<?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-7220724840664486995</id><updated>2011-08-20T07:30:55.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woman at the Well</title><subtitle type='html'>“Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” - Jesus Christ (John 5:13-14, NKJV)............Many years ago, I drank of this water. Here's my story.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7220724840664486995/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lerryblossoms</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02223953218784938596</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dy4lo6oBsAo/THbiR3-I52I/AAAAAAAACJg/il5-JfVBZo8/S220/P5187629a.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7220724840664486995.post-3020749053239323493</id><published>2010-11-22T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T09:27:27.252-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Early God-consciousness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;As a child, I had a notion of God we called &lt;i&gt;Diyos&lt;/i&gt;. My family had always believed in the existence of God although we were not religious. I remember going to church during special occasions like Holy Week, Christmas, New Year, town fiestas, weddings, baptisms and funerals, perhaps on some of my birthdays too. But we were not what you'd call churchgoers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had my first formal religious education when I went to kindergarten at the University of the Philippines. A woman from outside the school came to our class once a week to talk about God. I think we had religious instruction until Grade 2, then it was gone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The only thing I remember from those classes was an impromptu skit where I was picked by the teacher to play someone who was brought back to life. I thought all I had to do was lie on the table, pretend to be dead and get up on cue. I acted the part, and then the teacher looked at me as if I should be speaking or doing something more after "coming back to life". I was confused. We did not rehearse it. Picking up from the teacher's cue, I simply said a lifeless "I'm alive." She didn't seem pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, too bad I hadn’t seen a dead person come back to life before. I didn’t even know the story we were acting out. Maybe that was the Bible lesson of the day and I wasn’t paying attention, just looking forward to recess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;But, hey, my acting wasn’t so bad. The 12-year-old girl in the New Testament story I believe I role-played didn't say or do much either. Read Luke 8:49-55 (NIV):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;49&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;While Jesus was still speaking, someone came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. “Your daughter is dead,” he said. “Don’t bother the teacher anymore.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;50&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Hearing this, Jesus said to Jairus,&amp;nbsp;“Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;51&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;When he arrived at the house of Jairus, he did not let anyone go in with him except Peter, John and James, and the child’s father and mother.&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;52&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Meanwhile, all the people were wailing and mourning for her.&amp;nbsp;“Stop wailing,”&amp;nbsp;Jesus said. “She is not dead but asleep.”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;53&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;They laughed at him, knowing that she was dead.&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;54&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;But he took her by the hand and said,&amp;nbsp;“My child, get up!”&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;sup&gt;55&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up. Then Jesus told them to give her something to eat.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Did the girl say anything? Did she show any excitement? I'd assume she was trying to make sense of what was going on. She was probably confused. Wasn't this how I acted in the skit? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;After raising the girl from the dead, Jesus did not wait for her to say anything or respond a certain way. He only wanted her to be fed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;That should have been a nice ending to our skit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recess.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7220724840664486995-3020749053239323493?l=womanatthewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/feeds/3020749053239323493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/2010/11/early-god-consciousness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7220724840664486995/posts/default/3020749053239323493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7220724840664486995/posts/default/3020749053239323493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/2010/11/early-god-consciousness.html' title='Early God-consciousness'/><author><name>lerryblossoms</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02223953218784938596</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dy4lo6oBsAo/THbiR3-I52I/AAAAAAAACJg/il5-JfVBZo8/S220/P5187629a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7220724840664486995.post-7639697927684521281</id><published>2010-10-16T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T13:38:55.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready or not, here I come</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Alaska becomes 49th US state, Charles de Gaulle becomes president of the 5th French Republic, Motown Records is founded by Berry Gordy, Jr.,Sleeping Beauty is released;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swiss men vote down female suffrage, Buddy Holly et al are killed in a plane crash, termed The Day the Music Died, Fidel Castro takes over Cuba;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barbie Doll debuts, the Dalai Lama flees Tibet and gets asylum in India, Hawaii statehood is approved;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NASA introduces first US astronauts, Japanese Prince Akihito marries Michiko Shoda, Stephen Harper is born;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soviet forces arrive in Afghanistan, two monkeys successfully return to earth from space;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singapore becomes a self-governing British crown colony, US sub first carries ballistic missiles, the first telecast is transmitted from England to US;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canada and the US open the St. Lawrence seaway, Cayman Islands separates from Jamaica, Indonesia restores constitution, Great Britain starts using postal codes;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I am born.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right time. Right place. Right circumstances. Everything about my birth was just the way God planned it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't matter what was happening with the rest of the world. I was destined to be born for such a time as this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when some adults joked that I was picked up from some banana grove (&lt;i&gt;"Napulot ka sa sagingan"&lt;/i&gt;), or worse, from the dump (&lt;i&gt;"sa basurahan"&lt;/i&gt;), mean but common jokes back then, I felt welcomed and special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I used to wonder where I was before my birth. Some joked, "&lt;i&gt;Diyan sa&amp;nbsp;taas ng mga puno&lt;/i&gt; (There at the treetops)." Ah, things adults said. I often ran to my parents to check them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So really, where was I before my conception?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know. In God's mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;you formed me in my mother's womb.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Body and soul, I am marvelously made!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I worship in adoration—what a creation!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;You know me inside and out,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;you know every bone in my body;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;how I was sculpted from nothing into something.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;all the stages of my life were spread out before you,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;The days of my life all prepared&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;before I'd even lived one day.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Psalm 139: 13-16, The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7220724840664486995-7639697927684521281?l=womanatthewell.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/feeds/7639697927684521281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/2010/10/ready-or-not-here-i-come.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7220724840664486995/posts/default/7639697927684521281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7220724840664486995/posts/default/7639697927684521281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://womanatthewell.blogspot.com/2010/10/ready-or-not-here-i-come.html' title='Ready or not, here I come'/><author><name>lerryblossoms</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02223953218784938596</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dy4lo6oBsAo/THbiR3-I52I/AAAAAAAACJg/il5-JfVBZo8/S220/P5187629a.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
