<?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-8769306202445355978</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:02:48.818-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That's Gonna Leave a Mark</title><subtitle type='html'>Jonathan always carried two things with him... a sharpie and duct tape! Both of those things leave an irremovable mark on any surface they touch. In the same way, Jonathan left his mark on everyone who met him.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3373285225428076397</id><published>2009-03-15T05:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T05:36:18.613-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering</title><content type='html'>5 years ago today, God called Jonathan Devore to celebrate his homegoing.  Jonathan was a young man that loved the Lord, loved people and wanted his life to be used by God.&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure why at such a young age, God was ready for him to come home but I do know this:  that Jonathan heard His Lord say, “well done, my good and faithful servant.”&lt;br /&gt;Please pray for Sam and Dottie, Kirsten, Lydia and David.&lt;br /&gt;Pray for the many others whose lives were touched by Jonathan to say yes to Jesus and what He wants to do in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;I love you,&lt;br /&gt;Dianne&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-3373285225428076397?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3373285225428076397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3373285225428076397' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3373285225428076397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3373285225428076397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2009/03/remembering.html' title='Remembering'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1028321268426413586</id><published>2009-03-04T22:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T22:20:38.486-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 29th Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Another birthday comes and goes and instead of a cake and candles there are new flowers at the cemetery.&lt;br /&gt;I am touched by friends who have contacted us today to let us know they remember you on your birthday as well.&lt;br /&gt;And all the while you are celebrating with Jesus, the one who created you and shared you with us for a short time.&lt;br /&gt;For that I continue to be thankful. God is good.&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1028321268426413586?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1028321268426413586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1028321268426413586' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1028321268426413586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1028321268426413586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2009/03/happy-29th-birthday.html' title='Happy 29th Birthday!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-4285569533968911977</id><published>2008-08-27T14:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T15:02:08.095-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan  has been asking about "daddy's friend jonathan".  we've had some precious  conversations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:  "why did Jesus take Jonathan so soon?"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;me:  "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;Jesus was  ready for him to come to heaven, Jesus was done with him on earth"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:  "can we visit him next time we go to mississippi?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;me: "of  course we can"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:  "maybe his mom and dad can come and show me"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;me:  "well  we will ask them"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:   "which flower pot is he under"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;me: "well  he has a spot at the cemetery but that's just his earthly body, the good part  went&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;up to  Heaven to be with Jesus"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:  "when is Jesus going to make me go to Heaven"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;me: "well  we don't know when Jesus will take us home to him so we have to make  sure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;we make  good choices and tell everybody else about Jesus while we still  can"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan:   "i sure hope daddy can see his friend soon"....."but not yet cause i would sure  miss him"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;jonathan  you affected so many peoples lives in such an amazing way and continue to do so  as time goes on.   thank you!  we miss you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;kristi  anderson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-family: verdana,geneva;" mce_fixed="1"&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-4285569533968911977?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4285569533968911977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=4285569533968911977' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4285569533968911977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4285569533968911977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/08/jonathan-has-been-asking-about-daddys.html' title=''/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-337021068642401890</id><published>2008-07-07T07:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T07:22:01.080-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Letters</title><content type='html'>Dear Jonathan...&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading another book, "The Letters of Jonathan Netanyahu." Jonathan or Yonatan (Yoni) was the commander of the Israeli force that freed that hostages at the Entebbe airport in July 1976. He was the only Israeli soldier killed during the operation. He began writing letters to his friends in Israel when he was 17 and his family moved to the States for his father's job. The last letter included in the book was written to his girlfriend a couple days before he flew to Uganda. It was a fascinating book both because of what he wrote about and the way in which he wrote. He is very close with his family and does not hesitate to express to them his love and respect for both his parents and his two younger brothers. There were several passages through out his letters that really spoke to me but only one that I will share today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Only rarely do I count the passing days in anticipation of some future event. When you do that, you lose the meaning of the moment - today, right now - and skip over weeks of your life longing for a day to come... which is a mistake, for there is always value to the present."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this quote in turn reminded me of Matthew 6:33-34 "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are also a testimony to me of the importance of focusing on today. I don't want to miss out on the blessings of today by being so caught up in what is next. I don't want to take the places and people I see today for granted. I don't know how many tomorrows are out there so I am going to do my best to enjoy today to the fullest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for continuing to challenge and encourage me.&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-337021068642401890?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/337021068642401890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=337021068642401890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/337021068642401890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/337021068642401890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/07/letters.html' title='Letters'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-9094078322310956773</id><published>2008-07-06T04:53:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T04:59:40.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Me Out to the Ballgame</title><content type='html'>Jonathan... so this is really going to be a test for your memory. Mom emailed me that David and Drew took a couple of the eighth grade boys to a MBraves game last night. It reminded me of the game YEARS and YEARS ago that we went to with Todd and Lendon . I have such a clear memory of that night. It was the Jackson Mets back then. And the outing was organized by John who was the youth minister back then. We were in elementary school. I remember Todd and Lendon coming to pick us up. I remember meeting at the church parking lot and riding the vans over to the stadium on Lakeland Drive. I remember walking into the stadium. And I have a vague recollection that Bill was riding on someone's shoulders and he fell off or got dropped. I remember having lots of fun and thinking how cool we were because the big kids wanted to hang out with us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love seeing how the tradition continues and how David takes the initiative!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-9094078322310956773?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/9094078322310956773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=9094078322310956773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/9094078322310956773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/9094078322310956773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/07/take-me-out-to-ballgame.html' title='Take Me Out to the Ballgame'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2232576943834815356</id><published>2008-07-05T07:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T07:20:52.876-06:00</updated><title type='text'>4th of July</title><content type='html'>Dear Jonathan... I have some really clear memories of the 4th of July picnics at Grandpa Slick's. I remember the cart rides Dan and Patrick used to give us. I remember getting George stuck in the creek at least once usually two or three times during the jeep outing. I remember the piles of bbq ribs. I remember the elaborate watermelon carvings. I remember one year when we made a blueberry/strawberry cake decorated like the American flag. I remember lots of corn. I remember playing catch or bocce ball or croquet in the side yard. I remember hiking down the creek and walking across it on a fallen tree branch. I remember the whoopee cushion. I remember homemade ice cream. I remember the heat. And I remember the feeling of family... of love and acceptance... of laughter and fun... of being home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to be home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you lots. Every day. Some days more than others. But I always miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2232576943834815356?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2232576943834815356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2232576943834815356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2232576943834815356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2232576943834815356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/07/4th-of-july.html' title='4th of July'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5086780739275286807</id><published>2008-06-15T04:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T10:31:59.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What He Can't Do Anymore...</title><content type='html'>Hey Jonathan... So I wanted to tell you about this book... Beaufort. My friend, Mark, bought it a while back and loaned it to me to read. The preface starts out with a description of a game called "What He Can't Do Anymore" in which the narrator and his friends are listing all the different things their friend, Yonatan (Jonathan), can no longer do because he is dead. He will never break up with a girlfriend, get yelled at by his mother, drive to the beach, etc. etc. Never had I been more glad that I was reading the book in my own house... tears were streaming down my face. And suddenly all the things that you will never do began running through my head... there are the routine things... the adventures... and the family events... the stories... Of course, you don't miss doing those things. Of this I am confident. But we miss you being here. I miss sharing the routine and the extraordinary with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, when I first read the preface, I immediately thought "How dare Mark give me this book without some warning!" Seriously. I was all ready to call him and give him what for. And then I remembered that he had given me the book to read first. So he wasn't even aware of the connection it would have to me personally. And its not that I wouldn't have wanted to read the book... I just think I would have liked a warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the book was heavy and poignant and I found myself very emotionally involved. You find out more about the Yonatan which I will not share in case anyone wants to read the book. I also have Mark's copy of the movie but I haven't gotten up the nerve to watch it yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you!&lt;br /&gt;I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5086780739275286807?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5086780739275286807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5086780739275286807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5086780739275286807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5086780739275286807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/06/what-he-cant-do-anymore.html' title='What He Can&apos;t Do Anymore...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8561132595279199223</id><published>2008-06-08T05:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T05:20:21.297-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Already June...</title><content type='html'>Hi Jonathan... I can't believe it has been nearly a month since I last wrote. Not because I haven't been thinking of you... rather the exact opposite. I have been so busy and thought of you so often that it is hard to sit down and put it into writing the things that remind me of you... the stories I remember... how often I talk about you. Sometime in the last month I told a friend that you were gone and he was shocked. He said, "You talk about him so often and as if he is here. I had no idea." I have a lot of funny stories to tell you... and pictures to share... oh and I just finished reading an incredibly powerful and moving book that I have got to tell you about... but I am in the middle of baking... so I will close now and write more later.&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8561132595279199223?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8561132595279199223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8561132595279199223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8561132595279199223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8561132595279199223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/06/already-june.html' title='Already June...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6346606360195167097</id><published>2008-05-10T14:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T14:15:19.865-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fanny Packs</title><content type='html'>Jonathan... so I may or may not have written about this before... but it is totally worth another mention... at your funeral, Jim told a great story about all the grief you gave him for wearing a fanny pack. It was quite funny and we all nodded and laughed knowingly. Every time I see someone wearing a fanny pack I think of you... and apparently I am not the only one. Emily Bracey Lewis sent a me a note a while back and then again this week telling me that she thinks of you and laughs every time she sees some poor guy wearing a fanny pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well guess what! There is an all new fanny pack... guaranteed not to be as nerdy as the original fanny pack but I still don't think you would approve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple of pictures of a guy wearing one at a recent Israeli Independence Day Celebration...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/SCYBClhhOEI/AAAAAAAAADY/-kRaG8cMt4o/s1600-h/May+105.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/SCYBClhhOEI/AAAAAAAAADY/-kRaG8cMt4o/s320/May+105.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198843963789883458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;From this angle, I'm thinking... ok... is he wearing a toolkit as a belt???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/SCYBwVhhOFI/AAAAAAAAADg/kkQ-v1aKr1s/s1600-h/May+106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/SCYBwVhhOFI/AAAAAAAAADg/kkQ-v1aKr1s/s320/May+106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198844749768898642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But then here... it is all clear. Nope... not a toolkit... Just the new and improved FANNY PACK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think? Want one for your next birthday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;br /&gt;Kirsten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6346606360195167097?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6346606360195167097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6346606360195167097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6346606360195167097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6346606360195167097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/05/fanny-packs.html' title='Fanny Packs'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/SCYBClhhOEI/AAAAAAAAADY/-kRaG8cMt4o/s72-c/May+105.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3822361056144519788</id><published>2008-05-06T14:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T15:14:15.034-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering</title><content type='html'>Hi Jonathan. Tonight began Israel's Memorial Day. It is nothing like the American one. Stores, restaurants, movie theatres close. At 8pm a siren sounds and the entire country stops for a minute. I was on the bus tonight coming home from tutoring and just before eight, the driver stopped in the road and turned the bus off. As the siren began, everyone on the bus stood, people stopped in the street to remember those who lost their lives for the sake of Israel be it as soldiers in the IDF or victims of terrorist attacks. I then went to Kikar Rabin where the municipality was hosting a memorial concert. A wide range of Israeli musicians performed songs to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Between songs, interviews with family members who have lost loved ones were shown. I understood very little, but it was extremely powerful to watch these parents, spouses, and siblings share. I watched one wife talk about her husband who died in June of 1967. Over 40 years ago. Four years of missing you has been difficult... I can't imagine forty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a song by Jo Dee Messina that popped into my head during the ceremony. I doubt if it has ever even been played here in Israel... country music hasn't quite made it this far... but it seems quite appropriate for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Heaven Was Needing a Hero"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came by today to see you &lt;br /&gt;I had to let you know &lt;br /&gt;If I knew the last time that I held you was the last time &lt;br /&gt;I'd have held you and never let go &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kept me awake nights, wondering &lt;br /&gt;Lie in the dark, just asking why &lt;br /&gt;I've always been told &lt;br /&gt;You won't be called home &lt;br /&gt;Until it's your time &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess heaven was needing a hero &lt;br /&gt;Somebody just like you &lt;br /&gt;Brave enough to stand up &lt;br /&gt;For what you believe &lt;br /&gt;And follow it through &lt;br /&gt;When I try to make it make sense in my mind &lt;br /&gt;The only conclusion I come to &lt;br /&gt;Is heaven was needing a hero &lt;br /&gt;Like you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the last time I saw you &lt;br /&gt;You held your head up proud &lt;br /&gt;I laughed inside &lt;br /&gt;When I saw how you were standing out in the crowd &lt;br /&gt;You're such a part of who I am &lt;br /&gt;Now that part will just be void &lt;br /&gt;No matter how much I need you now &lt;br /&gt;Heaven needed you more &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause heaven was needing a hero &lt;br /&gt;Somebody just like you &lt;br /&gt;Brave enough to stand up &lt;br /&gt;For what you believe &lt;br /&gt;And follow it through &lt;br /&gt;When I try to make it make sense in my mind &lt;br /&gt;The only conclusion I come to &lt;br /&gt;Is heaven was needing a hero &lt;br /&gt;Like you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven was needing a hero &lt;br /&gt;and that's you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you!&lt;br /&gt;Kirsten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-3822361056144519788?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3822361056144519788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3822361056144519788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3822361056144519788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3822361056144519788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/05/remembering.html' title='Remembering'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-4945532540217924433</id><published>2008-05-03T03:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T03:50:05.875-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you laughing?</title><content type='html'>Jonathan...&lt;br /&gt;I have two tv shows that I watch regularly now, The Office, which you would LOVE, and Grey's Anatomy, which you would not love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this week Grey's episode, one of the characters made a statement to another character that totally resonated with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You know whenever anyone says something really funny and I laugh. I always look around to see if you think it is funny too. Even when you're not there. I still look around."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is how I feel. Even now four years later. I go on some adventure like hiking in Petra or boating down the Nile or touring the Taj Mahal and 'skiing' on Mt. Hermon and I look around to share the moment with you. I watch a movie and I know you would love it, I hear a song and I know you would play it... loudly, I read an article in the newspaper and I know you would be interested in it... and I want to share it with you. My computer freaks out, the car starts overheating, I don't know which kind of lightbulb to buy... and I want to call you! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-4945532540217924433?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4945532540217924433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=4945532540217924433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4945532540217924433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4945532540217924433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/05/are-you-laughing.html' title='Are you laughing?'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1589104547701408317</id><published>2008-05-02T15:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T15:08:10.024-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Madrid</title><content type='html'>Hi Jonathan!&lt;br /&gt;So Israel's premier basketball team made it to the Final Four of the Euroleague Championship. They played an Italian team from Sienna tonight in Madrid. The game started out really bad. They only scored 8 points in the first quarter and were down by 18 points in the first half. It was not pretty at all. The second half went much much better and then ended up with a win. It was an exciting ending and now they will play in the Championship game on Sunday night.&lt;br /&gt;I was reminded of the Spring Break when Larina and I visited you in Alicante. We spent a few days exploring Madrid as well. One of my favorite pictures of the two of us is in the gardens of one of the palaces there. I also love the photo of the three of us in front of one of those big black bulls that were all around the countryside advertising some kind of beer.&lt;br /&gt;Oh and I remember that fire festival in Valencia. Wow! That was a crazy parade. And what a fun trip. Do you remember packing up that sword that I bought? The King Arthur one. We put it in the box... duct taped the box... then wrapped the box in a blue and green flowered sheet... then taped the sheet up with duct tape. It was hideous and most certainly would not make it through security today! :)&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1589104547701408317?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1589104547701408317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1589104547701408317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1589104547701408317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1589104547701408317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/05/madrid.html' title='Madrid'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1256922814386534393</id><published>2008-04-28T10:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T11:12:12.546-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Red Bull Day</title><content type='html'>Dear Jonathan... Wow... lots of excitement going on around here this month. I have been thinking of you so often and just have not had the time to write.  Monika has been visiting for the Pesach holiday. We stayed in Tel Aviv for the seder with Rachel and her fiancee and her mom. Then we took off exploring from Beersheva to Jerusalem to the Sea of Galilee to the Golan Heights and back to Tel Aviv. It was great fun.&lt;br /&gt;Then yesterday morning my phone started ringing at 6:12am. I flipped it open and saw "HOME" and my heart fluttered. I sort of have this complex about random calls from home now. I generally know when Mom or Dad will call and my previous experience with unexpected calls sort of lends me to expect bad news. Anyway - this time it was the VERY best news. Lydia and Josh are engaged!!! I couldn't be happier. Mom called so that I was on the phone when they walked into the house. I heard the whole gang screaming and got to hear details from Lydia. They are so cute. I can't believe our Lil' Lydie is ENGAGED. It was so fun hearing all the excitement and I am certainly thrilled... although I will admit that it is incredibly hard not being there. I cried a bit after getting off the phone with them because I hate missing these moments.&lt;br /&gt;I did have fun telling everyone here about it. They were all very impressed with Josh's creativity. Everyone came to my apartment last night for a goodbye Monika/congrats Lydia and Josh dinner. :) And we made a video of congratulations for them.&lt;br /&gt;Monika had to be at the airport at 3am so we didn't get any sleep and I only got back home at 5:30am. I slept for a few hours before heading off to class and now I have to go to a birthday dinner... So I had my first Israeli Red Bull this afternoon before class and hopefully I will not yawn too much through the party. :)&lt;br /&gt;Love you lots!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1256922814386534393?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1256922814386534393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1256922814386534393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1256922814386534393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1256922814386534393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/04/red-bull-day.html' title='A Red Bull Day'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8980248845121689398</id><published>2008-04-06T04:57:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T05:04:23.036-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some days...</title><content type='html'>Some days I have this very clear sense of why I miss you and what I miss. Some days I have this very vivid picture of you doing something or saying something and it just repeats over and over in my head. Some days every song I hear, every sign I see, every person I meet reminds of you. Some days I pick up my phone to dial a number, any number, to reach you. Some days I laugh out loud for a reason that only you would understand. Some days I tear up and even I don't know why. Some days I think has it really been four years. Some days I want to talk about you to everyone I meet. Some days I look at pictures of you for hours on end. Some days I think I can't miss you more than I do right now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8980248845121689398?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8980248845121689398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8980248845121689398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8980248845121689398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8980248845121689398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/04/some-days.html' title='Some days...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1821520247286567018</id><published>2008-03-13T15:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T15:40:49.762-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bats</title><content type='html'>Jonathan,&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember the summer at the web when we chased a bat around the big lodge with tennis rackets??? I think we were sleeping upstairs with Nick and Tiff. I remember Martha being there. And Uncle Fred. I don't know who else. But a bat showed up. And we all freaked out. I remember running around the room. Screaming. And the bat just kept swooping up and down. Eventually somebody went out on the porch a grabbed a few tennis rackets. I am not sure who went up to the loft but we sort of spread out around the room all armed with tennis rackets to whack the bat. I don't remember who finally got him, but the poor guy didn't last long.&lt;br /&gt;Well I have bats on my street. And I am thinking of investing in a tennis racket... a trip to the grocery store after dark is quite dangerous!&lt;br /&gt;Love you&lt;br /&gt;Kirsten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1821520247286567018?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1821520247286567018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1821520247286567018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1821520247286567018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1821520247286567018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/bats.html' title='Bats'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2576117682256805312</id><published>2008-03-09T14:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T14:25:38.454-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Biking</title><content type='html'>Jonathan - So I spent the weekend in the Beer Sheva - the not so lively capital of the Negev. My friends, Sarah, Or and I rented bicycles to explore the Old City. So I was a good bit nervous about riding a bike again since I don't ride one often... ever. But it ended up being SO MUCH FUN! And because the city is so dead on the weekends there wasn't much traffic so I didn't stress as much. Of course, Or tried to bike down some stairs and crashed beautifully but he didn't hurt himself so all was well. Anyway - the whole biking thing reminded me of all our fun biking adventures.&lt;br /&gt;Remember riding on the back of Mom and Dad's bikes to the park. I think it was Friendship Park in Ridgeland that we used to go to. Mom would take a picnic and we would play and eat. I distinctly remember zuchinni bread on once such trip.&lt;br /&gt;I also have a number of fond biking memories of the 'trails' at the top of Mossline. They are no longer there. Years ago some developer came in and built some nice condos in that spot. But I can still picture the hills and dips and ramps that someone set up back there. We used to spend HOURS up there playing around. I can't believe some of the stupid stuff we tried. We thought we were so cool.&lt;br /&gt;And we still are...&lt;br /&gt;I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2576117682256805312?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2576117682256805312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2576117682256805312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2576117682256805312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2576117682256805312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/biking.html' title='Biking'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5425783146282866628</id><published>2008-03-07T14:10:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T14:17:41.369-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Lydia!</title><content type='html'>Today is Lydia's 21st birthday. I can't believe Lil' Lyd is now legal! I still remember the night she was born. Mom and Dad had gone to the hospital early in the evening and Granny was at home with you and me. I remember Granny coming in and waking me up and telling me that I had a new sister. And for some reason I was so sleepy and confused, I thought she was talking about herself. HA HA HA!&lt;br /&gt;Lydia is an amazing, beautiful, Godly young woman. I am thankful for the bond we have as sisters and friends.&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Jonathan! Wish we could all celebrate together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5425783146282866628?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5425783146282866628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5425783146282866628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5425783146282866628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5425783146282866628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-birthday-lydia.html' title='Happy Birthday, Lydia!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5689295885587263642</id><published>2008-03-05T01:01:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T01:05:23.797-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More Birthday Wishes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;We miss you…A LOT!!!  This time 4  years ago we had just decided to name our first  baby &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Jonathan!  Wish we had a chance to  tell you….He is an amazing child…we pray he will be like the Jonathan you were!  We had no idea  what a blessing his name would be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway…….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Happy Birthday to you!!! &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Kristi  Anderson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5689295885587263642?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5689295885587263642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5689295885587263642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5689295885587263642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5689295885587263642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/more-birthday-wishes.html' title='More Birthday Wishes!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8290146654164536338</id><published>2008-03-04T14:13:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T14:57:28.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday!</title><content type='html'>Yo Bro! It's your birthday. I bet you don't feel any older!! Ha. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to do 28 mitzvot (good deeds) today in celebration of you. It would kind of ruin it if I told you all of them but I will say that one of my favorites was the box full of chocolate chip cookies and other goodies that I sent to a friend on his army base. He is going to be so surprised!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway - here are a couple of gifts I picked out for you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R82zIHgEBpI/AAAAAAAAADA/enAvT0V4IUQ/s1600-h/BarMitzvah+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R82zIHgEBpI/AAAAAAAAADA/enAvT0V4IUQ/s320/BarMitzvah+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173988498952423058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This guy was just too funny to pass up. I love the MC colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R820J3gEBqI/AAAAAAAAADI/j3-if0M1FFM/s1600-h/BarMitzvah+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R820J3gEBqI/AAAAAAAAADI/j3-if0M1FFM/s320/BarMitzvah+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173989628528821922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;See didn't I tell you you would love it.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, ok. So seeing as how I am a student and living on a budget, this is probably not the actual gift that I would have gotten you. Sorry. More like a quick phone call and a nice e-card. But you aren't here so I can pretend all I want!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to dinner tonight at a fun new restaurant called Mama's Meatballs and More. And for your birthday dinner I had this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R822Y3gEBrI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Rj8gCib5p0A/s1600-h/BarMitzvah+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R822Y3gEBrI/AAAAAAAAADQ/Rj8gCib5p0A/s320/BarMitzvah+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173992085250115250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is not Mom's meatloaf, but it was still yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8290146654164536338?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8290146654164536338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8290146654164536338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8290146654164536338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8290146654164536338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy Birthday!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R82zIHgEBpI/AAAAAAAAADA/enAvT0V4IUQ/s72-c/BarMitzvah+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7167767960031411356</id><published>2008-03-01T06:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T06:49:03.882-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's March!</title><content type='html'>Hey JD! Only three days until your birthday. I found the most perfect gift for you. I just know you will love it!! But you will have to wait until your actual birthday to see it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7167767960031411356?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7167767960031411356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7167767960031411356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7167767960031411356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7167767960031411356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/03/its-march.html' title='It&apos;s March!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8960777021285121344</id><published>2008-02-28T09:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T09:21:41.735-06:00</updated><title type='text'>David is 17!</title><content type='html'>Dear Jonathan,&lt;br /&gt;Our baby brother is SEVENTEEN. I can't believe it. I called him on his birthday. Mom answered the phone and I asked to speak to the birthday boy. Dude - I should have said birthday man. When he first said something on the phone, I thought it was you. He sounded exactly like you. All grown up and mature. I wish was there to celebrate with him. I wish you were here as well.&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8960777021285121344?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8960777021285121344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8960777021285121344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8960777021285121344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8960777021285121344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/david-is-17.html' title='David is 17!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2636479447774264958</id><published>2008-02-15T08:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T08:39:55.844-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Earthquake</title><content type='html'>Hey Jonathan -&lt;br /&gt;So do you remember all those earthquake drills they had us doing back in elementary school? I don't remember what year it was exactly. I think I was 5th or 6th grade. We had to bring bottles of water and snacks into school just in case. And we practiced getting under our desks. I distinctly remember drills at both McLeod and APAC. Apparently there was supposed to be some huge earthquake with an epicenter in Memphis or maybe it wasn't Memphis. Does anyone remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway - I experienced my first earthquake today. It was around 12:30pm. I had gone to the store this morning. And then I was back at home sitting on my bed working on a paper. All of a sudden the wall and the bed and everything started shaking. At first I thought Irene, my roommate, had just banged the wall. But then it kept shaking. Whoa! It was crazy!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read online that it was a 5.3 on the earthquake scale with the epicenter in Tyre, Lebanon. Apparently it was the strongest quake in Israel in the last ten years. Next time I will be ready to dive under my bed... Of course I have to clean it out first!! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2636479447774264958?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2636479447774264958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2636479447774264958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2636479447774264958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2636479447774264958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/earthquake.html' title='Earthquake'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6603205875385035291</id><published>2008-02-14T00:29:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T00:32:12.098-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7PgX4WerbI/AAAAAAAAACw/nb7UiQUqfeQ/s1600-h/wes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7PgX4WerbI/AAAAAAAAACw/nb7UiQUqfeQ/s320/wes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166719898392374706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JD,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that when we try to say the most important thing we just  can't formulate the words?  I feel like every time I think about you and know  that there is something to be said, saying it just won't do it justice.  I  suppose not saying anything at all is worse...so I'm writing, just trying to get  some of this stuff out.  I know in real life you would probably be terribly  uncomfortable about this conversation.  Who knows if you hear this stuff?  If  you do, sorry for continuing to make fun of you over the last several  years...not really...it makes me feel better about you always getting the best  of me.  Anyhow, I see you, think of you, and miss you every single day.  I talk  about you all the time to my students...you rocked my life like few people ever  have.  I'm a better man because of how God used you.  I try to keep the thoughts  about you surface level...I cry less that way.  I went out and bought a roll of  duct tape and new set of Sharpies in honor of you the other day.  Oh  yeah, there's this girl in the youth group that wears about 5 or 6 different  colored detachable Sharpies on her carabineer...pretty sweet.  Anyhow, most of  my adventures just aren't the same without you here...seriously, why did you  have to make our times so good that I'd never enjoy anything the same way  again?!  Of course I have had less bumps and bruises and other injuries since  you've been gone...mainly because you're not here to inspire or convince me to  do something I never would have by myself.  So tonight I challenged our students  to truly see the broken world we live in, to live honestly, and walk with those  hurting.  So we're celebrating Valentine's a different way...the way I think  Jesus may have celebrated it.  The message and picture are based off of that and  the organization it promoted...you would've liked what they are about and the  way they go about it I think (&lt;a title="http://www.twloha.com" href="http://www.twloha.com/"&gt;www.twloha.com&lt;/a&gt;).  So here's to writing love and  hope on my arms in a way that you helped do on my heart years  ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6603205875385035291?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6603205875385035291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6603205875385035291' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6603205875385035291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6603205875385035291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/jd-why-is-it-that-when-we-try-to-say.html' title=''/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7PgX4WerbI/AAAAAAAAACw/nb7UiQUqfeQ/s72-c/wes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3299664339936956985</id><published>2008-02-12T05:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T05:27:09.406-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How Not to Get a Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;Dear Jonathan - I had the craziest phone conversation last night. I know you would find it hilarious...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten:  Hello.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: Hallo.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten: Hello.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: Hallo.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten: Hi.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: Mi zote? (Who is  this?)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten:  Kirsten&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: Mi?  (Who?)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten:  KIRSTEN&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli:  Mi?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten:  KIRSTEN!!!!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: speaks in Hebrew to  someone off the phone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Kirsten: Who do you want?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;Mr.Israeli: At medabarit ivrit? (Do  you speak Hebrew?)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: No. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: At medabarit anglit? (Do you  speak English?)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: Yes. English.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Where did you get this SIM  card?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: The store.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: What store?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: The cellcom store.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: It’s my number.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: Ha.Ha. No it’s my number.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: No. I lost it like two weeks  ago. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: Sorry but it’s my number and I  have had it for a year and a half. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Oh. (short  pause)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Well can I see you?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: WHAT!?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Can I see  you?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: No. (laugh laugh  laugh)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: What I don’t understand  you?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: You don’t understand  NO.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: It is hard to hear you.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: I said NO.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Where are you right  now?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: Excuse me.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Where are  you?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Israel&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI:  Where?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Israel&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: says something in Hebrew to  someone off the phone. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI or possibly Mr.Israeli2: Where  are you again?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Israel&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;MI: Okay but where in  &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Israel&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;? Tel Aviv? Petah Tikva?  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;K: Sderot (which is the town near  &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Gaza&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; where the  rockets have been landing for the past year. )&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;And the call  disconnects…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So I'm left wondering if he has had success with this method in the past... or was it just a spur of the moment thought... you know, "Hey, while I've got this girl on the phone I might as well ask her out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/8769306202445355978-3299664339936956985?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3299664339936956985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3299664339936956985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3299664339936956985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3299664339936956985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/how-not-to-get-date.html' title='How Not to Get a Date'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5252017020703147063</id><published>2008-02-11T06:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T07:08:17.895-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Monopoly</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7BIeoWeraI/AAAAAAAAACo/bCcOxpbjltU/s1600-h/monopoly%2Bsmall.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7BIeoWeraI/AAAAAAAAACo/bCcOxpbjltU/s320/monopoly%2Bsmall.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165708463658937762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jonathan,&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember the countless days/nights we spent playing monopoly? We had week/month long games where we just slid the board under the bed so we could keep going and going and going. There was no such thing as a 'quick' game of Monopoly. And I don't remember anyone ever actually winning but I do remember arguing over who got to have the DOG moving piece every game. Anyway - Monopoly is coming out with a new edition called "Here and Now." They want people to vote on which 22 cities should be on the board. I voted for Jerusalem, Paris, and Chicago. There are three cities from Canada in the top 20 and that just doesn't seem right.&lt;br /&gt;Love you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link for anyone who reads this and is interested in voting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monopolyworldvote.com/en_US/world"&gt;http://www.monopolyworldvote.com/en_US/world&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5252017020703147063?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5252017020703147063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5252017020703147063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5252017020703147063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5252017020703147063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/monopoly.html' title='Monopoly'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R7BIeoWeraI/AAAAAAAAACo/bCcOxpbjltU/s72-c/monopoly%2Bsmall.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6982833080566919306</id><published>2008-02-10T07:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T07:16:21.474-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Skiing</title><content type='html'>Hey JD,&lt;br /&gt;I went snow skiing this weekend minus the actual skiing. :) It was amazing. Snow in Israel!! It reminded of the ski trips we took in college. Of course we only had to drive 3 hours not 22 straight!!! I opted not to ski and to just enjoy the snow because I still have unpleasant memories of being pulled down the mountain by the ski patrol guy after I gave up trying one year.&lt;br /&gt;Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6982833080566919306?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6982833080566919306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6982833080566919306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6982833080566919306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6982833080566919306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/02/snow-skiing.html' title='Snow Skiing'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-590710871748138552</id><published>2008-01-23T15:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T15:48:20.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharpies On Demand...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We have a girl in our youth group here in &lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1201119359_0" style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204);"&gt;Illinois&lt;/span&gt; who  loves sharpies and duct tape.  She always has some whereever she is and I can  count on her to whip out her sharpie when I have a sudden need. I've told her  about Jonathan briefly but more than anything I have the overwelming desire to  tell him about her.  I think he would get a kick out of it.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Jonathan, I think about you all the time, I have a reminder in my youth  group. She reminds me of you in these little ways, but in those moments I want  you to know that I think of you and knowing where you are-I pray for your  family.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Brittany Durham Bonner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-590710871748138552?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/590710871748138552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=590710871748138552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/590710871748138552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/590710871748138552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/sharpies-on-demand.html' title='Sharpies On Demand...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8751538329754454176</id><published>2008-01-20T19:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T19:18:30.311-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;I was walking into the Georgia State Arena the other day  to tutor. I passed by this girl and had to do a triple take. She looked so much  like this girl Robin from college who went to France with me and with Jonathan.  I grabbed my phone, opened it, and then realized that he was the only person who  would get it. It's been a while since I habitually grabbed my phone to call  Jonathan, and it didn't even hit me that he was who I was grabbing my phone to  call until I had opened it to dial.&lt;br /&gt;-Elizabeth Crews&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/8769306202445355978-8751538329754454176?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8751538329754454176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8751538329754454176' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8751538329754454176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8751538329754454176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-was-walking-into-georgia-state-arena.html' title=''/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6742169723972531282</id><published>2008-01-14T15:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T12:53:50.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Beepers...</title><content type='html'>So I have a new favorite show now.... 30 Rock... Tina Fey's new sitcom about what goes on behind the scenes of a show similar to SNL. It is hilarious. Amy recommended I watch it ages ago and I have just now gotten around to it. I think you would find it hilarious. Anyway, the last episode I saw was about Tina Fey's character reuniting with an old boyfriend who works at a beeper store called Beeper King. Everyone gives her grief for dating a beeper salesman and she keeps making the point that he is not just an employee but is not the Beeper King. Very funny stuff... and it totally reminded me of your days working at the beeper/pager store in Clinton. I can't even remember the name of it. But they had those horrible, horrible commercials that were just beeps. Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6742169723972531282?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6742169723972531282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6742169723972531282' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6742169723972531282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6742169723972531282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/beepers.html' title='Beepers...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7702745797742823568</id><published>2008-01-13T08:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T08:11:27.629-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting Kay Arthur</title><content type='html'>So I started a Kay Arthur Bible study this week. It is really cool because she is teaching through Matthew and all of her teachings were recorded when she was here in Israel - so I can totally visualize most of the places she is discussing. Anyway - starting this study reminds of that weekend when we were in high school and we went to a Kay Arthur retreat with the church. I don't remember everyone who went. I think Amy. And I know Ric White. I distinctly remember him because he spent the whole trip to Chattanooga teaching us those crazy mind games and pulling practical jokes on us. I specifically remember one really long story where most of us girls were crying about how he reminded some poor women in the mall of her dead son and then it was all a joke. At any rate - at the very first session with Kay, she asked us to all take out our Bibles. You were sitting on the front row. And I think this retreat must have been during Spring Break because Mom and Dad had given you a new Bible for you birthday. Although now that I think about it, it could have also been just after Christmas. OH well. Anyway - you were very very proud of that new Bible. So Kay starts teaching. And she asks us to open our Bibles to a specific passage - and then as she scans the crowd - she totally calls you out for playing with a computer game instead of opening your Bible. I think I remember you trying to protest but she kind of went off for a minute about bringing your Bible and how important this time was and that we weren't here to play games. That this was serious business. Eventually you were able to tell her that it was an ELECTRONIC BIBLE! And that you were paying attention. She was shocked. I remember everyone laughing about it. And how you sat on the front row every session - and every session she made some comment to you about your fancy shmancy Bible. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7702745797742823568?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7702745797742823568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7702745797742823568' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7702745797742823568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7702745797742823568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/meeting-kay-arthur.html' title='Meeting Kay Arthur'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-4221494489265302977</id><published>2008-01-11T11:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T11:44:26.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Movies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R4eqDJ6Jo9I/AAAAAAAAACg/afTH8iUS3WU/s1600-h/update08_bkrewind.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R4eqDJ6Jo9I/AAAAAAAAACg/afTH8iUS3WU/s320/update08_bkrewind.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154275269724971986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I saw the preview for this movie the other day and totally thought of you. I could totally see you getting a gang together to recreate all the old movies. Its a part of the legacy that you left that this is also the kind of thing that David loves to do. You would be very impressed with his filmology (I don't think that is an actual word. Sorry.) skills.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-4221494489265302977?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4221494489265302977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=4221494489265302977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4221494489265302977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4221494489265302977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/making-movies.html' title='Making Movies'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/R4eqDJ6Jo9I/AAAAAAAAACg/afTH8iUS3WU/s72-c/update08_bkrewind.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8898542284430746190</id><published>2008-01-10T15:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T16:14:52.570-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken Nuggets</title><content type='html'>Mark was eating McDonald's chicken nuggets for lunch today. It reminded me of the last time I ate chicken nuggets. You were there.  It was 12 years ago - after swim team practice. We stopped at McDonald's on our way home.  I don't remember what you had but I had chicken nuggets. When we got home, Steve was there to tell us that they were moving to Georgia. I think I cried for an hour. After  he left, I got sick - throwing up sick. I didn't go to school the next day I was so sick.  And on Wednesday I think I went in but only for an algebra test. I have a picture of us with Steve from that night. My eyes are so red.  I am pretty sure the chicken nuggets aren't what made me so sick but I associate them with violent vomiting and I still can't eat them.  &lt;img style="width: 1px; height: 1px;" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Kirsten/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8898542284430746190?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8898542284430746190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8898542284430746190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8898542284430746190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8898542284430746190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/chicken-nuggets.html' title='Chicken Nuggets'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-4469724513346397061</id><published>2008-01-10T15:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T15:59:34.106-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>So I've decided to take this blog in a slightly different direction... I find myself thinking of Jonathan at the most random times... often multiple times a day. I will see something or someone and instantly want to call or email him with a funny story. Oftentimes I will share the story with someone but they just don't get it the way I know Jonathan would... so I have decided to use this blog to write these stories to Jonathan. I still welcome your memories and/or comments on similar JD memories.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-4469724513346397061?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4469724513346397061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=4469724513346397061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4469724513346397061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4469724513346397061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2008/01/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1971316226510909078</id><published>2007-10-19T16:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T16:38:26.186-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Kirsten!</title><content type='html'>Happy Birthday, Kirsten.&lt;br /&gt;As a special memorial to Jonathan, a friend gave us  a rose bush. It is named for a French artist and a town in France which Jonathan  visited.&lt;br /&gt;The roses are beautiful and yellow but the blooms are rather  intermittent. So when it does bloom, I just sense that Jonathan is smiling about  whatever is happening in our lives. Today, on your birthday (October 15),  there  are 3 beautiful blooms all opened at the same time!&lt;br /&gt;We all love  you.&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1971316226510909078?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1971316226510909078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1971316226510909078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1971316226510909078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1971316226510909078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/10/happy-birthday-kirsten.html' title='Happy Birthday, Kirsten!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7119606968586798943</id><published>2007-09-18T05:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T05:38:43.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tom and Huck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In May I bought my nephew, Charlie, a  99 cent DVD of Tom and Huck. As I bought it, I thought to myself, "Jonathan  would approve!" When Jonathan was moving to California, I went over and helped  him pack up his stuff. The first thing I noticed was that Jonathan had a whole  lot of stuff...a lot of it junk that he hadn't used in years and would probably  never use again. He had huge plastic tubs of wires and another one full of  bungee cords. He had a full set of bowling pins and a couple of roller  racers that he and The Blob (aka Mark Metcalf) and, I think, H. Ross had picked  up out of some garbage pile. But amongst all of this random stuff in his room,  Jonathan had a beautiful set of Mark Twain books. In fact, Jonathan had so many  different copies of Twain's books that I asked him about it. I knew that  &lt;em&gt;Huck Finn&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Tom Sawyer&lt;/em&gt; were his favorite books, but I didn't  know he was as obsessed with all Twain's stuff. In fact, he had certain copies  of the books that were to stay in Jackson and were to go with him. The nicer  ones were to stay so that nothing could happen to them. When I asked him about  it, he stopped what he was doing, looked at me, and just smiled saying "Oh yea,  I'm a big fan!" The only response I could give was, "Yea, I see that." From that  moment on, Mark Twain became synonymous with Jonathan to me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;I bought my nephew this dirt cheap DVD of &lt;em&gt;Tom  and Huck&lt;/em&gt; because his Spongebob DVDs had been packed up when they had moved.  In fact, it was just one of four DVDs that I bought him. From the first moment  he sat down and watched the cartoon version of Twain's stories, Charlie was  hooked...more like obsessed. The other three DVDs ended up in the garbage. He  didn't want to watch them at all. My mom called to tell me how Charlie's  vocabulary had been enhanced with words like steamboat and raft. This DVD also  introduced him to another word Jonathan would have been proud of him saying:  Mississippi. Anytime we would ask Charlie about &lt;em&gt;Tom and Huck&lt;/em&gt;, he would  talk insessantly about what happened in the story and who the secondary  characters were in relation to Tom and Huck. We even got the two-year-old, picky  eater to eat turnip greens, pork chops, and cornbread by telling him that it was  Tom and Huck food. After four months of watching &lt;em&gt;Tom and Huck&lt;/em&gt; 24/7, the  DVD no longer played. Luckily, Wal-Mart had another copy of it, and Charlie is  back to watching it every time he's at Mama's. Needless to say, Charlie, like  Jonathan, is a big fan. While Jonathan wasn't exactly a kid's kinda person, I  think he would smile and approve of the fact that another generation of little  Mississippi boys are being introduced to the wonder of Twain's stories like Tom  Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.&lt;br /&gt;-Elizabeth Crews&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7119606968586798943?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7119606968586798943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7119606968586798943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7119606968586798943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7119606968586798943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/09/tom-and-huck.html' title='Tom and Huck'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2446006825944539864</id><published>2007-07-07T05:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T05:56:01.986-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jim's not the only one...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Ro97otwTogI/AAAAAAAAACQ/XkUDua1iDU0/s1600-h/DSC00627.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Ro97otwTogI/AAAAAAAAACQ/XkUDua1iDU0/s320/DSC00627.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084418443731771906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So this is a picture of Craig Robinson (Darryl from "The Office") and I near the shuk (market) in Jerusalem. Rhonda and I just happened to bump into him in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (supposedly built on the place where Christ was crucified). He was pretty much wandering the city aimlessly after ditching his traveling pals in the underground tunnels in the City of David. We walked him through the church and down the Via Dolorosa. We enjoyed some hummus and sodas and chatted for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, if you look closely at what Craig is wearing - you will immediately get the Jonathan reference. Um... yes... that is a FANNY PACK! Jim Randall, we have a friend for you! :) Ok so I am basically laughing inside the whole time we are walking around... and then when he gets out money to pay at the restaurant, Craig even says "I know. I know. A fanny pack. Please don't say anything." At which point I burst into laughter.  And Rhonda is saying "Yes he did." I opted not to tell the whole story but did point out that I was glad he knew how lame it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fanny packs are actually quite popular here in Israel - and not just for tourists. Men wear them around their waists and also sling them over their shoulder like a purse. Apparently somebody finally got smart and developed a man purse. I will take pictures to show you. JD would love it. And of course mercilessly tease any guy he knew who chose to wear one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2446006825944539864?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2446006825944539864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2446006825944539864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2446006825944539864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2446006825944539864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/07/jims-not-only-one.html' title='Jim&apos;s not the only one...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Ro97otwTogI/AAAAAAAAACQ/XkUDua1iDU0/s72-c/DSC00627.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6665625038335501082</id><published>2007-07-06T08:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T05:56:58.605-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Throughout the years I knew Jonathan, I came to  rely on him for things. When I needed a voice of reason and logic, he was the  first person I called. When I wanted to procrastinate and not study, he always  had something to do whether it was play games or just sit at the concrete tables  on campus and tell stories for hours. When I needed to vent, he would listen  then simply say he was sorry for whatever it was that had gotten me worked up.  When I craved Haagen Daz, he rode all over Jackson with me looking in every  grocery store, food mart, and gas station until I found it.  When I needed  somebody to laugh with me over whatever stupid mistake I'd made, he was always  first in line to join in the laughter. These are the things that any great  friend would do. The memories are specific to Jonathan for me, but the gestures  are typical of best friends. However, there is one way in which I came to depend  on Jonathan that will forever be Jonathan specific. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Today I found myself frustrated and asking God why  Jonathan was in Heaven when I needed him in Jackson. My sister and I went to New  Albany for the fourth. We got in last night around 11 pm, and I began to unpack  the car. Knowing that she would be taking her car to work and I would be leaving  for Atlanta, I went through her car thoroughly in order to get everything that  was mine out. Once the car was empty I realized that my keys weren't where they  were supposed to be (in my purse). I searched every crevice of her car and  house. They were nowhere to be found. I called Jeff at 11:30 at night to tell  him to look for my keys in New Albany. (in typical Jeff fashion, he said he was  asleep and it could wait til morning). This morning I woke up and called New  Albany; they had not found the keys. I again searched the house, every bag, nook  and cranny. The keys were nowhere to be found. As I began looking up the numbers  to locksmiths, I kept saying to myself: "The valet key is in the car.  Seriously, it would take JD five minutes to open the car and solve this whole  dilemma!" I can't tell you how many times Jonathan let me into my car. In fact,  Jonathan and his little car entry thingy that he picked up on the side of the  road on the way to Illinois became legendary at MC. He would get calls from  friends of friends of friends asking if he would come let them into their car.  He always did. I was with him once; he walked up to a fretful girl who he had  never seen or heard of, said: "Hey. I'm Jonathan," and began to try to jimmy her  door open. We laughed about it all night. The best was when the girl awkwardly  tried to pay him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;After three hours of looking, I finally found my  keys out on the driveway where I had dropped them accidently three days ago. In  my head I could hear the sound of JD laughing with/at me as he always did when I  had a Crewslike moment. I wonder if I'll ever have a morning like today and  &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;not &lt;/strong&gt;think first of Jonathan. In a way, I hope not. After all  was said and done, it felt good to hear Jonathan laugh again (even if it was  just in my head).&lt;br /&gt;-Elizabeth Crews&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6665625038335501082?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6665625038335501082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6665625038335501082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6665625038335501082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6665625038335501082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/07/throughout-years-i-knew-jonathan-i-came.html' title=''/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8359878647389872176</id><published>2007-06-17T12:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T12:29:46.228-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Biblical Sharpies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnV8SM0LbhI/AAAAAAAAACA/DRZTSLQFrHo/s1600-h/NeotKedumim003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnV8SM0LbhI/AAAAAAAAACA/DRZTSLQFrHo/s320/NeotKedumim003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077100807049670162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today our TASP group took an end of the year field trip to Neot Kedumim, the Biblical Nature Reserve near Jerusalem. It was a wonderful adventure. We made our own zatar (oregano) and cooked our own pita and other fabulous dishes using Biblical ingredients and methods. We made a lovely smelling satchet out of myrtle. We saw remains of a 1st century olive press, wine press, and cistern. We drew water using a model of an ancient Egyptian water wheel. BUT my Jonathan moment occured when we learned about the tools the scribes use(d) to write the Torah scrolls. The preferred writing utensil is a turkey feather but those were not readily available in all places and not all birds are kosher, so they opted for the reed. I was really surprised at how smooth the ink went on the paper - it was just LIKE a sharpie. Mine even seemed like a slightly old, dried out sharpie! :)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnV9Ss0LbiI/AAAAAAAAACI/AWWoOkkTbsM/s1600-h/DSC03462.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnV9Ss0LbiI/AAAAAAAAACI/AWWoOkkTbsM/s320/DSC03462.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077101915151232546" 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/8769306202445355978-8359878647389872176?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8359878647389872176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8359878647389872176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8359878647389872176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8359878647389872176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/06/biblical-sharpies.html' title='Biblical Sharpies'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnV8SM0LbhI/AAAAAAAAACA/DRZTSLQFrHo/s72-c/NeotKedumim003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-4162244075308591102</id><published>2007-06-12T14:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T10:56:24.124-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Here Fishy Fishy Fishy</title><content type='html'>So today was a day when I really wanted to call Jonathan because he would have loved this story...&lt;br /&gt;I went to HaYarkon Park today for a picnic and boating with other immigrant students from Tel Aviv University. (No I am not an immigrant but they include me because I am an international student.) After eating, we divided into two groups for boating. I chose the paddle boat (flashbacks to pre-teen camp at the State park!). Danielle and Max were in my group. Max and I paddled; Danielle navigated. It was a beautiful evening and we were having great fun. Suddenly something jumped out of the water and back in. We were all curious. Pretty soon we noticed fish jumping every few minutes. Cute little fish diving in and out of the water. I instantly remembered this clip from Sesame Street that Jonathan and I loved. I found it on youtube but I can't get it to post here. The link is &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=pFTjeaDlxDI"&gt;http://youtube.com/watch?v=pFTjeaDlxDI&lt;/a&gt; to watch it. So I tell Danielle and Max wouldn't it be funny if a fish jumped in our boat. They laughed. About five minutes later, Danielle screamed. I turned around a THERE WAS A FISH FLOPPING AROUND IN THE BOAT! Seriously. It was the funniest thing. I was screaming and grabbing the camera. Danielle was frantically trying to shoo it back into the water. Poor Max was more worried about the two of us than the fish. :)&lt;br /&gt;Here is the poor guy bouncing around... &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnLEU80LbgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/_QhrOtBW1PQ/s1600-h/DSC03387.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnLEU80LbgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/_QhrOtBW1PQ/s320/DSC03387.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076335594201378306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I guess Bert and Ernie aren't the only ones who can fish without a pole!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-4162244075308591102?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/4162244075308591102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=4162244075308591102' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4162244075308591102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/4162244075308591102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/06/here-fishy-fishy-fishy.html' title='Here Fishy Fishy Fishy'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RnLEU80LbgI/AAAAAAAAAB4/_QhrOtBW1PQ/s72-c/DSC03387.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3713372562068578619</id><published>2007-06-08T07:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T07:22:25.762-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Movies</title><content type='html'>Today I was waiting at the bus stop near Rabin Square. It is a large plaza type place with fountains and bushes and stuff. Anyway, all of sudden I see two guys walking towards each other. One guy is wearing a dark brown leather jacket and I am thinking - it is WAY too hot for that jacket. The other guy is wearing a suit and carrying a large silver briefcase. To make it even stranger the two guys meet in the middle of the square exchange the briefcase and walk away. Strange, right? I am looking around thinking did I just see a drug deal in the middle of the morning... Then I see a guy with a camera - and I realize they are filming a scene for a movie. The guys swap the briefcase like 50 times and the camera guy gets dozens of different shots. He occasionally confers with the guys and they walk faster or slower or whatever. It was pretty cool - and I thought this is what JD did...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-3713372562068578619?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3713372562068578619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3713372562068578619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3713372562068578619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3713372562068578619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/06/making-movies.html' title='Making Movies'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3773565501967909113</id><published>2007-06-05T08:32:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-05T08:51:44.346-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Space Camp</title><content type='html'>A friend left her case of dvds at my house while she is backpacking through Egypt. I had immediate flashbacks when I came across this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV02M0LbeI/AAAAAAAAABo/qqHqXtzhKnc/s1600-h/36m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV02M0LbeI/AAAAAAAAABo/qqHqXtzhKnc/s320/36m.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072589029804568034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I distinctly remember Jonathan and I watching it with my parents at the house on Mossline Drive. I am pretty sure we watched multiple times. It was definitely part of the inspiration for Jonathan and I going to Space Camp one spring. I think he was in the fourth grade and I was in the fifth grade. If I recall we got to miss a few days of school because it was an educational trip... or maybe that was something else. Anyway - as best as I can remember my parents or maybe it was my mom and Lydia drove us over and then they stayed at a hotel in Huntsville.&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan and I had a blast. We were put on separate shuttle crews but saw each other at meals and such. We did a lot of math stuff, rode in the centrifugal spin around thing and ate dried ice cream.  I remember a lot of stairs at the NASA building. And I think we may have watched Space Camp while at Space Camp. :) We got to wear these really cool space suits - which I still have. I may also still have the packages of freeze dried strawberry ice cream that I brought back. Maybe I will sell that on E-Bay. We did not learn anything about diapers... that must be a recent phenomen. :)&lt;br /&gt;And here is the proof...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV3A80LbfI/AAAAAAAAABw/6FLZGJo2840/s1600-h/5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV3A80LbfI/AAAAAAAAABw/6FLZGJo2840/s320/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072591413511417330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ok I am off to enjoy the movie and relive all the great memories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV0hM0LbdI/AAAAAAAAABg/Yjo1otiqPU0/s1600-h/spacecamp.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV0hM0LbdI/AAAAAAAAABg/Yjo1otiqPU0/s320/spacecamp.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072588669027315154" 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/8769306202445355978-3773565501967909113?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3773565501967909113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3773565501967909113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3773565501967909113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3773565501967909113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/06/space-camp.html' title='Space Camp'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RmV02M0LbeI/AAAAAAAAABo/qqHqXtzhKnc/s72-c/36m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2080968953696176999</id><published>2007-05-23T12:43:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T12:55:56.995-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Whodunit?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RlSOMqWJezI/AAAAAAAAABY/W6B5g0K1IOg/s1600-h/mole.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RlSOMqWJezI/AAAAAAAAABY/W6B5g0K1IOg/s320/mole.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067831828875410226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the semester that Jonathan was studying in France, he sent me a copy of this book in French for my birthday. The pictures were quite humorous and we had lots of fun trying to figure out the story. Fortunately my roommate, Jennifer, knew French and was able to translate the story for us. We laughed even harder. I have had lots of fun over the years showing the book around to various friends trying to get them to predict what the story is about. People rarely guess correctly on the first try. I was in a local bookstore this week and found a copy in HEBREW!! Of course I had to buy it. I have decided to start a collection. I am sure the German guys who wrote it had no idea that it would one day be translated into so many languages and be so popular around the world. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2080968953696176999?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2080968953696176999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2080968953696176999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2080968953696176999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2080968953696176999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/05/whodunit.html' title='Whodunit?'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RlSOMqWJezI/AAAAAAAAABY/W6B5g0K1IOg/s72-c/mole.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7500022944323102224</id><published>2007-05-14T04:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T04:28:14.637-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you!</title><content type='html'>We have been watching some old home videos. As I watch Jonathan as a preteen -  that awkard age - he shows times of just that - being an awkard preteen. How did  he transition to the incredible young man that we all know and love? First and  foremost  is the fact that God grew him to be the young man He needed. Also,  people invested in Jonathan. Each person that has written on this blog invested  in Jonathan. So a little bit of each of you helped him grow. So the challenge  for today is to continue investing in young people.   And since several of you  are young parents, begin now to pray for people to invest in the lives of your  children.&lt;br /&gt;Today is Mother's Day. I want to say thanks to each of you.&lt;br /&gt;I  needed a bit of Jonathan today, so each of you blessed me with the stories that  you shared.&lt;br /&gt;I love you all!&lt;br /&gt;Dottie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7500022944323102224?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7500022944323102224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7500022944323102224' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7500022944323102224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7500022944323102224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/05/thank-you.html' title='Thank you!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-8993557122628452178</id><published>2007-04-22T12:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T12:58:05.445-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Text Messaging</title><content type='html'>I carried on multiple conversations with multiple people over text messaging today. I even ordered a pizza and had it delivered to my house using a text message. Pretty impressive. I distinctly remember the first text message I ever received. It was November of 2001. I was student teaching a third grade class at Casey Elementary School. The students were taking a math test. The room was completely silent. It was impressive. Suddenly a series of beeps interrupted the quiet. It definitely came from the corner of the room where my bags were... but the storage closet was also in that corner so we didn't think anything of it. A few minutes later the beeps occured again. The kids were starting to get distracted. I went to the back of the room to explore. I couldn't find anything in the cabinet making a noise so we moved on. The kids finished the test. We went to lunch. No more noises. After the bell rang, I gathered my bags and headed for the car. I took my phone out and noticed a flashing envelope. I had no clue what it meant. I had never received a text message. I pushed a few buttons and found a note that read "HEY!!" Pushed a few more buttons and discovered the message was from Jonathan. A second text read "Have a great day!" Also from Jonathan. I think it took me several hours to figure out how to respond. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-8993557122628452178?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/8993557122628452178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=8993557122628452178' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8993557122628452178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/8993557122628452178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/04/text-messaging.html' title='Text Messaging'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-6371543935154351376</id><published>2007-04-17T08:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T09:00:38.409-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone Twins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RiTgFjtN4SI/AAAAAAAAABI/Wv2tpj_nbLA/s1600-h/jdphone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RiTgFjtN4SI/AAAAAAAAABI/Wv2tpj_nbLA/s320/jdphone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5054411067905401122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure that most of you remember this phone. Jonathan bought it shortly after moving to California. I inherited it when I came back from Tanzania. Apparently when Jonathan purchased this phone, it was the hot new thing and certain to be quite popular. Unfortunately I think people couldn't get used to the circular dialing thing. When I took it into the Cingular shop to get a new number, the guy was all "I have never seen this phone. It must be ancient." Ah well... I never saw another one like it until... LUXOR Egypt... Our tour guide, Ahmed, had a phone just like this... it was even blue... the same as Jonathan's. I couldn't believe it. Of course Ahmed's phone was all in Arabic... and he really didn't understand why I was so excited. But it was a fun little JD moment in Egypt. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-6371543935154351376?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/6371543935154351376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=6371543935154351376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6371543935154351376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/6371543935154351376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/04/phone-twins.html' title='Phone Twins'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/RiTgFjtN4SI/AAAAAAAAABI/Wv2tpj_nbLA/s72-c/jdphone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5581866312399049150</id><published>2007-04-08T15:26:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T15:26:52.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeeping Around</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;     Late one night Jonathan purchased a 1980s Jeep CJ outfitted  with oversized tires, lift kit, headers, and a 350 Chevy V-8 engine.  He was  very excited about the possibilities for his new jeep.  He later decided that he  would never purchase a vehicle in the dark again without a thorough inspection  because this one leaked oil like a sieve.  In addition, he had to immediately  begin making repairs and modifications.  It seemed that the 350 V-8 was a tad  large for the jeep and some of the motor mounts would break whenever he revved  the engine.  Nevertheless, he had a great time driving his jeep, mud riding,  jumping over logs, and evading the occasional law enforcement officer who  happened down the Natchez Trace.  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;     One Wednesday afternoon just before IMPACT began, Jonathan ran into  the Christian Life Center looking very distressed.  He shared that his  jeep's drive shaft had broken and had fallen out onto the street as he was  making his way to church.  He had picked up the drive shaft but was forced to  leave his jeep on the street about a mile away.  We drove him back and, sure  enough, his jeep was abandoned in the center turn lane of Old Canton Road.  We  informed him that he could still drive his jeep (with the front wheels) by  shifting the transmission to 4-wheel drive.  He thought this was so cool that he  drove his jeep in "front wheel drive" for the rest of the week before getting it  fixed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Patrick Kyle&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/8769306202445355978-5581866312399049150?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5581866312399049150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5581866312399049150' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5581866312399049150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5581866312399049150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/04/jeeping-around.html' title='Jeeping Around'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1867149399336915931</id><published>2007-03-28T06:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T06:41:53.112-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Contagious!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My favorite memories of JD are when Jeremy lived with us  those two summers, and the boys would all come over and just be boys!  I have  absolutely NEVER before or since seen anybody have as much fun in a swimming  pool playing with a little basketball and poolside goal than JD, Jeremy, Steven  Anderson, and Matt Ervin!!  They'd stay out there for HOURS, "hooping" (pun  intended) and hollering, and splashing and laughing!  The laughing was the fun  part!  They'd just crack themselves up about something silly they'd do or say,  and just start laughing until they hurt!  We'd hear them all the way inside the  kitchen and start laughing ourselves, like listening to one of those laugh  boxes!  Contagious!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But then, he had his serious side... when he talked with  you, he gave you his undivided attention.  He loved with his whole heart!  He  never seemed to do anything half-heartedly, but did it because he had a deep  passion for whatever it was he was doing at the time....whether it was spending  a few moments talking with a Student Leader at church, talking with a younger  member of the youth group, being a part of the Devore Family,....or simply  splashing around a swimming pool with his best friends....Jonathan Devore was  quite frankly very contagious, like his laughter!  Oh , that there were more  contagious Christians so passionate as JD!  I can't wait to see him again, and  see if I'm right about him splashing Jesus, or surfing on the crystal sea!!  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Peggy Brown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1867149399336915931?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1867149399336915931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1867149399336915931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1867149399336915931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1867149399336915931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/contagious.html' title='Contagious!!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-151710476223227725</id><published>2007-03-25T08:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T08:17:07.430-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you like a napkin with that ice cream?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Jonathan was three years older than me so I looked up to him and thought he  was so cool. I can remember one time when we were really young and the family  was having a get together (I'm sure for someone's birthday) picnic. It was time  for dessert and Aunt Dottie had just given us some ice cream, and Jonathan started  tearing up his napkin into small pieces. He asked me if I wanted to see  something cool and he put a piece of napkin in his hand and ate it with his  ice cream, (or so I thought.) He told me you couldn't taste it but it's what big  kids did. So like any five year old, I started chowing down on paper napkins and  vanilla ice cream thinking I was so cool and grown up, but when we were done with  dessert and went to play, all the paper napkin pieces flew out of his pocket and  I was yet another sucker to believe the words of Jonathan Devore. (Makes me  think of Travis Lee and his bright colored blazer!)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Three years have flown by, but I can just imagine him in heaven muting the  angels microphones while they are singing praises, and him and Jesus laughing at  their expense!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Much Love to JD, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Katie Smith Arnold&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/8769306202445355978-151710476223227725?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/151710476223227725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=151710476223227725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/151710476223227725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/151710476223227725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/would-you-like-napkin-with-that-ice.html' title='Would you like a napkin with that ice cream?'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5819465814939140880</id><published>2007-03-24T06:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T06:30:43.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunsets</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;When I think of “Jonathan stories” my mind is  flooded with millions of stories. I can never settle on one that seems just  right or that can begin to explain any part of who Jonathan is. Over the past  three years the things that have blown me away is how much Jonathan was in the  little, every day things of life. I knew how much Jonathan meant to me, but I  don’t think I realized how much Jonathan was a part of me – a part of my every  day life. Not long after Jonathan died, I was having lunch with a friend in  downtown &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Jackson&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. We were sitting  close to a window and were in the middle of a deep conversation. I was  mid-sentence when through the window I saw a Red Bull truck, and I stopped  immediately and just sat there. My friend told me that one day these small  things would be what makes me smile in remembrance, but I’m not for sure I  believed him. I now know he was right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;It’s the small things that bring the Jonathan  stories, moments, and memories rushing through my mind. The small things like a  new board game on the shelf at the store – a game that would be perfect for an  all night gamefest, and a game at which Jonathan would obviously beat me. I  almost always think of Jonathan when renting a movie. The obvious movies like &lt;i style=""&gt;The Ladies’ Man&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i style=""&gt;Lock, Stock&lt;/i&gt; aren’t the ones that stop me  in my tracks. However, movies like &lt;i style=""&gt;Ronin&lt;/i&gt; or &lt;i style=""&gt;What About Bob&lt;/i&gt;, or&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Mean  Machine&lt;/i&gt;, or even the latest movie with lots of car chases and explosions are  the ones that make me stop, smile, and maybe laugh out loud. When in the grocery  store about my bi-monthly shopping for food I come across Tab or Fresca, I  always think of those post-church, Sunday night parties at the Devore’s. Foods  like meatloaf, crunchy romaine toss, and French bread pizzas have Jonathan  attached to them in my mind. I never see a blue, Z71 drive down the road that I  don’t listen for it to sound like JD’s truck or think of the times Jonathan  would use the intercom to tell motorists to go faster or get out of his way.  There are millions of these small things, and they are the things that I cherish  most.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;Of all the small things that remind me of  Jonathan, one stands out as the biggest. Jonathan loved sunsets. He was  borderline obsessed with sunsets. His ebay username even had the word sunset in  it. For me, sunsets are the one thing that capture the most of who Jonathan was.  As I think back, all of our serious, heart-to-heart conversations happened while  watching the sunset. On the Reservoir watching the sunset after playing catch  for an hour, we sat and talked about how he really felt about moving to  &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;California&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;; we talked about life  and dreams and what those meant to us. A year later after spending the day on a  road trip for a shoot, we watched the sunset over the &lt;st1:place&gt;Pacific  Ocean&lt;/st1:place&gt; from &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Ventura&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; and  realized that not much had changed in how we viewed life and dreams. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;Jonathan often got frustrated about being in  &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;California&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;, and he needed to be  reminded of why he was there. No matter where Jonathan moved (and he moved tons  in that year and a half), one of the first things he did was to find a place to  watch the sunset. He couldn’t always find time to go and sit to watch the  sunset, but he tried to at least three of four times a week. His place (which  moved each time he did) was a place he could go and sit for an hour and forget  about whatever was going on; it was a place where he could re-charge. Sometimes  he would call while he sat and watched the sunset. He would try to describe it,  but as often with God’s creation, words never were enough. He often talked about  how the clouds made a difference in the colors and the beauty of the sunset. In  a place that often seemed Godless to him, Jonathan could always see God in His  sunsets. I think it served as a reminder that God hadn’t called Jonathan to  &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;California&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; and just left him; God  was still there with him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;I don’t get to see the sunset daily, or nearly  enough as I would like. I often only get to see them when driving from  &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Atlanta&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; to  &lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Mississippi&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt;. But when I see the  sunset, I’m reminded of all of who Jonathan is. Eudora Welty says, “The memory  is a living thing – it too is in transit. But during its moment, all that is  remembered joins, and lives – the old and the young, the past and the present,  the living and the dead.” Sunsets have become one of my favorite things too  because as I watch, with the help of my memory, if only for a moment Jonathan  still lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;--Elizabeth Crews&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5819465814939140880?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5819465814939140880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5819465814939140880' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5819465814939140880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5819465814939140880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/sunsets.html' title='Sunsets'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3207314383634925075</id><published>2007-03-23T04:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T04:33:00.320-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Excel Camp 2001</title><content type='html'>There are soooooooo many stories from Excel Camp. It's become Student  Ministry lore at CH for those who were there. Excel Camp was the summer camp that we  went to in Ducktown, TN (I think). Typically Jim Randall, Student Minister at  the time, would take a pre-trip to scout out the location for summer camp. He  sent a group in August. In August the camp was still being constructed, but hey,  that was 10 months before we were to be there and the owners had ensured us that  everything would be ready by the time we got there.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We arrived the following summer to a camp that was ..... less than  complete. We arrived to Excel Camp believing that we had the camp to ourselves.  By the end of the second day, we were there with two other youth groups, meaning  there were approximately 350 people there sharing a men's and women's bathroom  with 2 sinks, three toilets, and two shower stalls. The water pipes were exposed  and broken meaning there was no drinkable water (it was dirty and gritty), there  were no walls on some of the cabins where some of the girls were staying, and on  and on and on. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The pavilion we were having worship in didn't have any walls either and it  rained like we were in a tropical rain forest throughout the week. We were  getting wet and our sound equipment was getting wet. After one day of a typical  downpouring and drying off the sound equipment once again, I turned around and  all of a sudden JD and Matt Ervin walked in with power tools that who knows  where they got. Immediately they were climbing around the pavilion like a couple  of monkeys (with Bryan Rose) attaching think plastic lining around all of the  outer walls of the pavilion to provide some kind of shelter. I'll never forget  seeing how JD sprang in to action (as he always did) and started addressing  problems... and usually with a set of power tools and Matt Ervin. Excel Camp was  one of the worst and best experiences of my life and JD was all up in the middle  of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Crull Chambless&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/8769306202445355978-3207314383634925075?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3207314383634925075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3207314383634925075' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3207314383634925075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3207314383634925075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/excel-camp-2001.html' title='Excel Camp 2001'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-3774755370763731900</id><published>2007-03-22T06:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T06:43:50.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Electricity... eeeeeeelectricity...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Back in 1998 (or so) the Colonial Heights Student ministry did a missions  project one weekend. It was a local project and we ended up working with the  Mississippi Family Council. We did everything from yard work, light demolition,  painting, etc. At the MS Council office there were two long hallways that ran  parallel to each other down the length of the building with a closet between  them that was used for storage. The only way you could get around the office was  to go to either end of the hallways (kind of made a racetrack around the  office). The Executive Director for the MS Family Council wanted the storage  closet removed to improve traffic flow. So, Jonathan and I started working on  the "light demolition." &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We removed the shelving, et al from the storage room and started  demolishing the sheet rock between the hallways. About 45 minutes in to it,  Jonathan and I had basically destroyed everything... except the electrical  outlet box that was in the wall. We had a long metal 1" conduit with the  junction box on the bottom. Our thought was that we would cut the power, clip  the wires to the box, slide the conduit off, tie the remaining wires off with  electrical tape or whatever, coil it up and stick it up on the ceiling, and  voila! done! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So, we plugged in an electrical drill in to the outlet, pulled out our  "pocket Booker" and had him start cutting breakers to find the right switch for  our outlet.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;"Ok Booker, start cutting the switches!" .... " I think that's it! Cut it  back on one second and let's make sure! ... yeah! that's it. ok kill it!" &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Jonathan, who I swear always had a set of tools with him wherever he goes,  whipped out a set of wire snippers. I pulled the box back at a 45 degree angles,  exposing the wires, and Jonathan went to snip and.... BOOM!!!! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;There was a loud pop and flash. Jonathan was thrown back and the lights in  the office went out. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So upon further inspection, we had killed the circuit to the 120 volt  outlet, but there WAS A LIVE 240 in the junction box!!! Thankfully the snips JD  was using were insulated and all we were left with was a good scare (and the  hair on Jonathan's hand got singed off). &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;To this day, I don't mess with electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Crull Chambless&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/8769306202445355978-3774755370763731900?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/3774755370763731900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=3774755370763731900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3774755370763731900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/3774755370763731900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/electricity-eeeeeeelectricity.html' title='Electricity... eeeeeeelectricity...'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2143181524560446694</id><published>2007-03-21T07:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T07:12:31.523-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth of the Sharpie Legend</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Well, I guess it’s time that the  guilty must come forward.  If you thought that JD carrying a Sharpie all the  time was cool, I guess it was mostly my fault.  If he ever ruined anything that  belonged to you by writing on it, I deny all knowledge.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Some (many actually) years ago, Jim  Randall came to my house for dinner one night, and during the course of our  conversation he shared an idea he’d been working on.  Jim said that he wanted to  do a choir tour, but not a choir tour like most churches and youth groups do.   He told me that he wanted it to be cool, not cheesy, and like nothing anyone  else was doing.  I told him that it would be easy.  All you’d need is a sound  system WAY bigger than was necessary, video projection, some intelligent  lighting flashing all over the room, and a &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;LOT&lt;/st1:place&gt;  of fog juice!  Jim loved it!  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;At the time, I was working for a  company doing concert audio for all types of acts and had traveled a great deal  and met a lot of famous and interesting people.  So, I started calling in  favors, and before you knew it, we had all the stuff that we “needed.”  Jim had  another idea for the choir tour.  He wanted to involve all the kids that didn’t  really care about singing in the choir.  So, he created the drama team, the set  designers and of course, the technical crew.  Although there were about 10 kids  on the tech crew, the real protégés were, you guessed it, JD and Matt Ervin  (Irvin?  I can never remember).  They thought what I did for a living was cool,  and they enjoyed sitting and talking about the people I had worked with.  They  did work very hard, and they seemed to really enjoy learning all about how audio  and lighting systems worked.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Anyway, amongst all this vast  technical knowledge that they believed I was sharing with them, I taught them  the 2 “Rules of the Road.”  First, duct tape will fix anything, and if it  doesn’t, it’s too broke to fix!  Second, never get caught without a Sharpie.  JD  and Matt took Rule 1 to new heights.  Some of the things they made work with a  little duct tape and imagination would boggle the mind, and it was always fun to  see their creations.  Rule 2 is where I personally had the most fun.  After a  few days of asking to borrow their Sharpie (which they didn’t have), JD decided  to never get caught Sharpie-less again.  He began to carry one on him at all  times.  Therefore, it began to be my job to sneak into his stuff at night, or in  the morning, and steal all his Sharpies.  It was priceless!  I’d get up early,  steal his Sharpies, and then all day long I’d ask to borrow his.  When he’d tell  me that he couldn’t find it, I’d accuse him of slacking on the job, not  listening to a thing I’d said, and any other lines I’d heard from my parents and  bosses a million times.  Finally, after a few days of the disappearing Sharpies,  I got caught laughing as he frantically searched for his Sharpie that I’d asked  to borrow.  We all got a great laugh, and of course JD never minded being the  focus of a friendly joke.  Lord knows, he pulled enough of them on all of us!   Anyway, after that I would periodically ask if he had a Sharpie, and I don’t  remember a single time that I caught him without one.   &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;The day we said “goodbye for now” to  JD, I felt like it was only right that I leave a Sharpie for him to make up for  all the ones I had “stolen” from him.  I miss him, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;--Kiley Ham&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/8769306202445355978-2143181524560446694?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2143181524560446694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2143181524560446694' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2143181524560446694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2143181524560446694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/truth-of-sharpie-legend.html' title='The Truth of the Sharpie Legend'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5623676616639619720</id><published>2007-03-20T08:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T12:51:48.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend plans</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Friends always do stuff on the weekends, it's just a given. There would be something to do, no calling to make plans or anything like that, just get together and stuff happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That made it awkward the first time JD calls on a Thursday and says "what you doin' this Saturday?"  I was thinking, what do we always do?, is he joking?, is there something cool happening?... Which got me to the answer, "nothing" thinking that what would follow would be an invite to some adventure that would finally be planned out and not happen on the fly like normal.  Then I found out what it was all about, "I'm going to mow the Logan's grass, do you want to help?"  Now knowing what it was, I was trapped, I already said I wasn't doing anything, so I reluctantly said "sure."  (mowing the Logan's grass is another story in itself.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This would happen lots of times, helping people move, cleaning up things, taking clothes to Mexico, etc... It always found me (sadly) with the same reluctant response.  I used to joke with him, when he would ask me what I was doing, I would say "who needs help now."  Each time we would go help someone, it was definitely an adventure in itself (that's what you got when you were JD's friend), and way better than selfishly doing "nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There's too many "morals to the story" to list. Each one are reasons to miss him, and reasons to be that kind of friend to someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Steven Anderson&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/8769306202445355978-5623676616639619720?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5623676616639619720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5623676616639619720' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5623676616639619720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5623676616639619720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/weekend-plans.html' title='Weekend plans'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1646137616340242257</id><published>2007-03-19T12:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T12:43:53.915-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Red Bull</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rf7Zpp5ahuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/58f1Uvpo9nY/s1600-h/redbull_can.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rf7Zpp5ahuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/58f1Uvpo9nY/s320/redbull_can.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043707942346065634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit in the lobby of a hotel in Phoenix, Arizona sipping my red bull. Many of  you know where this is going. Almost seven years ago, Jane and I were about to  leave for a vacation to Florida. Just prior to pulling out of the driveway, JD  shows up with a travel gift for us. A case of red bull. Most diehards know that  there are 32 cans in a case. Jane and I iced several down and threw the whole  case in the back. Here is the sad part. We found ourselves stopping at a gas  station on the way home to buy more. We had gone through all 32 cans in about  five days. Needless to say we became addicted. Now, I find myself measuring the  stress of the day by the number of cans I drink. "It is a one red bull day" or  "it is a two red bull day". To this day we blame or thank Jonathan for being our  dealer. &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Jonathan shared so many things with Jane, Jared and myself. The greatest  was his love for life and passion to be uniquely used for God. We think of him  often...&lt;br /&gt;- Jim Randall&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/8769306202445355978-1646137616340242257?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1646137616340242257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1646137616340242257' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1646137616340242257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1646137616340242257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/red-bull_19.html' title='Red Bull'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rf7Zpp5ahuI/AAAAAAAAAA4/58f1Uvpo9nY/s72-c/redbull_can.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7572863908088350098</id><published>2007-03-19T10:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T10:27:33.933-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who needs a key when you know JD?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;One was that, even as a kid, he was  always very polite.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That remained true  about him as he got older, too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He never  made me feel like an old lady that he had to be nice to. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Instead he had what I believe was a gift of  making even old ladies feel like talking to you was exactly where he wanted to  be at that moment.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Secondly, I never ceased being  amazed at how he could find things….anything that anyone needed, no matter how  bizarre it seemed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I remember one  particular weekend that he was helping with a preteen retreat and Jim R. was  teaching.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Jim mentioned during a break  that it would be cool if he had a cement statue of some kind to make his  point.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;JD was ready to take off sure  that he could have it and be back before the break was over.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Well, Jim didn’t send him on that run.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;But there were several times when Jim would  hand me something he had “borrowed” from my resources. I would ask how he got it  or knew that I had it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He would always  say something like, “You don’t need to know.”&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;When I would press him about getting into places without a key, he would  say, “JD doesn’t need a key!”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;I suppose there is a third thing  that I will always be grateful to JD for and that is the mark he left on  David.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I see so many reminders of JD in  him – the sweet spirit, the hard worker, the politeness, the ingenuity, the  ability to problem solve, the impish grin, and more.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Thank you, God, for Jonathan and the  sweet memories we can still enjoy as we think of  him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;-Barbara  Brown&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/8769306202445355978-7572863908088350098?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7572863908088350098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7572863908088350098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7572863908088350098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7572863908088350098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/who-needs-key-when-you-know-jd.html' title='Who needs a key when you know JD?'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-2279160638942116984</id><published>2007-03-18T09:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T09:33:21.713-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing with the Angels</title><content type='html'>Memories surround me&lt;br /&gt;But sadness has found me &lt;br /&gt;I'd do anything for more time&lt;br /&gt;Never before has someone meant more&lt;br /&gt;And I can't get you out of my mind &lt;br /&gt;There is so much that I don't understand&lt;br /&gt;But I know &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're dancing with the angels &lt;br /&gt;Walking in new life &lt;br /&gt;You're dancing with the angels &lt;br /&gt;Heaven fills your eyes &lt;br /&gt;Now that you're dancing with the angels &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You had love for your family&lt;br /&gt;Love for all people &lt;br /&gt;Love for the Father, and Son &lt;br /&gt;Your heart will be heard &lt;br /&gt;In your unspoken words &lt;br /&gt;Through generations to come &lt;br /&gt;There is so much that I don't understand &lt;br /&gt;But I know &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're dancing with the angels &lt;br /&gt;Walking in new life &lt;br /&gt;You're dancing with the angels &lt;br /&gt;Heaven fills your eyes &lt;br /&gt;Now that you're dancing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're only here for such a short time &lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna stand up &lt;br /&gt;Shout out &lt;br /&gt;And sing Hallelujah&lt;br /&gt;One day I'll see you again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll be dancing with the angels&lt;br /&gt;Walking in the new life&lt;br /&gt;Dancing with the angels&lt;br /&gt;Heaven will fill our eyes&lt;br /&gt;When we're dancing with the angels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Monk and Neagle&lt;br /&gt;  "Monk and Neagle" the album&lt;br /&gt;   2004&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-2279160638942116984?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/2279160638942116984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=2279160638942116984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2279160638942116984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/2279160638942116984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/dancing-with-angels.html' title='Dancing with the Angels'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5982722481582807243</id><published>2007-03-05T12:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-05T12:58:08.703-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday, Jonathan!</title><content type='html'>One of the more memorable birthdays was when Jonathan turned two! He was an early riser  so we often went for a bike ride while others were sleeping. Of course he rode  in a toddler seat on the back of my bike.  We came home and had a special  birthday breakfast with Kirsten and Sam. The morning was a bit off schedule  since it was a special day.  When I finally got a chance to go have a shower,  Sam had already gone to work. I left Kirsten and Jonathan watching Sesame Street  and went to my bedroom to get cleaned up.  I returned to the den a very short  time later and discovered the fireplace glass door open and ashes strewn all  over the den!!! That was my first glimpse into his "let's see what will happen  if we...."  attitude. - Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Editor's note: This is a day late since I was out of town!) :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5982722481582807243?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5982722481582807243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5982722481582807243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5982722481582807243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5982722481582807243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/03/happy-birthday-jonathan.html' title='Happy Birthday, Jonathan!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-5630828346291985913</id><published>2007-02-28T10:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T10:50:53.727-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What is friendship?</title><content type='html'>You asked me to think of a memory about Jonathan to write about. When I let myself really think about Jonathan, memories overflow. I have known Jonathan since we were both toddlers. I was friends with him for an entire decade. When I think about the friendship we had with each other, I think we had friendship in that occurred phases.So I guess my blog entries will be glimpses into those phases of our friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Kirsten left for the summer to be a counselor at girl scout camp, I was left with no best friend for 3 whole months. When I was missing someone important in my daily life, that's when Jonathan seemed to step in. I had never really had a guy friend before and he was so fun to be around. I remember going to hang out at Mazzios on Sunday nights, going to Golf World, shooting pool at Steven's house, and TCBY. He loved to set the alarm off on my convertible (I think for the sole purpose of watching me yell about it). He had that pager which I thought was so high tech that got stolen. In each other, we had finally found the friend who hated youth choir enough to skip out. TCBY was our escape destination. I wish I could remember those TCBY conversations. At youth camp, he was the one sitting next to me when a certain someone farted during the prayer at the Lord's Supper service. We laughed FOREVER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's strange the things that I do remember from that summer. I remember he told me that I had pretty eyes. It was just a compliment. There was nothing more to it. I was such an awkard ninth grader soon to be sophomore that had really never had a guy friend say anything nice about me and that made an impact. That was a big part of my friendship with Jonathan, when he was around he boosted my confidence. I know he did that for Matt. That's why Jonathan could convince you to be fearless and take a risk because he ingnited something within you that pushed you to do and be more.  - Amy Ervin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-5630828346291985913?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/5630828346291985913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=5630828346291985913' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5630828346291985913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/5630828346291985913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/02/what-is-friendship.html' title='What is friendship?'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7174423347484917083</id><published>2007-02-28T07:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T07:38:06.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Electronic Bibles</title><content type='html'>So this week after Bible study the group was sitting around talking about different translations/versions of the Bible. Merlin, the guy who leads the study, was explaining about the ESword program that he uses. It is an online version of the Bible with multiple translations and languages and all that stuff. Anyway, it reminded me of the trip we took to hear Kay Arthur at her conference center one spring break. It was a group of us from Colonial Heights. I think I was 9th grade so Jonathan would have been 8th grade. Anyway, it was just a week or two after Jonathan's birthday and he had gotten one of those electronic Bibles. It was maroon and he was quite proud of it. So we are in our first session with Kay and she tells us to all take out our Bibles. Well Jonathan is on the front row and he pulls out his electronic thing and Kay totally called him out. It was hilarious. She stops in the middle of her teaching and tells him to put away he game and take out his Bible and Jonathan is all trying to explain that it is a Bible, but she was really not interested in listening to him. She went on and on about bringing your Bible and not playing games and all this stuff. Jonathan was finally able to tell her that it was a Bible and she was amazed. I remember she came down off the stage to look at it!!! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7174423347484917083?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7174423347484917083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7174423347484917083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7174423347484917083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7174423347484917083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/02/electronic-bibles.html' title='Electronic Bibles'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-1589507782924268787</id><published>2007-02-23T00:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T00:18:04.472-06:00</updated><title type='text'>WWJD</title><content type='html'>I remember when he picked me up from MC when I was a car rider, and I thought I was so cool, because my big brother was picking me up in his z71! That was when WWJD bracelets were really big, also known as  We Want Jonathan Devore by all the teenage girls at church! - Lydia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-1589507782924268787?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/1589507782924268787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=1589507782924268787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1589507782924268787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/1589507782924268787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/02/wwjd.html' title='WWJD'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8769306202445355978.post-7330315767304841532</id><published>2007-02-22T11:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T16:04:03.681-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow that Bird!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rd3UavTwO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gmlXy_faTtU/s1600-h/follow_that_bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rd3UavTwO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gmlXy_faTtU/s320/follow_that_bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034413514311089138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you are probably all wondering what in the world does a Big Bird movie have to do with Jonathan! Well this was the very first movie that Jonathan and I saw in the theatre. It was the summer of 1985. Jonathan was 5 years old and I was six. We were in Minnesota for a family reunion. I distinctly remember being thrilled about going to the movies for the very first time. I remember my aunt and uncle and several cousins went with us. The movie was picked because it was a Sesame Street film and certainly would not contain anything to scar us children. Oops. Jonathan and I both were pretty upset that Big Bird was in trouble. I distinctly remember some tears being shed.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rd4SoPTwPBI/AAAAAAAAAAk/f4Ko3EJWVkg/s1600-h/9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rd4SoPTwPBI/AAAAAAAAAAk/f4Ko3EJWVkg/s320/9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034481915960245266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is the same trip to Minnesota. We are sitting at the feet of Paul Bunyan at Paul Bunyan Land with our cousin, Nicole. Every trip to Minnesota included a visit to the Paul Bunyan Land theme park!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8769306202445355978-7330315767304841532?l=jdmemories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/feeds/7330315767304841532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8769306202445355978&amp;postID=7330315767304841532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7330315767304841532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8769306202445355978/posts/default/7330315767304841532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jdmemories.blogspot.com/2007/02/follow-that-bird.html' title='Follow that Bird!'/><author><name>Kirsten</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17769814125328664668</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SnzkHEXnZgU/Rd3UavTwO_I/AAAAAAAAAAM/gmlXy_faTtU/s72-c/follow_that_bird.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
