1. 22 hours ago 

    From my pen pal.

  2. 23 hours ago 


    The Lord deserves our praise and worship. Throughout the Holy Bible and especially the book of Psalms, we are given many reasons why God is worthy to be praised. And God loves to be praised. Why else would He seek those who truly worship Him? When corporate worship is done in spirit and in truth, I say it can hardly be beat.

    But how often is a situation ever ideal? During a church service, despite those who come with other things on their mind, everyone knows this is “God’s time.” And despite those who come with other things on their mind, the praise and worship portion (with singing and playing of musical instruments) of the service is done beautifully and delights the Lord. He expects us to do our best for Him with the other brothers and sisters. Praising the Lord is expected, and when we do it, He is blessed.

    And yet, I know the Father takes pleasure in His child when he/she sets aside part of his/her day to praise Him when alone.

    You know, I’m getting old. So old, in fact, that I don’t like to acknowledge my age anymore. But recently, I had a birthday. When they were reminded of it, many of my family and friends gave the usual birthday greeting because they are expected/obliged to do it. And then there were some who out of the blue went out of their way to wish me a happy birthday. Those are the ones who made me feel special, who were given no prompt. They’re the ones whose words I’ll remember the clearest.

    Metaphorically speaking, I suspect that the heart of the Father melts when His children go out of their way to love on Him. When nobody is watching. When there is no cue. When they just don’t feel like it but do it anyway with a grateful heart. That kind of worship makes the Lord feel like He matters to them.

    But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father seeketh such to worship him. (John 4:23)

    Oh that men would praise the LORD for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men! And let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works with rejoicing…Let them exalt him also in the congregation of the people, and praise him in the assembly of the elders. (Psalm 107:21-22, 32)

    Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me; and to him that ordereth his conversation aright will I show the salvation of God. (Psalm 50:23)

    Let them praise his name in the dance: let them sing praises unto him with the timbrel and harp. For the LORD taketh pleasure in his people: he will beautify the meek with salvation. Let the saints be joyful in glory: let them sing aloud upon their beds. (Psalm 149:3-5)

  3. Notes: 1 / 1 day ago 

    In my opinion, a well-done cover.

    Original: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4LToPRwI4s

  4. Notes: 6560 / 1 day ago  from crab-hand


    Beemo really is the prettiest little man

  5. Notes: 429 / 2 days ago  from noelikalways (originally from awesometyrell)



    These pictures didn’t work out the way I wanted. Big pig kept moving around and knocking everything over. He tired to eat Spider-Man twice and seemed really interested in trying to smell the camera. It was almost a tragedy.

    “WANNA DIE?!” says the pig to Spider-Man in the second photo. (
  6. Notes: 1195 / 3 days ago  from lazarusknowsthetruth (originally from disciplesoftheking)
  7. Notes: 12 / 4 days ago  from lazarusknowsthetruth (originally from betsyandme2)


    "The Village Blacksmith"
    By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    Under a spreading chestnut-tree
    The village smithy stands;
    The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms
    Are strong as iron bands. 

    His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate’er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. 

    Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
    With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. 

    And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly
    Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

    He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter’s voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice.

    It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, Singing in Paradise!
    He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies;And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
    A tear out of his eyes. 

    Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close
    Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night’s repose. 

    Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught!
    Thus at the flaming forge of life
    Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
    Each burning deed and thought.

I'm not looking for trouble, just a way to vent personal thoughts/confusions/memories without any personal attachments. Well, maybe a few.
I love my family -- spiritual and physical.

I believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit as one God. I believe the Holy Bible in its original form is infallible, and the King James Version is the most accurate translation of the Word in English. I believe Jesus lived without sin, and He died to redeem me from eternal death and separation. He is my Savior and Lord.
Jesus is alive. Halleujah! He is risen.