<?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-5080640935728729617</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:39:44.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bek's emotive feelings in word form</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-8122757880572516312</id><published>2007-10-15T23:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T23:53:56.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>coffee studio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="deleteBody"&gt; &lt;p class="postBody" style="color: rgb(119, 119, 119);"&gt;I walk in order my vanilla latte and sit down in the most Melbourne of Warragul you can find; a little coffee shop, its like the metro of a small country town. The red leather couches and black chairs, the round tables and the funky counters. Modern art on the walls the sent off coffee wafting in the air, music in the background. To my right a couple, reading the paper and chatting. Another man to my right reading a magazine. In front of me a lady waiting patiently for her coffee to arrive and then when it does she receives it and walks out. People come and people go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as i sit here the most remarkable of them all is the man in front of me, dressed in brown from head to toe. Brown shoes, brown pants, white with brown shirt and brown leather jacket. Even long (for a guy) brown hair. He was someone you would expect to see from that 70's show. A hard red covered book laying in his lap, full of his creations with scarce blank pages left. Somehow we seem to connect. As our eyes meet we seem to have an understanding about each other. I think about next year how i will be able to sit and meet new people like this. Isn't it funny how we can meet a new person without even talking to them? Simply by just smiling, making a gesture or even simply by making eye contact. Somehow this man sitting in front of me inspires me. He probably will never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People's stories. All these people surrounding me they all have a story to tell. Yet sometimes we ourselves become a part of others stories, just by being there. You don't even have to know them. Just like someone who witnesses a crime, they were just there. But when your called in as a witness you become a part of that story. The man in front of me, he just became a part of my story. Maybe not for long, I may go home and go to work and never remember him again. Yet for now he is a part of my story and a part of the story i am telling now.&lt;br /&gt;This guy sitting in front of me, he just left. Walked out side and left all his stuff. He has gone for a cigarette. A quick fix. Does this make me think of him any less? Should it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i watch him pen in hand i wonder what inspires him. I also have a pen i hand yet our art is different. My art right now is telling a story in my old bank book. The only thing i could find with blank pages. My story is being told through words, his story is being told by lines and shapes and colours. Yet both of us still have a story to tell at this very moment through our own desired art.&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it funny how you can find the God in people. I don't know who this guy is or what kind of person he is, what is beliefs are. But still i can find things in him that represent God. Does he know what i believe? Would it matter? Would telling my story make a difference? Would hearing his story make a difference to me? These questions will never be answered, like many other questions in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be inspired to inspire. I do not know where i have heard these words before but i know that in life they surely ring true in each and every person. Each person has one story alone and each story is different and unique, ready waiting to be told. Will they ever get the chance to tell it? Will you listen to it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-8122757880572516312?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/8122757880572516312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=8122757880572516312' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/8122757880572516312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/8122757880572516312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/10/coffee-studio.html' title='coffee studio'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-3298162828557670996</id><published>2007-08-10T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T01:13:49.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>still small voice.</title><content type='html'>i cant help but feel that going to Ringwood is the right thing for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think of Ringwood and all the possibilities there... and yet i am afraid but i am also excited about the options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then i think of yr 12 at St Pauls OR Regional and i think about what its going to do to me, you know if i will cope. yet i am afraid but i dont feel happiness or excitement i dont feel anything but hatred and sadness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel this conviction in myself. but i dont know if its just from my head (me) or from my heart (God).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i know it has to come from my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My God, Almighty one&lt;br /&gt;what do You want me to do?&lt;br /&gt;where do You want me to go?&lt;br /&gt;is this from You?&lt;br /&gt;or is it from me?&lt;br /&gt;Father speak to me,&lt;br /&gt;i want to hear Your still small voice,&lt;br /&gt;but i need to recognise that its from You..&lt;br /&gt;fill my heart will Your wisdom and knowledge&lt;br /&gt;and may You show me what You want for my life.&lt;br /&gt;You are amazing Lord, i know Your always there for me.&lt;br /&gt;when i need You most.&lt;br /&gt;You always come through in the end.&lt;br /&gt;teach me and speak to me.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks that You love me so dearly.&lt;br /&gt;and teach me to love You more&lt;br /&gt;You're Almighty&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Rebekah&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-3298162828557670996?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/3298162828557670996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=3298162828557670996' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/3298162828557670996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/3298162828557670996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/08/still-small-voice.html' title='still small voice.'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-302435806670532402</id><published>2007-08-06T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T04:31:46.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&gt;&gt;&gt;fall down&lt;&lt;&lt;</title><content type='html'>I saw angels fall down&lt;br /&gt;at the glory of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and as I raise my hands I see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw angels fall down&lt;br /&gt;at the glory of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and as I hit the ground I see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I fall down&lt;br /&gt;afraid and shaking here&lt;br /&gt;And I fall down&lt;br /&gt;im perfectly safe right here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw angels fall down&lt;br /&gt;at the glory of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;the hurt and the broken find rest here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw angels fall down&lt;br /&gt;at the beauty of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;and as I kneeled I cried to know Him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;think about it. angels fall down&lt;br /&gt;at the glory of the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGELS - are incredible things. they are mentioned at BIG moments in the bible at important times and yet here we get the image of them collapsing because God is so grand. and what is even more incredible is that if angels fall down at God's glory.. what are we going to do when we see Gods greatness in heaven? we should be falling on our knees to worship God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is amazing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;indescribable...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-302435806670532402?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/302435806670532402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=302435806670532402' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/302435806670532402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/302435806670532402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/08/fall-down.html' title='&gt;&gt;&gt;fall down&lt;&lt;&lt;'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-1154060310519111229</id><published>2007-07-30T01:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T03:23:28.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So, this is the sound of forty hearts pounding along...</title><content type='html'>what i want to say to four dear guys who mean so much in my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear j,&lt;br /&gt;im struggling to put this concept into an idea.&lt;br /&gt;but i think that if i were to be honest with you..&lt;br /&gt;i think that if you lived closer to me then maybe we would be closer&lt;br /&gt;and my heart would feel differently.&lt;br /&gt;i dont know, i just feel that maybe we'd work well together.&lt;br /&gt;i honestly never thought that we would have so much in common.&lt;br /&gt;i thought you were just a guy hanging with my cousin.&lt;br /&gt;but it turns out your so much than that.&lt;br /&gt;we ping together, we laugh together and we laugh together so much we cry.&lt;br /&gt;it's something special.&lt;br /&gt;but i know that nothing will come of this...&lt;br /&gt;but we will still be friends.&lt;br /&gt;you are a rad person and i like that we are ping friends.&lt;br /&gt;love b.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear l,&lt;br /&gt;i couldn't help but think that the reason we couldn't be&lt;br /&gt;was because you were leaving.&lt;br /&gt;but when i talked to you about it..&lt;br /&gt;you said otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;now i think i was just kidding myself.&lt;br /&gt;but i think we will be friends.&lt;br /&gt;maybe not close, but friends.&lt;br /&gt;i hope so.&lt;br /&gt;i will miss you.&lt;br /&gt;love b.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i do not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear n,&lt;br /&gt;you are a younger male version of me.&lt;br /&gt;i like that.&lt;br /&gt;we just seem to fit.&lt;br /&gt;more so than i do with others.&lt;br /&gt;you were the best gundi i have ever had.&lt;br /&gt;wearing your uo jacket was the best ever.&lt;br /&gt;i will never forget what could have been, but never will.&lt;br /&gt;love b.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my love will be like a tangled web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dear lb,&lt;br /&gt;i think im jealous.&lt;br /&gt;it never seemed to be the right time.&lt;br /&gt;i like what we had but i also like what we have.&lt;br /&gt;but its different and i miss time before.&lt;br /&gt;were more than just friends now.&lt;br /&gt;your my fake brother.&lt;br /&gt;i never thought you would stay this long.&lt;br /&gt;but im glad you are.&lt;br /&gt;love b.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-1154060310519111229?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/1154060310519111229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=1154060310519111229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/1154060310519111229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/1154060310519111229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/07/so-this-is-sound-of-forty-hearts.html' title='So, this is the sound of forty hearts pounding along...'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-7058318213509173248</id><published>2007-07-23T01:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T02:51:48.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Im sorry...</title><content type='html'>i need to apologise on behalf of myself and other christians out there...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i claim to be living for this God but im not really trusting him with my life. im not giving him enough time to speak to me, i cant even recognise his voice. i can say the right things to others, but do i myself fully understand what they mean? i just dont want to be fake. i want to be real and raw. beauty in Christ. i want to believe that i am a miracle. be less talk more action, you know let God be in the drivers seat. less bek; more God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i think what i need is a fresh encounter with God. but nothing big, too big becomes too fake. something more like the last place i would think God would show up. away from church. away from youth. a personal encounter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cant be a religious christian. religion is too much of the world and not of God. and so i must apologise for being religious. im so sorry for every christian who has followed religion instead of God. we were giving you a fake view of what God is, we weren't being true to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;too often we as christians talk about how God helped the lost. the poor, the oppressed, those living in sin, those suffering. but how often do we walk past one of these? aren't we all equal in Gods eyes. then why should they be less than us? why should they have less than us?&lt;br /&gt;we need to go to the people and become of the people just as christ came to earth to become of the people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me"&lt;br /&gt;-Matthew 25:42-43&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im sorry i haven't shown God's love. Im sorry other christians haven't shown God's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is sorry enough?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-7058318213509173248?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/7058318213509173248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=7058318213509173248' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7058318213509173248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7058318213509173248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/07/im-sorry.html' title='Im sorry...'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-571139215099379141</id><published>2007-07-10T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T05:11:59.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>all mighty one</title><content type='html'>my chains are gone i've been set free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did you really have to die for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so what could i say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can not comprehend. its too amazing, too grand.&lt;br /&gt;our God is an awesome God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-571139215099379141?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/571139215099379141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=571139215099379141' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/571139215099379141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/571139215099379141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-chains-are-gone-ive-been-set-free.html' title='all mighty one'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-4986649060446123601</id><published>2007-06-23T00:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T23:30:16.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>from bella to aaron.</title><content type='html'>i have been podering for days of how i can describe my experience, so i have come to the conclusion that my experience is indescribable but im going to give it a shot anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"i don't do this to feel better; i do this to forget"&lt;br /&gt;                                                     - 16 year old heroin addict&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joining together in fellowship is one thing; eating with homeless people is another.&lt;br /&gt;hearing about one's life life &amp; seeing one's life has two different outcomes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'often people who are homeless are safer living on the street than at home.'&lt;br /&gt;- as i think about these words and chew them over in my brain i feel more and more scared for the lives that surround me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that girl on the bus could be abused&lt;br /&gt;that guy at my school could be an alcoholic&lt;br /&gt;that baby in the supermarket could be from a broken home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....how could i know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what will their lives turn out to be like? will they be happy? will they turn to an addiction to 'escape'. will they have nightmares? will they ever forget?&lt;br /&gt;will they feel love?... true love?!?&lt;br /&gt;will they see Jesus in people? will they know who he is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is there any hope?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chasing bella around the room for half an hour while her parents could eat something in peace. seeing that smile spread on her face... is it enough?&lt;br /&gt;scooping rice and stew into a bowl and handing it to someone with an empty stomach. siting around a table in community eating... is it enough?&lt;br /&gt;sitting across the table from aaron watching him eat. seeing his puffy red eyes &amp;amp; hearing his story about his struggle with drugs... is it enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we cant block out homelessness. we cant block out drugs. we cant block out prostitution &amp;&amp;amp; we can block out pain, abuse, suffering and depression.&lt;br /&gt;it is reality.&lt;br /&gt;so what can we do?&lt;br /&gt;will putting blue lights in toilets stop people from using? will putting a gate, blocking out homeless people from your property stop people from being homeless? will fining beggers for  asking people for money stop people from begging?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;talk to them. offer them some food. offer them some money. offer them some hope.&lt;br /&gt;what have you got to lose?...some loose change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"keep your coins; i want change"&lt;br /&gt;                                 - painted on a wall by an addict&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;change in his life or ours?&lt;br /&gt;change in his life because he wants to get off the street or change in our lives with our attitude towards the homeless and addicts. you make up your own mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i heard a story whilst working with urban seed, well i heard many stories but i want to share one with you...&lt;br /&gt;'there was a wealthy businessman who decided he would dress up as a 'homeless bum' for a costume party. so he scruffed his hair, conveniently forgot to shave, didn't put and cologne on and put his 'costume' on. he decided he would walk to this costume party since it was not far, along his journey he noticed that people did not recognize his as the wealthy businessman that he was and they started to look at him differently. even a few people who looked similar started to talk to him. this man decided to stop at a seven eleven to get something, but he was refused entry. he tried to explain he was a businessman and infact had lots of money, he even had to pull out his wallet and show them the money. it was on this journey that this wealthy businessman understood what it felt like to be a homeless man. he was acting as a homeless man for 15 minutes and felt lonely and deserted, he imagined what it must be like for someone who has been there for 15 hours - 15 days - 15 weeks - 15 months - 15 years.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the truth is many of us haven't taken a 15 minute walk in a life that means to be homeless, to rely on drugs to help them block out reality, to have to sell themselves for sex just to gain a bit of money. we haven't even imagined in 15 seconds what it would be like.&lt;br /&gt;will you imagine it for 15 seconds?&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how do you feel?&lt;br /&gt;ashamed? guilty? empathy?&lt;br /&gt;but will you do something about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i spent one day hanging out with homeless people or hanging out with a bunch of people that were learning about homeless people. i learnt so much.&lt;br /&gt;i learnt that many people aren't even aware of whats going on. i learnt that people judge people upon what they see not what they know.&lt;br /&gt;i learnt how to make the world a better place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it was on that day i understood that having a two year old girl drag me around the room&lt;br /&gt;for half an hour allowing her to have a 'friend' and seeing her smile, was worth it. washing dishes and serving food, was worth it. sitting down watching someone eat hearing their story and sharing some of yours, was worth it. seeing young people in schools learn about urban seed and their work, was worth it. spending one day giving to others, was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;helping people to see that their life has worth. showing people love, God's love. talking, listening and seeing peoples lives...&lt;br /&gt;that is indescribable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Rebekah Laurene Hugo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-4986649060446123601?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/4986649060446123601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=4986649060446123601' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/4986649060446123601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/4986649060446123601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/06/from-bella-to-aaron.html' title='from bella to aaron.'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-7993475755184258545</id><published>2007-06-06T05:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T05:08:14.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>captivating love.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;The mere essence of God’s Grace has had an enlightening impact on my life. Firstly by his continuous presence in my daily life, although much of it is unseen until later… I am constantly learning through his teachings and life experiences. Secondly I am ever so empowered by simply his continuous love, yet so many times it makes things complicated in my mind. I will never fully understand the power of his love, and this allows me to continuously seek God. It amazes me how God allows himself to be revealed to me, though many of the time he can spiritually smack me across the head with many things at once. This sometimes makes things complicated to me because I take a while to process each thing and put my learning’s into my life to (as it seems) ‘betterfy myself’ – to make myself into something more worthy and honouring to God. But as I write these words I think of the overused worship song ‘Come now is the time to worship’ but in particular the line ‘come, &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;just&lt;/u&gt; as you are&lt;/b&gt; to worship.’ It occurs to me that in God’s mind he doesn’t care what kind of person we are he just wants us to ‘draw near to him’ (one of my favourite verses). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;In life I forget he sees us all the same, we are of same worth in his eyes. It is hard for me to describe what my mind interprets when I think of this, but it is something like he sees us as spiritual beings rather than human beings. I know I’m not explaining myself very well there, but imagine us being a transparent human form tube with all our characteristics written inside. That is almost how I imagine God seeing use. He doesn’t look to how good looking we are, or how big our muscles or boobs are, how skinny we are etc. to him he just see’s us for who we truly are. To him all that stuff doesn’t matter. It makes me think how significant, yet how insignificant I am. To the world I’m so insignificant I’m just another person who makes up the human population, but to God I’m his precious daughter and he made the right qualities to make me &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;u&gt;just&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt; as he wanted me to be. He made me Rebekah Laurene Hugo, a precious gift of his, not some form of junk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;It occurs to me that many things I do are pointless.. take msn and myspace for example. I spend much time on there… and what does it achieve? Nothing! What could I be doing instead, chilling with my one and only true and consistent God!...and possibly a bit more homework. But I think I really need to get my priorities right. I think I might do a fast for a week from myspace, msn, gush and even here. I will pray about it and see where God leads me. &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/5080640935728729617-7993475755184258545?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/7993475755184258545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=7993475755184258545' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7993475755184258545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7993475755184258545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/06/captivating-love.html' title='captivating love.'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-3158734977860346859</id><published>2007-06-02T04:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T05:33:07.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>why does it hurt so much...?</title><content type='html'>guys...&lt;br /&gt;they trap you&lt;br /&gt;they sting you&lt;br /&gt;and they leave you to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guys are designed to trample all over girls hearts...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-3158734977860346859?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/3158734977860346859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=3158734977860346859' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/3158734977860346859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/3158734977860346859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/06/why-does-it-hurt-so-much.html' title='why does it hurt so much...?'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-7480907063194290703</id><published>2007-05-25T23:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T23:31:58.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Mr. President - Pink</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Dear Mr. President,&lt;br /&gt;Come take a walk with me.&lt;br /&gt;Let's pretend we're just two people and&lt;br /&gt;You're not better than me.&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?&lt;br /&gt;Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?&lt;br /&gt;What do you feel when you look in the mirror?&lt;br /&gt;Are you proud?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?&lt;br /&gt;How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high?&lt;br /&gt;Can you even look me in the eye&lt;br /&gt;And tell me why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. President,&lt;br /&gt;Were you a lonely boy?&lt;br /&gt;Are you a lonely boy?&lt;br /&gt;Are you a lonely boy?&lt;br /&gt;How can you say&lt;br /&gt;No child is left behind?&lt;br /&gt;We're not dumb and we're not blind.&lt;br /&gt;They're all sitting in your cells&lt;br /&gt;While you pave the road to hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?&lt;br /&gt;And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?&lt;br /&gt;I can only imagine what the first lady has to say&lt;br /&gt;You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?&lt;br /&gt;How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high?&lt;br /&gt;Can you even look me in the eye?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you 'bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Minimum wage with a baby on the way&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you 'bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you 'bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Building a bed out of a cardboard box&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you 'bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;You don't know nothing 'bout hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Hard work&lt;br /&gt;Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you sleep at night?&lt;br /&gt;How do you walk with your head held high?&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. President,&lt;br /&gt;You'd never take a walk with me.&lt;br /&gt;Would you?&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/5080640935728729617-7480907063194290703?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/7480907063194290703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=7480907063194290703' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7480907063194290703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7480907063194290703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/05/dear-mr-president-pink.html' title='Dear Mr. President - Pink'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-2951506156463166063</id><published>2007-04-19T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-19T04:15:08.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>what i wish to say to 15 people...</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol style="margin-top: 0cm;" start="1" type="1"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;I just wish you could see how beautiful you really are. Its not      about your looks on the outside, what is inside counts for so much more. I      wish you didn’t have to wear your mask, I want you to be you. Being you is      the best thing you could do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;I wish things hadn’t have happened the way they did. I wish I knew      what I know now, back then. I wish we could still be close. I thought you      were a true friend of mine, but I guess it’s mostly my fault for the way      things went. If I could change anything, I would go back to the way things      were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;You’re everything I wish I could be. You are an incredible      person. And I wish I could be closer to you, but I know that won’t happen.      But knowing that I’m just glad I do know you. You have inspired me in so      many ways, ways you will never know. But I just thankyou for that. I know      you have some struggles, but I think you are an amazing person and you      have a beautiful soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;I love the way you carry yourself. I know that at times things      don’t go well, but you are so strong…in many ways. I wish in ways I had      what you have, I think you are so lucky. You have impact on me and that’s cool.      You make me laugh and you make me annoyed at times but I think that as      time goes on we may get closer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;I have known you for a very long time. We have had many trials,      together and apart…but we have always come through. Your strength is far      greater than you know, and you inspire me. What you have been through is      so incredible and your journey is mind blowing. But I thank God for who      you are today. Your story will have much impact on so many people, if only      you give them the chance to hear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;When I first met you, I thought the world of you. But I understand      how things are now. I know that what we had made me stronger. We are so      different now and I see how being close wouldn’t have worked. But I do      wish we could still be friends. I wish all the best for the future and I hope      you succeed in all your dreams and desires. You were a big part of my life      for a while, and I will never forget.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;Where do I start? Firstly, you’re amazing. Your so good to me,      too good. I don’t deserve someone like you in my life. But I’m glad you’re      there. I’m not sure about the future, and quite frankly it scares me. But in      some ways I think it’s a good thing. I long to grow closer to you. I think      you are great value and you have a beautiful heart. You have inspired me      to try new things, and I thank you for that. You’re just what I need in my      life right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I wish you could see me      for who I really am. I wish I could be comfortable around you. I don’t think      this whole thing is working. Even though I wish it would. I don’t know      what to do anymore. However I think you are an amazing person. You’re      really strong and you got through your battles with much power.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;You’re so special to me, you make me laugh, you make me smile      and you make cry. You challenge me and I like that. I have so much fun      with you and we don’t hang out by ourselves enough. Although at time I don’t      think you see me as I see you and sometimes that hurts me. You are direct      and you have strong qualities. You’re a beautiful person and so many      people think of you highly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;You live too far away. I love you so much. I always think of      you and miss you. When I do see you, we have the best fun. I wish I could      be there for you, but you are a strong person. I know you can get through      this. I wish you could know my best friend more, he can get you through      the toughest times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;Your story impacted me in ways I can not describe. You have      helped me become the person I am today, and I don’t know where I would be      without you. I don’t think I would have made it if you didn’t come into my      life when you did. You continue to be supportive to me and I thank you so      much for everything. You will never fully understand it all. But thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;I miss you so much; you were such a big part of my life. You encouraged      me, challenged me, laughed with me and at me and most of all you helped me      grow. You left at such a hard time in my life. I wish we spoke more and I wish      we could have good old fun times together. I get excited when you come      down this way now and it’s always a joy to see you again. I miss our      coffees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;From the moment I met you I knew we would become good friends. I      felt so natural around you. The instant we met we were able to laugh and      joke and muck around. I always have fun when we hand out together. I thank      you that you’re always there for me. I love how one minuet we can be      having fun and the next we can be deep in conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;Sometimes I don’t like the way you treat me. It’s not fair. You      go off at me without hearing me out. You make me feel rotten at times and I      wish you could just let me be. But I do think you’re a lot of fun. I don’t      like how we have drifted apart. It makes me sad and I wish we could      restore it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-AU"&gt;You’re like a big brother to me. I love how we have heaps of      deep chats. I like how I can talk to you but that you also can talk to me.      You have grown so much as a person lately and I think it’s incredible to      think your really only at the start of the journey. You’re such a girl at      times and it makes me laugh, but it’s cute. You’re fun to be around, and I      like hanging out with you. I like how do things to make me feel special. Thanks      for being you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-2951506156463166063?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/2951506156463166063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=2951506156463166063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/2951506156463166063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/2951506156463166063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/04/what-i-wish-to-say-to-15-people.html' title='what i wish to say to 15 people...'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-5860855744556677164</id><published>2007-04-18T02:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T02:44:17.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>am i good enough?</title><content type='html'>Relationships.&lt;br /&gt;I have been having this feeling lately of doubt.&lt;br /&gt;is there really someone out there for me.&lt;br /&gt;the biggest struggle i have is i cant understand how a guy can love me for me.&lt;br /&gt;how a guy can think i am so special, someone who cares for me so deeply.&lt;br /&gt;how could someone want to marry me? how can someone want to live with me?&lt;br /&gt;how can someone want to be with me forever?&lt;br /&gt;how can someone put up with me?&lt;br /&gt;how can they love me when im grouchy, mean and annoying?&lt;br /&gt;i have been thinking about this so much. its a big thing.&lt;br /&gt;friendship&gt;relationship&gt;engagement&gt;marriage&gt;family&gt;children&gt;its a big thing!&lt;br /&gt;who would love me enough?&lt;br /&gt;i just cant get my head around it.&lt;br /&gt;the more i think of it. the more doubt i have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-5860855744556677164?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/5860855744556677164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=5860855744556677164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/5860855744556677164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/5860855744556677164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/04/am-i-good-enough.html' title='am i good enough?'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-8923758456127028013</id><published>2007-04-16T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T05:30:01.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my hero.</title><content type='html'>why do i feel like whatever i do is never worthy enough? why do i feel like no body cares? why do i feel like everyone forgets? why cant i shake these feelings? i need God. right now. he is all i need, all i want. he can satisfy my hunger. this hole this pain i feel. he can help me escape from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he died for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did you really have to die for me? what could i say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he is the greatest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how many people can say that their hero died for the whole world?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5080640935728729617-8923758456127028013?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/8923758456127028013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=8923758456127028013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/8923758456127028013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/8923758456127028013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-hero.html' title='my hero.'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080640935728729617.post-7417720277004857960</id><published>2007-03-14T04:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T13:39:32.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>important people...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;These are the incredible people that have impacted my life and made me who i am today. i dont know what i would do without them. i love all you guys...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" &gt;Bernii -&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;This girl is my everything. she is always there for me. we are 'bert and erni' she understands most of the crap that comes out of my mouth. she is always there to bitch to hug and even yell at. and for that i love her. she loves me even when i am a total arse! she is the coolest chik to be around and always makes me laugh. i look up to her. she teaches me new things. all in all she is my 'sister' and my hero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Stef - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;was born the same day as me, we think of each other as 'twin sisters but from different parents' she has always been my other self. but just a more insane version. this girl has been through so much, i am ever so proud of who this young girl has become. she always looked up to me...now i can look up to her. she makes me laugh, she makes me cry, she makes me mad. but as my twin i still love her. no one knows her like i do. i can see through her. she will always be my 'twin sister'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Jason -&lt;/span&gt; My best friend at school. without him i would hate school. as much as he pisses me off, i still love him. even though we have been through so much, and still are going through a lot. you will always be my friend, nothing can change that. i am so delighted to be able to do the deb with you and can not wait. you have always stuck by my side, and i wish i could say the same. im sorry i havent always been who you wanted me to be, and i thankyou for understanding why. you mean so much more to me than you know. i love how our friendship started from chocolate...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;Tristan - &lt;/span&gt;brother tristan is my phone call buddy. we call eachother each week and stay in contact. mostly we talk about me, and my problems. and i thank him so much for that. he means a lot to me and has given me many words of wisdom. even though we have not hung out very much we will always remain long distant buddies. you are my bro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Jane -&lt;/span&gt; you are one crazy, funny yet, loving and caring girls. you alowed me to have my friends at school. i remembered when i first asked you if i could hang out with you and your friends, i was so scared. i love coming to harras you in target, but i always love doing littlle things to help out. i hate how you can talk me into doing things. you are an inspiration to lots of people. dealing with the last month or so has been so encouraging.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Amy -&lt;/span&gt; my goodness girl you make me laugh. i also hate how she can convince me to do things. your laugh makes me laugh. its a good thing. she just makes me smile in general. she comes out with the stupidest things and will have you have you fitting on the floor in hysterics. especially with the combonation of jane aswell....good times with sherbet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;nick - &lt;/span&gt;is my random msgin buddy. i havent known him for long. but he always makes me laugh and i have to mention him. he would do anything for most people. he loves to put others before himself which is so awesome. he always has some random information that is both full of inspiration and wisdom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Bindy - &lt;/span&gt;this girl is pretty much one of the coolest people around.i love being able to be a total dickhead with you, knowing that it doesn't matter. i love the time you came to spend with me in the holidays. even though i dont get to see her nearly enough. i love her, it makes the time we do have together more special. we are total nutcases together and there is never a dull moment being with you. you are stronger than you think you are. and i know you will be able to get through the tough time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Renee -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;is just awesome. she is a lot older than me, but acts a lot younger than me. for that i love her. im always having fun when im with her, or when im talking to her. but i also love how she is so supportive and encouraging. she knows how to be deep when need be. but other than that she is pretty much crazy all the time. i love her coming to visit me and i hate it when she has to leave. i should just kiddnap her and handcuff her to my bed. but somehow i dont think that will ever work. she is so inpiring to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;adam&lt;/span&gt; - the person i call on when i need a chat, or im in trouble. he always gives good advice, he makes me think about things in a new light. he chalenges me to think about things, and to act upon what i hae thought about. he was a great study leader, and he is great fun. he know's how to have big jokes, that are unbelievable. he is so inspirational for me and many others. the journey that he has come from to be the person he is today, is just incredible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;adele -&lt;/span&gt; my seal friend. what can i say? we became friends pretty much the instant we met. im sure she thought i was a nutter. and then she got to know me and found that she was right. lol anyway. we have a few little jokes going on that i love. mainly our seal one. *argt argt*  hehe. she is great fun to be around. she is also awesome to talk about girlie stuff, stuff thats going on in our little heads that God wouldn't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;so thanks, i couldnt be me without you.&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/5080640935728729617-7417720277004857960?l=bekkiebaby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/feeds/7417720277004857960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5080640935728729617&amp;postID=7417720277004857960' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7417720277004857960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5080640935728729617/posts/default/7417720277004857960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bekkiebaby.blogspot.com/2007/03/important-people.html' title='important people...'/><author><name>Beksta</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03663016313666391880</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
