15:01.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Can't Outgive God</title><content type='html'>Way up on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, Daddy would put his tithe every time he got paid. Then he would put it in a tithe envelope and place it in the offering plate on the next Sunday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our parents gave in many ways, and God provided for them in many ways. I think one blessing of tithing is that they were content with what they had. They did not feel the need to go into debt. Daddy's advice to me when I began to earn a paycheck was, "If you don't have enough extra money to pay for something and still pay your bills, leave it in the store and walk away!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Christmas, as children, we would receive a few gifts, but when I became a teen, I had friends who received many expensive gifts. Then I became jealous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, as a grandmother, I do not wish for things for myself, but sometimes I wish I could give more to the grandchildren. Looking back, though, I realize that it is not the gift items that I remember about holidays past. Instead, it is the fun times that our family spent together - setting the table, lighting the candles, replacing burned out bulbs in the strands of Christmas lights, and YES, even washing dishes together when it was all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that I can hand down the heritage of contentment to my grandchildren.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7070584557078300695?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7070584557078300695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7070584557078300695&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7070584557078300695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7070584557078300695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-cant-outgive-god.html' title='You Can&apos;t Outgive God'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3158848242540787600</id><published>2011-11-06T05:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T06:02:40.391-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appalachian Foothills</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/St8EKlnbXGI/AAAAAAAABgE/bNeleMlDdo0/s1600-h/sunrise+ridge+003_resize.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/St8EKlnbXGI/AAAAAAAABgE/bNeleMlDdo0/s320/sunrise+ridge+003_resize.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395035458555829346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/St8EENgiOmI/AAAAAAAABf8/0CvZEUdfjBs/s1600-h/A+Mountain+lake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/St8EENgiOmI/AAAAAAAABf8/0CvZEUdfjBs/s320/A+Mountain+lake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395035349005253218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving busy mid-town Atlanta behind me and driving north toward Cumming my first year of teaching, I could see the foothills of the north Georgia mountains in the distance. How brilliant those hills are this time of year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something about those little hills standing on tip-toe, reaching for the clouds makes me think about God. Words like majestic, glorious, and powerful come to mind. I guess David must have felt the same when he wrote this song of praise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 121&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look up to the mountains—&lt;br /&gt;does my help come from there?&lt;br /&gt;My help comes from the L&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;who made heaven and earth!&lt;p&gt; He will not let you stumble;&lt;br /&gt;the one who watches over you will not slumber.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, he who watches over Israel&lt;br /&gt;never slumbers or sleeps.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; The L&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt; himself watches over you!&lt;br /&gt;The L&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt; stands beside you as your protective shade.&lt;br /&gt;The sun will not harm you by day,&lt;br /&gt;nor the moon at night.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; The L&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt; keeps you from all harm&lt;br /&gt;and watches over your life.&lt;br /&gt;The L&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt; keeps watch over you as you come and go,&lt;br /&gt;both now and forever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is the psalm set to music and sung by Lionel Peterson, who sang in the Integrity worship video REJOICE AFRICA in the early 90's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QMUDWy3XTkM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QMUDWy3XTkM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&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/7624995537502342658-3158848242540787600?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3158848242540787600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3158848242540787600&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3158848242540787600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3158848242540787600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/appalachian-foothills.html' title='Appalachian Foothills'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/St8EKlnbXGI/AAAAAAAABgE/bNeleMlDdo0/s72-c/sunrise+ridge+003_resize.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4811074655765815203</id><published>2011-11-04T11:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T12:04:02.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fifties</title><content type='html'>The book my second grade reading group was discussing was about the decade of the fifties. "Well, how lucky these kids are to have me for their teacher!" I thought. "I was born in 1950."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I gathered pictures and memorabilia, and told them all about how things were "way back then".&lt;br /&gt;They were amazed that cameras only took black and white photos, and that TV's were a new thing in American households.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked them to write a summary in their journals. One child wrote: "Our teacher went to school in the 1950's. She had to go to all the way to the  county library to use the computer."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4811074655765815203?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4811074655765815203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4811074655765815203&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4811074655765815203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4811074655765815203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/11/fifties.html' title='The Fifties'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1941718706405303183</id><published>2011-10-30T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T10:39:40.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Camping Out</title><content type='html'>Once - long ago - my big brother and I ( about 6 and 8 years old) decided to camp out in the back yard. Our family never went camping, and we thought that would be a great experience. So we took quilts and lay down on the hard ground behind the house. After it got really dark, we listened to a choir of crickets and marveled at the brightness of the stars were and how many there were!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe thirty minutes passed before we slipped in the kitchen door and climbed between the covers of our own beds. (Our parents saw that coming and that is why they went along with our plan in the first place!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is the extent of my camping adventure....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it paints a picture for me. Sometimes I think I am out there on my own when all the time my Heavenly Father is peeking through the curtain with His watchful eye. He knows that my stay here on earth will be oh so brief compared to eternity. He has left the back door open, the light on, and has even turned down the sheets for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1941718706405303183?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1941718706405303183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1941718706405303183&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1941718706405303183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1941718706405303183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/10/camping-out.html' title='Camping Out'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8224184483501822170</id><published>2011-10-28T04:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-28T12:31:56.709-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Daddy's Love</title><content type='html'>When my daughter was two years old, we moved to a suburb of Atlanta near Lake Lanier. For the first time in her life, her Daddy could not run home from work in the middle of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She got her first bee sting and she was NOT happy! I was comforting her and doing all I knew to do, but she kept crying for her Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What can Daddy do about it that Mommy can't do?" I asked her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Him say, 'Aw, it be's okay!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems kids go through the stage when their parents are wonderful and can fix anything, to the teen years, when doubts arise! This cartoon is a good one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S2YjhIdRyfI/AAAAAAAACZM/s495pjNzc1E/s1600-h/dad-math-helpline.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S2YjhIdRyfI/AAAAAAAACZM/s495pjNzc1E/s320/dad-math-helpline.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433069052582021618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8224184483501822170?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8224184483501822170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8224184483501822170&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8224184483501822170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8224184483501822170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/02/daddys-love.html' title='A Daddy&apos;s Love'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S2YjhIdRyfI/AAAAAAAACZM/s495pjNzc1E/s72-c/dad-math-helpline.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8815071272085827253</id><published>2011-10-25T05:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T05:06:00.487-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to First Grade?</title><content type='html'>As I was teaching a second grade reading group last week, I noticed that one little girl was "tuning me out". Then when I called on her to answer a question, she had no idea what the lesson was about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told her that she and I had an appointment to talk about it at recess. I explained to her that she is a very good learner and that she needs to sit up tall and join in the group at reading time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," she told me in an unconcerned voice. "I already learned to read in first grade."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later as I chuckled at her over-confidence, I had to admit that sometimes in living the Christian life, I feel like I have to go back to first grade and learn the same lessons over and over. I just hope that I come out of my "lessons" more willing to listen to the Master.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8815071272085827253?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8815071272085827253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8815071272085827253&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8815071272085827253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8815071272085827253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/10/back-to-first-grade.html' title='Back to First Grade?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4553436309790521271</id><published>2011-10-24T04:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-22T10:05:45.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Raking Leaves</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TIudXKRwD9I/AAAAAAAAEDg/EvgtfiTF6gw/s1600/A+Leaf+Burning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 195px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TIudXKRwD9I/AAAAAAAAEDg/EvgtfiTF6gw/s400/A+Leaf+Burning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515675189866663890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday evenings in the Fall meant raking leaves at our house, and if we went down the street to MawMaw and PawPaw's house, it was the same story there. I can hear the prongs of the leaf rake screeching on the driveway as PawPaw heaped up the mountain of musty smelling leaves. If he turned his back long enough, we might dare to run and jump in the middle of the pile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the work was done. we would pile up fallen branches and burn them. When the fire started to die down and embers were glowing, we would take a clean straight stick and put a plump marshmallow on the end of it and toast it until it was golden brown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the sun disappeared, and the air got chilly, we would head up the street for home. The whole neighborhood smelled of burning leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Fall Poem by Emily Dickinson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="TextPoetryLarge"&gt;The morns are meeker than they were,&lt;br /&gt;The nuts are getting brown;&lt;br /&gt;The berry's             cheek is plumper,&lt;br /&gt;The rose is out             of town. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;     &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="TextPoetryLarge"&gt;The maple wears a gayer scarf,&lt;br /&gt;The             field a scarlet gown.&lt;br /&gt;Lest I should             be old-fashioned,&lt;br /&gt;I'll put a trinket             on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TJS-ILP4iYI/AAAAAAAAEHI/FzQgcGjY0_g/s1600/PoohLeaf.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="TextPoetryLarge"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4553436309790521271?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4553436309790521271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4553436309790521271&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4553436309790521271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4553436309790521271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/raking-leaves.html' title='Raking Leaves'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TIudXKRwD9I/AAAAAAAAEDg/EvgtfiTF6gw/s72-c/A+Leaf+Burning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7791462355715424935</id><published>2011-10-20T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T10:29:00.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TIMED TEST</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J4ZjHFovPEY/TpryvuqZOBI/AAAAAAAAFrE/Lp2pF9EQ5T8/s1600/test.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J4ZjHFovPEY/TpryvuqZOBI/AAAAAAAAFrE/Lp2pF9EQ5T8/s200/test.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664106383165437970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember those times tests? "This is a timed test. When the buzzer sounds, put down your pencil. You don't get a second chance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is not like that. He gives us many chances to "pass the test". It's an open book test. We can keep our Bible open and search for the answer. If we still don't get it, we can even look over a friend's shoulder for the answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the day will come when time is up. This question must be answered: Will you put your trust in Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord of your life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To leave that question blank is to fail the test - to refuse God's priceless gift of love, forgiveness, and eternal life in Heaven with Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=matthew%2024&amp;amp;version=NASB"&gt;Matthew 24&lt;/a&gt;, the disciples asked Jesus, "What will it be like when You return?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus answered, "For as lightning flashes across from east to west, so will the Son of Man’s coming be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are seeing signs of the times that Jesus' return is near.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seek the LORD while you can find him. Call on him now while he is near.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7791462355715424935?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7791462355715424935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7791462355715424935&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7791462355715424935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7791462355715424935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/10/timed-test.html' title='TIMED TEST'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J4ZjHFovPEY/TpryvuqZOBI/AAAAAAAAFrE/Lp2pF9EQ5T8/s72-c/test.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4422843663765819904</id><published>2011-10-18T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T04:41:00.049-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Make My Heart Your Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-En7vvaiJNY4/TprudPj-rgI/AAAAAAAAFq4/t3z8vsUcJJM/s1600/leavess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-En7vvaiJNY4/TprudPj-rgI/AAAAAAAAFq4/t3z8vsUcJJM/s200/leavess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664101667532877314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dreams, I'm often back in our small red brick home in Alpharetta, Georgia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think of when you remember "home"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I treasure memories of lying on my back in the grass watching the summer clouds, shuffling through the leaves to pick up pecans in the fall, dashing out into a winter night to admire our just-decorated Christmas tree through the picture window, and anxiously waiting for the first daffodils of spring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back when Alpharetta was small, we knew practically everybody in town. Neighbors out for an evening stroll would see us sitting on the screen porch and stop in to visit.  "Come in! Come in!" Daddy would beckon. And when they were ready to go, Mother would say, "Ya'll don't rush off. Stay with us!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we kids would walk with them part of the way back to their house, as the sun set and the street lights flickered on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost all those neighbors, my grandparents, and Mother and Daddy have gone to their eternal home, now, as well as my youngest son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it like to go to Heaven? One day, Jesus drops by your house. He knocks at the door of your heart and you invite him in. He makes Himself at home and the fellowship is the sweetest ever known. After a while, Jesus will say, "Let's go for a walk together. Hand in hand you join him walking life's pathways. Before you know it, dusk is falling, the sun has dropped below the horizon, and there is a slight chill in the air. Jesus puts his arm around your shoulders and whispers, "We've come so far; it's closer now to my house than to yours. Come go home with me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4422843663765819904?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4422843663765819904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4422843663765819904&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4422843663765819904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4422843663765819904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/01/make-my-heart-your-home.html' title='Make My Heart Your Home'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-En7vvaiJNY4/TprudPj-rgI/AAAAAAAAFq4/t3z8vsUcJJM/s72-c/leavess.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-741003475326260143</id><published>2011-10-16T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T07:35:47.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grits</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P2ONgPCL6Zg/TprrI0PuXmI/AAAAAAAAFqs/RKqlqaYiREk/s1600/grits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P2ONgPCL6Zg/TprrI0PuXmI/AAAAAAAAFqs/RKqlqaYiREk/s200/grits.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664098018067897954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grits is (are?) a favorite breakfast in the South. I am originally from Georgia, and when I first visited "up north", I could not find grits in the grocery stores and it was not served in restaurants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, when I went back to GA for a visit, I was in a restaurant and overheard the waitress ask the man in the next booth, "Do ya'll want grits with this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man thought about it and asked, "Well, how many grits do I get?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here in southern Indiana, where I now live, I can buy a small round canister of grits at the Wal-Mart. Yesterday, I took my grits out of the cart to set in on the belt, and the bottom of the canister fell out - along with 100,000 grits!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young cashier eyed me with disgust and asked, "And you EAT this stuff?!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-741003475326260143?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/741003475326260143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=741003475326260143&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/741003475326260143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/741003475326260143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/10/grits.html' title='Grits'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P2ONgPCL6Zg/TprrI0PuXmI/AAAAAAAAFqs/RKqlqaYiREk/s72-c/grits.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1335224556831615400</id><published>2011-10-03T05:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T12:14:13.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trees Clap Their Hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oecceZUo5_U/TooJPT4yeWI/AAAAAAAAFos/0FNzPzleXh8/s1600/fall_colors06.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oecceZUo5_U/TooJPT4yeWI/AAAAAAAAFos/0FNzPzleXh8/s200/fall_colors06.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659346040385599842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I visit the granddaughters, we love to go to the park and feed the geese who are making their way south. Then we walk along the nature trail. There are dozens of different types of trees lining the walkway and each is labeled with its name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cool breeze blows off the lake and the wind whispers in the trees, which are beginning to show their autumn hues. It reminds me of a scripture chorus we used to sing when my own kids were young. (Click &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhbxoM-bCI4&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt; to listen to the song!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;For you shall go out with joy,&lt;br /&gt;And be led out with peace;&lt;br /&gt;The mountains and the hills&lt;br /&gt;Shall break forth into singing&lt;br /&gt;before you,&lt;br /&gt;And all the trees of the field&lt;br /&gt;shall clap their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1335224556831615400?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1335224556831615400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1335224556831615400&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1335224556831615400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1335224556831615400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/04/trees-clap-their-hands.html' title='The Trees Clap Their Hands'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oecceZUo5_U/TooJPT4yeWI/AAAAAAAAFos/0FNzPzleXh8/s72-c/fall_colors06.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7548188639807198051</id><published>2011-10-02T01:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T01:28:00.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God Cares AUTUMN POEM</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SvraIuLXpTI/AAAAAAAABvY/k5aghvWoBQ4/s1600-h/Autumn-Leaves.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SvraIuLXpTI/AAAAAAAABvY/k5aghvWoBQ4/s320/Autumn-Leaves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402870546353857842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Opening the curtains to the morning light&lt;br /&gt;Out in the backyard I spy&lt;br /&gt;The bright orange leaves of Autumn&lt;br /&gt;Against a brilliant sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rays of sun caress my face,&lt;br /&gt;Fingers of a loving hand.&lt;br /&gt;A tiny bird is trilling her praise&lt;br /&gt;Like a piccolo in Heaven's band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaves scurry along the walk&lt;br /&gt;In the cool refreshing breeze.&lt;br /&gt;God whispers how much He cares&lt;br /&gt;Just to put my mind at ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Karen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7548188639807198051?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7548188639807198051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7548188639807198051&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7548188639807198051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7548188639807198051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/god-cares.html' title='God Cares AUTUMN POEM'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SvraIuLXpTI/AAAAAAAABvY/k5aghvWoBQ4/s72-c/Autumn-Leaves.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-306564696044869210</id><published>2011-10-01T08:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T08:44:04.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HALLELUJAH! Glory Be To Our Great God</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/H-pZNULbJws" allowfullscreen="" width="560" frameborder="0" height="315"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-306564696044869210?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/306564696044869210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=306564696044869210&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/306564696044869210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/306564696044869210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/10/hallelujah-glory-be-to-our-great-god.html' title='HALLELUJAH! Glory Be To Our Great God'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/H-pZNULbJws/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5229224687970371276</id><published>2011-09-24T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T08:03:06.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come to Me</title><content type='html'>I am thinking, this September morning, of Mother, Daddy, and my son, Caleb, who have gone to be with Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZvzznNAcL24" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5229224687970371276?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5229224687970371276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5229224687970371276&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5229224687970371276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5229224687970371276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/09/come-to-me.html' title='Come to Me'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/ZvzznNAcL24/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4826890573204836385</id><published>2011-09-17T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-17T13:56:19.965-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mountain or Mole Hil</title><content type='html'>Sometimes we  get all tangled up in the problems of life: bills to pay,  chores to do, and people to get along with who don't always follow the  golden rule!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning as I was getting ready to pray about my  "mountain" of problems, I realized that I was sitting on a piece of  mail. When I reached for it, it was a message from Sid Roth, who is a  Jewish believer in Jesus as Messiah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what it said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;You are the generation to welcome the Messiah's return!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;All the things that you have done in the past were only preparations for what you are going to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;The greatest things and the things that will bring the most glory to God are yet to be revealed and yet to be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;God wants you to prepare your heart so that you will not doubt Him when He speaks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After reading &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;, my "mountain" didn't seem like such a big problem anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, I pray that I will have childlike faith to take you at Your Word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4826890573204836385?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4826890573204836385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4826890573204836385&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4826890573204836385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4826890573204836385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/09/mountain-or-mole-hil.html' title='Mountain or Mole Hil'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8150228804508177867</id><published>2011-09-02T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T06:26:13.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reach Out</title><content type='html'>I am enjoying &lt;a href="http://lifeinpinkhitops.blogspot.com/"&gt;Amy's new meme&lt;/a&gt; about praying for strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a son with Down Syndrome who loved to "reach out and touch" people, whether we knew them or not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Wednesday night at our church prayer meeting, he began to squirm and vocalize, and I carried him out to the foyer. Another lady got up and went out at the same time. When the doors closed behind us, she burst into sobs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I held Caleb, he reached out and placed his hand on the lady and patted her. He looked so sympathetic. She soon stopped crying and told me, "I felt such peace when he touched me." Their family had received serious medical reports that afternoon about her daughter and her new twin grandchildren. As it later turned out, the situation brought a divided family back together - and back to God - and, in time, health was restored to mother and babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to understand, because of Caleb, that in God's eyes, it is not intelligence, looks, fame. fortune, credentials, or even the length of  life that matters, compared with God's PURPOSE for a person. Though Caleb had few words, his "prayers" were heard by a Heavenly Father who was tuned in to a compassionate heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Chronicles 16:9a NASB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8150228804508177867?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8150228804508177867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8150228804508177867&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8150228804508177867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8150228804508177867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/09/reach-out.html' title='Reach Out'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7977236221182866706</id><published>2011-08-26T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T14:36:50.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SCARECROW</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bG_tPrBxtgk/Tlf0m7ljasI/AAAAAAAAFmc/9tR4noUFnHU/s1600/scarecrow-3713.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bG_tPrBxtgk/Tlf0m7ljasI/AAAAAAAAFmc/9tR4noUFnHU/s200/scarecrow-3713.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645249607599614658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my childhood, many people in our area owned farms. It always thrilled me to spot a scarecrow flapping his arms in the breeze out in the fields in late summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I heard crows cawing and it was cool enough to throw a lightweight sweater over my shoulders as I headed out for my walk. There was even a touch of red on the trees as I looked up at the hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this reminded me of a fun song that Mother taught us - one that she had learned when she was a child. It went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scarecrow stands up all day long&lt;br /&gt;Nodding and waving to the old wind's song,&lt;br /&gt;His coat tail flapping and his hat pulled low&lt;br /&gt;As he stands and waits to scare that crow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caw, caw, caw, caw over the farm&lt;br /&gt;The old crow flies in search of corn&lt;br /&gt;"Shoo!" says the farmer&lt;br /&gt;And away flies the crow.&lt;br /&gt;"Ha, ha, ha," laughs the old scarecrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7977236221182866706?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7977236221182866706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7977236221182866706&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7977236221182866706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7977236221182866706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/09/scarecrow.html' title='SCARECROW'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bG_tPrBxtgk/Tlf0m7ljasI/AAAAAAAAFmc/9tR4noUFnHU/s72-c/scarecrow-3713.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4220655495145797728</id><published>2011-08-21T00:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T05:39:59.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cumberland Gap</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Stu-0f4mo1I/AAAAAAAABdk/AlsQNfXoEpY/s1600-h/cumberlandgap.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Stu-0f4mo1I/AAAAAAAABdk/AlsQNfXoEpY/s320/cumberlandgap.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394114787827688274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;One of the most important pieces of land in American history, the Cumberland Gap is a low point in the Cumberland Mountains where the states of Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over 100,000 settlers and explorers had passed through the gap and along the wilderness trail before Kentucky was ever admitted to the Union.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SuDvlpVP-dI/AAAAAAAABg8/a7kDdAQqw7E/s1600-h/aa+falls+autumn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SuDvlpVP-dI/AAAAAAAABg8/a7kDdAQqw7E/s320/aa+falls+autumn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395575783619033554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Cumberland Falls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SuDvvxQqNvI/AAAAAAAABhM/59S1Qjwq6fs/s1600-h/aa+moonbow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 201px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SuDvvxQqNvI/AAAAAAAABhM/59S1Qjwq6fs/s320/aa+moonbow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395575957545957106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Moonbow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The mountains had discouraged Americans from venturing west until the gap was discovered and the trail was established. It was like a way opened up, when before that time, it had seemed impossible. Then parents left behind all that was familiar. All they took with them was what would fit into a small covered wagon. However, on down the trail, they found new homes and friends and many wonderful blessings for themselves and their children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God promises to bring us through hard things and situations that seem impossible, and He will make us stronger as we learn to depend on Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nothing is impossible with God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luke 1:37&lt;br /&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/7624995537502342658-4220655495145797728?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4220655495145797728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4220655495145797728&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4220655495145797728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4220655495145797728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/cumberland-gap.html' title='Cumberland Gap'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Stu-0f4mo1I/AAAAAAAABdk/AlsQNfXoEpY/s72-c/cumberlandgap.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7815022722096434072</id><published>2011-08-20T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T11:56:01.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer in the Canned Fruit Aisle</title><content type='html'>I was shopping in Walmart...minding my own business...when a wonderful lady from my new church rounded the corner and asked how I was doing. "What are you praying for?" she asked me. I heard myself blurting out the deepest desire of my heart, and she threw her arm around my shoulders and began to take my request before God's throne. She can really pray (and she doesn't whisper either).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slightly self-concious, I opened one eye and saw a lady about a foot away intently watching us. "This is great!" I thought. "This lady wants prayer, too. Maybe she wants to accept Jesus as Savior!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my friend finished praying, we introduced ourselves to the bystander and asked if she had any needs. She timidly asked, "Can I just get a can of sliced peaches?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7815022722096434072?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7815022722096434072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7815022722096434072&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7815022722096434072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7815022722096434072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/08/prayer-in-canned-fruit-section.html' title='Prayer in the Canned Fruit Aisle'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3316825178875783406</id><published>2011-08-19T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T03:28:36.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God of Love and Light</title><content type='html'>Truly our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. And these things we write to you that your joy may be full. This is the message which we have heard from Him and declare to you, that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;God is light and in Him is no darkness &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 John 1:3b-5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that, as humans, we sometimes question whether God is truly a God of Love. When tragedy strikes, and the innocent suffer, doubts arise in our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about this: If God is NOT a God of Love, then how is it that I am showered with so many blessings that I do not deserve...and how is it that I am spared from the punishment that I do deserve?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-3316825178875783406?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3316825178875783406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3316825178875783406&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3316825178875783406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3316825178875783406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/08/god-of-love-and-light.html' title='God of Love and Light'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-493591287853064191</id><published>2011-08-16T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T03:36:43.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOWELL</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, we had a next-door neighbor who was really a worker! Even though she was in her seventies, she was constantly working in her yard, and would even climb up on the roof to repair shingles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was faithful to rake her yard, and wherever she had a big pile of leaves, twigs, or clippings, she would throw a match into it and then go back into the house. Too many times to count, the wind would whip up the flames and the fire would spread to the grass and creep over to our yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a neighbor who lived behind her named Howell. She would glance out the window and see the flames leaping and we would hear her hollering, "Howell! Howell!" He would come running to try to put out the fire. Often, the fire would get away from him and be lapping at the corner of our house and the volunteer firemen would have to be called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking about this in light of our present economic crisis. I am no economist, but it seems to me that our nation was not paying close enough attention to the growing debt and shrinking job market. Now the winds of adversity have flamed the fires out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the lady next door, we are shouting, "Howell!! &lt;em&gt;How-will&lt;/em&gt; we ever get out of this?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for Governor Perry and others who realize that we need to call on Almighty God.&lt;br /&gt;It may be too late to rectify the damage that has been done, and to avoid the consequences of our carelessness, but it is not too late to strengthen our relationship with God, individually and as a nation, and to turn to HIM in repentance and prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-493591287853064191?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/493591287853064191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=493591287853064191&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/493591287853064191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/493591287853064191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/08/howell.html' title='HOWELL'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3985502809322999463</id><published>2011-08-09T08:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T08:24:43.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THOU SHALT LAUGH</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aKwaWQ0PVXI" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-3985502809322999463?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3985502809322999463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3985502809322999463&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3985502809322999463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3985502809322999463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/08/thou-shalt-laugh.html' title='THOU SHALT LAUGH'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/aKwaWQ0PVXI/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4928746826066754005</id><published>2011-08-01T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-01T08:26:59.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Lovely Face</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X5E6eErgYZQ/TjbFqfNQhcI/AAAAAAAAFic/rSCXWtKbYTc/s1600/jesus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 161px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X5E6eErgYZQ/TjbFqfNQhcI/AAAAAAAAFic/rSCXWtKbYTc/s200/jesus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635909317423039938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;To keep Your lovely face&lt;br /&gt;Ever before my eyes&lt;br /&gt;This is my prayer&lt;br /&gt;Make it my strong desire&lt;br /&gt;That in my secret heart&lt;br /&gt;No other love competes&lt;br /&gt;No rival throne survives&lt;br /&gt;And I serve only You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pgpi2YscBmc"&gt;Sung by Bob Fitts&lt;/a&gt; on you tube&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4928746826066754005?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4928746826066754005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4928746826066754005&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4928746826066754005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4928746826066754005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/08/your-lovely-face.html' title='Your Lovely Face'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X5E6eErgYZQ/TjbFqfNQhcI/AAAAAAAAFic/rSCXWtKbYTc/s72-c/jesus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-493159539968773313</id><published>2011-07-27T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T08:29:53.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Road Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hB94I3_n-iY/TjAuvB4RHpI/AAAAAAAAFh8/OFXgRXZdQek/s1600/a%2Bbeach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 158px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hB94I3_n-iY/TjAuvB4RHpI/AAAAAAAAFh8/OFXgRXZdQek/s200/a%2Bbeach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634054519333658258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;0 &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;God&lt;/span&gt;, teach me lessons for living&lt;br /&gt;so I can stay the course.&lt;br /&gt;Give me insight&lt;br /&gt;so I can do what you tell me—&lt;br /&gt;my whole life one long, obedient response.&lt;br /&gt;Guide me down the road of your commandments;&lt;br /&gt;I love traveling this freeway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Psalm 119:33-34 Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;My brother and I were five and seven the first time we went to Florida on vacation. You can imagine a road trip in the summer of 1955...all the windows rolled down...no seat belts...hanging over the front seat asking "How much farther is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had marked our course on huge fold-up maps of Georgia and Florida and were headed for Panama City. Daddy had worked the night shift, but insisted on getting us as far as the Florida state line. Then he turned it over to Mother and stretched out in the back seat to catch a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother stopped once for gas, then got back on the state highway. On and on she drove in the hot evening sun. We were on the edge our seats straining for our first glimpse of the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, we saw a huge sign that read WELCOME TO THE PEACH STATE. We were back in Georgia! Mother had taken a wrong turn out of the gas station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have taken a few wrong turns in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help me pay closer attention to your roadmap...God's Holy Word.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-493159539968773313?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/493159539968773313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=493159539968773313&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/493159539968773313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/493159539968773313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/road-trip.html' title='Road Trip'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hB94I3_n-iY/TjAuvB4RHpI/AAAAAAAAFh8/OFXgRXZdQek/s72-c/a%2Bbeach.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5494150583028406494</id><published>2011-07-25T01:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T06:45:00.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus Loves You - Sweet Wonderful You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TOrmSpYQMpI/AAAAAAAAEoU/ITAwpLXz778/s1600/Sweet%2BYou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542495499452428946" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 225px; cursor: pointer; height: 224px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TOrmSpYQMpI/AAAAAAAAEoU/ITAwpLXz778/s400/Sweet%2BYou.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:&lt;br /&gt;"I have loved you with an everlasting love;&lt;br /&gt;I have drawn you with loving-kindness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jeremiah 31:3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click title to hear son by Don Moen:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_uqZFnrJN4"&gt;I Have Loved You&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-5494150583028406494?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5494150583028406494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5494150583028406494&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5494150583028406494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5494150583028406494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/11/jesus-loves-you-sweet-wonderful-you.html' title='Jesus Loves You - Sweet Wonderful You'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TOrmSpYQMpI/AAAAAAAAEoU/ITAwpLXz778/s72-c/Sweet%2BYou.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8952773580535596839</id><published>2011-07-22T01:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-22T01:49:00.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WZ9YH6nKPCw/TihpTYXRUnI/AAAAAAAAFgE/qyWR4VVECJc/s1600/blankie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 217px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WZ9YH6nKPCw/TihpTYXRUnI/AAAAAAAAFgE/qyWR4VVECJc/s400/blankie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631867115705291378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="pointsDisplay1473669" class="points"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span id="pointsDisplay1473669" class="points"&gt;Poor Linus is waiting for his favorite blanket on washday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It is hard to hand over those we love to God, even though we know He loves and cares even more than we do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Proverbs 3:5-6 NLT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/7624995537502342658-8952773580535596839?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8952773580535596839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8952773580535596839&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8952773580535596839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8952773580535596839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/waiting.html' title='waiting.....'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WZ9YH6nKPCw/TihpTYXRUnI/AAAAAAAAFgE/qyWR4VVECJc/s72-c/blankie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1857538881428679057</id><published>2011-07-21T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T11:19:28.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OPEN DOOR</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aYGETltP_ZI/Tihrh8-yuvI/AAAAAAAAFgM/iWTD_mamsug/s1600/garden-gate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aYGETltP_ZI/Tihrh8-yuvI/AAAAAAAAFgM/iWTD_mamsug/s200/garden-gate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631869565076159218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so   long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been  opened  for us&lt;span id="pointsDisplay1473669" class="points"&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;Helen Keller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our church visits the nearby nursing home and leads the people in singing their old favorite hymns around the piano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beautiful snowy-haired lady told us that she had dreaded the day that she would have to leave her home and move into a nursing home. She wondered how she would make it if she were no longer able to attend the church she'd been a member of for sixty years. But she told us that she had made close friends with other patients who also love the Lord, and she thanked us for coming and bringing "church" to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling that this lady's bright smile is God's "sunbeam" in this place. I know she encouraged me!&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/7624995537502342658-1857538881428679057?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1857538881428679057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1857538881428679057&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1857538881428679057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1857538881428679057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/open-door.html' title='OPEN DOOR'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aYGETltP_ZI/Tihrh8-yuvI/AAAAAAAAFgM/iWTD_mamsug/s72-c/garden-gate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5433398169133170573</id><published>2011-07-18T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T06:35:14.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TTMJ55Z3rwI/AAAAAAAAEzM/PvUsmQjWceA/s1600/ducks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 183px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562800854999215874" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TTMJ55Z3rwI/AAAAAAAAEzM/PvUsmQjWceA/s400/ducks.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jesus told his disciples, "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat; I am."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Matthew 16:24 Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Many things about tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;I don't seem to understand,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;But I know who holds tomorrow,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;And I know who holds my hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;When I'm feeling uncertain, isn't it wonderful to trust in the One who knows all my tomorrows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-5433398169133170573?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5433398169133170573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5433398169133170573&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5433398169133170573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5433398169133170573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/02/follow.html' title='Follow'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TTMJ55Z3rwI/AAAAAAAAEzM/PvUsmQjWceA/s72-c/ducks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5179176641537533509</id><published>2011-07-12T05:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T05:46:00.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kept by His Power</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKcvKKV-R3w/Td5MBpUfptI/AAAAAAAAFUk/eJh2FYn-WP0/s1600/box.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 125px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKcvKKV-R3w/Td5MBpUfptI/AAAAAAAAFUk/eJh2FYn-WP0/s200/box.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611005776905610962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother had a metal bread keeper that sat on the kitchen counter to keep the freshness in and any hungry insects out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about that bread box as I was reading in &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=revelation%202&amp;amp;version=AMP"&gt;Revelation 2:17&lt;/a&gt;. Jesus says to the churches: "To him who overcomes (conquers), I will give to eat of the manna that is hidden..." (Remember the &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus+16:35&amp;amp;version=NKJV"&gt;"manna" &lt;/a&gt;or wafers that God supernaturally provided for the Israelites as they journeyed through the desert to the Promised Land?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus promises us bread that will not spoil, kept for us in a place where it cannot be stolen.&lt;br /&gt;I believe He is speaking of the &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%206:47-50&amp;amp;version=NLT"&gt;"bread of life"&lt;/a&gt;. He told his disciples, after he had multiplied the loaves of bread and the fishes for five thousand people, "I am the bread of life." Bread keeps us alive here on earth, but eternal life through Jesus Christ gives us life with Him forever in Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the same way that the "Bread of Life" is kept for us, we are kept for Jesus. We are His inheritance and His reward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5179176641537533509?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5179176641537533509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5179176641537533509&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5179176641537533509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5179176641537533509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/kept-by-his-power.html' title='Kept by His Power'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKcvKKV-R3w/Td5MBpUfptI/AAAAAAAAFUk/eJh2FYn-WP0/s72-c/box.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4327884917585999089</id><published>2011-07-11T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T11:45:25.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Father Knows Best</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite TV series from the 1950's was "Father Knows Best"?  Whatever the question, the father just seemed to have a wise answer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My  son has two testimonies that prove that our Heavenly Father also knows  best. When Cameron had just gotten his drivers license, he saw a  homeless person sitting on a curb outside a grocery store. He could not  get the man off his mind after he got home. He disappeared into my  office and was typing something on the computer. I went to see what he  was up to. He was typing out the plan of salvation through Jesus Christ,  but he was using a giant font and then making it bold. He took the  paper and made the trip back to the store. Sure enough, the man was  still there, and he was surprised when Cameron handed him the message  and told him what God had put on his heart. The man told him that he was  visually impaired and could only read very large print.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another  time, Cameron went with a group of college students to share the love  of Christ with people in an inner city neighborhood. There was a stack  of free Bibles available for them to give away. However, by the time  Cameron got to the Bibles, all that was left was a Spanish Bible.  Disappointed, he took one anyway and headed out. Wouldn't you know the  first family he encountered spoke only Spanish!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I worked at a  fast food restaurant, where we were instructed to answer, "It would be my pleasure to help you," when a guest placed an order. I think that, when we are  seeking to bring honor to the name of Christ, God answers our prayers  with , "It would be my pleasure to help you," even when we are not quite sure what to ask.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4327884917585999089?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4327884917585999089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4327884917585999089&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4327884917585999089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4327884917585999089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/our-father-knows-best.html' title='Our Father Knows Best'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-3269147181365031402</id><published>2011-07-11T04:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T09:59:47.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BEE Attitudes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S9tBR1GMRbI/AAAAAAAADEI/BJVNBqe3dXA/s1600/BUGS"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 110px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S9tBR1GMRbI/AAAAAAAADEI/BJVNBqe3dXA/s320/BUGS" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466034347310859698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when you are poor in spirit, because then you will find that your riches are in the kingdom of heaven.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when you feel you have lost what is most dear to you, because it is then that you will feel the love of the One who is the most dear to you.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy with what you have, because then you will find that your heavenly Father provides everything that you need. &lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when you are hungry for the things of God, because then you will find that only He can satisfy.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when you are caring for others, because it is in caring for others that you will find that you have a heavenly Father who cares for you.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when your heart is right with God, because it is then that you will see that God is at work in the world around you.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when you help others to get along peacefully with one another, because it is then that you will know the peace that comes from being a part of the family of God.&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p class="style2" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Be&lt;/span&gt; happy when others treat you badly because you follow Jesus, because your reward will be great in heaven.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-3269147181365031402?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3269147181365031402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=3269147181365031402&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3269147181365031402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/3269147181365031402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/05/bee-attitudes.html' title='BEE Attitudes'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/S9tBR1GMRbI/AAAAAAAADEI/BJVNBqe3dXA/s72-c/BUGS' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7969156040741688830</id><published>2011-07-09T09:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T09:12:36.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Child of God - Kathryn Scott</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/f7IjQYza7jk" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="349"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7969156040741688830?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7969156040741688830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7969156040741688830&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7969156040741688830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7969156040741688830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/child-of-god-kathryn-scott.html' title='Child of God - Kathryn Scott'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/f7IjQYza7jk/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5440772789196312821</id><published>2011-07-08T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T12:05:39.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hiding Place</title><content type='html'>I am reading Hiding Place again, the story of Corrie ten Boom. There are so many awesome insights in this book in addition to the suspenseful story of her family's capture by the Nazis during World War 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she first saw the persecution of the Jews she knew and loved in her own neighborhood, she lay on her bed that night thinking: "Childhood scenes rushed back at me out of the night, strangely close and urgent. Today I know that such memories are the key, not to the past, but to the future. I know that the experiences of our lives, when we let God use them, become the mysterious and perfect preparation for the work He will give us to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, Hide us in the center of your will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5440772789196312821?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5440772789196312821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5440772789196312821&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5440772789196312821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5440772789196312821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/hiding-place.html' title='The Hiding Place'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5186554680970504602</id><published>2011-07-07T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T08:18:40.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep In Touch</title><content type='html'>A grandma was reunited with her young grandson after a year's absence. She marveled, "Honey, you've grown a foot!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nah, Grandma," the child said, looking down at his feet. "Still just got two."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of my family live hundreds of miles away. Isn't is great that we have email, texting, cell phones, etc, to be able to keep in touch. Yet, when kids are young, and I don't see them for a few weeks, they grow and change so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the "relative" who is never out of touch. He knows us and understands everything we go through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let's not let it slip through our fingers. We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. Hebrews 4:14-16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Jesus, Thank you for your steadfast love and tender mercy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5186554680970504602?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5186554680970504602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5186554680970504602&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5186554680970504602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5186554680970504602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/keep-in-touch.html' title='Keep In Touch'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1278631350246316309</id><published>2011-07-07T04:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T04:25:00.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KNOWLEDGE WILL INCREASE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TCsp6FsnHWI/AAAAAAAADkA/9-cZ8nas1gI/s1600/Hubble.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TCsp6FsnHWI/AAAAAAAADkA/9-cZ8nas1gI/s320/Hubble.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488526648819522914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a photo of hundreds of thousands of stars taken from Hubble. I can remember standing out under the night sky as a child hoping to catch a glimpse of "Sputnik".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union successfully launched Sputnik I, the first artificial satellite, which was about the size of a beach ball, and took about 98 minutes to orbit the Earth on its elliptical path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about how rapidly man's knowledge has increased in my lifetime since 1950. How puzzling it must have been to Daniel when God revealed in a vision the events of the last days. We read in Daniel 12:1-4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At that time&lt;p&gt;    Michael  the great prince&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    who stands watch over your people will rise up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    There will be a time of distress &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    such as never has occurred &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    since nations came into being until that time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    But at that time all your people&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    who are found written in the book  will escape. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    Many of those who sleep in the dust &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    of the earth will awake,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    some to eternal life, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    and some to shame and eternal contempt. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    Those who are wise will shine&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    like the bright expanse [of the heavens], &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    and those who lead many to righteousness, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;    like the stars forever and ever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;     "But you, Daniel, keep these words secret  and seal the book  until the time of the end. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Many will roam about,  and knowledge will increase." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1278631350246316309?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1278631350246316309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1278631350246316309&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1278631350246316309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1278631350246316309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/06/outer-space.html' title='KNOWLEDGE WILL INCREASE'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TCsp6FsnHWI/AAAAAAAADkA/9-cZ8nas1gI/s72-c/Hubble.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7428058791086960663</id><published>2011-07-04T05:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T05:19:18.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Payback Time for Sister Mildred</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GiJjYHSoAOQ/ThG22OaP9FI/AAAAAAAAFcs/MIdUHpy-5fk/s1600/2011-07-02%2BMildred%2B2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 397px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GiJjYHSoAOQ/ThG22OaP9FI/AAAAAAAAFcs/MIdUHpy-5fk/s400/2011-07-02%2BMildred%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625478452259845202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Many of you follow my sister&lt;a href="http://www.yellanmildred.blogspot.com/"&gt; Mildred's blog, &lt;/a&gt;but did you know that she was once part of a quartet that sang "O-O-Oh SAY CAN YOU SEE?" The group was know as Mildred and the Mildredettes: composed of brother Larry, Mother, and Daddy (who just hummed and smiled).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotcha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-7428058791086960663?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7428058791086960663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7428058791086960663&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7428058791086960663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7428058791086960663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/payback-time-for-sister-mildred.html' title='Payback Time for Sister Mildred'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GiJjYHSoAOQ/ThG22OaP9FI/AAAAAAAAFcs/MIdUHpy-5fk/s72-c/2011-07-02%2BMildred%2B2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2896895314816686556</id><published>2011-07-03T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T14:33:11.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>July Memories</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2rbwM-zLx0/ThDJSZ_sqXI/AAAAAAAAFck/2RnZwCLEU2s/s1600/glid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2rbwM-zLx0/ThDJSZ_sqXI/AAAAAAAAFck/2RnZwCLEU2s/s200/glid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625217252638632306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it funny...the things that bring back a flood of happy memories?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where I live now, there is a big window over the kitchen sink and the sunlight shines through the bay window on the breakfast table each morning as it did when I was a child. It makes me think back about Mother's sunny kitchen. In the summer she would have the windows raised and the doors to the screen porches open. I could smell chicken frying and biscuits baking as it drew close to time for Daddy to come in from working in Atlanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are porches here, too. When I walk out barefoot in the morning with my coffee and feel the warmth of the sun on the porch floor, it reminds me of childhood. We sat on the porch every chance we got because there was no air conditioning back then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summer that Mother was expecting my sister&lt;a href="http://yellanmildred.blogspot.com/"&gt; Mildred&lt;/a&gt; ('57) was one of the hottest summers on record in Georgia. We would sit together on the cool metal glider in the shade of the oak tree until dark and then sleep with all the windows and doors open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evenings, I like to watch the fireflies come out. Tomorrow evening we will watch the fireworks display over the Ohio River.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish all my bloggy friends in the US a Happy Independence Day.  May God bless America and may America bless God!&lt;br /&gt;Blessed are the people whose God is the LORD. Psalm 144:15b&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2896895314816686556?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2896895314816686556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2896895314816686556&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2896895314816686556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2896895314816686556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/07/summertime-memories.html' title='July Memories'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K2rbwM-zLx0/ThDJSZ_sqXI/AAAAAAAAFck/2RnZwCLEU2s/s72-c/glid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2481999452880758676</id><published>2011-07-01T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T13:14:38.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rare Fragrance</title><content type='html'>When  my grandchild, Ashlynn, was two, her mom was overjoyed to receive a bottle of her favorite perfume for Christmas. She placed the pretty bottle on the bathroom vanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, Ashlynn disappeared into the bathroom for a while; then came out into the living room where we were all sitting. She smelled STRONGLY of fine perfume! Oddly, she was wearing a washcloth on her head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had mistaken the perfume for hairspray. When she realized her mistake, she decided to cover up the fragrance with the washcloth! It didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I remembered this cute story, I thought of a little worship chorus that is taken from Song of Solomon 1:3. We can sing these words to Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your name is like an ointment poured forth,&lt;br /&gt;A fragrance rare of wonderful oil.&lt;br /&gt;Your name is like an ointment poured forth,&lt;br /&gt;Your wonderful, wonderful name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father God,&lt;br /&gt;As we go about our day, I pray that in our words and actions, the fragrance of Christ will be as noticeable as Mommy's perfume on Ashlynn's hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2481999452880758676?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2481999452880758676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2481999452880758676&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2481999452880758676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2481999452880758676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/07/rare-fragrance.html' title='Rare Fragrance'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5359276199952015372</id><published>2011-06-30T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T08:41:09.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing God?</title><content type='html'>I have to wonder if I "miss God" more on the side of NOT doing what He commands, or stepping out on my own without consulting Him, and saying or doing the wrong thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Bible study, our teacher was saying that this was a safe place for us to share with each other and minister to each other, even if we sometimes make mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reminded of a time when our son Caleb was very sick at home on oxygen. Our sweet neighbors had been to the grocery store, and as they were unloading the car, the husband felt that he should bring a bag of groceries to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They rang the doorbell and I invited them in. The bag was full of hot and spicy items, red hot pepper sauce, and jalapenos. I don't like hot and spicy and was also breast feeding! But I will always remember that godly couples' kindness and compassion. It occurred to me: I wonder if I would even remember the incident if they had brought bananas and soda crackers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the main message was, "God loves you and we are here for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They didn't "miss God" at all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5359276199952015372?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5359276199952015372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5359276199952015372&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5359276199952015372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5359276199952015372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/06/missing-god.html' title='Missing God?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2470077056631517572</id><published>2011-06-27T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T11:27:07.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FREE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g9hET76jAe0/TgjLDHGW-jI/AAAAAAAAFZA/L9Wfu8yd3ww/s1600/kid_clipart_boy.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g9hET76jAe0/TgjLDHGW-jI/AAAAAAAAFZA/L9Wfu8yd3ww/s200/kid_clipart_boy.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622967389077830194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial,Verdana,Tahoma,Helvetica;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;The Fourth of July was coming up, and the nursery school teacher took the opportunity to tell her class about patriotism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;"We live in a great country," she said. "One of the things we should be happy about is that, in this country, we are all free."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;One little boy  came walking up to her with his  hands on his hips and said, "I'm not free. I'm four."&lt;/span&gt;&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/7624995537502342658-2470077056631517572?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2470077056631517572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2470077056631517572&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2470077056631517572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2470077056631517572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/06/free.html' title='FREE'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g9hET76jAe0/TgjLDHGW-jI/AAAAAAAAFZA/L9Wfu8yd3ww/s72-c/kid_clipart_boy.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-5718581781820362424</id><published>2011-06-22T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T08:27:04.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangers at the Library</title><content type='html'>I've always loved to visit the library, since I was a child, and the Bookmobile would park in front of grandmother's house in the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own computer isn't working right now, so it gives me a great excuse to go to the library at the university, and use theirs. The grounds here are beautifully landscaped with shady walking paths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, as I approached the library entrance, there was a mother goose and ten goslings gathered in front of the doors, as if they were waiting in line to sign up for the summer book club! When I tried to take their picture, they waddled back to the pond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey! What am I thinking? I could be swimming instead of reading!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-5718581781820362424?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/5718581781820362424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=5718581781820362424&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5718581781820362424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/5718581781820362424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/06/strangers-at-library.html' title='Strangers at the Library'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4393252712671095913</id><published>2011-06-21T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T07:11:21.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloopers and Blunders</title><content type='html'>A teacher friend of mine was presenting a lesson on fruits and vegetables to primary children. She held up an apple and asked, "Is this a fruit or an apple?" (meaning to say fruit or vegetable) She never realized her mistake and kept coaxing the bewildered children, "Come on, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; you know this!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once when my kids were small, and all crowded into the backseat on a long hot road trip, they began to argue. After repeated warnings to quiet down, I finally stopped the car and demanded, "Have I not told you FIVE times to be quiet?" The kids burst into breathless laughter. "Mom," they gasped, "You're only holding up three fingers!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4393252712671095913?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4393252712671095913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4393252712671095913&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4393252712671095913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4393252712671095913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/06/bloopers-and-blunders.html' title='Bloopers and Blunders'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6603042659386773210</id><published>2011-06-18T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T06:54:21.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Worth the Price Jesus Paid</title><content type='html'>Jesus honors you. He respects and values you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU are God's gift to JESUS - along with all those who will receive Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is God, but He took on a human body. You who trust in Him will have a  better-than-new body, and you will still be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;you...&lt;/span&gt;for all eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus loved you from before the world was created. He knew all about you before you were inside your Mom. He knew you would need love, forgiveness, and a new spirit. He made a way for you to come to the Father through the price He paid - His death on the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus would tell  us: "Once you ask me to forgive you and make you brand new, you can be sure that I have washed away your shame and guilt.  You can KNOW that I love you,  I forgive you, and  I made you squeaky clean!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you even swap or trade a toy with a friend?&lt;br /&gt;Well, a swap took place&lt;br /&gt;when Jesus died in my place.&lt;br /&gt;He took my guilt and gave me His goodness.&lt;br /&gt;He took my hurts and gave me healing.&lt;br /&gt;He became poor that I might be rich.&lt;br /&gt;He swapped my shame for His glory.&lt;br /&gt;He took my dirty ragged clothes,&lt;br /&gt;and gave me His king's robe of righteousness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank You, Jesus, for the price You paid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6603042659386773210?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6603042659386773210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6603042659386773210&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6603042659386773210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6603042659386773210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-are-worth-price-jesus-paid.html' title='Worth the Price Jesus Paid'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1396949985937491586</id><published>2011-06-10T04:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T04:25:59.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answered Prayer!</title><content type='html'>I have had an awesome time with two of my granddaughters for the past two weeks. They both love the Lord Jesus, and they love to sing, dance, and act! So each day they decided on a Bible story that they could act out for their Dad when he came in from work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They spent hours reading Esther, I Samuel 17, Acts 16, and the miracles from John's gospel, writing out their lines, and coming up with "costumes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nana got to be the narrator. I guess my new nick name is The NANA-nator!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1396949985937491586?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1396949985937491586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1396949985937491586&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1396949985937491586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1396949985937491586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/06/answered-prayer.html' title='Answered Prayer!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4322418585597689825</id><published>2011-05-31T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T15:09:00.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Strength and Our Shield</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkdN_M7OrPg&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;As the deer &lt;/a&gt;panteth for the water so my soul panteth after Thee.&lt;br /&gt;You alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship Thee.&lt;br /&gt;You alone are my strength, my shield.&lt;br /&gt;To You alone may my spirit yield.&lt;br /&gt;You alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship Thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my son Caleb was twenty months old, we rushed him to the hospital with congestive heart failure. Even with the doctors and nurses doing all they could for him, he still stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating twice. They told us to choose a funeral home because he would not make it through the day, but he lived for twenty more months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next Sunday, we were home from the hospital, and we went across the street to church and sat up in the balcony. I let him lie on the pew as I stood to worship. (At that time he had not yet begun to sit.) He also had been visually impaired and appeared to be hearing impaired. He had never waved or blown kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were singing, "As the Deer", and I turned to check on him. He was looking up toward the ceiling and waving and blowing kisses! I could not help but think that he had seen a glimpse of heaven and was worshiping, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, he began to interact more with people, wave at people passing by, play with toys, laugh out loud, sit alone, and make up his own signs and words. It was truly a miracle that he lived and made progress for a time. We had many happy memories ahead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4322418585597689825?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4322418585597689825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4322418585597689825&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4322418585597689825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4322418585597689825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/our-strength-and-our-shield.html' title='Our Strength and Our Shield'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8755837041223253161</id><published>2011-05-27T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T22:13:00.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shout</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keOFbA_cSjg/TdzxH4xzMdI/AAAAAAAAFUU/y4v4dFuehUg/s1600/spring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keOFbA_cSjg/TdzxH4xzMdI/AAAAAAAAFUU/y4v4dFuehUg/s320/spring.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610624353599435218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;Worship the LORD with gladness;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;come before him with joyful songs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 100:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&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/7624995537502342658-8755837041223253161?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8755837041223253161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8755837041223253161&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8755837041223253161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8755837041223253161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/shout.html' title='Shout'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-keOFbA_cSjg/TdzxH4xzMdI/AAAAAAAAFUU/y4v4dFuehUg/s72-c/spring.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-7394309353012260750</id><published>2011-05-25T02:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T05:03:46.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ask in Jesus' Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;"This is what I want you to do: Ask the Father for whatever is in keeping with the things I've revealed to you. Ask in my name, according to my will, and he'll most certainly give it to you. Your joy will be a river overflowing its banks!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;John 16:23-24 Message&lt;/span&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/7624995537502342658-7394309353012260750?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7394309353012260750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=7394309353012260750&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7394309353012260750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/7394309353012260750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/ask-in-jesus-name.html' title='Ask in Jesus&apos; Name'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8300400227492797329</id><published>2011-05-19T00:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T00:42:00.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back Porch Steps</title><content type='html'>Recently, I got to have a long overdue visit with two of my granddaughters! Even though they are getting older, they still want me to play games and tell them NANA stories from happy days gone by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We played a game called "rock school", where the teacher puts her hands behind her back and places a pebble in one hand. Then she brings her hands forward and the students take turns guessing which hand the rock is in. They start on the top step and move one step down for each correct guess until they graduate on the bottom step and become the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a game my brother and sister and I played on the back porch steps growing up. We used a lot of imagination and perspiration having fun without many toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can picture Mother cracking open the shell of a coconut on those brick steps, and working all afternoon to make her fresh coconut cake for dessert. My sister and I peeled potatoes and picked out pecans and walnuts on those steps. And I remember the teenage girl from across the street sitting on those steps telling me all about high school. I admired her long pony tail tied with a chiffon scarf,  and her bobby socks and saddle oxfords as she painted my nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have moved often as an adult, and my family is scattered around the states. Maybe that is why "Nana Stories" and remembering the sights and sounds of a simpler time brings me so much joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8300400227492797329?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8300400227492797329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8300400227492797329&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8300400227492797329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8300400227492797329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/01/back-porch-steps.html' title='Back Porch Steps'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4007276470314256065</id><published>2011-05-17T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T19:08:31.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pleasing Aroma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TFzAxXSk3II/AAAAAAAAD1o/ujQVJXmeRFo/s1600/1950s+kitchen+house+beautiful.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502484799037955202" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 156px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TFzAxXSk3II/AAAAAAAAD1o/ujQVJXmeRFo/s200/1950s+kitchen+house+beautiful.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suppertime was at 6 o'clock every night. Mother would start cooking about 5. She would shoo us out on the screened porch to play, but, for an hour, we could smell all those tantalizing smells: cornbread baking, country ham frying, butter beans simmering, potatoes and onions sizzling. With all those aromas, no one had to call us to the table twice when Daddy got home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible tells us that Jesus has a pleasing aroma, and we can have that same fragrance that draws people to the Father's love. I have known people like that. You can sense a peace about them, and you can see kindness in their eyes, before they ever say a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God. &lt;div class="footnotes" style="display: none;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="footnotes" id="fen-NLT-29266a" style="display: none;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4007276470314256065?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4007276470314256065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4007276470314256065&amp;isPopup=true' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4007276470314256065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4007276470314256065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/08/pleasing-aroma.html' title='Pleasing Aroma'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/TFzAxXSk3II/AAAAAAAAD1o/ujQVJXmeRFo/s72-c/1950s+kitchen+house+beautiful.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-1377989943306176014</id><published>2011-05-17T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T18:47:03.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Biscuits</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NfwwZD0AQ94/TdHTVToxGCI/AAAAAAAAFSM/O1h3yPg9b9Q/s1600/biscuits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NfwwZD0AQ94/TdHTVToxGCI/AAAAAAAAFSM/O1h3yPg9b9Q/s200/biscuits.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607495374054955042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If I had a nickel for every biscuit I ever made, I would be RICH!" Mother used to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was up every morning by six, and I could hear the rolling pin on the counter as she rolled out the dough and cut out the biscuits.  She would make me an extra large biscuit and pat it out with her hands. Then she would save the last scraps of dough and let me make it into a ball for Midnight, the cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kitchen was the brightest room in the house, with the morning sun shining through the glass panes in the back door and the double windows over the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that I thanked my Mother for all those hot biscuits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son Cameron told me not long ago, how MawMaw and PawPaw meant so much to him, even though we moved away when he was only four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother, those biscuits were worth much more than a nickel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-1377989943306176014?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/1377989943306176014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=1377989943306176014&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1377989943306176014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/1377989943306176014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/making-biscuits.html' title='Making Biscuits'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NfwwZD0AQ94/TdHTVToxGCI/AAAAAAAAFSM/O1h3yPg9b9Q/s72-c/biscuits.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6373402967784651179</id><published>2011-05-16T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T17:31:44.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Go First!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-muc2knqoClQ/TdBwAPF4slI/AAAAAAAAFR0/YJjL6mVKoAU/s1600/pan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 80px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-muc2knqoClQ/TdBwAPF4slI/AAAAAAAAFR0/YJjL6mVKoAU/s200/pan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607104685429797458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin 5-year-old, and Ryan  3-year-old. The boys began to argue over who would get the first  pancake. Their mother saw an opportunity to teach a lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, "If Jesus were sitting here, He would say, 'Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin turned to his younger brother and said, "Ryan, you be Jesus!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6373402967784651179?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6373402967784651179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6373402967784651179&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6373402967784651179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6373402967784651179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/you-go-first.html' title='You Go First!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-muc2knqoClQ/TdBwAPF4slI/AAAAAAAAFR0/YJjL6mVKoAU/s72-c/pan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-822638294218690458</id><published>2011-05-16T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T03:13:00.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CAMP PINNACLE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpWYaWxPc9I/AAAAAAAAA5I/wNNTAub29fs/s1600-h/sunrise.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpWYaWxPc9I/AAAAAAAAA5I/wNNTAub29fs/s320/sunrise.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374369308892689362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a girl, I went to Camp Pinnacle in Clayton, Georgia, for a week of summer church camp. The staff woke up us at 4 a.m. for a hike up Mount Pinnacle. My best friends from school and church were with me as we made our way up the steep slopes with our flashlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was completely dark when we got to the top of the mountain. Our camp leader told everyone to sit down, turn off their flashlights, and not move or talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before long the morning sun rose over one of the hills, and we could see that we were on the edge of the pinnacle overlooking a beautiful valley of pastures and farmhouses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone started singing, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty" and all the girls joined in. It was one of those  special moments that gives you goosebumps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll always remember Camp Pinnacle whenever I hear that song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!&lt;br /&gt;Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;&lt;br /&gt;Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!&lt;br /&gt;God in three Persons, blessed Trinity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6iK0Miq2xNo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6iK0Miq2xNo&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-822638294218690458?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/822638294218690458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=822638294218690458&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/822638294218690458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/822638294218690458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/08/camp-pinnacle.html' title='CAMP PINNACLE'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SpWYaWxPc9I/AAAAAAAAA5I/wNNTAub29fs/s72-c/sunrise.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4108073531526714425</id><published>2011-05-14T18:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T18:40:51.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Counting Cows</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SjRXFMISNEI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/mPIAq8rYSvg/s1600-h/cowsinpasture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346994404262556738" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 272px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SjRXFMISNEI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/mPIAq8rYSvg/s400/cowsinpasture.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I  bet some of you will be taking long car trips this summer with little  ones in the back seat. I was remembering a trip to Virginia from Indiana  with a preschool age granddaughter. My daughter was driving and I was  in the back seat entertaining Kye. "Let's count cows!" I suggested. Hey,  that's what my brother and I did when we were young. I guess I had not  remembered that when we were young, we were traveling at 30 mph down a  winding country road. On this trip my daughter was going 75 on the  expressway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say, "Look! There are  some!" and before she could focus on them, we had passed them by. Then  Kye would be very disappointed. After hours of driving, my tired  daughter suggested to me that we forget the cows.&lt;br /&gt;After a moment of silence, Kye patted me and said, "It's okay, Nana. We'll count horses."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4108073531526714425?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4108073531526714425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4108073531526714425&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4108073531526714425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4108073531526714425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/counting-cows.html' title='Counting Cows'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SjRXFMISNEI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/mPIAq8rYSvg/s72-c/cowsinpasture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8157521836993900501</id><published>2011-05-14T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T18:07:48.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NANA GOES ON A FIELD TRIP!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/StXfbm7rcNI/AAAAAAAABZk/Uv08-M1v-fM/s1600-h/hayride-robert-tarr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/StXfbm7rcNI/AAAAAAAABZk/Uv08-M1v-fM/s400/hayride-robert-tarr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392461794246357202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nana, will you come with my first grade class to the pumpkin patch?" Ashlynn asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids were so excited as they lined up to board the bus with their sack lunches and plans for big fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First on our list of things to do was the corn field maze. We trudged past corn stalks taller than the grown-ups. We tried this path and that one, only to come to a dead end and have to turn around. The path was like a mud pie from the heavy rain over the past few days. We ducked through scary tunnels and jumped over tree roots, until we came out in the woods. The autumn leaves were bright oranges, golds and reds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the morning  went on, we realized the sun was playing hide and seek and it was getting colder. The wind puffed and we tasted sprinkles of rain. However, nothing dampened the spirits of the first graders!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The owner's small black dog led the way as we hopped on the hay wagon to travel down the road to the pumpkin patch. There were hundreds of pumpkins on the tangles of vines. Some were half-eaten. We saw antlers that deer had shed while enjoying a tasty pumpkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man who drove the big tractor told us that the first frost would come soon and no more pumpkins would grow  this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the kids picked a pie-baby size pumpkin and got back into the hay wagons. Ashlynn named hers Penelope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started back up the hill when the tractor got stuck in the mud. The harder the tractor chugged, the deeper the tires sank into the ruts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Everybody back out!" while the Dads helped get things moving again and saved the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the farm for a ride in the cow train. Each car of the kid-sized train looked like a black and white cow. Round and round the farm they circled with the kids squealing with delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashlynn told me that the farm was a good place to be LOUD and not get into trouble for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A trip to the pumpkin patch is something the children in southern Indiana look forward to every year, and someday they will tell this story to their grandchildren.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8157521836993900501?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8157521836993900501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8157521836993900501&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8157521836993900501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8157521836993900501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/10/nana-goes-on-field-trip.html' title='NANA GOES ON A FIELD TRIP!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/StXfbm7rcNI/AAAAAAAABZk/Uv08-M1v-fM/s72-c/hayride-robert-tarr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8038134529642038267</id><published>2011-05-14T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T15:57:08.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Wishes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UxSBTSAwEIU/Tc8IXg0eVUI/AAAAAAAAFRU/eGg_yHP41jY/s1600/BalloonnrNK.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UxSBTSAwEIU/Tc8IXg0eVUI/AAAAAAAAFRU/eGg_yHP41jY/s200/BalloonnrNK.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606709261139596610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our pastor told this to the congregation on Mother's Day:&lt;br /&gt;A young wife went to her obstetrician and found out she was pregnant for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, doctor, I'm 6 weeks pregnant?! When can I expect him to move?"&lt;br /&gt;"After he graduates from college and pays off his student loans," the doctor quipped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can remember when all the kids were young and I desperately needed a break. If I went into the bathroom, they would knock and even lie down beside the door and slide their little hands under it and beg me to open the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they got older, I found that the laundry room was a safer hiding place. They knew if they came anywhere near, I would hand them a stack of towels to fold and carry upstairs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was subbing in a kindergarten this week and a little girl asked me if I had children. "How old are they?" was the next question. When I wrote on the board 36. 34. and 25, you could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to picture a 36 year old kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy May Birthdays to my daughter Kathren, my son Cameron, and my granddaughter Ashlynn - all celebrating this week, along with my brother Larry and his daughter Brooke!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8038134529642038267?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8038134529642038267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8038134529642038267&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8038134529642038267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8038134529642038267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/birthday-wishes.html' title='Birthday Wishes'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UxSBTSAwEIU/Tc8IXg0eVUI/AAAAAAAAFRU/eGg_yHP41jY/s72-c/BalloonnrNK.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8410440380906820651</id><published>2011-05-14T12:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T18:16:51.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Do It Again!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a name="1560048794451351327"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One crisp autumn day, I had the pleasure of going for a walk with two of my granddaughters. The breeze was chasing the leaves down the street and our feet made a crunching sound as we trudged through some freshly raked piles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly a whirlwind formed and moved down the street right before our eyes, catching the leaves up with it, swirling them around. After the whirlwind had passed, two-year-old Ashlynn looked up to the sky and demanded, "Do it again!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like to think that God delights in making sure you see a fiery red sunset, a double rainbow, or a tiny hummingbird?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does God think of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the saints who are on the earth,&lt;br /&gt;“They are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Psalm 16:3 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8410440380906820651?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8410440380906820651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8410440380906820651&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8410440380906820651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8410440380906820651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/do-it-again.html' title='&quot;Do It Again!&quot;'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4477943776008246522</id><published>2011-05-14T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T18:18:14.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Childlike Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Syfak3FOdhI/AAAAAAAACI4/S-7FzI-Wejo/s1600-h/i-am-worthy-of-gods-love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Syfak3FOdhI/AAAAAAAACI4/S-7FzI-Wejo/s400/i-am-worthy-of-gods-love.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415537403732325906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My oldest granddaughter, Kye, asked Jesus to come into her heart when she was eight years old. She was alone in her room reading John 3:16.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She took Jesus up on His promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is something she wrote not long after that. I keep it in my Bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lord forgives me when I do something wrong and heals me when I get hurt. He fills me with love for others. I will go up to Heaven to be with Him when I die. Then He will make me strong like a kid again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, our pastor was late coming into the sanctuary that next Sunday. He slipped into the back pew during the singing and sat beside my granddaughter and me until the song was finished. I told him that she had prayed and asked Jesus to come into her heart that week. Being a tall slender man, he got down on his knees beside her at eye level and took her hands in his. He told her, "This is the most important decision you will ever make."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matthew 18:1-4 The Message&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about the same time, the disciples came to Jesus asking, "Who gets the highest rank in God's kingdom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, "I'm telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God's kingdom. What's more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it's the same as receiving me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4477943776008246522?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4477943776008246522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4477943776008246522&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4477943776008246522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4477943776008246522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/childlike-faith.html' title='Childlike Faith'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/Syfak3FOdhI/AAAAAAAACI4/S-7FzI-Wejo/s72-c/i-am-worthy-of-gods-love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-403368617146272467</id><published>2011-05-13T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T16:43:01.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Friday</title><content type='html'>Young kids in Sunday School often misunderstand the words to songs, prayers, and Bible verses. One child prayed, "In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Whole East Coast."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-403368617146272467?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/403368617146272467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=403368617146272467&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/403368617146272467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/403368617146272467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/funny-friday.html' title='Funny Friday'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6770526424852368727</id><published>2011-05-08T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T17:47:10.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Supersized!</title><content type='html'>If you plant a single kernel of corn, it could produce a plant that might yield 600 kernels of corn per year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible tells us we will reap what we sow. This can be good or bad, because we reap MORE than we sow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have planted good seed by obeying the Lord, I pray for God to supersize the harvest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where I have planted seeds of bitterness or discord, I am asking for a crop failure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father, help me to rejoice in the promises in Your Word to those who obey you. Help me not to give up when I don't see immediate breakthrough. Remind me that every day and every circumstance is an opportunity for You to show Yourself strong on our behalf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the words to this song by &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSbJtqYow3Q"&gt;Tommy Walker:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a hope&lt;br /&gt;I have a future&lt;br /&gt;I have a destiny&lt;br /&gt;That is yet awaiting me&lt;br /&gt;My life's not over&lt;br /&gt;My new beginning's just begun&lt;br /&gt;I have a hope&lt;br /&gt;I have a hope&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6770526424852368727?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6770526424852368727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6770526424852368727&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6770526424852368727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6770526424852368727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/supersized.html' title='Supersized!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-4766961886132590134</id><published>2011-05-03T02:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T05:59:23.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Triangles and Squares</title><content type='html'>Teaching geometry to sixth graders last week, as a substitute teacher, I was deep in thought about the wording of the teacher's directions. One of the young men in the class, raised his hand and said with great compassion, "It's okay, Ma'am. They probably didn't have geometry when you were in school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, we really did have triangles and squares in 1965! However, there were a few other things that interested me more - like cute boys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In February, 1964, the Beatles debuted in the United States on the Ed Sullivan Show. How would you like to have been a juggling act that followed Paul McCartney's "I Wanna Hold Your Hand"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that I focused on things other than geometry in 1965, like the captain of the basketball team, who sat across the aisle from me, and the cute boy who sold milk in the cafeteria. I would go back for an extra carton, and I didn't even like milk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it didn't help that our teacher's age, rounded off to the nearest ten, was 100. I asked him one day, "What good will geometry do me ten years from now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Without it, " he replied, "You'll still be in high school at twenty-four!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-4766961886132590134?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4766961886132590134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=4766961886132590134&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4766961886132590134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/4766961886132590134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2010/01/geometry-101.html' title='Triangles and Squares'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-341387597421007410</id><published>2011-05-01T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-01T16:41:17.971-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Debt</title><content type='html'>According to the &lt;a href="http://www.nationaldebtcounter.us/?a=1297655335&amp;amp;utm_source=twitterfeed&amp;amp;utm_medium=twitter"&gt;National Debt Counter&lt;/a&gt;, the United States of America national debt was&lt;br /&gt;$14,294,916,860,079 when I checked on Sunday, May 1, 2011 at 7:19 PM EST. That's over 14 TRILLION. And the US debt increases by about 4.3 billion dollars per day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much is a trillion? If you laid &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt; trillion &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;one &lt;/span&gt;dollar bills end to end, they would stretch  to the moon and back 200 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this &lt;a href="http://www.pagetutor.com/trillion/index.html"&gt;web site&lt;/a&gt; to see what ONE trillion dollars would look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very wise King Solomon once wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The rich rule over the poor,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;     And the borrower is servant to the lender.&lt;br /&gt;Proverbs 22:7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-341387597421007410?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/341387597421007410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=341387597421007410&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/341387597421007410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/341387597421007410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/05/debt.html' title='Debt'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2288131716307109418</id><published>2011-04-22T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T14:53:13.036-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lamb of God</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SyHX5Dz_sMI/AAAAAAAACFY/GYnvrfremAg/s1600-h/lamb+shepherd.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 249px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SyHX5Dz_sMI/AAAAAAAACFY/GYnvrfremAg/s320/lamb+shepherd.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413845602351952066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors. And the ransom he paid was not mere gold or silver.It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 Peter 1:18-19 NLT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2288131716307109418?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2288131716307109418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2288131716307109418&amp;isPopup=true' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2288131716307109418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2288131716307109418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/12/lamb-of-god.html' title='Lamb of God'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ETxkVjvML_0/SyHX5Dz_sMI/AAAAAAAACFY/GYnvrfremAg/s72-c/lamb+shepherd.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8134200410218760783</id><published>2011-04-21T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T13:49:44.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Then Sings My Soul Saturday</title><content type='html'>Here is a beautiful old song, &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hqf77XyZ-Q&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;"He Is Here"&lt;/a&gt;, sung by a Gaither Trio. Click on title.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8134200410218760783?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8134200410218760783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8134200410218760783&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8134200410218760783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8134200410218760783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/then-sings-my-soul-saturday.html' title='Then Sings My Soul Saturday'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6533024098985183695</id><published>2011-04-16T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T11:02:41.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DANCE!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AChJOUsDWXA/Ta7Q6pGm9MI/AAAAAAAAFJo/7wB2N_qgi58/s1600/King-David-dancing-before-the-Lord-2-Sam-6-16-300x188px.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 188px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AChJOUsDWXA/Ta7Q6pGm9MI/AAAAAAAAFJo/7wB2N_qgi58/s320/King-David-dancing-before-the-Lord-2-Sam-6-16-300x188px.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597641092752667842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;King David danced before the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hebrew: rikud - a physical expression of praise and thanksgiving, - dancing, skipping and leaping for joy to our God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div  style="overflow: hidden; text-decoration: none; border: medium none;color:transparent;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;“Listen to this message from the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    you nations of the world;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    proclaim it in distant coastlands:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt; The L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;, who scattered his people,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    will gather them and watch over them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    as a shepherd does his flock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;For the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt; has redeemed Israel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    from those too strong for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;They will come home and sing songs of joy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;on the heights of Jerusalem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    They will be radiant because of the L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;’s good gifts—&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt; the abundant crops of grain, new wine, and olive oil,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    and the healthy flocks and herds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt; Their life will be like a watered garden,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    and all their sorrows will be gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;The young women will dance for joy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    and the men—old and young—will join in the celebration.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt; I will turn their mourning into joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;    I will comfort them and exchange their sorrow for rejoicing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-size:85%;" &gt;Jeremiah 31:10-13&lt;/span&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/7624995537502342658-6533024098985183695?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6533024098985183695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6533024098985183695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6533024098985183695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6533024098985183695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/dance.html' title='DANCE!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AChJOUsDWXA/Ta7Q6pGm9MI/AAAAAAAAFJo/7wB2N_qgi58/s72-c/King-David-dancing-before-the-Lord-2-Sam-6-16-300x188px.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-6228775450346285914</id><published>2011-04-15T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T03:19:28.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Overcomers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4U4JweMMWQk/Taga4jmsyiI/AAAAAAAAFH4/LxVNKlX5e-8/s1600/geese.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4U4JweMMWQk/Taga4jmsyiI/AAAAAAAAFH4/LxVNKlX5e-8/s200/geese.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595752095940397602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever sit down to read the Bible and a passage that you have read  many times before suddenly lights up for you, and all at once it takes  on deeper meaning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you worry and wonder about the future,  especially after reading the headlines of the world news report? I  wonder if I will stand strong for the Lord in times of crisis or  persecution. Jesus told us that we would experience difficulties in our  lives, but He told us to be of good cheer, for He has overcome the  world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I sat by the lake with the sunlight dancing on  the water, making it look like there were diamonds bobbing on the  surface. A gentle wind was causing the trees to bow and sway, and geese were  honking as they flew overhead in formation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I opened my Bible, these were the words that spoke to my worries about the future:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Be  not afraid of sudden terror and panic, nor of the stormy blast, or the  storm and ruin of the wicked when it comes [for you will be guiltless.]  For the Lord shall be your confidence, firm and strong, and shall keep  your foot from being caught in a trap or some hidden danger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Proverbs 3:25-26 Amplified&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-6228775450346285914?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/6228775450346285914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=6228775450346285914&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6228775450346285914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/6228775450346285914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/overcomers.html' title='Overcomers'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4U4JweMMWQk/Taga4jmsyiI/AAAAAAAAFH4/LxVNKlX5e-8/s72-c/geese.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-162950778043532200</id><published>2011-04-09T01:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T14:13:00.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Melody in My Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There's within my heart a melody&lt;br /&gt;Jesus whispers sweet and low,&lt;br /&gt;Fear not I am with thee&lt;br /&gt;Peace be still&lt;br /&gt;In all of life's ebb and flow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, Jesus, Jesus&lt;br /&gt;Sweetest Name I know,&lt;br /&gt;Fills my every longing&lt;br /&gt;Keeps me singing as I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up in the 50's and 60's, we sang familiar hymns at church, and over the years, I memorized many of them. The words are a comfort to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-size:85%;" &gt;Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Ephesians 5:19 NIV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As followers of Jesus Christ, the miracle is that we can sing in good times and bad times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Luther Bridger's hymn, "There's Within My Heart a Melody", was written just after the saddest day of his life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Warren Shiver relates this story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.gaffneyledger.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; "Luther Bridges was born near Margretville, NC, Feb. 14, 1884. Luther's parents moved to Georgia, and at the age of sixteen, Luther attended Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky. He began preaching at the age of seventeen and was ordained as a Methodist Minister. There he met the lovely Sarah Vetch, and they fell in love at first sight. Neither of them was twenty years old when they married. They had three children, all boys. Luther was successful as an evangelist at the early age of eighteen, and continued in what he called, "The soul saving work", until shortly before his death. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; It was in 1910 about seven years after his marriage that he accepted an invitation to hold a two-week revival in a church near his wife's parents home in Kentucky. He left his wife and three small boys at her parent's home and went to the nearby town to hold services.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He was in a great revival and many people were professing Christ as their Savior. Near the end of the revival services, Luther received a late night long-distance phone call. Who could be calling at this hour, and what could be wrong? It was hard for the twenty-six year old Luther to take in the full impact of this call. His wife's parents home had burned to the ground. His wife, Sarah, and their three sons had all died in the fire. He was bereaved for his wife and children, and asked himself, "How could this happen while I was doing God's will?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; For some time, he was stunned and inactive. Again the Lord began speaking to him about evangelism. He began to prepare himself in prayer, and study, and stopped asking God, "Why?" The Lord spoke to him through His word, "The Lord is my portion saith my soul. They that dwell in the secret place of the most high shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty." Luther thought to himself, "The secret place, the shadow , and the presence of the Almighty", he could trust Him. The God of all earth would not fail or forsake him" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-162950778043532200?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/162950778043532200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=162950778043532200&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/162950778043532200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/162950778043532200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2009/11/melody-in-my-heart.html' title='Melody in My Heart'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-2712134227543100873</id><published>2011-04-08T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T01:03:00.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Government Official Who Prayed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AhCpDTatqQk/TZ3-5kJo8iI/AAAAAAAAFGA/_yb6K4E6AgE/s1600/prayer_team.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AhCpDTatqQk/TZ3-5kJo8iI/AAAAAAAAFGA/_yb6K4E6AgE/s200/prayer_team.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592906577174131234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Long live King Darius!   We are all in agreement—we administrators, officials, high officers,  advisers, and governors—that the king should make a law that will be  strictly enforced. Give orders that for the next thirty days any person  who prays to anyone, divine or human—except to you, Your Majesty—will be  thrown into the den of lions. And now, Your Majesty, issue and sign this law so it cannot be changed,  an official law of the Medes and Persians that cannot be revoked.” So King Darius signed the law.&lt;p&gt;But when Daniel learned that the law had been signed, he went home and  knelt down as usual in his upstairs room, with its windows open toward  Jerusalem. He prayed three times a day, just as he had always done,  giving thanks to his God. Then the officials went together to Daniel’s house and found him praying and asking for God’s help....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then they told the king, “That man Daniel, one of the captives from  Judah, is ignoring you and your law. He still prays to his God three  times a day.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;...The king gave orders for Daniel to be arrested and thrown  into the den of lions. The king said to him, “May your God, whom you  serve so faithfully, rescue you.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A stone was brought and placed over the mouth of the den. The king  sealed the stone with his own royal seal and the seals of his nobles, so  that no one could rescue Daniel. Then the king returned to his palace and spent the night fasting. He  refused his usual entertainment and couldn’t sleep at all that night.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Very early the next morning, the king got up and hurried out to the lions’ den. When he got there, he called out in anguish, “Daniel, servant of the  living God! Was your God, whom you serve so faithfully, able to rescue  you from the lions?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Daniel answered, “Long live the king! My God sent his angel to shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not  hurt me, for I have been found innocent in his sight. And I have not  wronged you, Your Majesty.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The king was overjoyed and ordered that Daniel be lifted from the den.  Not a scratch was found on him, for he had trusted in his God.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-2712134227543100873?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/2712134227543100873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=2712134227543100873&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2712134227543100873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/2712134227543100873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/government-official-who-prayed.html' title='A Government Official Who Prayed'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AhCpDTatqQk/TZ3-5kJo8iI/AAAAAAAAFGA/_yb6K4E6AgE/s72-c/prayer_team.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8519750631985482717</id><published>2011-04-04T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T09:07:48.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Attendance</title><content type='html'>I remember when I was in school and my teacher would call my name every morning. "Present," I would answer. Then on my report card there was a place where she would record times absent, times late, and times present. I was listening this morning to Bob Fitts sing &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qjCP1twDR0&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Constant Companion&lt;/a&gt;, "I Call Your Name." And this simple truth struck me: I have never called on the name of the Lord that He did not hear and answer. He is always PRESENT...never absent...never late. As the preschoolers would say, "He's my bestest friend!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8519750631985482717?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8519750631985482717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8519750631985482717&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8519750631985482717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8519750631985482717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/04/perfect-attendance.html' title='Perfect Attendance'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-951283969030781855</id><published>2011-03-27T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T16:32:04.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scars</title><content type='html'>As a kid, I seemed to get my fair share of scrapes and bruises while skating, riding my bike, and running around barefoot in the summer. Even my own kids, who always wore their shoes outside, and had bike helmets and knee pads, often seemed to have some kind of bandage, cast, or boo-boo when it came time for family photos. I heard Dave Roever, who received extensive burns during the Viet Nam war, give his testimony of faith in Jesus Christ. He said that sometimes children are afraid of him because of his facial scars. He explains that scars are evidence that he got hurt, and that God healed him, and that he can feels for others who are hurting. Isn't that beautiful?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-951283969030781855?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/951283969030781855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=951283969030781855&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/951283969030781855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/951283969030781855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/03/scars.html' title='Scars'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-921846873261298397</id><published>2011-03-26T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T08:40:08.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Guide Us With Your Eye</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3lJtSj4gcFI/TYjltZgBosI/AAAAAAAAFFQ/C-t8fexs9fk/s1600/JC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 194px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586967905855185602" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3lJtSj4gcFI/TYjltZgBosI/AAAAAAAAFFQ/C-t8fexs9fk/s400/JC.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;I will instruct you and teach you&lt;br /&gt;in the way you should go;&lt;br /&gt;I will guide you with My eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 32:8&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;When my son Caleb was alive, we made regular visits to his heart doctor's office. Caleb's only words were Dada, uh-oh, and 'darsh', which meant "rewind the tape as soon as possible". The doctor would be amazed at how I just 'knew' what Caleb wanted by looking at his eyes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;Dr. Boone would say, "You two are so in tune!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;Because we spent all our time together, he rarely even had to cry, because I would anticipate his needs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;I was thinking about this promise from the Psalms:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will guide you with My eye.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;Those of you who are special education teachers or caregivers, know how important eye gaze is in communication. We can watch the child's eyes to know that he wants us to ring the wind chimes or turn on the music or get him out of his wheelchair to stretch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;I want to be 'in tune' with Jesus, and know what is on His mind. He will guide in major life decisions, but He might also draw my attention to a new neighbor that really needs a smile, or He might impress me to write a post that is meaningful to just one person on the other side of the globe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt;Lord Jesus, thank you for guiding us with Your eye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-921846873261298397?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/921846873261298397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=921846873261298397&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/921846873261298397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/921846873261298397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/03/guide-us-with-your-eye.html' title='Guide Us With Your Eye'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3lJtSj4gcFI/TYjltZgBosI/AAAAAAAAFFQ/C-t8fexs9fk/s72-c/JC.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7624995537502342658.post-8699182496526333760</id><published>2011-03-22T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T10:18:23.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kimberly and Alberto Rivera - Abide In Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jGM7BFw4jJU" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7624995537502342658-8699182496526333760?l=nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8699182496526333760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7624995537502342658&amp;postID=8699182496526333760&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8699182496526333760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7624995537502342658/posts/default/8699182496526333760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nana-karen-stories.blogspot.com/2011/03/kimberly-and-alberto-rivera-abide-with.html' title='Kimberly and Alberto Rivera - Abide In Me'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12770750648145547973</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d7K6lVc86_w/Tg8YWIIO01I/AAAAAAAAFbs/0WVxPbyQxi8/s220/Karen%2B002.bmp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/jGM7BFw4jJU/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
