<?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-20185440</id><updated>2011-11-25T07:08:03.252-06:00</updated><title type='text'>.simple thoughts.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>56</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-1454480135260617524</id><published>2011-08-12T18:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T10:08:33.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ridiculousness</title><content type='html'>Check this out: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYGWl3i9SmA"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYGWl3i9SmA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand this song. Sit, listen, read the lyrics. It is a song I have heard many times, sang along with, and enjoyed. I hadn't however, until today that is, really listened to the lyrics. Today they hit me with a great weight. I found this song quite disturbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No it is not explicitly violent nor dangerous to listeners, rather the lyrical content and upbeat music do not seem to match. What I really dont' get is at what point did songs with lyrics such as, "You'd better run, better run, outrun my gun," sound to be upbeat, happy, and energetic? And at what point have we as consumers accepted this? Some will weite me off as a peace-loving hippy.. and maybe in some ways I am, but I think we seriously need to consider what we are choosing to listen to. I mean come on. Knowing people who have been personally affected by gun violence, I just don't see the humour, nor the point of these lyrics. Whats next? Are we going to sing casual songs of people dying of cancer? of HIV? of drug overdoses or suicides put to quick tempos and danceable music? No. Becasue they are tragedies and should not be made light of... these are just my thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-1454480135260617524?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/1454480135260617524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=1454480135260617524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/1454480135260617524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/1454480135260617524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2011/08/ridiculousness.html' title='ridiculousness'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-5762268222749724468</id><published>2011-03-19T12:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T12:45:54.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring is in the air</title><content type='html'>Can you feel it? Can you smell it? Can you touch it? I can sense it in my spirit and in my bones. I can! And although I have basically grounded myself for a month with the exception of school, work and practicing with buninga, I can feel the warmth through the window, and know that the winter blues are gone. At least for a time. And the idea brings me peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-5762268222749724468?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/5762268222749724468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=5762268222749724468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5762268222749724468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5762268222749724468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2011/03/spring-is-in-air.html' title='Spring is in the air'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-3507080327576240586</id><published>2010-12-03T16:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T17:05:39.176-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Uncomfortable</title><content type='html'>Every 2.2 seconds, a child loses a parent due to war, natural disaster, poverty, disease and other causes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I did a presentation on a workshop designed to give ideas to caregivers to implement play therapy techniques with orphaned children who have experienced trauma. The presentation was to a small group of classmates who are all ECE's and I feel it went pretty well. A couple classmates warned me, "Caitlin, I hope you don't make me cry." and although I was successful at ensuring the workshop wasn't too emotional for any of my classmates, I left with tears in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have become somewhat obsessed in my experiences in both Jamaica and Romania working with orphaned children, and almost every project within this last semester some how incorporated the lives those children. I see their faces in every picture of poverty, hear their voices in every broadcast about war, and feel their heart anytime love is referenced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I state, every 2.2 seconds, a child loses a parent due to war, natural disaster, poverty, disease and other causes. In this statistic I recognize the children that I have played with, sang with, danced with, become angry with, and loved and it sends shivers down my spine. These are no longer statistics to me, but children.Children full of hope, adventure, and life. Children, full of innocence, wonderment, and mystery. Children full of potential, dreams, and curiousities. Children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope and pray that I will always be uncomfortable by such facts and I pray that others will be aswell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-3507080327576240586?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/3507080327576240586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=3507080327576240586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/3507080327576240586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/3507080327576240586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2010/12/uncomfortable.html' title='Uncomfortable'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-2667663747603396038</id><published>2010-11-24T22:21:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T22:21:41.244-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Franciscan Blessing</title><content type='html'>“May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain to joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.&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/20185440-2667663747603396038?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/2667663747603396038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=2667663747603396038' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/2667663747603396038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/2667663747603396038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2010/11/franciscan-blessing.html' title='A Franciscan Blessing'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-1857628284238260517</id><published>2010-11-24T22:09:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T22:11:29.226-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-1857628284238260517?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=elhmBFePdDs&amp;feature=related' title='Beautiful'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/1857628284238260517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=1857628284238260517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/1857628284238260517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/1857628284238260517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2010/11/httpwww.html' title='Beautiful'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-5076166785395857726</id><published>2010-11-22T13:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T13:27:45.027-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Process</title><content type='html'>It seems I go through times of discovery and times of confusion. That in some moments I believe I have everything figured out and in others, nothing at all. Lately I have become more used to being at a place of constant uncertainty, and it is actually becoming comfortable, like a well worn autumn sweater. I used to be pulled down by it, overwhelmed by it, and disheartened by it, but now the thought of it, brings me peace.&lt;br /&gt; In attempt not to appeal to much to pop culture, K'naan, in one of his songs sings, "any man who knows a thing, knows he knows, not a damn thing at all." I don't know anything, and I seem to question everything, but only by grace am I saved. And amazing grace it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-5076166785395857726?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/5076166785395857726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=5076166785395857726' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5076166785395857726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5076166785395857726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2010/11/process.html' title='The Process'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-6077860329171534333</id><published>2010-04-30T21:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T13:30:22.138-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It has been the longest blank space</title><content type='html'>I am writing to recreate the old, re-establish my thoughts, hopes and dreams in the virtual world, and reconnect with those I've become disconnected from. I am not trying to get anything out of this, other than sharing my simple thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-6077860329171534333?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/6077860329171534333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=6077860329171534333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/6077860329171534333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/6077860329171534333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2010/04/it-has-been-longest-space-ever.html' title='It has been the longest blank space'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-4068523231921599772</id><published>2007-08-26T21:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T21:20:13.689-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a sinner's heart</title><content type='html'>For a long time i have felt winded. You know the awful feeling after a ball is kicked into your stomach? When you are breathing in so deeply that you end up not being able to breathe at all? thats what i have felt like. As if for some reason, despite my attempts i am unable to breath the beautiful air around me, and my asthmatic lungs are breaking down.  I have felt that regardless of what i had done, regardless of what i had felt, i could find no way of changing the patterns. I had seemed to begin a path towards a person that i didn't much like. I was tired, was becoming increasingly selfish.. i knew i was doing it, becoming what i hate. becoming the last thing this world needs. but i couldn't stop. Like a downward spiral, and i just watched. I did most things with bitterness, and harshness, and i'm sick of it. Today i was really touched. Today i was touched at church in a way i hadn't let myself be in awhile. I'm tired of complacency, i'm tired of being tired of life. Maybe this is just a sinner's heart, maybe this is just the struggle life will put you through. But i'm tired of it, and i wish and hope to chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-4068523231921599772?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/4068523231921599772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=4068523231921599772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4068523231921599772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4068523231921599772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/08/sinners-heart.html' title='a sinner&apos;s heart'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-4432028953592906456</id><published>2007-02-26T19:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T19:37:29.707-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. where there is hatred let me sow love, where there is injury let me sow pardon, where there is doubt let me sow faith, where there is despair let me give hope, where there is darkness let me give light, Where there is sadness let me give joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not try to be comforted but to comfort, not try to be understood but to understand, not try to be loved but to love. Because it is in giving that we receive, it is in forgiving that we are forgiven, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;          &lt;/span&gt;-&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;St.&lt;/st1:place&gt; Francis of Assissi&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/20185440-4432028953592906456?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/4432028953592906456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=4432028953592906456' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4432028953592906456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4432028953592906456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/02/lord-make-me-instrument-of-your-peace.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-4788404585600441947</id><published>2007-02-25T21:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T21:53:00.152-06:00</updated><title type='text'>and so i weep</title><content type='html'>My soul is weeping tonight. Not for my life or the troubles i face, but for those around me.&lt;br /&gt;I can't complain about my personal life, i have everything anyone could need. But it seems that so many around me are in or entering into a place of brokeness and fraility.  Sometimes i wonder why i can't be happy, and content and satisfied, even with my own life, but i think i have come to realize that as long as there are people i can see around me that are hurting, as long as there are people around me who are broken, as long as their are people around me that are weeping, my soul too will weep.  Maybe its just something about entering into a place of true community with other people, maybe its just something about true humaness and its need to try to help others who are crying out, maybe when I began entering into fellowship with Jesus I also began entering into the heart of God. But whatever the reason, my soul weeps. So Lord, i offer you my humble prayers, begging you to reveal, heal, and save....&lt;br /&gt;I fear this seems like a soulless post, or a crazy evangangelical cry for more souls for Christ, really i'm just trying to write my heart out right now, and also ask for prayers. I don't want to post my prayer requests, but please, if you would like to pray with me you can e-mail me and i will gladly share my sorrows.&lt;br /&gt;love Cait&lt;br /&gt;caitlin.wood@hotmail.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-4788404585600441947?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/4788404585600441947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=4788404585600441947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4788404585600441947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/4788404585600441947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/02/and-so-i-weep.html' title='and so i weep'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-5328478258092560702</id><published>2007-02-13T10:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T10:20:32.337-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you remember?</title><content type='html'>sometimes i have a difficult time letting go.  Letting go of a time that was so magical that sometimes when i think back, its hard to believe it really existed.  With music, dancing, campfires, roadtrips, dreams shared, passions explored, memories made.  So many memories i have to really check and think, did that really happen? They're so story book like, so fantasy-like, so amazing. its hard because at times i dont' want to admit those times are different.  They've changed, now we're a little more mature with a few more pressures, and we're all a little more spread out... but do you guys remember...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;the times at youth, that we would sing until our lungs hurt, that we would scream "Our GOD IS AN AWESOME GOD."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the times we would just end up in prayer because the things around us were too difficult to handle,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;do you remember the time we went for a night time walk" by the healey's old place,  only to be surprised by christian and sterling who ran by and through a match in an already prepared firepit, only to have the whole thing explode into a beautiful bonfire, and a great night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you remember when we went on that random trip to and around barrie, and slept in that farmers field, and went to the waterfalls, and phil randomly broke into song at the icecream parlour in washago... do you guys remember?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do you remember the photoshoots, the shows, the dance parties, the laughter, the jokes, the tears, and sorrow that we shared. do you remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Because i hope never forget.  I do want to move on.. in pieces. But you guys are my family, bound more tightly than passing friends, and i love every one of you so much. You are my brothers and my sisters. And i can't wait to hang out with you again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-5328478258092560702?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/5328478258092560702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=5328478258092560702' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5328478258092560702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/5328478258092560702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/02/sometimes-i-have-difficult-time-letting.html' title='Do you remember?'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-2252105171080212058</id><published>2007-02-12T11:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T11:23:29.314-06:00</updated><title type='text'>possibly a oneday song</title><content type='html'>peace like a river restores this broken soul&lt;br /&gt;and though i am weary i don't walk alone&lt;br /&gt;and though i may struggle with the things that i see,&lt;br /&gt;you're standing broken-hearted watching over me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-2252105171080212058?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/2252105171080212058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=2252105171080212058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/2252105171080212058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/2252105171080212058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/02/possibly-oneday-song.html' title='possibly a oneday song'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-117061058335266217</id><published>2007-02-04T11:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T11:36:23.370-06:00</updated><title type='text'>replaceable</title><content type='html'>I'm not even sure if thats how you spell it, but i'm sure you all know what i'm trying to say, replaceable. This is how i feel, this morning i was thinking about it a lot, It seems like right now, i'm playing no vital role in any ones life, no key ingredient to anything happening. I'm just Caitlin, i am who i am, i'm the same Caitlin to boys as i am to girls, the same caitlin to christians as i am to non christians, and the same caitlin to friends as i am to strangers, hopefully, I'm Caitlin.  But these days i feel as if i play no vital role in anything, no main character in any story, and thats not always a nice place to sit.  I struggle with the difference between humble and low self-esteem constantly, anytime i feel somewhat good about myself i seem to notice that i'm struggleing with huge amounts of pride.  I can't just be satisfied, is it because i think over everything i do and say, probably. Will i stop? probably not.  I think this problem is part of what fuels my passion to serve people, to make a difference, so that hopefully i will be as important to someone as they are to GOd, and for some reason i will play an important role in something... maybe not... ANd maybe it comes back to trying to prove my worthyness to God (which is never achievable) yet always a dream... we'll see, did i figure out anything in writing this? not at all... just aded more confusion to maybe your own lives... i hope not. i hope you're all much more collected than i.... but i know this life is so confusing....&lt;br /&gt;so i want to just run away to a far away land, and serve, i'm sure most of you know where i'd go, so i need not mention it....  but for now i'll stay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-117061058335266217?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/117061058335266217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=117061058335266217' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/117061058335266217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/117061058335266217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/02/replaceable.html' title='replaceable'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-116948433911096792</id><published>2007-01-22T10:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T10:45:39.126-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I haven't written in awhile, maybe because i haven' fought with anything for a while, everything i have learned lately has been subtle, nothing too extreme. I guess thats the way it is sometimes, you're learning so many things at the same time sometimes it seems like you're learning nothing at all.. So things i have learned...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am a country girl in a city world down here, I won't ever fit it, and i am incredibly content with that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;OH girls... YOU are so beautiful. please remember that, boys to are exceptional, don't get me wrong, but i think girls, ladies, women need more encouagement than boys sometimes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've learned that God can take the worst most retarted things we do and turn them into incredible joys, and beautiful lessons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I've learned that some homeless people are incredibly joyful, despite all they don't have....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i learned that i am in an incredible mood, and deeply want to learn more and love more about God.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;and that was a quick recap. haha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-116948433911096792?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/116948433911096792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=116948433911096792' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116948433911096792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116948433911096792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-havent-written-in-awhile-maybe.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-116166197684652939</id><published>2006-10-23T22:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T22:52:56.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>unashamed</title><content type='html'>I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAIT!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself,...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;STOP?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HELP ME LORD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;over and over in my head i go over the things i'm not good enough at, the ways i fail, the hurts i cause, over and over i remember the pain i've had in my life, over and over i remember the ways i don't measure up, the ways i screw up. over and over. Usually these words go through my mind, last night they came through my mouth, and i realized, these things should not be said. that God never intended this. It wasn't until after the fall that adam and eve were ashamed of themselves and hid from God, so why do we let these insecurities haunt us.  Why don't we acknowledge that God intended us to be confident, perfect beings, he crafted us by his own two hands, yet somehow we doubt that he knew what he was doing? thats insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know that you are who God made you to be. Embrace it, breath it in, and live it. you were no mistake, you are wonderfully and beautifully made.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-116166197684652939?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/116166197684652939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=116166197684652939' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116166197684652939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116166197684652939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/10/unashamed.html' title='unashamed'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-116097542086182572</id><published>2006-10-15T23:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T00:10:20.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a humbleing reminder</title><content type='html'>This morning I was on my way to a new church, a church that i haven't been to before... I left later then i intended and therefore forgot to figure out exactly where the church was.  I got on the subway headed for a southern direction and two boys got on the subway.  My first thought, for some reason, was "they're going to the same church" I quickly shook that notion out of my head and said what are the chances of two random people going to the exact same place as I... really it made no sense. I was surprised to see they were getting off at the same station as me... thats all i really knew about the location of this church. What stop to get off at.  They went to get out of the subway west and i went east, thinking that i knew more, and proving to myself that they weren't going to the same place as i.  I walked east for a good 10 minutes. Getting myself into even less familure territory. I walked and walked. And finally decided to ask for directions. I asked where John street was, and they told me it was actually west. So back i went... time kept ticking, and once again i was late for church.  I finally got to the movie theatre where the church is held, walked in the huge doors, followed the signs, up the escalaters, passed the greaters, and into the movie theatre.  I followed the people up the stairs to find a seat, and sitting right off the aisle, to my surprise, were the two boys from the subway. I was too prideful to ask them if they were going, too prideful to possibly accept that God was giving me directions.  Too prideful to ask anyone until after i was way past the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately i have humbled over and over. How often i wonder do i try to do things myself and end up messing up big time. over and over. WHen will I learn... Hopefully soon because this yo-yo act is getting tiring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-116097542086182572?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/116097542086182572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=116097542086182572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116097542086182572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/116097542086182572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/10/humbleing-reminder.html' title='a humbleing reminder'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115924331603612519</id><published>2006-09-25T22:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T23:01:56.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a blah blah blah</title><content type='html'>So with all these decisions we are faced with, what courses to take, what schools, what careers, who should we marry, who we should date, what we should listen to, what we should write, who we should be, don't mean anything. I mean, yes they take up the majority of our time and thought, but in actual fact, are meaningless, compared with the decision of who we should worship. Think about it, if you've Committed your life to Christ then forget everything else, everything else is unimportant, they can be considered gifts to us, but not things that cause us grief or concern. Relax, your future is secured. and all these words are meaningless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115924331603612519?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115924331603612519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115924331603612519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115924331603612519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115924331603612519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/09/blah-blah-blah.html' title='a blah blah blah'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115547320073515936</id><published>2006-08-13T07:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T07:46:40.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lovely</title><content type='html'>This is a post for boys who like girls, and girls who have been liked by boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now first, Boys: Please understand that girls, ladies, women, however strong they are, however powerful, however amazing and courageous they may be have beating hearts just the same as you, but these hearts are a little more frail, a little more sympathetic, a little more vulnerable. God intended this to be, he designed women to carry these hearts so they could nurture, so they could take care so they could be a sensitive beauty in the face of a dangerous world.  Please be honest with it at all times.  There will always be times that you have to let it down, tell a girl that you're not interested.  Those days do come. Please please please, be firm, please don't scrape for excuses but tell her true reasons, please don't think that you're too amazing and that telling her would ruin her world. Although a girls heart is a frail one, it is a resilient one. It is much harder holding on to a piece of something to find out there was nothing there at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girls: Remember that you are beautiful, amazing, courageous, strong, remarkable beings, remember that God has someone beautiful, amazing, courageous, strong, and remarkable for you. Believe that God has someone perfect for you, believe that if someone says no, then God has someone better then him, let not someone telling you no influence your self-image or anything says no, if the man of your dreams says no, then the man of God's dreams for you may come around the next corner.  Remember that boys, guys, men. Are amazing, and wonderful beings, designed by God, and like us girls, often screw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that is all i have to say.. well except for . PRAISE THE LORD my soul is screaming that since last night. I dont' feel like blogging about that yet. but please, all believers, PRAISE THE LORD strongly, for GOD is real, and POWERFUL, and will take care of all our needs. Lord Jesus, i thank you from the bottom of my heart wherever it can be found, you are truly amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115547320073515936?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115547320073515936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115547320073515936' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115547320073515936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115547320073515936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/08/lovely.html' title='lovely'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115303089987845756</id><published>2006-07-16T01:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T01:21:39.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hopeless romantic</title><content type='html'>I just got home from watching Ever After, a beautiful story about love that overcomes.  And many questions are circling my mind, causing me to write them out so i can sleep.  I wonder if too often we forget love.  If we forget the beautiful, wonderful gift that God has gracefully granted us.  I know i do.  I know i think about all the things I want to do, all the places i want to go, all the people i want to care for, and make plans to tight for any "love" to fit in.  It is true that Paul says, in 1 Corinthians, that if any man is able to not be married that he should stay single, but how can we forget that in Genesis God said that Adam wasn't right without Eve.  But after eve was created, things were right.  Things were complete.  He made the perfect, beautiful companion for Adam, and yes she caused him to sin.. thus causing the fall of man.... but i'm sure they were very in love while they did it, haha i know.. poor arguement.. but its all beside the point.  Leonardo Divinci in the movie Ever After said If you don't know love, than you don't know life.  Have we forgotten the very essence of life, and tried to fill it with good intentions and busy work? I know my heart yearns to beat in time with someone elses'... it may sound a little lame, i even quiver a little writing it, but i am very excited for the day that I find my match, and can live happily ever after.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115303089987845756?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115303089987845756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115303089987845756' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115303089987845756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115303089987845756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/07/hopeless-romantic.html' title='hopeless romantic'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115192992489438234</id><published>2006-07-03T07:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T07:32:04.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>its been a while</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since i've written anything profound, anything with a deep meaning, anything at all clever.  For a little bit i was drowning, i couldn't find what i was to do next or cared what i should be doing then.  It was like i was running a three-legged race by myself, and knew that it would only be a matter of time before i fell flat on my face. And to be honest. I fell, and hard.  People in life always have their secrets, their hurts, there pains, and i definetely have mine.  I often doubt, that my God is as good as i'd like to think he is. I often doubt, but i often remember that I can't, and will never fully be able to understand the God who created the heavens and the earth, everly living thing on this planet, and much of the non-living.  I will never understand the God who brought his son here for the sole purpose of him dying a long painful death.  I will never understand, but i desire to find out more, as much as i can.  So Jesus, thank you for reminding me how absolutely ridiculous i am, and how i need every ounce of me to be filled with as much as you, so i can get through this day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115192992489438234?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115192992489438234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115192992489438234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115192992489438234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115192992489438234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/07/its-been-while.html' title='its been a while'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115128858829510424</id><published>2006-06-25T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T21:23:08.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My Jesus I love Thee, but life right now is killing me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115128858829510424?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115128858829510424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115128858829510424' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115128858829510424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115128858829510424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/06/my-jesus-i-love-thee-but-life-right.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-115076618244995337</id><published>2006-06-19T20:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T20:16:22.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lonely</title><content type='html'>I've had this feeling before, when everyone was far away going to school in different places. But i think this time its worse. This time everyone is home, this time i see people often, this time, the contact we have is dry.  No inspire words, not truthful sharing, no shared passion, at least from my end of the stick. I feel like i'm isolating myself from the beauty that we've made. I have no part in the things that are so incredibly dear to me. Summer school was possibly the worst decision i could have made. and now all i can do is hold it in regret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-115076618244995337?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/115076618244995337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=115076618244995337' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115076618244995337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/115076618244995337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/06/lonely.html' title='lonely'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114695356840839005</id><published>2006-05-06T17:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T17:12:48.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding joy</title><content type='html'>Be Joyful! Be incredibly joyful because Jesus loves you so dearly. ARR once again, i'm so frustrated. I'm so uncontented, I feel so stuck. I have absolutely no idea what to do. I have absolutely no clue. Jesus Christ, you love me, you hold me in your arms so closely that i can sometimes feel you breath down my neck as goosebumps cover my body. You love me with a love that no many beautiful words could be laced together to create a picture of that love. You're too huge, too large, creater of the heavens and the earth, and to powerful, yet so small and humble, and lovingly help me through my life. This morning tears filled in my eyes as i quickly skipped an email that said "thousands may die from starvation today." i just skipped it like i've skipped too many, saying, not right now, i can't help now, i don't have money to send, i'm unable to go, i just don't know what to do. We could talk for days about why churches in this area stink. But where would we get, in the exact same spot as i am now in. Complaining, creating a place where i'm never satisfied with anything and become bland and insensitive to the joys of life.  But i want to live i want to sing as loud as i possibly could, i want to rock out on guitar and shout "Jesus i love you." I want to dance as if i will never stop, i want to laugh like there is no pain. Be joyful, but conscious of what we can do. Friends, lets see how we can change this world, lets find out how live activly in it, yet have the joy of children in the sunshine. Lets experience the life given with the strength to endure it. Let us love. Let us serve. Let us be the Jesus the world needs to see. Let us be nothing else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114695356840839005?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114695356840839005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114695356840839005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114695356840839005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114695356840839005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/05/finding-joy_06.html' title='Finding joy'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114610009686069080</id><published>2006-04-26T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T20:08:16.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wouldn't it be awesome to...</title><content type='html'>This is one of my craziest dreams, i've thought about it often, maybe unrealistic, but sometimes the most earth shaking are the ones that are unrealistic.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                              buy a diesel bus, convert it to grease, and go on a huge, change the world tour. Fill the bus with i&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/dream%20bus.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 183px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/dream%20bus.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;instruments, guitars, microphones, drums, keyboards.  Fill it with art supplies, paints, sewing machines, and go spread God's love. Ohh Love labour could call before hand to city's and say yo, we're coming to your town, we can talk to your church about Romania, Rwanda, India, Malawi, Ghana, Minneopolis, Uxbridge. About God's love, serving people, helping people, living the every day adventure. We could ask for a meal and a place to sleep/shower.. if we found it neccessary. Just run away for like 6 weeks and be unrealistic, immauture, irrational, and irresponsible. To tell people that we need to do something in the world, and to show people how. Just through knitting, sewing, baking, canning, painting, photography, jewlry making, music making, glass blowing, welding, carving, dancing, documentary-ing, sculpting, ANYTHING-ing. just creating. and to sell those things, for charity. To truly start a revolution. a movement of love labourers. ohhh. it would be incredible. a crazy dream. I know. I need to make money like all of you. i can't afford to invest money into a bus... but wouldn't it be incredible? wouldn't it be remarkable? wouldn't it be life changing? To go on a journey to teach, serve, love, and share. A journey to meet Jesus in the alleys and in the "untalented." Wouldn't it be beautiful, wouldn't it be breathtaking, wouldn't it be amazing.....&lt;br /&gt;who is with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114610009686069080?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114610009686069080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114610009686069080' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114610009686069080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114610009686069080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/wouldnt-it-be-awesome-to.html' title='Wouldn&apos;t it be awesome to...'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114592354012548595</id><published>2006-04-24T18:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T19:05:40.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't think, can't study, can't work, can't sleep, too many thoughts plague my mind. Too many troubles whirl around until I can't do anything fully. I try so hard to be someone God would want to call a faithful servant, someone who speaks truth, and does good, someone who makes strangers feel loved and the loved feel wonderful. I try hard. Yet i am still plagued. I hate complaining, i hate saying "okay" when people ask how I am. I should be victorious, I am a child of God, my future is secured and stamped with a golden seal of hope. But right now, today, i don't feel that hope. I'm exhausted, stretched to a max.... and although my problems are a miniscule speck compared to the worlds problems, right now, i feel like complaining. I'm tired. and need to get back to studying right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114592354012548595?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114592354012548595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114592354012548595' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114592354012548595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114592354012548595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-cant-think-cant-study-cant-work-cant.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114571317470660169</id><published>2006-04-22T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T08:39:35.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a chance.</title><content type='html'>How have we built a culture of posers, of copy-cats, of people so numb to new ideas that they need to steal other peoples to get by.  What is worse, is it is becoming perfectly normal and acceptable to do it, people have stopped complaining about rip offs, people have stopped caring that there are no new ideas out there.  For a moment lets remember when we were young and some kid from our neighbourhood or school or some peer copied everything we said and did. How horribly annoying that was, and how that kid, if in school would be told by the teacher, "don't copy your friends." Now there is nobody to say don't copy.  So winking circle was ripped off by Coca-cola, plain and simple, blatantly, abruptly. And who was there to tell them, "don't copy" nobody. Its seen all over the place, check this &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/into%20the%20wild.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/into%20the%20wild.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;out, its wacko.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/madagascar2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 220px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/madagascar2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay check these out. the first one is disney't "THE WILD" the other is the movie is Dreamwork's "MADAGASCAR" they both start out as animals in a zoo in a busy city in the states. Both end up going on an adventure "into the wild" They are the exact same movie with a few different jokes and a small adjustment to the animation. Its sickening. We have no hope of keeping our ideas our own if big timers like Disney rip people off and get away with it. So be careful. Every idea you thought was your own could very soon be marketed to sell a product, or become the next multi-million dollar movie. You never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114571317470660169?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114571317470660169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114571317470660169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114571317470660169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114571317470660169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/not-chance.html' title='Not a chance.'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114565541581963591</id><published>2006-04-21T16:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T16:36:55.830-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling a little left out.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/horseface1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 331px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/horseface1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                             Gotta love the horse face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114565541581963591?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114565541581963591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114565541581963591' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114565541581963591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114565541581963591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/feeling-little-left-out.html' title='Feeling a little left out.'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114504938711320750</id><published>2006-04-14T16:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T16:16:27.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sooo awesome</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/daycare-dramatic%20play%20059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 376px; height: 281px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/daycare-dramatic%20play%20059.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114504938711320750?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114504938711320750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114504938711320750' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114504938711320750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114504938711320750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/sooo-awesome.html' title='sooo awesome'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114502901598105461</id><published>2006-04-14T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T10:36:55.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Preparations for Easter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/romanian%20lamb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/romanian%20lamb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems now adays in Canada that easter is just another excuse for a long weekend, and another excuse to practice gluttony and indulgence.  I'm not saying i'm not going to enjoy eating lots of chocolate, but where has the wonder gone from this day? Where have the beautiful traditions and preparations gone.  Last year i was in Ocna Mures -  a small Romanian village, and had the absolute pleasure of seeing them perform their different preparations. Weeks before they would wash every part of their house. They would take all of their carpets outside and beat them until they were clean.  The would use the little money they had to repaint window frames, and other things that needed work on them.  They would bake cakes, Bianca seen in the picture, baked five cakes for easter meal.  They bought a lamb and neighbours would get together to slaughter the lamb.  Though at first it kind of grossed me out, but it was such a time of community and sharing that it was incredible to witness.  This wasn't just some kind of spring cleaning just because it had to be done. This was preparing their home and their hearts for their Lords return.  such a beautiful way to get your hearts and homes connected, and ready to worship the King of Kings, The Lord of Lords, and the Saviour of all the sinners.&lt;br /&gt;   Prepare your hearts friends.  This is the most exciting time of the year. Praise be to God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114502901598105461?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114502901598105461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114502901598105461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114502901598105461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114502901598105461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/preparations-for-easter.html' title='Preparations for Easter'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114480867164586737</id><published>2006-04-11T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T21:24:31.656-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/daycare-dramatic%20play%20046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/daycare-dramatic%20play%20046.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sunny days and climbing trees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114480867164586737?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114480867164586737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114480867164586737' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114480867164586737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114480867164586737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-love.html' title='I love...'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114391294148193133</id><published>2006-04-01T11:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T11:35:45.423-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fancy blue dress</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/fancy%20blue%20dress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/fancy%20blue%20dress.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I got this dress in a downtown thrift store, and i really like it.  I need to make a few adjustments, and have already began.  I love the thought of altering.  To take something thrown away, disregarded, left for trash (and possibly resold), and to find potential, make a few adjustments, a few alterations to make myself the fancy blue dress. &lt;br /&gt;    It excites me to think that this dress is from the 70's for thats what the tag said.  What was the former owner of this dress like? What did she love and what did she hate.  But more importantly, what did she do when wearing this dress? Maybe she had her first kiss, maybe she was dumped for the first time. Maybe the first time she wore this dress she gathered up enough courage to sing infront of a crowd with such passion, and energy that she left the whole crowd speechless.   Maybe  she attended her prom in this dress, and felt for the first time she was a woman.  Maybe she bought the dress for her prom but was never asked, so it hung quietly in her closet.  Maybe the first night she wore this dress she fell head over heels in love with a boy who said she looked like an angel.  Maybe this dress has a bigger story then i could imagine, or maybe i'm giving this dress way too much recognition.  Maybe it was just a dress like every other dress. But i'd rather think it had an extravagant life before reaching me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114391294148193133?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114391294148193133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114391294148193133' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114391294148193133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114391294148193133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/04/fancy-blue-dress.html' title='Fancy blue dress'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114358783485724281</id><published>2006-03-28T17:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T17:17:14.873-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Its great being Ridiculous</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/DSC00529.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/DSC00529.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wouldn't you agree?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114358783485724281?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114358783485724281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114358783485724281' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114358783485724281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114358783485724281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-great-being-ridiculous.html' title='Its great being Ridiculous'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114296752373309420</id><published>2006-03-21T12:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T12:58:43.776-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A perfect me and a perfect you</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/180px-Mother-teresa-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/180px-Mother-teresa-01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry.. this will be a long one.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to tell you a story of Mother Teresa that i found in the bood "irresistable revolution" (a very great book)  Shane Clairborne went to work in Calcutta in the House of the Dying and he says this:&lt;br /&gt;    "Mother Teresa was one of thosepeople who sacrificed great privelage because seh encountered such great need.  People often ask me what Mother Teresa was like. Sometimes it's like they wonder if she glowed in the dark or had a halo.  She was short, wrinkled, and precious, maybe even a little ornery, like a beautiful wise old granny.  But there is one thing i will never forget - her feet.  Her feet were deformed.  Each morning in Mass, I would stare at them.  I wondered if she had contracted leprosy.  But I wasn't going to ask, of course.  'Hey mother, whats wrong with your feet?'  One day a sister said to us, 'Have you noticed her feet?' We nodded curious.  She said, 'Her feet are deformed because we get just enough donated shoes for everyone, and Mother does not want anyone to get stuck with the worst pair, so she digs through and finds them.  And years of doing that have deformed her feet.' Years of loving her neighbor as herself deformed her feet."&lt;br /&gt;   I think about Perfection.  We are taught and know that we can never be perfect.  That we will always sin, that we will always fall short.  But, I think of people like Mother Teresa, And i don't really believe it.  We are told to die to ourselves.  To abandon our 'self' and be Christ-like figures.  If we are truly Christ-like figures then i think we can be perfect.  If we abandon all of our crap, our selfish desires, our need for success and to impress, if we are seperated from this world, then we leave a lot more room for Jesus.  If we truly die to ourselves, then Jesus can truly live in us, and if Jesus can truly, ultimately live in us, then i do think we can be perfect. Just as Christ is perfect.  Don't sell yourself short, don't cop-out, saying, well we can't be perfect so it doesn't matter that i sinned against God.  I think God desires us to be perfect. Just as he is perfect.  Just as i don't think there was much of mother Teresa left in her when her soul left this earth, but I think there was a whole lot of God, a whole lot of perfection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114296752373309420?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114296752373309420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114296752373309420' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114296752373309420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114296752373309420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/03/perfect-me-and-perfect-you.html' title='A perfect me and a perfect you'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114222376080675443</id><published>2006-03-12T21:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T22:22:41.203-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Something I've realized lately.  This is may not be profound for you, this may  not even be of interest, but its something i've learned abour myself recently, and something and possible something that someone out there on the world wide web my appretiate, so it will be written.  I am realized that I'm really not girly.  I do have girly traits.. and do girly things, but i am not, and will never be girly.  Okay so i'll define girly.. in my opinion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who in the morning does, and makeup before going out anywhere,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;girly is someone who has way too many clothes, and who cares desperately about what she looks like,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;girly is someone, who when wearing a skirt can sit properly, and someone who can wear high heels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who puts on make up and keeps it just right all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who looks at fashion magazines to get the latest tips and styles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who goes once a month and get her hair done at a salon and gets it streeked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is always beautiful physically. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who knows exactly what to wear with what, and someone who loves to go shopping to get the acquired look.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Girly is someone who always has a nice golden skin colour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I am none of those things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I get up at 6 and  am  out the door at 6 15. no time for hair and make-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; i don't have that many clothes. I think i do have more then i need.. and will probably get rid of some very soon because i just said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; I really don't care that much about what i look like... i mean my hair is in knots... enough said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;when i wear a skirt i always need to wear shorts underneath because i never ever sit nicely or "lady-like". and sometimes have the urge to climb a tree.....&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I occasionally will put on some eye make-up but always end up smudging it all over my eyes.. i dont' know how it happens.. i just know that every time it does.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I never look at a fashion magazine or a makeup magazine.... i did once and i think i'm going to sew a dress that i found in it... but then i ripped the page from the magazine and quickly threw out the magazine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i don't get my hair streeked.. my hair is in knots... enough said&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i have the palest of pale skin.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;oh and another one of me not being a girl. i very much dislike shaving my legs.  Last June (24) the day before my friends wedding i shaved my legs and then didn't until a couple of weeks ago.. i just find it ridiculous that someone out there one day decided it was disgusting for women to have hair on their legs, and every women just accepted it as true without questioning.  I mean.. think for yourselves ladies. if you dont' want to, don't do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;So that pretty much sums it up. I'm not that girly.. i am a girl. I do want to be loved, i do want to be beautiful, but a different kind of beauty, a beauty that comes from a closeness with God.  I do want to be desired, and sought after, but not for my looks, for my heart and for my mind.  Those are the things that will not lose value through time.  But i do want to be able to climb a tree in a skirt... and knot my hair... enough said&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114222376080675443?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114222376080675443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114222376080675443' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114222376080675443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114222376080675443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/03/something-ive-realized-lately.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114160349708255103</id><published>2006-03-05T18:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T18:04:57.096-06:00</updated><title type='text'>who wants to run away</title><content type='html'>Okay so i'm running away. i'm packing my car full of stuff i probably don't need and hitting the road, we're going to the coolestplaces that my little pink car can take me, to the coast, to the states, to mexico maybe. screw the suburbs, screw education, screw work. We'll just drive take the top off of my little toy care and fly. we'll go so far we won't remember how to get back. we'll drive and drive. We'll meet people along the way, meet Jesus along the way, stay in communes and homeless shelter, we'llbe homeless. we'll be free. We'll disciple and tell our stories and we'll be content. We will love every second of it, and if the car dies then we'll sell it to a sheet metal place and we'll hitchhike the rest. doesn't this sound awesome? doesn't this sound like something you want to do? It does for me... sometmes.. but. right. i'm not that irresponsible... i never have been.. so i'll go to school, get my education, however small it might be... and with it.. i will serve.  Praise the Lord i will serve.  and then on my vacations- if i'll ever need one.. i will run away, for a short time... and then return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114160349708255103?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114160349708255103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114160349708255103' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114160349708255103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114160349708255103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/03/who-wants-to-run-away.html' title='who wants to run away'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114100010553898237</id><published>2006-02-26T18:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T18:28:25.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Torn</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;v.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;tore,&lt;/b&gt; (t�r, t&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/omacr.gif" align="bottom" height="14" width="6" /&gt;r) &lt;b&gt;torn,&lt;/b&gt; (t�rn, t&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/omacr.gif" align="bottom" height="14" width="6" /&gt;rn) &lt;b&gt;tear·ing,&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;tears &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;i&gt;v.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;tr.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt; To pull apart or into pieces by force; rend.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; To make (an opening) by ripping: &lt;cite&gt;tore a hole in my stocking.&lt;/cite&gt; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To lacerate (the skin, for example).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; To separate forcefully; wrench: &lt;cite&gt;tore the wrappings off the present.&lt;/cite&gt; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To divide or disrupt: &lt;cite&gt;was torn between opposing choices; a country that was torn by strife.&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;I am so torn. Torn between two places, torn between two lives, torn between two choices.  I cry myself to sleep because I long to be with those babies, but then I go to school and cannot imagine going back without learning more.  I am torn because i want to go back, i want to hold, love, believe, and trust.  But i feel like that is saved for a later time.  My heart longs to be radical.  I'm reading a pretty radical book and it doesn't seem radical to me. It seems logical.  This is how i want to live.  But why can't i live it right now? Last week was hard. Friday was hardest.  It had been a long week, i hadn't seen any of my friends that were home for reading week , but what is worse, i hadn't been able to spend time with my God. I feel so cut off.  I honestly do not have time to start my day with him, when i work at 6 30, i don't have time to end the day with him when i get home almost every night at 11 and need to get up early the next day.  I don't have time.  I said my biggest fear was to lose this. To work, and be educated, but to be dead.  Sometimes i want to feel alive again.  Feel God moving me and touching me.  To feel him guiding me and hugging me as I fall.  I miss that presence.  I just don't know how to do this differently.  I love God. I so desperately want to serve him desperately, but in my life right now, i am too busy to.  And this tears at my heart. This eats my soul.  I've never wanted to become what i am now doing.  Maybe this is temporary, maybe next week i'll feel better, but right now i feel a little hopeless.  So when do i leave, when do i go back to that place. After my schooling? or will i be dead by then.  I just don't know. I have no idea. But am having a hard time coping with not knowing.  Jesus. Hold me. It would be so simple for me to run away and serve you, and it is so hard for me to stay here.&lt;br /&gt;I know life is not easy, but does it have to be so damn hard?&lt;br /&gt;Lord, hear my cries, as i sleep tonight, and be with those forgotten children, may they feel unforgotten tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114100010553898237?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114100010553898237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114100010553898237' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114100010553898237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114100010553898237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/torn.html' title='Torn'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114066508391728607</id><published>2006-02-22T21:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T21:24:43.940-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Love without courage and wisdom is sentimentality, as with the ordinary church member. &lt;br /&gt;Courage without love and wisdom is foolhardiness, as with the ordinary soldier.&lt;br /&gt;Wisdom without love and courage is cowardice, as with the ordinary intellectual.&lt;br /&gt;But the one who has love, courage, and wisdom moves the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                              - &lt;/span&gt;Ammon Hennacy (Catholic activist, 1893-1970)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114066508391728607?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114066508391728607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114066508391728607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114066508391728607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114066508391728607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/love-without-courage-and-wisdom-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-114040248887489974</id><published>2006-02-19T20:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T20:28:08.890-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Girl</title><content type='html'>So often I forget, so often i try to have the exact answer at the exact time, so often I try to understand every action and every feeling I have.  So often I try to be tough and say things like "i am hardcore."... well i guess not that often. But so often I get lost in thoughts, in dreams, in motivations, that i forget who i am.  I am just a girl.  It took a sappy movie to get that drilled through my head this time.&lt;br /&gt;     I watched a walk to remember and cried like a baby.  The story is of a perfect, sweet, innocent love.  A love that most search for and only some find.  A love of mystery and clarity.  I cried because fate tore them apart. The movie is sappy, lame, stupid and i loved it. I loved it because my heart wants that love. My incredibly girly heart searches for it. But my incredibly contemplative mind often shuns it.  Too much to do, too little time. But that doesn't mean that I don't always want it. I am very much a girl, and cry very much like a girl. I just don't always act so much like a girl. But i am, just a girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-114040248887489974?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/114040248887489974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=114040248887489974' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114040248887489974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/114040248887489974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/just-girl.html' title='Just a Girl'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113979979315636070</id><published>2006-02-12T20:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T21:03:14.533-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishing Away</title><content type='html'>A clear childhood memory places me on a bus-ride home from school.  I was probably about 9 years old on the bus and thinking over and over, "I wish i was 13, I wish i was 13, I wish i was 13" I wished for those years because 13 was a teenager.  You were old, you could have boyfriends and a grown-up body, and wear make-up.  But 13 hit, and wasn't that excited.  Most boys weren't that cool, make-up was highly overrated, a grown-up body came with grown-up annoyances. So then i wished for 18. I mean 18 you could do anything! You could drive, go anywhere you want, not listen to your parents, move out, be an adult.  But then 18 hit, and that wasn't that exciting.  So then i wished for being older.. no such age. but to be in college, have my future planned out, maybe be married,  etc, etc.  And so the wishing game begins.  I've looked back and realized that i wish away my life. Instead of taking every day as a gift, i wish for the next.  Its a horrible cycle that needs an end, and so today i'm goign to try, to stop it.  Today what do i need to be thankful for, what do i need to do.  I need to focus on school take full advantage of the schooling provided to me.  I need to be thankful for friends, some who live so far, but still are so close.  Family, that right now, it quite wonderful.  I need to work on loving as much as I can, Seek God as much as i can, and become a disciple as much as i can.  I'm tired of thinking taht maybe tomorrow God will make me into a better, stronger person, and need to strive for that today.  Don't plan the future, let it come as a surprise.  And be thankful for every moment you have today. Lord willing i will have a long life.  But for no all i know is i have today.  So let me take it with pleasure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113979979315636070?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113979979315636070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113979979315636070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113979979315636070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113979979315636070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/wishing-away.html' title='Wishing Away'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113979534040606648</id><published>2006-02-12T19:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T19:49:00.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>oh man, Pink, you're awesome (occasionally)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;This is a song by Pink that I heard on the Radio today.. pretty stinking cool.... Its by Pink and its called Stupid Girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Stupid girl, stupid girls, stupid girls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, that guy will call me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; What a paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Go to Fred Segal, you'll find them there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Laughing loud so all the little people stare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Looking for a daddy to pay for the champagne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; (Drop a name)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; What happened to the dreams of a girl president&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; She's dancing in the video next to 50 Cent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; They travel in packs of two or three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; With their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny tees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Oh where, oh where could they be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, that guy will call me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; What a paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, flipping my blonde hair back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; (Break it down now)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Disease's growing, it's epidemic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I'm scared that there ain't a cure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; The world believes it and I'm going crazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I cannot take any more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I'm so glad that I'll never fit in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; That will never be me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Outcasts and girls with ambition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; That's what I wanna see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Disasters all around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; World despaired&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Their only concern&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Will they **** up my hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, that guy will call me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; What a paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, flipping my blonde hair back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; [Interlude]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Oh my god you guys, I totally had more that 300 calories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; That was so not sexy, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Good one, can I borrow that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; [Vomits]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; I WILL BE SKINNY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;(this part i deleted.. it was really an unneccessary part of the song... google it if you really care)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, flipping my blonde hair back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Push up my bra like that, stupid girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, that guy will call me back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; What a paparazzi girl, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Baby if I act like that, flipping my blonde hair back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt; Push up my bra like that, I don't wanna be a stupid girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113979534040606648?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113979534040606648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113979534040606648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113979534040606648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113979534040606648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/oh-man-pink-youre-awesome-occasionally.html' title='oh man, Pink, you&apos;re awesome (occasionally)'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113936298882432262</id><published>2006-02-07T19:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T19:43:47.273-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I long to be needed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113936298882432262?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113936298882432262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113936298882432262' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113936298882432262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113936298882432262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-long-to-be-needed.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113927982748732085</id><published>2006-02-06T20:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T20:48:25.196-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ye of Little Faith 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/scan0032.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/scan0032.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i believe this will happen a lot... it usually does.. God kicks my ass.. and once again it happened.&lt;br /&gt;A little background in point form:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I went to Romania and worked with orphans and abandoned babies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i met a wonderful 5-month old baby named Marion Gheorghe&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gheorghe when i got there, didn't respond to sounds, to actions, he didn't cry, smile, kick, react to anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The hospital staff said Gheorghe had "brain problem" and would never be normal, and therefore was not worth our time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We decided differently&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We loved him, hugged him, worked with him, cheered him on, kissed him, loved him&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gheorge started responding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hospital staff was amazed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I left Romania&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He continued to progress&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;then they kicked the volunteers out of the orphanage&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gheorge started to regress&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hospital staff decided they were going to send him to a orphanage for disabled children.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Okay, now to stop point form.  I was angry. Incredibly angry. That they would forget the beautiful spirit of this baby.  I worked at an orphanage with disabled children.  I knew how bad they were.  I knew.. and I had could not stand the thought that a baby i had loved so deeply was being thrown away.. to a place of hopelessness. I was so incredible sad.  I was mad at God for not keeping him safe, not staying with him as i left.  I was hurt.  I didn't want to pray, i didn't want to talk to a God that would abandon a baby such as this.  I didn't want to trust a God that would do that.  so i didn't pray.  Thank you for those that did pray.&lt;br /&gt;Today i talked to my friend that was in Romania, and she told me that this baby, didn't end up going to the orphanage.  That a new doctor at the hospital has told the others that this baby is not disabled, but he suffers from neglect. but with help, will walk, and will be a typical child.  She also said that a couple from the churhch is going to sign the papers to take him home every weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRAISE THE FREAKING LORD Y'ALL&lt;br /&gt;my heart rejoices, but is slightly ashamed.  I had lost hope. I had lost my heart.  I had lost the Lord's mercy. So Lord. Forgive me.  Forgive my disbelief.  Be with that beautiful boy.  Send angels to watch over him.  Send love to shield him. And thank you Lord for never, ever leaving his side.  You are a merciful God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my heart is content.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113927982748732085?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113927982748732085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113927982748732085' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113927982748732085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113927982748732085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/ye-of-little-faith-2.html' title='Ye of Little Faith 2'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113881384323008441</id><published>2006-02-01T10:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T11:22:53.416-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Becoming Disciples</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me." Matthew 10:37&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life, will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it.  What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels." Mark 8:34-38&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did we get the idea that this would be easy.  When did it come into our heads to make Christianity safe.  There is nothing safe about these versus. To leave behind what we know and accept something in faith. Not easy, but glorious.  Do you think its a coincidence that of the 12 disciples all, with the possible exception of one, died early, all were martyred.  I dont' think so.  I think we're called to give up our lives for Christ.  That is what becoming disciples means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113881384323008441?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113881384323008441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113881384323008441' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113881384323008441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113881384323008441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/02/becoming-disciples.html' title='Becoming Disciples'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113830292119326914</id><published>2006-01-26T12:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T13:15:24.496-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Non-fictional fictional</title><content type='html'>Today my mind was frantic with many thoughts and ideas so i decided to go for a walk, to a place i often go, to clear my head.  I bundeled up and began my journey.  In just a few moments i reached my favourite thinking place, only to find a group of young women with similar intentions standing around.  I didn't let this stop me and continued to walk a long the path. I recognized them but didn't know any of their names so i put my head down, hood up, and hands in my pocket and continued the walk.  As I got nearer to the girls their conversations were heard clearly. &lt;br /&gt;    "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Its just that i've never felt beautiful.&lt;/span&gt;" said one girl. Feeling a little awkward at overhearing i kept my face down and picked up the pace a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "Well i have never felt loved."&lt;/span&gt; said the another girl quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "Well at least you don't always feel stupid."&lt;/span&gt; said another girl&lt;br /&gt;I kept up my rapid pace to get by, but there were more girls then i had first expected. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "You guys have nothing to complain about."&lt;/span&gt; said another girl&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, "atleast you guys have desireable bodies, I've always been stuck with this."&lt;/span&gt; she finished&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "Yeah, but at least you can work out, you can change your body.  You can't change the type of hair on your head or the skin on your body." &lt;/span&gt;complained yet another girl.&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe it, what kind of thing did i walk in on, was this some kind of help-group i thought? If it was where is the leader of the group I wondered.  Their words continued and i couldn't believe them. Complaints about being too big, too small, small boobs, ugly legs, fat in places they didn't want fat. etc.  I continued to walk and lifted my head to see that the small group of girls i thought i was walking through wasn't small at all. Instead i learned that i was surrounded by a huge mass of girls complaining about something about themselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;        "I've never felt validated."&lt;/span&gt; said one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "I've never known who i was."&lt;/span&gt; said another. &lt;br /&gt;I couldn't take it, didn't these girls know that they were loved. I couldn't handle it.  I turned to the girl beside me and said, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"you are beautiful!"&lt;/span&gt; But she looked right through me as if she never heard my words. I tried again to the girl on my other side.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Don't you know that you are incredible."&lt;/span&gt; but again, no emotion, she was too busy complaining that she never even heard my voice.  I couldn't handle this.  My palms began to shake, my heart knotted itself, and tears began to well up in my eyes.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL" i&lt;/span&gt; yelled, but no heads turned, none even noticed i was there.  This is too much i thought to myself, i must get out of here.  I walked faster budding around one girl to the next, squeezing through, but the noise of their complaints grew too loud that it forced me to cup my ears just to get through.  I began to run.  I ran and ran.  I ran as fast as i could, as if there were someone chasing me, someone right behind me that was going to take my life.  But the noise just grew.  I couldn't find the end to the mass of girls.  I couldn't find a shelter from their complaints.  I fell to my knees and screamed,"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; LORD, REMIND THEM THEY ARE LOVED. JESUS, PROMISE THEM THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL."  &lt;/span&gt;when those last words left my mouth there was a complete silence.  A silence like i had never heard before.  I lifted my head from the ground and franticly looked around, only to find that the whole time, it was only me with my thoughts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113830292119326914?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113830292119326914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113830292119326914' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113830292119326914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113830292119326914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-non-fictional-fictional.html' title='My Non-fictional fictional'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113815893917806875</id><published>2006-01-24T21:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T21:17:16.663-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the differences between boys and girls</title><content type='html'>Are boys and girls different? Complete opposites? At what age do they become different?&lt;br /&gt;well let me refer to a dialogue heard at my daycare today.  Four 7-year old children were playing at the superhero dramatic play center today.  3 boys and a girl.  There playing went something like this. The names are made up.. but the situation happened.&lt;br /&gt;billy:"yeah and then he like  kicked batman in the face."&lt;br /&gt;mark:"yeah but it didn't matter because  he just moved out of the way, poosh"&lt;br /&gt;luke:"yeah and then they all ran up into the tower and kept fighting."&lt;br /&gt;stef: "yeah, hey listen, listen!" (yelling over top of boys fighting) "But Poison Ivy was asleep the whole time and when she woke up she only saw Robin, and she thought that he wanted to rescue her, and she wanted to marry her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my point stands.  Boys and girls are a different breed.  Ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113815893917806875?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113815893917806875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113815893917806875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113815893917806875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113815893917806875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/differences-between-boys-and-girls.html' title='the differences between boys and girls'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113812983933746803</id><published>2006-01-24T12:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T20:49:45.200-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My deepest, most beautiful aspirations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/angel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/angel.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are gathered here today to remember the life of our once dear friend Caitlin Noelle Wood.  Caitlin like many of us was a dreamer, was passionate, and wanted to change the world.  With the help of many friends, and many of us here today created a group called the Love Labour Movement which, using whatever gifts and talents we had would raise money for those who needed help.  God led that movement, and Caitlin was always incredibly thankful for that movement, and how God used that movement, even to the very end. When she was 19 she went to the beatiful but broken country of Romania.  She worked with orphans and abandoned babies for 3 months, and loved every second of it.  She longed to serve as Jesus Christ served and through her life that was very evident.  Caitlin went on to school as an ECE and got her diploma, and went on to other schooling, but Caitlin always said, that it wasn't the education that made the difference.  It was the God that was directing her.  Caitlin met her boyfriend and partner for life at what she said was the perfect age.  Not to young, not to old. And they lived together happily with their family serving the Lord until he passed away quickly last year. Caitlin didn't live an easy life, she never wanted one, she didn't believe it was realistic. But Caitlin always, through all the crap that she went through, always had a faith in Christ.  She loved as much as she could, through all the crazy places God led her and her family.  She served as much as she could, and she always strived to be like Jesus Christ.  She didn't stop questioning, but she trusted got for the answers.  She will be remembered for her constant joy, and for all those she helped.  She didn't change the world as a whole.  But she changed many individuals worlds.  And we will remember her for that.  May we always remember her laughter, and her smile. Which she always gave so easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sorry for not waiting.  there are things i have to do on my own.  Sorry for being so vague.. But i would rather my life be directed by God, then for me to make it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113812983933746803?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113812983933746803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113812983933746803' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113812983933746803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113812983933746803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-deepest-most-beautiful-aspirations.html' title='My deepest, most beautiful aspirations'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113772654082253212</id><published>2006-01-19T21:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T09:24:06.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/scan0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/scan0007.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an entry i wrote in my journal on March 19th 2005 while in Romania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This beautiful baby is Gabriella Lupan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Last night baby Lupan died.  I was happy she did, she was suffering much.  Evertime I've seen her lately I've prayed for her life here to end.  For her to go home, for her to leave this place of pain and suffering.  I try to figure out why she was here - what purpose did she serve. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;    I learned many things from her.  I learned - or relearned- that God's plan isn't always my own, and Ive learned to find peace in that.  God is bigger than i am, and his plan should be bigger too.  Praise God. It feels strange being happy for the death of a child.  But she went home, and i'll see her again on renewed wings and a freeing spirit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;She'll be happier than a princess and more free than a bird.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;She'll be singing with the angels, and her laughter will be heard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;resounding through the heavens, gliding through the clouds,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;She'll be free at last, an escape from this sometimes cold world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;And so I thank you for taking her,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;and for bringing her home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Recieving her in your arms of love, and holding her close.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Although I dont' understand the whys and the hows, I know its all part of your precious plan.  We did our part and you did yours.  So thank you Lord for letting her precious heart touch mine and so many others.  Thank you Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113772654082253212?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113772654082253212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113772654082253212' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113772654082253212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113772654082253212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-is-entry-i-wrote-in-my-journal-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113772549483572540</id><published>2006-01-19T20:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T21:10:27.706-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ooh exciting article.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/scan0001.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/scan0001.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/scan0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113772549483572540?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113772549483572540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113772549483572540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113772549483572540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113772549483572540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/ooh-exciting-article.html' title='ooh exciting article.'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113771268803739844</id><published>2006-01-19T17:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T17:32:03.496-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/1600/scan0031.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6360/2017/320/scan0031.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no words to express...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113771268803739844?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113771268803739844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113771268803739844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113771268803739844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113771268803739844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/no-words-to-express.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113754931740938064</id><published>2006-01-17T19:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T19:55:17.456-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My deepest, most horrendous fear.</title><content type='html'>We are gathered here today to remember the life and times of our once dear friend Caitlin Noelle Wood.  As you all remember we were all quite close. We came from a small boring town, and made it a beautiful place to live.  We shared passionate hearts and encouraged each other with inspiring words.  We remember Caitlin for her passion to serve the poor - the same passion that many of us shared and her desire to change the world.&lt;br /&gt;    Caitlin at the young age of 19 flew off to the country of Romania and worked with the forgotten children of that poor country. She came home with hopes, dreams and visions for her own lives and the lives of others.  Many of you will also remember the group we created called the Love Labour Movement, and how passionate we were to help in that way.  We dreamt large dreams, and along with Caitlin held great, yet naive hopes for this world.  Caitlin went to school for Early Childhood Education and soon moved to Toronto to be closer to her school and move in wth friends.  However soon the cost of living was raised and Caitlin stopped going to school and began a waitressing job downtown which she didn't much enjoy, but it paid the bills.  Caitlin for quite some time like a boy she knew but out of stubbornness and fear of the what ifs never shared the way she felt, and soon ignored the possibility of it altogether.  As many of us remember she became bitter and quite lonely sometimes and led her to-what i believe - make the decision to date and quickly marry Geoff Barkley.  I feel that to do Caitlin honour on this day, we should but just mention his name, as many of us know the hardships and heart-aches that marriage led Caitlin to. &lt;br /&gt;    After the final divorce of Geoff, Caitlin had to work quite hard with two jobs to support the family of two children who she loved with all her heart. She longed to be spending her days in an orphanage loving and playing with children, but instead worked hard during the day taking orders at a downtown diner, and spent nights scrubbing the toilets of a local office building.  Her passions were lost but reality was found.  It wasn't realistic for us to think that we could change the world.  It wasn't realistic to think that we could handle this world. Or that we were destined for more.  We were young, we were naive, and at this point in our lives understand that our goals were impossible goals, and our dreams were foolish dreams. &lt;br /&gt;    Caitlin left us as a good woman.  She gave to salvation army every christmas, and although her jobs made her work on Sundays, she always continued to pray.  May we remember her for the good times we shared, and the dreams we all once had in common.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113754931740938064?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113754931740938064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113754931740938064' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113754931740938064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113754931740938064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/my-deepest-most-horrendous-fear.html' title='My deepest, most horrendous fear.'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113753876478869338</id><published>2006-01-17T16:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T16:59:24.816-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ye of Little Faith</title><content type='html'>Not so long ago i felt clearly that i should go to school for Early Childhood Education.  But lately, those thoughts had turned into fear and disbelief.  There were too many what ifs, too many questions, too many maybe nots.  Well last night was my first at school.  It was a night of trial, a battle, and then finally great relief and a reminder of faith.  You see, I got to Seneca with plenty of time to spare hoping to spend my time finding the classroom.  After being pointed in several directions with no hope of finding the class, and becoming incredibly frustrated and stressed, i asked one of the janiters and she happily directed me to the correct place. FINALLY.. so, i got to my first class in many years... late.  But all is good, an older woman moved her stuff and i took my place in the class of about 25-30 people.  I sat down and listened, discussed, debated, and learned.  Stuff that I'm so interested in, and my hope was restored.  I was so excited, the teacher seemed really cool, and i listened happily to all she had to say.  Then class ended an hour early and we were getting ready to leave when in front of me a three women began speaking in Romanian.  Okay, maybe i'm super lame, but it made me soo excited!  I talked to them for a few minutes about visiting Romania and expressed to them how i missed hearing the language.  And the older woman then declared every Monday a speaking Romanian day.  I was so excited. &lt;br /&gt;I questioned this class because I knew right now, this moment, these classes are preventing me from being in Romania.  I questioned so much so that i forgot how strongly i felt God telling me to take these courses.  To get my degree.  But God gave me three wonderful women to remind me, and put them right in my class.  And to that I am pleasantly thankful.  I floated home, with a thankful heart and a contented soul.&lt;br /&gt;Forgive me Father for my lack of faith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113753876478869338?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113753876478869338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113753876478869338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113753876478869338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113753876478869338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/ye-of-little-faith.html' title='Ye of Little Faith'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113717960567945137</id><published>2006-01-13T12:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T13:13:25.733-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the hardest things to deal with are those closest to home</title><content type='html'>Today i was talking with a friend from work about future plans, and i was saying how i would love to go away, yadaa yadaa, but i can't for this and this reason. and she said, "caitlin, you're too selfless, just go and do what you want." As soon as she said that i thought, if only you knew the truth.  If only i truly was selfless.  I'm realizing more and more the bad qualities of myself, that i'm bitter, prideful, and very selfish...and thats a hard place to be in.  You need to have the strength to accept it instead of letting them bog you down, and the understanding of lifting those things up to God.  I'm selfish in who i want to hang out with, and have learned that i get my pride, not from who i am, but in who my friends are.  I don't know how it happened.. How this pridefulness has evolved but when i wasn't looking it evolved, and flowered into an enourmous, hideous beast to which no eyes would easily view. You may be wondering, why am i sharing this with the world? Well firstly, i don't think the whole world will view it, but secondly, I think it is incredibly important for us to realize and let go of our faults, we all have them, let us stop hiding them.  Bring them out into the open, and pray for each other, that we would gain control over these things.  I just want you to know, that i am working on these, and that the Lord is with me as i do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113717960567945137?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113717960567945137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113717960567945137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113717960567945137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113717960567945137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/hardest-things-to-deal-with-are-those.html' title='the hardest things to deal with are those closest to home'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113670298292184348</id><published>2006-01-08T00:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T00:49:42.930-06:00</updated><title type='text'>all to complicated.</title><content type='html'>Today I realized that i make everything way to complicated.  What i'm doing now, what i want to do, how i want to live, life, love, this world, i take all to seriously.  Everything except for Christ.  Why can't i take everything one day at a time, forget about being guilty for not meeting with God yesterday, i'll meet with him today.  Start over, start fresh, forget about all the places i want to go, and focus on the place where i stand.  Forget about who i want to live my life with forever, and think about who i want to spend my day with.  Forget about the type of person I want to be, and think about embracing the person I am.  Live each day as its own.  We do not have to live our whole lives today, we just need to live today, today.  Please understand that I am not a naiive person.  Know that I put thought into all my decisions, but why do i need to base all my decisions on the rest of my life.  If i focus each day on Christ, and live each day the way I feel he wants me to live, then I will die with no regrets.  If i dance like no ones watching, sing like nobody will hear, and don't worry about what people will think of me tomorrow,  then think of how much stronger of a person I will be.  There is so much this world has to offer, and so much this world can take away, but i do not need to think of all of it today.&lt;br /&gt;     Please don't get me wrong, i don't mean to say don't live with responsibility, but live with a light heart.  And focus on love.  And tomorrow i will be a better person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113670298292184348?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113670298292184348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113670298292184348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113670298292184348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113670298292184348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/all-to-complicated.html' title='all to complicated.'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113634369165659204</id><published>2006-01-03T20:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T21:34:34.376-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Children's simple lessons</title><content type='html'>This afternoon at daycare i took a group of children out to the yard to play only to find that the snowmen they worked so hard, putting so much care into had been smashed to pieces.  Smashed by some older kids who find some sort of joy in destroying others masterpieces.  I watched and waited for the reaction, the frustration, the anger.  But nothing.  Within moments the whole group of 4-6 year olds worked quickly to rebuild all that was lost.  Making bigger, making better snowman then had first existed.  I thought about how i would react.  I'd probably first rant about some sorry soul finds delight in destroying things, how hopeless it now seems to even make a snowman if it is only to be destroyed,  I'd probably think about how bad people were.. about how hopeless the situation was... But these children, just rebuilt them..  How many times do i get angry about how this world has destroyed love, family, peace, justice, truth, how many times do i feel that it is hopeless, how many times do i give up, and how many times should i just simply start to rebuild them.  We don't need to start from scratch, we can use the pieces that are left, and we can create these things to be better, and more beautiful than before.  So lets do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113634369165659204?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113634369165659204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113634369165659204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113634369165659204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113634369165659204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2006/01/childrens-simple-lessons.html' title='Children&apos;s simple lessons'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113566154015216363</id><published>2005-12-26T23:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T23:37:30.756-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"But my child, I still love you."</title><content type='html'>So, I was thinking, and i don't know why you died for me, why you blessed me with all I have, why you are with me through everything I little thing that I do.  Yes sometimes i seem nice, and sometimes I do nice things.  But i fail so many times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But i only sometimes serve others although I try so hard. And only sometimes - but rarely -do I live as Jesus Christ lived.&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes I am bitter, sometimes I get too angry, so angry and scream at the top of my lungs, and sometimes i cry for reasons i don't understand.  And sometimes i am ignorant, rude, insensitive, and careless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Lord, I am only human, and so extremely so, and sometimes i feel this responsibility of being a Christian is too large. Too huge for me to handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God, sometimes i don't appreciate the things you've given me, and sometimes i take you for granted. And sometimes i dislike your Will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you are so holy, so incredible, so breathtakingly beautiful, so perfect.  And i am no where near perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "But my child, I still love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand that. I don't always understand you, even though i try.  And i don't think i'll ever truly understand you.  And I love you for loving me, but even my love is inperfect.  Oh Lord, I will try to serve you and live how you want me to live.  But Lord if I continue to fail...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;    "My Child, I will always love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113566154015216363?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113566154015216363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113566154015216363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113566154015216363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113566154015216363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2005/12/but-my-child-i-still-love-you.html' title='&quot;But my child, I still love you.&quot;'/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20185440.post-113557076980591270</id><published>2005-12-25T21:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-25T22:19:29.820-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"I have increased the breadth of your shoulders so that you can carry all that I have for you to carry."  Such excitement I carried when these words were first shared.  Such hope, such amazement.  But.. the more i carry the bigger the weight.  I fear I can't carry that weight. Too many things, to many faces and cries, and frustrations weigh on my heart.&lt;br /&gt;    Sometimes I wish i was just a very simple girl who had very simple thoughts.  Thoughts about flowers, and how i was going to decorate my room, and what i was going to wear.  Thoughts of boys that i liked and thoughts of what i was going to do that night.  Sometimes i wish i could write songs so easily and not worry about the message i was portraying.  Sometimes i wish i could tell people my thoughts and how i felt without fearing what they would think.   Sometimes I wish I didn't have to carry all this weight on my shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;     I am so sad for this world, and recently have been moved to tears, there is too much, too much pain here.   And i know that i shouldn't focus on the suffering, on the saddness, and i know that with the saddness comes true joy.  But... why do some people have to go through so much, and others so little. Why do i have a perfect beyond perfect life, and others live in absolute hell.  My heart cries out for these people.  For these orphans, for the widows, these poor, these hopeless.   How my heart longs to be with Gheorghe, one of the beautiful babies i met in Romania. How I long to hold him, kiss his cheeks and tell him that he is loved.  How it hurts to think that i can't, and that they've given up on him for the second time. &lt;br /&gt;    Sometimes i just wish i was a very simple girl with very simple thoughts.  But Lord you have made me who I am, so teach me how to handle these things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20185440-113557076980591270?l=caitlinwood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/feeds/113557076980591270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20185440&amp;postID=113557076980591270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113557076980591270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20185440/posts/default/113557076980591270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://caitlinwood.blogspot.com/2005/12/i-have-increased-breadth-of-your.html' title=''/><author><name>Caitlin Noelle Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07517188020926157282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_M1jFWHR6CWo/TPMRcxtkpcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/vezC7vPfDS0/S220/155495_575077914364_227302662_3883285_1532376_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
