<?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-8009144466655809801</id><updated>2011-11-13T15:13:57.622-06:00</updated><category term='motherhood'/><category term='children'/><category term='Weightloss'/><title type='text'>My Mama Drama and Life's Other Tidbits</title><subtitle type='html'>The following are my daily thoughts, struggles and joys as a young mom, wife, friend, sister, daughter.  Some of it may be brutally honest.  I will emphasize my ongoing pursuit to be healthy and annoyingly thin. LOL.  Enjoy, and leave me feedback!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-8248551656975446822</id><published>2009-06-18T09:42:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T10:27:32.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>STILL Waiting for Micah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5CPP2vxL5rs/SjpUSOtPVgI/AAAAAAAAABE/fCALrKsO2TI/s1600-h/Micah%27s-Room.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348680179618108930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5CPP2vxL5rs/SjpUSOtPVgI/AAAAAAAAABE/fCALrKsO2TI/s320/Micah%27s-Room.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up this morning and thought to myself, "Today is a good day to give birth."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I won't mention that I've thought this everyday this week. But today is different because it is the 18th, the same day Noah was born. Wouldn't it be exciting to have both boys birthdays on the 18th. I go to the doctor today and will do my darndest to talk him into rushing me to the hospital. You never know with doctors though. Sometimes I think they are the biggest procrastinators in the world. I am officially full term with Mr. Micah Benjamin (as Bryan has formally decided his full name will be) and have officially had it with pregnancy. It's days like today that remind me why this will be my last. The "waiting patiently" for the little guy to arrive is more than I can stand! But the room is ready, all the little preemie outfits are laid out, and newborn diapers waiting to be filled. I decided to do a "monkey" theme in Micah's room. That's what he's reminded me of from the very beginning; all long limbs and squirming and climbing around my stomach this entire nine months. It seemed fitting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, I stopped to think today that a person can't possibly know how hard of a job it is to be a parent until they finally take the leap and become one. One can't possibly know how rewarding it is either. And most of all, one can't possibly comprehend the depth of love God has for us, until we truly experience that love for another firsthand. It's amazing how much you can love someone when they've done nothing to deserve it yet. You just love them because they ARE and because they came from you. I finally understand that that is the way God loves me. I've done NOTHING to deserve it, but he can't NOT love me because I am a part of Him, a part of his plan and just because I exsist. There are so many times when I look at Noah in his rather "unlovable moments", and just shake my head at the fact that even THEN, I can't stop loving him. I wish all people understood this kind of love. I know I will feel the same love for Micah the moment I see him for the first time. I've become sentimental today, because I know the moment is coming quite soon and I am so anxious to love ON him, since I've already been loving him for 9 months. I want to express that love to him like I do with Noah. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know having these two boys will forever turn my world upside down, but since I can't remember it being any other way, I know I will love every minute of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I LOST MY MIND&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think I've lost some memory&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;since my precious Noah was born&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't remember sleeping late&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;on a lazy Sunday morn&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember quiet dinners&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;with candlelight and wine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or getting up and ready for work&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and making it there on time.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember summer days&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;just lounging on the beach&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And those memories of "girls' night out"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;are somehow out of reach.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember long warm baths&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;with bubbles and a good book&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Or my favorite TV program&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;or a movie worth a look.&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember all those things&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I spent time on yesterday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I can't remember my life &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;being any other way.&lt;br /&gt;But as I lay him down at night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I smile at my life this time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I can't remember so much happiness,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Since the day I lost my mind.&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/8009144466655809801-8248551656975446822?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/8248551656975446822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=8248551656975446822' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/8248551656975446822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/8248551656975446822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/still-waiting-for-micah.html' title='STILL Waiting for Micah'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_5CPP2vxL5rs/SjpUSOtPVgI/AAAAAAAAABE/fCALrKsO2TI/s72-c/Micah%27s-Room.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-2314951027328119497</id><published>2009-06-12T10:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T11:19:12.998-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Waiting for Micah</title><content type='html'>Today marks the day I am officially FULL-TERM with my second little boy, and let me tell you, I did NOT see this day coming last year at this time!  We weren't entirely "planning" on a second child this soon, but God has a sense of humor and a divine plan,  and we are thrilled to be a part of it.  Noah will officially be a big brother in less than two weeks.  Truthfully, that brings all sorts of emotions to my mind.  My "baby" will not be my baby anymore.  He tells me constantly, "I'm a big boy, Mommy!"  Just the fact that he is old enough to utter those words brings tears to my eyes someday.  I always thought it was cheesy when my parents used to say, "We remember it like it was yesterday when we brought YOU home from the hospital!"  And though it's only been 2 and a half years, it seems like only yesterday that it was Noah kicking inside my tummy.  I remember feeling so excited and so nervous about being a mom.  I guess I'm starting to get the basics down! ;)  Some days, that's up for question!  But a Mom to TWO boys?  How is that supposed to work??  Noah still demands so much of me, and shortly, there will be TWO little men that God has given me the responsibility of raising up into men of God.  That job and that privelege is too much for me to comprehend.  It's enough for me to wake up everyday and just try to love them the best I know how.  Noah is going through all kinds of phases right now.  Most of which are not pleasant.  I'd say the  terrible twos are definitely among us.  He is super independant, yet not that resourceful on his own, which makes for a very irritating time at home.  He wants to put  his OWN shoes on, open the door HIMSELF, peel the banana HIS way, put his toys away in HIS time, and quite frankly, I wish  somedays that he wasn't so persistant. I yearn for the babyness to come back where he  wanted Mommy to do it all for him, because that sped up the process and caused for a lot less patience. LOL.  But, I know in the long run, he is learning to depend on himself.  He is teaching himself that he CAN do all things.  Although it's aggravating sometimes, it's wonderful to see and be a part of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here I sit, typing as this new little man has the hiccups in my stomach.  We have no idea what he looks like, who he will act like, or what he will become, but we are full of anticipation for what the coming months will look like for our family of four.  I'm sure there will be days of exhaustion and days of energy.  I pray the days of energy and enthusiasm are plenty!  I'm on maternity leave early waiting on Micah to get here.  The days and moments are dragging by and I so wish I could hold him already.  I can't wait to see how much he reminds me of Noah.  Those first few weeks are so precious, and since I'm not sure if my adorable husband will let me endure pregnancy ever again, I need to savor all the moments I can because Micah may be my last little miracle.  I am nervous about how having a second child will change the dynamics of the family and marriage, but I also trust that God has had his hand in  this from the very beginning.  I know he is the giver of life.  I'm so blessed that he's chosen me again.  So as I'm waiting for Micah,  I'm also in pursuit of His plan.  God, show me all  that you want me to accomplish by being a  mom to this new little man.  Shower me with your  patience, compassion, love, and kindness as I take on this new journey and allow me to  feel your presence every step of the way.  Be a Father to me so I can mother these boys.  Let that love spill over into everything I do for them so that when they grow up, they can't possibly look at me without also seeing YOU. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-2314951027328119497?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/2314951027328119497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=2314951027328119497' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/2314951027328119497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/2314951027328119497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2009/06/waiting-for-micah.html' title='Waiting for Micah'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-5239886010316251350</id><published>2008-09-07T10:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T10:06:18.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I Want to Be Two&lt;br /&gt;I want to be someone in between&lt;br /&gt;The me now, and the me before&lt;br /&gt;and somehow, I am the me I've become&lt;br /&gt;Because of this&lt;br /&gt;Torn&lt;br /&gt;Separated from my confidence,&lt;br /&gt;Humiliated by my greed&lt;br /&gt;Crushed by my lack&lt;br /&gt;of self-control&lt;br /&gt;self-restraint,&lt;br /&gt;self-denial&lt;br /&gt;I want to be two&lt;br /&gt;The one THEY see,&lt;br /&gt;and the me YOU see.&lt;br /&gt;I sigh&lt;br /&gt;Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;Unfaithful&lt;br /&gt;to myself. my future. my desires. my dreams&lt;br /&gt;the real me screams&lt;br /&gt;for you to understand&lt;br /&gt;I want to be ONE&lt;br /&gt;with you,&lt;br /&gt;and the other&lt;br /&gt;to save.&lt;br /&gt;The conflict&lt;br /&gt;so grave, the possibilities&lt;br /&gt;to stand up,&lt;br /&gt;only to fall for you.&lt;br /&gt;not the one;&lt;br /&gt;but the Two.&lt;br /&gt;One for myself&lt;br /&gt;One for you&lt;br /&gt;leaving nothing for someone. . .&lt;br /&gt;for who?&lt;br /&gt;I want to be two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-5239886010316251350?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/5239886010316251350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=5239886010316251350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/5239886010316251350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/5239886010316251350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-want-to-be-two-i-want-to-be-someone.html' title=''/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-43832212920353468</id><published>2008-09-07T10:04:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T10:04:51.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;When will I Shake this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fog is clouding my gaze&lt;br /&gt;My life, this maze,&lt;br /&gt;The weeks leave me&lt;br /&gt;Dazed&lt;br /&gt;Somewhat Confused&lt;br /&gt;Was this Used&lt;br /&gt;For Your Glory?&lt;br /&gt;Would I not have looked up&lt;br /&gt;Had you had enough&lt;br /&gt;Of my wandering&lt;br /&gt;My lusful eyes treasuring&lt;br /&gt;Things that weren't mine for the taking&lt;br /&gt;Now my heart&lt;br /&gt;Breaking for the old frame&lt;br /&gt;Of my life back,&lt;br /&gt;I went, it came&lt;br /&gt;I didn't take care&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't aware&lt;br /&gt;Of the tragedy&lt;br /&gt;My heart&lt;br /&gt;It's melody. . .muffled.&lt;br /&gt;I move on&lt;br /&gt;Carrying the beaten path with me&lt;br /&gt;To a new place, a new Face&lt;br /&gt;I gaze up, am I enough now?&lt;br /&gt;Restore me, console me, prepare me&lt;br /&gt;For my stand, my resistance&lt;br /&gt;Your hand extends past the past&lt;br /&gt;Into the present&lt;br /&gt;You have wrapped up for me.&lt;br /&gt;Make me strong&lt;br /&gt;Cause I'm not on my own&lt;br /&gt;Will it follow me?&lt;br /&gt;Can I shake it? &lt;br /&gt;The feelings, the pleasure, the pain?&lt;br /&gt;It left two slain in this mess. . .&lt;br /&gt;You. . .me. . .&lt;br /&gt;When will it be through?&lt;br /&gt;When can I take it&lt;br /&gt;When will I make it&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I shake it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-43832212920353468?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/43832212920353468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=43832212920353468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/43832212920353468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/43832212920353468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/09/when-will-i-shake-this-fog-is-clouding.html' title=''/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-7736214153420606058</id><published>2008-07-21T09:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T09:49:38.271-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Pursuit of Butterflies (1)</title><content type='html'>Four years ago this November, I traveled to Africa. This had been a dream of mine since middle school. I had been to a Youth Evangelism Conference at a friend's church and they hosted a guest speaker from Malawi. He was beautiful. Not necessarily by the world's standards, but when he spoke, he radiated. He told of his country and his people, so poverty-stricken, yet so joyful. He was a pastor of a church and had only come to know the Lord 3 years ago, but his level of intimacy with Him was positively breathtaking. He invited us to join him in prayer for the people of Africa, for there were so many dying of disease, famine, and lonliness. I, however, didn't want to pray. I wanted to go.Eight years later, I went. I teamed up with a group called 4H.I.M ministries to travel to Ghana and Togo, Africa to help bring joy to kids in an orphanage and to aid in treating medical needs there. I was so excited, my dream finally coming true. I was going to see people on the other side of the world, and show my Jesus to them. I was going to love them and pray with them and give myself to them for twelve amazing days! As the plane landed in Africa, I was ecstatic!But something happenned to me as I took my first steps off the plane and onto African soil. I felt completely and utterly alone. God had taken me to a place that couldn't have been farther from my friends, family, and comfort zone. I was afraid.We traveled in the middle of the night to a private school in the country. It was there that we met our translater, Kenneth, recieved instructions for the next day, and were shown to our beds. When we awoke in the morning, we would head to the orphanage. I tossed and turned all night. I kept asking God if I had done the right thing, leaving my husband and family to come all the way across the ocean. Was it really going to make a difference? Why did I have this dream to come here? My sanity was kept intact by remembering words that were given to me by Beth Moore through a bible DVD series that I had been in the middle of when I left. "The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me. Because the Lord has annointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives, and release the prisoners from darkness. . ." I had to remind myself that there were plenty of poor in spirit and in wealth here and they needed the good news I had. It seemed like God had spoken so clearly to me in that verse through the DVD, I just wish that he would speak that clearly to me here.The following morning, we arose and met Kenneth once again. He wanted to take us on a quick tour of his private school and host a prayer vigil before we headed out to the orphanage. I'm unhappy to say that I was impatient. I was ready to go and get my mission started. I was ready to meet the children and hear their excited chatter and hold their hands and love on them. Fortunately, my Father and I are very much alike. However, he wanted to take a moment to answer my voice, to hold my hand, and to love on me.Kenneth led us to a gymnasium that had just been built. He was explaining how they constructed it, who was involved, how long it took, etc, etc. I didn't hear a word he said. As I walked through the front doors, my heart dropped to gymnasium floor. It was like someone said, "LOOK." I just stared in awe to the answer to my prayer. Written in bold letters all the way around the gym, were the words to the scripture from Isaiah 61."The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, o proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."It was then that I felt His hand on me in Africa.And as we left the gymnasium to head to the bus bound for the orphanage, I realized why God had led me to Africa. He had annointed me. He adored me, and wanted me to adore His children there. He loved me and wanted that LOVE to spill over into the hearts of the African people. I will forever know in my heart, however, that even if I weren't to accomplish any of those things there, he sent me to Africa to see the writing on the wall.I walked away that day inspired and awestruck. I walked away changed.I walked away with butterflies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-7736214153420606058?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7736214153420606058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=7736214153420606058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7736214153420606058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7736214153420606058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/in-pursuit-of-butterflies-1_21.html' title='In Pursuit of Butterflies (1)'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-6102717370079002820</id><published>2008-07-21T09:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T09:29:47.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Bucket List</title><content type='html'>Lifechurch.tv is doing a series entitled “At the Movies”, and this week’s focus was on a recent film with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman called The Bucket List.  I personally have not seen this movie from beginning to end, but it’s definitely going to be on my to-do list.  The gist of the movie is that two guys, who find out that they have cancer, form a friendship over the making of a list of things that they must accomplish before they “kick the bucket”.  We were shown some clips of the movie during the sermon, and they really stirred some emotions in me. &lt;br /&gt;          I am forever making lists myself.  Usually grocery lists, chore lists, work-task lists, book lists, etc.  But I don’t think I’ve ever really sat down and thought about the things that I must do before I die.  Making that list would require a great deal more thought than organizing my groceries, or projects for the week.  For I’m realizing that the things that I wish to accomplish this week, or month, or even year, are not necessarily things that would warrant a space on my “bucket list”.  They seem petty and insignificant. &lt;br /&gt;          Along with their adventures together to complete their lists, Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson come to the realization that most of the things that really mean something to them in the end relate to relationships.  Our pastor talked about a verse that is very familiar to me.  It talks about a man that asked Jesus, “What is the most important commandment of all?”  Jesus replied, “The greatest commandment is this, that you love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your might, and with all your strength.  And the second greatest commandment is like it.  Love your neighbor as yourself.” &lt;br /&gt;          In thinking about my “bucket list” and relating it to this scripture, it occurs to me that most, if not all, of the items on my list should be relational.  God very clearly states that we need to spend our life learning to love HIM more.  It’s the greatest commandment, after all.  And the second commandment states that we should take that love further in learning to love our neighbor as ourselves.  God says that our relationships should be our top priority, under loving Him.  Does my bucket list reflect that mindset?&lt;br /&gt;          I would say that I am a very relational person.  But there are relationships in my life that I have left on the backburner just because I wanted to concentrate on work, or school, or reading, or writing, or activities.  I need to make them right.  I need to make them a priority. &lt;br /&gt;          I’m going to start my “Bucket List” tonight.  And hopefully, it will steer my life in a direction that is more in tune with the heart of God.  I want to value my friends and family the way God does.  And I want to accomplish things in my life that make a lasting impression on the people I love.  I want to live my life in a way that inspires others to love as well.  I know that this week, my grocery list won’t matter nearly as much!  I’ll be focusing on a bit higher calling. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-6102717370079002820?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/6102717370079002820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=6102717370079002820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/6102717370079002820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/6102717370079002820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-bucket-list.html' title='My Bucket List'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-7361620897949084059</id><published>2008-07-19T13:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T13:45:18.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Blues</title><content type='html'>I'm realizing sometimes I'm my own worst enemy.  I feel as though I've spent the majority of the summer griping at myself for not being &lt;em&gt;ready for the summer.  &lt;/em&gt;Last summer, I swore to myself that I would be back in shape, full of energy, and soaking up summer for all it's worth.  I spend the majority of my time inside, when I should be out enjoying the sunshine and water.  But I feel uncomfortable.  It's amazing how society has fashioned us into thinking you have to be a certain weight to be seen in a swimsuit.  I'm even starting to believe them.  I was mortified when I put mine on for the first time this year.  I may be slightly in denial, but I don't think I'm what you would consider a "big girl", but let's face it, after a baby, things don't fit into a bikini the way that they used to! ;)  I just wish society as a whole would start to be more concerned with what's on the inside than what's on the outside.  It would make my life, and my summer, run so much smoother. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what I wish more than anything is that the process of losing weight and getting toned didn't have to come at such a cost to the tastebuds and the wallet.  Why is being thin so expensive and so disgusting?  Most vegetables just don't do it for me.  And I'm learning fast that eating too many fruits only adds to my sugar and carb intake. UGH!  I'm not sure WHAT I can eat anymore!  And let's just get it out there that calling a diet, a "food plan", does NOT make it any easier.   I'm seconds away from deciding that being skinny is not worth the sacrifices.  Surely it can't be &lt;em&gt;that fabulous!&lt;/em&gt;  I've been there before, and didn't think it was all that! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm just venting today, and scared my summer is slowly seeping away without much excitement.  I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; plan to keep up my regime of eating healthier (yuck) and spending as much time as I can outside and active in order to get my physich back.  I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; it will be worth it.  And I will be proud of myself for doing it.  Honestly, the pride I have in myself for finally reaching my goal by next summer may far outweigh the actual feeling of being thin.  After all, it's what's inside that counts, right!  I would just really love for the outside and the inside to match! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the listening ear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-7361620897949084059?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7361620897949084059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=7361620897949084059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7361620897949084059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7361620897949084059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/summer-blues.html' title='Summer Blues'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-7663792594419606257</id><published>2008-07-14T23:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T23:41:00.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When Reality Fogs the Dreams of Yesterday</title><content type='html'>It is rare that I actually get time to myself to sit and really think about my life.   I have a husband who needs my affection and listening ear, a toddler who constantly wants to hang on to my attention, friends I am constantly neglecting, laundry that goes unfinished, dirty dishes, a disastrous MESS of a car, legs that consistently need shaving, and mountains of unanswered emails from family and dearly missed friends.   With all of this chaos constantly cluttering up my life, it's no wonder that my reality has clouded my view and remembrance of the dreams I had for my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, as I was rocking Noah to sleep, I got to remember.  I took myself back to a time where Friday night football games and tomorrow's book report were the only things that got in the way of my daydreaming big things for my future.  I was so determined and so excited about all the things I just KNEW God had planned for my life.  Things like turning those children's books I wrote my junior and senior year into real published peices.  Oh, how I wanted to be a REAL Author!  And then I would go on to write other things, such as devotionals for teenagers, then maybe even travel around speaking to teens all over the nation about how they can truly be intimate with the Lord and hear what calling he has for them and their future.  My dream was to be an instrument that God used to point people to their God-given future.  To encourage them to be all that God wants them to be and to NEVER lose sight of their dreams.  Funny how I lost sight of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many reasons why life has gotten in the way of God's plan for me.  Not that I don't think he has me here for a reason.  I believe each season has a purpose, even those seasons of confusion and chaos and clouded dreams.  But I think the main reason I can't see past the fog of reality is simply this:  I've lost the passion in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think in any life, in any marriage even, there are moments when the butterflies, the passion, are missing.  They are never gone, they are just temporarily misplaced.  I am in the process in this season of my life, to find those butterflies again.  They were beautiful when they were there.  They spurred excitement, dreams, a clear anointed vision for what I wanted to accomplish in my life.  So, as of today, I am on the hunt for those butterflies.  The best way I know how to find them, is to remember where I had them last.  In the next few months, I plan to do the things which I once did, to attain that which I once had.  The passion, the butterflies, the dreams. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that all said. . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be an AUTHOR.  I want to be a COUNSELOR.  I want to be a SPEAKER.  I want to TRAVEL to places where people don't know the GOD I know.  I want to TEACH.  I want to PREACH.  I want to ENCOURAGE.  I want to be an INSTRUMENT God uses in the life of other women.  I want to MINISTER.  I want to REMEMBER how to be INTIMATE with my FIRST LOVE.   I want to GROW.  I want to HEAL.  I want to be ANOINTED again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I know God will accomplish all this through me and much, much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For the Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.  He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor  and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—  to bestow on them a crown of beauty  instead of ashes,  the oil of gladness        instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness,  a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my vision, my passion. . . .my butterflies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-7663792594419606257?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7663792594419606257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=7663792594419606257' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7663792594419606257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7663792594419606257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/when-reality-fogs-dreams-of-yesterday.html' title='When Reality Fogs the Dreams of Yesterday'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-7078683843323626355</id><published>2008-07-13T18:19:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T09:43:26.772-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Has My Heart</title><content type='html'>I have to say, being a young mom to a little boy is the coolest miracle in the world. Granted, I don't have any experience with daughters (yet/as I'm hopeful), but there is just something about little boys. Today was the first time that my 17 month old little man looked at me, and when I said (as I do so often), "I love you, Noah", he replied, "I ug oo". My heart swelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/yourbelle2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=AIRPORT3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/yourbelle2/AIRPORT3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday is a new adventure. He's sweet as pie one minute, looking up at me under those long eyelashes and poking out that bottom lip and whimpering, "hi mommeeee", and in one split second he takes on the personality of the Incredible Hulk and balls up his fist and strains even his neck muscles in frustration at me telling him "NO" to punching the buttons on the t.v. I almost can't keep up! ;) But I press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a mom to a little boy means having unending patience, as he is forever persistent. A trait that will grow up to suit him nicely, but is only an irritation now as he refuses to back down from leaving Daddy's DVD case intact. It means fostering that determination he has with learning how to climb up and down the stairs, knowing that that same determination will help him climb mountains in the future. It means being there every night to put him to bed, reading, bathing, rocking, singing, showing him there is a safety to routine, so that he will understand a time and a place for everything. Being a mom to a little boy means not letting him scream and screech with frustration now, so he will learn to tame his anger when he is older. It means saying and doing all the things we &lt;em&gt;SWORE&lt;/em&gt; we would never say. . . ."&lt;em&gt;Use your inside voice, son!. . . .Do NOT throw that! You're going to put someone's eye out!. . .Slow down!. . . .Because I said so!. . . .and my all time favorite, Don't make me come over there!" &lt;/em&gt;because you know I will, and you know I DO everytime. Little boys think it's the coolest game ever to have Mommy chase them, tackle them, tickle them til their cheeks are pink with glee and they've peed their pants!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think at this stage in the game, my biggest reward thus far are his smiles. Not just the toothy grins he gives when he knows he's being mischevious, or the ones with the tongue hanging out, waiting for Mommy to tell him how silly he is, but the ones full of pride. For every few days, he will learn something new. And knowing when he looks at me sounding out a new word for him, and then repeats it back effortlessly for the first time, the smiles that emerge from my showers of praise are worth every sleepless night, every temper tantrum, and every ache and pain of childbirth. When my little man claps his hands and squeals, "YAAAAAY!" at himself for learning something new, is by far the greatest miracle in the world. I know I had a hand in it. And his smiles of pride melt me everytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know he will continue to learn new things. I know he will continue to try my patience, push his boundaries, and do what all little boys do best. . .Make their Mommy's crazy! :) And I can't wait to sit in the sidelines and be a small part of the cheerleader, the driver, the teacher, the friend, the comforter, and the mom. Because I'm not sure when it happenned. Maybe it was the first time he took a step on his own. Or the first time he said "Mommy". Or the way I feel when I see the way he looks at my husband, so adoring. But at some point in time along the way, I realized just how much I love being a mom to a little boy. For if it's one thing I'm certain of, it's this. This little man forever has my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/yourbelle2/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Noah-lookup.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g84/yourbelle2/Noah-lookup.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-7078683843323626355?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/7078683843323626355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=7078683843323626355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7078683843323626355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/7078683843323626355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/he-has-my-heart.html' title='He Has My Heart'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8009144466655809801.post-259932385820195543</id><published>2008-07-13T18:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T18:18:57.639-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weightloss'/><title type='text'>http://www.fitday.com/WebFit/PublicJournals.html?Owner=yourbelle2</title><content type='html'>So, the above link is my new fitness/wellness journal.  Feel free to check it out anytime.  I'll be updating it daily.  It will be all about my ongoing struggle to feel and look healthier in the near future.  Of course, along with any new challenge, accountability is key.  I do have a "partner" in this new endeavor (thanks Abbi!), but any other feedback/encouragement will be appreciated as well!  The goal is to be 27 lbs lighter in 3 months, MUCH, MUCH more active, and have tons more energy.  Off we go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8009144466655809801-259932385820195543?l=michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/feeds/259932385820195543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8009144466655809801&amp;postID=259932385820195543' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/259932385820195543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8009144466655809801/posts/default/259932385820195543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://michellenicoleclark.blogspot.com/2008/07/httpwwwfitdaycomwebfitpublicjournalshtm.html' title='http://www.fitday.com/WebFit/PublicJournals.html?Owner=yourbelle2'/><author><name>Miss Banana Pants</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F42cYkII4wo/TnDQ6-xHbFI/AAAAAAAAACc/2pB6CNuhIbM/s220/sillyface.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
