<?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-4125320390462012635</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:40:04.839-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Active Pursuit</title><subtitle type='html'>Stories of how the King of Kings is pursuing you and me in love at every moment of every day.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>63</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7878369307490748076</id><published>2011-05-04T22:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T22:12:15.934-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears of Thankfulness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rV1osut0oeY/TcIVikonm8I/AAAAAAAABYc/CSmNDQeOzDI/s1600/SM_1680.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rV1osut0oeY/TcIVikonm8I/AAAAAAAABYc/CSmNDQeOzDI/s400/SM_1680.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603064570096098242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Beloved friends,&lt;div&gt;I am sorry for my absence.  Graduate school takes a lot of my time.  However, God has been bombarding me with His goodness lately and for that, I am so thankful.  Today, as I drove to work, I was listening to KLOVE and a reader shared the following story:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I was working the counter for the vision center at Walmart and while I was waiting on a customer, I received a phone call from my husband notifying me he was getting deployed to Iraq very soon.  He said he needed clothes, food, sunscreen, and a bunch of other supplies.  I said, 'Okay, but we have $20 in our checking account.'  I proceeded to cry unsure of how I was going to get him the supplies he needed in time.  The customer I was assisting looked at me, reached out and inquired about my tears.  I told her of my husband's departure and his urgent needs.  She told me to wait here, she would be back.  In thirty minutes, she returned with $300 of merchandise, enough to supply 10 soldiers with goods for their deployment.  She also gave me money to mail the supplies to my husband.   She would not stop rejoicing over the fact that she came to Walmart for glasses today and she was so glad she could help.  We hugged and cried together."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My heart was moved to tears.  It was too much to see God's amazing generosity and the joyfulness of the cheerful giver!  How beautiful!  How has God wowed you lately and met your needs?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-7878369307490748076?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7878369307490748076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7878369307490748076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7878369307490748076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7878369307490748076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2011/05/tears-of-thankfulness.html' title='Tears of Thankfulness'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rV1osut0oeY/TcIVikonm8I/AAAAAAAABYc/CSmNDQeOzDI/s72-c/SM_1680.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8151392394247349512</id><published>2011-02-21T14:30:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T14:33:31.333-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bieber Fever!</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/o9tJW9MDs2M?rel=0" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bieber fever has hit.  Renee is in love with Justin Bieber - they might look the same age but they are not.  He is like 15 and she is 25 but sometimes you cannot help who you like!  Anyway, I wanted to share his video on prayer.  It is surprisingly simple yet surprisingly powerful.  Who needs your prayers today?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8151392394247349512?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8151392394247349512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8151392394247349512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8151392394247349512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8151392394247349512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2011/02/bieber-fever.html' title='Bieber Fever!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/o9tJW9MDs2M/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-2117998623549724468</id><published>2010-10-20T21:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T21:32:59.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Second of Every Day</title><content type='html'>God calls every second of every day.  I wanted to feature Cari Devlin's beautiful video for FOCUS conference.  I love that I was part of something bigger than myself and bringing student's to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.  How can you answer His call today?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8CSmqJWTURQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8CSmqJWTURQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-2117998623549724468?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/2117998623549724468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=2117998623549724468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2117998623549724468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2117998623549724468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/10/every-second-of-every-day.html' title='Every Second of Every Day'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-9066283719185362821</id><published>2010-09-21T22:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T22:08:37.431-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Needy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJlzLvPwplI/AAAAAAAABP4/6uUTLw7GwyI/s1600/220jesus_woman.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 220px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJlzLvPwplI/AAAAAAAABP4/6uUTLw7GwyI/s400/220jesus_woman.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519569463817578066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A woman struggled with hemorrhages for 12 years.  She spent all of her money and had no hope left for a cure.  Except, she knew of Jesus.  She knew He could heal her, if only she could just touch His cloak.  After touching his cloak, Jesus realizes power has come out from Him and He looks around to see who has touched Him.  The woman becomes afraid to speak up.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reflecting on &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/mark/mark5.htm"&gt;this story&lt;/a&gt; while listening to my good 'ol favorite song, &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZB5ye2tGyHM"&gt;Known by Audrey Assad&lt;/a&gt;, a line in the song says,  "You have always known my heart."  So the question I beg to ask:  If you always know my heart, why do I fear entrusting myself to you?  Why do I not want to speak up and claim that I touched you?  &lt;b&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; reached out!  &lt;b&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; was in need!  &lt;b&gt;I&lt;/b&gt; touched you!  I needed healing!  &lt;b&gt;I NEEDED YOU!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why don't I do that?  Do you entrust everything to Him?  Do YOU speak up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-9066283719185362821?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/9066283719185362821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=9066283719185362821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/9066283719185362821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/9066283719185362821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/being-needy.html' title='Being Needy'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJlzLvPwplI/AAAAAAAABP4/6uUTLw7GwyI/s72-c/220jesus_woman.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5955592332119985334</id><published>2010-09-19T23:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T23:23:51.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Million Thank Yous!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJbhiqaFxBI/AAAAAAAABPo/7iMrRrfEXkE/s1600/1153128-p-DETAILED.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJbhiqaFxBI/AAAAAAAABPo/7iMrRrfEXkE/s400/1153128-p-DETAILED.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518846379004642322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;First of all, readers, it is 11:16 PM and I have a full day tomorrow so you know it was a pretty blessed weekend for me to be blogging this late!  I just have to give out a million thank yous for all the people and things that Jesus used to rock my world!  First, thanks to mom and dad for a hilarious dinner on Friday night.  I loved laughing about numb mouth after getting a filling at the dentist.  Thanks, Father Matthew for reading my S-O-U-L! Seriously.  You are the best spiritual director, EVER!  (no offense to other great directors out there, Father Matthew and I just gel...we gel).   Thanks, awesome Nike tight running pants that I have kept hidden since last winter.  It was so good to put you on today and just wear you.  I love wearing you and thanks for enhancing my legs!  Thanks, orange leaf for providing some much needed late night tart ice cream.  Thanks Laura for letting me talk...and talk...and talk.  Thanks to Jana for suggesting I watch Italian Job.  I liked it.  I really liked it.  Thanks Jesus for picking a sweet song to play on the radio about your love as I turned on my car.  Thanks to Father Pat for telling his parish family that he will miss them because he loves them.  Made me tear up.  Thanks, Jeremy for playing an oldie but a goodie song during Mass tonight.  It made me cry as well  - just being immersed in the love of GOD!  Alleluia!  Thanks Catholic Church for including the Alleluia right before the Gospel.  It helps me realize that someone awesome is about to happen!  Thanks, Jesus, for loving me through so many things this weekend.  How has He loved you lately?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-5955592332119985334?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5955592332119985334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5955592332119985334' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5955592332119985334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5955592332119985334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/million-thank-yous.html' title='A Million Thank Yous!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJbhiqaFxBI/AAAAAAAABPo/7iMrRrfEXkE/s72-c/1153128-p-DETAILED.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5755443132296308566</id><published>2010-09-16T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T22:01:01.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet Hallie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIre9uvQI/AAAAAAAABPg/n1VzfLznYbM/s1600/n77200627_31536696_7876.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 334px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIre9uvQI/AAAAAAAABPg/n1VzfLznYbM/s400/n77200627_31536696_7876.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517341299133299970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is Hallie.  Hi, Hallie.  It is Hallie with a long A.  Like Hallie from the Parent Trap movies.  Got it?  Good.  She is my counseling school classes.  Sometimes I wonder how they let someone in who is so young...but she is cool.  I guess she can stay.  (Insert laughter here for recent joke).  Every time Hallie sees me, she just looks at me and in this crazy high pitched voice says, "Thank You, Thank you, thank you, thank you very much" as fast as she can.  Every time, I laugh.  Really hard laughter, too.  It never fails.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One time she would not stop using that voice, and of course, I could not stop laughing.  Then my laughter turned into that silent laughter where you mouth is just open and you are barely getting oxygen and you are laughing so hard and you cannot stop that you are seriously considering that you might die due to lack of oxygen.  It can be an incredibly joyful moment while at the same time being seriously terrifying.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, it is funny and she has been a blessing to my counseling school experience.  Jesus, thanks for giving me a fun companion on the journey to being a counseling.  Hallie will probably be the one keeping me sane while working with clients!  Get ready, girlfriend!  Who has Jesus blessed your life with lately?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-5755443132296308566?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5755443132296308566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5755443132296308566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5755443132296308566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5755443132296308566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/meet-hallie.html' title='Meet Hallie'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIre9uvQI/AAAAAAAABPg/n1VzfLznYbM/s72-c/n77200627_31536696_7876.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5829016815495162871</id><published>2010-09-15T21:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T22:01:10.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIb2VQbmI/AAAAAAAABPY/2Q-VR512Eks/s1600/Picture+18.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 322px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIb2VQbmI/AAAAAAAABPY/2Q-VR512Eks/s400/Picture+18.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517341030528085602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Do you every just feel warm and cozy when you are with a friend?  Just talking on the couch at a coffee shop?  It just makes you feel good inside.  It is a spot you want to frequent.  Lately, my coffee shop couch companion has been my Theories book or the uncountable number of powerpoint slides from class (awesome yet gross at the same time).  Even still I have had some wonderful people come and share coffee shop time with me and it has been a pure delight.  They give me Jesus because they challenge my thinking or they remind me of why I love the Lord.  They also remind me of why I am working toward a Masters in Counseling.  They remind me of all the coffee shop discussions I had with friends and FOCUS students who were searching and I was able to join their search for answers.  Thank you for being a reminder of what makes me feel purposeful!  When do you truly feel at your best?  What activity is life-giving for you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-5829016815495162871?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5829016815495162871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5829016815495162871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5829016815495162871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5829016815495162871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/friend.html' title='The Friend'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJGIb2VQbmI/AAAAAAAABPY/2Q-VR512Eks/s72-c/Picture+18.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8066055385888748991</id><published>2010-09-14T22:38:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T22:43:31.715-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Sure This Will Be ... AWESOME</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJBAl-V6HII/AAAAAAAABPI/PGXrMq1ZU6s/s1600/12027-return-of-the-prodigal-son-guercino.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJBAl-V6HII/AAAAAAAABPI/PGXrMq1ZU6s/s400/12027-return-of-the-prodigal-son-guercino.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516980564663082114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;"'God, I'm just normal, I'm just average, I'm just me!' And God takes one look at you and says, 'No. You are not: You capture My Heart, you capture My attention more than any single person who has ever lived.' How can I do this? There's a gajillion people who have ever lived and He loves them, too. Yes, but His Heart has never been captured by anyone like His Heart has been captured by you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;These words are a description of a podcast recorded last Sunday, September 12th.  I religiously follow this podcast by Father Mike Schmitz.  He records his homilies each Sunday and posts them.  I just read the description for last Sunday's homily, I have not listened to, but the description almost made me bawl my face off!  I am pretty sure it is going to be awesome.  Enjoy and let God embrace you with His reckless love!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  color: rgb(204, 238, 221); line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a href="feed://feeds.feedburner.com/homilies3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;TO LISTEN TO THE PODCAST, CLICK HERE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&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/4125320390462012635-8066055385888748991?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8066055385888748991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8066055385888748991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8066055385888748991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8066055385888748991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/pretty-sure-this-will-be-awesome.html' title='Pretty Sure This Will Be ... AWESOME'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TJBAl-V6HII/AAAAAAAABPI/PGXrMq1ZU6s/s72-c/12027-return-of-the-prodigal-son-guercino.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6797112994992067941</id><published>2010-09-01T22:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T22:23:41.555-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love in a Boquet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TH8YqDGr03I/AAAAAAAABPA/SUkkK6WDn54/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TH8YqDGr03I/AAAAAAAABPA/SUkkK6WDn54/s400/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512151579591693170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Before you get too exited...Gary/Steve did not send me a bouquet of flowers.  On Friday, my office moved to a new location.  As the glorious Receptionist, my desk has been strategically placed in a location that does not allow for my coworkers to walk by me during the work day.  (Well, they can walk by me if they choose, but many choose the back stairway instead of the elevators which are by my desk.)  So I told them they could send me a bouquet, not flowers but the cookie bouquets.  You know the bouquet with the cookies on sticks.  They are awesome.  Of course, everyone laughed at me - as if, they were really going to be sending me a real cookie bouquet.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As divine providence is always at work, at about 3:30 PM, a cookie bouquet walked into the office addressed to the (President &amp;amp; CEO) and also his staff (which includes me!).  It was a glorious day and then everyone came to my desk because I was the keeper of the cookies!  Who is laughing now?!  How has Jesus surprised you lately?&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/4125320390462012635-6797112994992067941?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6797112994992067941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6797112994992067941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6797112994992067941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6797112994992067941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-in-boquet.html' title='Love in a Boquet'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TH8YqDGr03I/AAAAAAAABPA/SUkkK6WDn54/s72-c/photo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8806225987202374036</id><published>2010-08-29T22:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T22:24:25.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>IN Love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/THsjuvMJwkI/AAAAAAAABOw/oR6IrGddQkA/s1600/080505_rascalflatts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 191px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/THsjuvMJwkI/AAAAAAAABOw/oR6IrGddQkA/s400/080505_rascalflatts.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511037854866326082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Divine Providence was in full swing last night.  In February, I went to Denim and Diamonds to stomp it out in my cowgirl boots!  This night was unlike any other.  A suave dancer that resembled my favorite singer, Gary LeVox from Rascal Flatts, was spinning ladies around the floor.  I watched in amazement and sheer jealousy.  While I was fixated on this vision on the dance floor, my friend, Brian, approached the Gary look-a-like and asked if he would dance with me.  He said "Yes!"  Well, let me tell you, it was a magical moment.  One I will never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So every time I return to the D&amp;amp;D, I look for Mr. Gary Look A Like.  However, he was never there.  But last night, divine providence allowed us to cross paths.  As I entered D &amp;amp; D, I commented to a friend that the man standing by the bar had the resemblence of the Gary Look A  Like but I was not for sure it was him.  As soon as I saw him skillfully glide across the dance floor, it was confirmed!  Gary Look A Like was at Denim and Diamonds!  Which meant, I was going to dance with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost like a giddy school girl, I approached him for a dance.  And we danced into the moonlight (almost, it was more like a disco ball moonlight).  It was glorious.  I am certain that God's love was seen in our providential meeting!  How has God blessed you in an unexpected and even unconventional way lately?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;P.S. Please excuse the mess while I redesign the blog.&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/4125320390462012635-8806225987202374036?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8806225987202374036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8806225987202374036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8806225987202374036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8806225987202374036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/08/in-love.html' title='IN Love!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/THsjuvMJwkI/AAAAAAAABOw/oR6IrGddQkA/s72-c/080505_rascalflatts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-2579658055043332002</id><published>2010-08-17T22:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T22:14:51.725-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Look of Desperation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGtPdt547yI/AAAAAAAABOY/s8kHI4jIYng/s1600/25283485.beggar-734630.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGtPdt547yI/AAAAAAAABOY/s8kHI4jIYng/s400/25283485.beggar-734630.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506582341347766050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that sometimes we feel left behind?  Overlooked somehow?  Listening to a beautiful song, Kindness, by Audrey Assad, posed a statement upon my heart.  "Lord, do not pass me by."  The song talks about the heart of the lonely or the destitute.  They cry out, "do not pass me by."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those words pierced my heart as I felt that cry.  "Do not pass me by."  It brought me to the story of the beggar that calls out for Jesus.  He just wants to be noticed.  He does not expect healing, he just wants to be recognized.  "Lord, Jesus, do not pass me by."  Don't overlook me because I am small. A beggar. A crippled. Inadequate.  Blind.  Hungry.  Do not pass me by!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Jesus turns to embrace this man, what was the expression on Jesus' face?  I saw a look of desperation.  A look of longing for his son.  A look of hungering that the beggar would embrace his love.  I see desperation for us.  For me.  A longing for the desires of Jesus to be transfused into my heart.  Do you ever worry that He will pass you by?  Why?  When He turns for you, what is on his face?  How is He embracing you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a cool video of my friend painting the face of Christ.  I see the desperation in the eyes of Jesus in his painting.  &lt;a href="http://www.mycatholicvoice.com/media/3mCEtY"&gt;Click here to see the video&lt;/a&gt;.  Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-2579658055043332002?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/2579658055043332002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=2579658055043332002' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2579658055043332002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2579658055043332002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/08/look-of-desperation.html' title='The Look of Desperation'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGtPdt547yI/AAAAAAAABOY/s8kHI4jIYng/s72-c/25283485.beggar-734630.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8792525335826542006</id><published>2010-08-15T00:10:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T00:21:16.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Beautiful Reminder</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGd3gkcgvLI/AAAAAAAABOA/J7gS5iQkYdI/s1600/Lindsay+and+Jen+-+Halloween+Party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGd3gkcgvLI/AAAAAAAABOA/J7gS5iQkYdI/s400/Lindsay+and+Jen+-+Halloween+Party.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505500470906502322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGd3XkQUs4I/AAAAAAAABN4/HRBpJys47WY/s1600/P5300024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGd3XkQUs4I/AAAAAAAABN4/HRBpJys47WY/s400/P5300024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505500316236559234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was abundantly blessed with an almost unexpected visit from an old friend.  We have been friends since my days as a missionary at the Air Force Academy.  She was a Firstie (that is a Senior in college at USAFA for those of you that don't speak Air Force lingo).  I was a first year missionary.  She was seasoned at one handed pushups and I was an intimidated missionary praying that the cadets would like me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is now a Second Lieutenant in the Air Force.  She has been deployed and found success as a civil engineer.  Her and her husband are moving to Ohio for more schooling and were driving though Kansas City.  In her sheer brilliance, Lindsay called me for coffee.  A great coffee date it was (even though I don't drink coffee).  We talked about life and updates.  It was good to see her smile and see her not take life so seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The glorious part of our discussion was on a beautiful memory of a special work God did in my life about 5 years ago.  (I vow to share the entire story with you via this blog, one day, very soon.)  We talked about a beautiful calling and verse that God laid on my heart.  To relive the verse and reread it allowed me to re-encounter it.  God came down this morning and touched me again through this very special verse:  &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/isaiah/isaiah49.htm"&gt;Isaiah 49:1 - 6&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What beautiful memory has God blessed you with recently?  I am thankful for this simple Saturday morning blessing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8792525335826542006?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8792525335826542006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8792525335826542006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8792525335826542006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8792525335826542006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/08/beautiful-reminder.html' title='A Beautiful Reminder'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TGd3gkcgvLI/AAAAAAAABOA/J7gS5iQkYdI/s72-c/Lindsay+and+Jen+-+Halloween+Party.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-1829333484869488997</id><published>2010-08-04T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T20:57:00.474-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brooke is back!  Full Force!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="640" height="505"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gh-0Kt6ZjXc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Gh-0Kt6ZjXc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you that love good music, you will love this.  Brooke Fraser is back and we are endorsing her here.  She does not know that but I am sure she would approve of it!  &lt;a href="http://www.brookefraser.com/"&gt;Check out her new single here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-1829333484869488997?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/1829333484869488997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=1829333484869488997' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1829333484869488997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1829333484869488997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/08/brooke-is-back-full-force.html' title='Brooke is back!  Full Force!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-32510967027263119</id><published>2010-08-03T20:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T20:56:29.330-05:00</updated><title type='text'>waking up cold</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TFjH9AVFBUI/AAAAAAAABNw/wUUT95dX3w4/s1600/girl-sleeping.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TFjH9AVFBUI/AAAAAAAABNw/wUUT95dX3w4/s400/girl-sleeping.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501366795707417922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The glories of making it through the first 9 weeks of graduate school is that I was able to be dead to the world for 2 solid hours.  It was a nap.  And it was glorious.  And much needed.  MMMM.  I can feel it as I think about it right now.  One small problem though ... I woke up cold.  There is something funny about being dressed in layers when it is over 100 degrees outside.  Anyway, I experienced the Lord in the glory of the nap.  Of slowing down and embracing rest.  It was simple yet amazing!  God, thank you for drawing me to rest.  Thank you for slowing me down and giving me what you knew I needed.  What has God drawn you to lately?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-32510967027263119?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/32510967027263119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=32510967027263119' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/32510967027263119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/32510967027263119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/08/waking-up-cold.html' title='waking up cold'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TFjH9AVFBUI/AAAAAAAABNw/wUUT95dX3w4/s72-c/girl-sleeping.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6205040467538329316</id><published>2010-07-16T13:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T13:54:29.429-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Slap Me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TECpjzGkEjI/AAAAAAAABNo/-mI159WGjf0/s1600/16238_551322932899_63800015_32445130_1260891_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494577977870258738" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TECpjzGkEjI/AAAAAAAABNo/-mI159WGjf0/s400/16238_551322932899_63800015_32445130_1260891_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you know me, then you know I have trouble picking out my outfit in the mornings. I put something on, I hate it. I take it off. I find something else. Repeat at least 2 times. Usually, when I cannot find my outfit, odds are I am not going to like what I picked. On Tuesday, that is exactly what happened. I mopped around the office all day bummed I was wearing linen pants and a cute purple top but I just felt gross!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At about 10 AM on Tuesday morning, a cute gal from my counseling class wrote on my facebook wall that she loved the stories I share in class. She especially liked the analogy I shared on Monday night. It made my day! I thought, "I know that I &lt;em&gt;feel&lt;/em&gt; gross but I am really not gross. I am funny and fun and people enjoy my comments - especially, those I share in class." Her comment was a little smack in the face straight from God via Meghan. He was reminding me of my awesomeness, not my grossness!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How has  God helped you see yourself in a different light lately?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-6205040467538329316?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6205040467538329316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6205040467538329316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6205040467538329316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6205040467538329316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/07/just-slap-me.html' title='Just Slap Me!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TECpjzGkEjI/AAAAAAAABNo/-mI159WGjf0/s72-c/16238_551322932899_63800015_32445130_1260891_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3248220380181032016</id><published>2010-07-11T23:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T23:33:15.684-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Says, "It Is NEAR!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDqbACyTIyI/AAAAAAAABNg/8-XKfuwhwrk/s1600/sistine+chapel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDqbACyTIyI/AAAAAAAABNg/8-XKfuwhwrk/s400/sistine+chapel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492873120581886754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;From Deuteronomy, &lt;i&gt;"If only YOU would heed the voice of the LORD, your God, and keep his commandments and statutes...return to the LORD, your God, with all your heart and all your soul.&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;Not too hard, right? Follow the Lord with everything you are. Easy! It's in the bag! Right! Right? Easier said than done. The surrender of all you are to God can be daunting and scary. He wants it all. As the Lord of all, He has the rights to it all! He wants to sit on the throne of YOUR heart and claim His kingdom there! Check out what he says about this difficult thing he asks of us....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;"For this command that I enjoin on you today is &lt;b&gt;not too mysterious&lt;/b&gt; and remote for you. It is &lt;b&gt;not up in the sky&lt;/b&gt;, that you should say, 'Who will go up in the sky to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?' &lt;b&gt;Nor is it across the sea,&lt;/b&gt; that you should say, 'Who will cross the sea to get it for us and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?'  No, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;i&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;t is something very near to you&lt;/b&gt;, already in your mouths and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;IT IS NEAR! He says, "It is near!" He is near! He is close! He is not far! He is just around the corner (probably even closer). He is already in your heart! He is already in your mouth! He is already in your mind! In your soul! In your body! You just have to carry it out! Give him everything. Let Him carry out His divine will for you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.3em; "&gt;This reading knocked my socks off today as Jesus peered into my eyes and said, "Jennifer, I am so close to you. I am right here. Just give me everything." I just stared back in awe and wonder. What more can I do when the love of your life asks for everything? How can I resist?  Can you resist His nearness? Can you resist His desire to be the Lord of your life?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-3248220380181032016?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3248220380181032016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3248220380181032016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3248220380181032016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3248220380181032016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/07/he-says-it-is-near.html' title='He Says, &quot;It Is NEAR!&quot;'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDqbACyTIyI/AAAAAAAABNg/8-XKfuwhwrk/s72-c/sistine+chapel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3709313510901967538</id><published>2010-07-07T08:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T08:52:59.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Protective Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDSFmqSGK9I/AAAAAAAABNY/kOzekWldHZw/s1600/Unbenannt129.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 277px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491160744903191506" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDSFmqSGK9I/AAAAAAAABNY/kOzekWldHZw/s400/Unbenannt129.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He always knows. God, in His &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;infinite wisdom,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;comes to offer us protective love from the things we cannot see. Yesterday on the radio, I heard a story about a wife that was cooking a pizza in the oven for her kids. She saw sparks, turned the oven off and called the maintenance man. He said they were lucky the house did not burn down because there was electrical problems with the wiring behind the oven. They could have caused the house to burn down, thus, injuring or even killing those that were left inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God, in His infinite wisdom, knows. His protective love falls upon us, goes with us, guards us and guides us. Have you thanked God today for all He has done that you could not see?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-3709313510901967538?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3709313510901967538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3709313510901967538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3709313510901967538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3709313510901967538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/07/protective-love.html' title='Protective Love'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TDSFmqSGK9I/AAAAAAAABNY/kOzekWldHZw/s72-c/Unbenannt129.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7475839387167129266</id><published>2010-06-26T13:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T13:33:32.639-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Does Anyone Fault Him?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7B-_cdShXfI&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7B-_cdShXfI&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does anyone fault a man that wants to study the likes and dislikes of his wife's heart?  Is it wrong for him to want to know the longings of her heart?  No one would fault a man for wanting these things.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did you ever think if Theology that way?  That we can study God in the way a husband studies his wife or in the way we admire a sunset or a mountain range.  To admire the glory of it all is to study God.  When we come to know Him, we come to love Him and then we serve Him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend shared this video with me and it struck me.  What an interesting concept.  It is good to study God and it does not have to be by reading books or listening to the most intellectual of philosophers.  Those things are well and God but we can see God in the everyday.  He knows us and He wants us to know Him.  What did you learn about God today?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-7475839387167129266?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7475839387167129266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7475839387167129266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7475839387167129266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7475839387167129266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/does-anyone-fault-him.html' title='Does Anyone Fault Him?'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3671580009658937648</id><published>2010-06-24T19:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T19:38:44.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Phone Call = A Changed Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TCP5QnqaRpI/AAAAAAAABNQ/gCGw8Diy-kM/s1600/index_11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 357px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TCP5QnqaRpI/AAAAAAAABNQ/gCGw8Diy-kM/s400/index_11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486502834987484818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Mary Kay lady from Greeley, Colorado called me today.  It has been about 2 years since we last talked.  She called because she had been thinking about me and I popped up in her Mary Kay list of contacts.  So she dialed my number just to see if it was still current.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I remember the last time we spoke.  It was July 2008.  She called because her brother-in-law was moving to Greeley to go to UNC and he needed a place to live.  I happened to know there was a group of 4 guys from the Catholic campus center that would probably be able to cram another guy in their house.  I connected her brother-in-law to them and never heard anything more.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She called to catch up and see what I was up to.  In her message, she told me that her brother-in-law moved into a living situation with those guys and it changed his life, for the good!  He is a completely new person because of these guys.  Now, he is engaged to a great, faithful, Catholic young lady from the campus center.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was such a blessing to hear how one connection brought God to one soul.  It was such a joy to know that as I struggled last year, this one soul was being blessed and was finding God.  Alleluia!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-3671580009658937648?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3671580009658937648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3671580009658937648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3671580009658937648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3671580009658937648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/one-phone-call-changed-life.html' title='One Phone Call = A Changed Life'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TCP5QnqaRpI/AAAAAAAABNQ/gCGw8Diy-kM/s72-c/index_11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-2324582951940010089</id><published>2010-06-19T11:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T11:27:17.082-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Friends, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday, I shared with you a story about exceeding expectations.  I was not offered the job I shared with you about.  I did receive an offer from a different job.  I am excited to tell you that I will have a full time job by Monday.  Thank you for your support in this journey and I will be sharing more soon.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Also, it is my commitment to blog twice per week.  So get excited to hear more from me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Jen&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/4125320390462012635-2324582951940010089?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/2324582951940010089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=2324582951940010089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2324582951940010089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2324582951940010089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6778569065045876176</id><published>2010-06-18T10:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T10:00:00.562-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exceeding Expectations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmZSbJ6GII/AAAAAAAABM0/YmrbwxDqjzg/s1600/Jen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmZSbJ6GII/AAAAAAAABM0/YmrbwxDqjzg/s400/Jen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483582563106297986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Think of a time when you had no expectations.  Where you disappointed by the outcome?  Probably not, because you did not assume how it was going to be or what was going to happen.  Jesus you rocked my world the other day when I had poor expectations.  I interviewed for a job and thought I was never going to hear from the company again.  Then I learned their final decision was between me and another candidate.  As I listened to the message, literally, my mouth dropped to the floor in dismay.  I could not believe it.  That was awesome!  I was still in the running!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At that point, I did not even care if I got the job, I was completely stoked about the pure joy that encompassed me.  I was so joyful because something I thought could never happen....happened!  I'll keep you updated on what happens but it reminded me that whenever I leave expectations behind, I am always more joyful and more grateful!  What expectations do you need to leave behind?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-6778569065045876176?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6778569065045876176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6778569065045876176' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6778569065045876176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6778569065045876176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/exceeding-expectations.html' title='Exceeding Expectations'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmZSbJ6GII/AAAAAAAABM0/YmrbwxDqjzg/s72-c/Jen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6903069247880776357</id><published>2010-06-16T22:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T22:30:22.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Always Know</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmV2FlpzrI/AAAAAAAABMs/MT1YHoEtuJM/s1600/SUNSET+MOUNTAIN+RANGE+PHOTO.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmV2FlpzrI/AAAAAAAABMs/MT1YHoEtuJM/s400/SUNSET+MOUNTAIN+RANGE+PHOTO.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483578777745870514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Whether it is in the sun setting behind the mountains or a new friend stopping to ask how I am, you always know what I need.  And you always know how to give it to me.  The other day I was feeling needy.  For what, I do not know.  But for something.  Love.  Friendship.  Someone to listen.  It was not a nagging feeling but a gentle tapping.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I walked toward the door of my graduate school night class, a lovely and talented woman approached me and said, "How are you doing, Jen?"  She said she had been thinking about me since she met me about 3 months ago.   We met at interview day and she knew that I was having a hard time while looking for work and questioning my next steps.  She listened to me ramble on and on about weird things like not being myself on the phone to wondering when my period was going to start (Yes, T.M.I., Jen, I know!).  It wasn't about what I said, it was that I got to say what I wanted and she listened.  She listened.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you, Jesus, for showing me your love in the listening ear.  I know you heard me.  Thanks for letting me talk.  You knew I needed to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-6903069247880776357?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6903069247880776357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6903069247880776357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6903069247880776357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6903069247880776357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/you-always-know.html' title='You Always Know'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TBmV2FlpzrI/AAAAAAAABMs/MT1YHoEtuJM/s72-c/SUNSET+MOUNTAIN+RANGE+PHOTO.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-1756354478372309029</id><published>2010-06-04T12:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T12:57:42.948-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stronger Than You Think</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TAk9U4oFAxI/AAAAAAAABMc/YPVH8TLf0cw/s1600/Jen+Samayoa-69.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TAk9U4oFAxI/AAAAAAAABMc/YPVH8TLf0cw/s320/Jen+Samayoa-69.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478977850680083218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you think when God designed us, He knew all that our bodies could do?  Up until about a year ago, I did not realize all that I could do.  I never thought I could push myself or manipulate my body in incredible ways.  Every time I push myself, I am completely amazed at the strength that God has put within me and YOU!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Whenever I am doing some ridiculous workout, you know the one that wants to make you pass out on the floor and puked your guts out, I hear a voice saying, "You are stronger than you think you are!"  "You, are stronger than you think you are!"  I usually end up pushing myself further than I thought I could go.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;God knows we are something special and He created us for greatness.  The power of our strength, our mind and our determination is unbelievable!  Test yourself and your strength this week.  See what you can do and believe you can do all the things you never thought you could.  Trust me, it will be amazing!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&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/4125320390462012635-1756354478372309029?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/1756354478372309029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=1756354478372309029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1756354478372309029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1756354478372309029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/06/stronger-than-you-think.html' title='Stronger Than You Think'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/TAk9U4oFAxI/AAAAAAAABMc/YPVH8TLf0cw/s72-c/Jen+Samayoa-69.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6090816397608927366</id><published>2010-05-28T02:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T02:14:50.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alive Again!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Driving the beautiful, tree shaded roads of Alabama brought a beautiful challenge.  I turned to my friend.  We had been discussing a friend that is struggling, hurting, searching and longing.  I asked my friend, "Pick a song that expresses your feelings toward your friend."  She reluctantly accepted the challenge and started scrolling through my iPod, hoping to come across the perfect song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I waited in the silence.  "I found it," she said with a slight smile on her face.  The song began to play and I listened to the words of the song as if I had never heard it before.  "I woke up in darkness, surrounded by silence, oh where have I gone? ... I can see the light before I see the sunrise...You called and You shouted, broke through my deafness, now, I'm breathing in and I'm breathing out, I'm ALIVE AGAIN."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The words cut me like a knife.  "You waited for me, I searched for you.  What took me so long?"  God calls.  God shouts.  He awakens within us.  He breathes life into us and washes away our blindness.  He brings us to live.  Revival!  In Him, we find the person we have been longing for.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;What have you been searching for?  Have your invited Him into your search?  What are you waiting for?  He wants to make you ALIVE again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CSTaVmDQP5s&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CSTaVmDQP5s&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&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/4125320390462012635-6090816397608927366?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6090816397608927366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6090816397608927366' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6090816397608927366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6090816397608927366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/05/alive-again.html' title='Alive Again!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4996818678107537320</id><published>2010-05-13T17:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T17:00:02.672-05:00</updated><title type='text'>to Be KNOWN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-t_1LA0aMI/AAAAAAAABMU/1_LqW7ESwoE/s1600/aa_header_01.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-t_1LA0aMI/AAAAAAAABMU/1_LqW7ESwoE/s320/aa_header_01.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470606723837618370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No one wants to be lonely.  No one wants to live life alone.  People want to be known.  They want to be heard.  They want to share themselves with someone.  Whether it be their funny stories, their quirky personality, their loves, their dislikes or their heart.  We want to be known.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Lately, I have been listening to an up and coming Christian artist (who actually happens to be Catholic).  Her name is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/audreyassad"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Audrey Assad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;.   She has a new single out that plays on KLove.  I have been listening to her for several months after the recommendation of a friend.  She has a beautiful song called Known.  The song is about how we want to be known and how Jesus knows us in the most intimate of ways.  Jesus knows us like a mother knows her baby's face.  Jesus knows us as a lover knows his beloved's heart.  Jesus knows the hairs upon our head and He knows every thought and every word we've said.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What a beautiful gift of the Savior - for Him to know us in the most intimate of ways!  Doesn't it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?  It makes me want to fall into the arms of Jesus.  To rest there because it is safe there.  I can hide nothing from Him, yet He desires to love me and embrace me anyway.  Today, may you know that YOU ARE KNOWN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&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/4125320390462012635-4996818678107537320?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4996818678107537320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4996818678107537320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4996818678107537320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4996818678107537320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/05/to-be-known.html' title='to Be KNOWN'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-t_1LA0aMI/AAAAAAAABMU/1_LqW7ESwoE/s72-c/aa_header_01.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7821198749924681356</id><published>2010-05-12T22:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T22:34:52.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies, Burrito Bowls and Beautiful Faces</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;This morning I woke up in a slump.  I couldn't get dressed, I wanted to eat everything in sight and it was rainy out which automatically signaled a bad hair day.  I was worried that my day would not have a redeeming value but God came through once again.  He rocked it&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-tyS9IuLrI/AAAAAAAABME/Sgx-X7heCuE/s320/0512102217.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470591842345954994" /&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Jesus showered his love upon me with a card from the BFF.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;The card was really nice.  She just knows me and knows when things are array.  I became aware that Jesus loves us through people in our lives.  She told me that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt; the latest polls indicate that 99.9% of Americans surveyed agree that I usually look smokin'!  That is only .01% that probably misread the question and marked that I usually look under the weather.  Even on the days when I think I am not very put together and I cannot find&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt; anything to wear, Jesus still thinks I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; look smokin'.  He was not surveyed but I am pretty sure He would be included in the 99.9%.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Then, I got to hang out with funny baby, Evie, and my beautiful friend, Katie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-tyrBgocdI/AAAAAAAABMM/9rMrcePK4zI/s320/imagejpeg952953_01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470592255836844498" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt; Evie is hilarious and loved the hand puppet that I hid behind the couch.  Then I would poke the puppet's head up above the couch and she would just smile and laugh.  There is nothing more precious and renewing than a baby's laughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:small;"&gt;To top it all off, I was hungry, like a raging bull.  I got a free Burrito Bowl at Chipotle and it really did the job of satisfying my hunger.  Thank you, roommate with benefits and Chipotle for being a faithful source of my caloric intake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&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/4125320390462012635-7821198749924681356?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7821198749924681356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7821198749924681356' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7821198749924681356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7821198749924681356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/05/babies-burrito-bowls-and-beautiful.html' title='Babies, Burrito Bowls and Beautiful Faces'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-tyS9IuLrI/AAAAAAAABME/Sgx-X7heCuE/s72-c/0512102217.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8618220914573747845</id><published>2010-05-11T15:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T15:39:27.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus in a Foot-Long</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So today I experienced Jesus' love in the form of a foot long.  Here is the story:  I walk into Planet Sub planning to order a sub for lunch.  Gift of love #1:  It was $2 Turkey Tuesday.  I was able to get a turkey sub for $2.  I order the usual, a turkey sub, extra veggies and today, add pepperoni.  We had to wait for an extra long time before our subs came.  You all have heard the saying, "Good things come to those who wait."  Yes, this is true.  Gift of love #2:  The subs came out and the p. sub guy gave us a foot long.  We said, "we did not order a foot long."  He said, "well, I guess we got the order wrong."  So we thought it was the sub we ordered but a foot long instead of a 6 inch.  Then the p. sub guy comes back and says, "actually this is your sub." He plops down our 6 inch sub and tells us to keep the foot long.  It was their mistake!  Gift of love #3:  A free foot long sub to go with our 6 inch sub.  Lunch and dinner!  Awesome!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thanks, Jesus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-nAKyfmE3I/AAAAAAAABLw/hKaBOw6gAE4/s320/downsize.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470114514003694450" /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-nALVGadMI/AAAAAAAABL4/4C8W3R2yQ7A/s320/downsize.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470114523293316290" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8618220914573747845?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8618220914573747845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8618220914573747845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8618220914573747845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8618220914573747845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/05/jesus-in-foot-long.html' title='Jesus in a Foot-Long'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S-nAKyfmE3I/AAAAAAAABLw/hKaBOw6gAE4/s72-c/downsize.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6211856033377728489</id><published>2010-05-10T13:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T13:35:48.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Today, I am thankful for female companions.  I had a lovely weekend spent with those I love the most.  Good friends, good drinks, good conversations and one obscure back massage.  God loved on me this weekend from the love I received from all the lovely ladies that are in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Brook&lt;/b&gt;, thank you for always be an inspiration to me and for always being encouraging.  Thanks for making a big deal about the things that I do not always think are "big deals."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Jean&lt;/b&gt;, thanks for the obscure back massage.  Not sure all the knots are out but at least it was a funny experience.  And for your encouragement too.  Glad you liked my song and one day, I can see you playing and singing in a smoke-filled coffee shop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Carrie&lt;/b&gt;, again, I just love hanging out with you.  I feel like you are my older sister - the one I always wanted.  So, thanks.  (Thanks for sharing Emily and Tim's blog with me because it inspired me to finally write in my blog again and write this!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sara&lt;/b&gt; - hilarious.  You are just hilarious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Casie&lt;/b&gt;, you might be the most incredible and dedicated AND loving 5th grade teacher in the entire world.  I loved that I got to spend less than a day with you.  Your spirit is lovely and you are beautiful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It was a true treat to get to spend a little bit of time with all of you.  I am so glad we ate, drank and laughed together.  Girl time is the best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;To my &lt;b&gt;BFF&lt;/b&gt;, Renee, thanks for letting me hang out at the lake longer than I said I would.  Thanks for being understanding.  Thanks for Jose Peppers which I refuse to call Jose Peppers.  I think I am just going to rename it Cactus Grill for our sake.  Thanks for the espinaca and always indulging with me.  You know how to keep my handles giggly.  And what would I do with your double chin?  I loved dancing with you and celebrating your life.  I hope you had as much fun as I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;To my &lt;b&gt;Best Friend For Eternity&lt;/b&gt;, Jesus, thanks for knowing what I need.  Thanks for never living up to my expectations.  Thanks for blowing them out of the water!  By the way, could you clean up the oil spill before Saturday?  Thanks for loving me always and for calling me, child!  You are my favorite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4125320390462012635-6211856033377728489?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6211856033377728489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6211856033377728489' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6211856033377728489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6211856033377728489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/05/thankful.html' title='Thankful'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5583856961367284998</id><published>2010-03-18T08:40:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T09:10:18.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh How He Loves</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S6I0PwUT1XI/AAAAAAAABJY/J_OA4TscPv4/s1600-h/sacred-heart-of-jesus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449975944344491378" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S6I0PwUT1XI/AAAAAAAABJY/J_OA4TscPv4/s320/sacred-heart-of-jesus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;First, my sincere apologies for being away for so long! I have no excuse. Today I return with something short but truly incredible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Again, I have been overwhelmed by God's love. This morning on the radio, the DJs were talking about the greatness of Easter! Yes, Easter! The pinnacle of the Christian life. The gift of redemption. The ultimate sacrifice that opened the gates of Heaven for you and me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The discussion made me totally overwhelmed by the ultimate act of love on the cross by Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. To follow up the discussion, the dj played 'How He Loves' by David Crowder Band. A beautiful song about Jesus' burning heart of jealous love for each one of us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Today, may you be wrapped in the jealous love of Jesus as He draws you to Himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJyW55AXJAk&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Watch the music video of How He Loves&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;*Due to technical difficulties I was not able to embed the video.*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&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/4125320390462012635-5583856961367284998?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5583856961367284998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5583856961367284998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5583856961367284998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5583856961367284998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/03/oh-how-he-loves.html' title='Oh How He Loves'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S6I0PwUT1XI/AAAAAAAABJY/J_OA4TscPv4/s72-c/sacred-heart-of-jesus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3823976222736105431</id><published>2010-01-29T17:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-29T18:14:35.044-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Share Good News</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I received a letter today.  It inspired me (it even made me shed a couple tears).  I have to give you a short background on the letter.  The letter was from Curtis Martin, founder of &lt;a href="http://www.focusonline.org"&gt;FOCUS, Fellowship of Catholic University Student&lt;/a&gt;s.  FOCUS is a national Catholic campus ministry designed to bring students into intimate relationship with Christ and His Catholic Church.  FOCUS recently held a national conference for all the students who are involved on the various campuses.  Curtis was sending a short letter about the impact of the conference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I could not attend the conference this year due to finances but it has impacted me, even from hundreds of miles away.  The conference drew 4,000 college students to be encouraged with talks, Mass, worship and adoration.  As I watched a &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/891020"&gt;short video&lt;/a&gt; that Curtis sent out, I was reminded of the impact that evangelization has had on my life and the lives of so many others.  One bishop commented that there could be canonizable saints in the room of 4,000 college students.  Wow!  How incredible!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; color: rgb(100, 95, 94); white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8921020&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=8921020&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/8921020"&gt;FOCUS National Conference 2010&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/focusnational"&gt;FOCUSNational&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is just as incredible is the opportunity I have to share good news with those that are hurting, sad and broken.  People need hope and after watching a short, yet powerful video about conference, I feel inspired and encouraged to continue sharing the Good News for the sake of the people.  There are many people in my life that I love.  I hate to see them upset, hurting, struggling or sad.  I want to give them HOPE.  Through being me and being willing to talk about the one person that has changed my life for the better - I can give HOPE and help bring JOY and FULLNESS to those I love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What Good News is God trying to share with you today?&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/4125320390462012635-3823976222736105431?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3823976222736105431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3823976222736105431' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3823976222736105431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3823976222736105431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/01/share-good-news.html' title='Share Good News'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4359092661057440507</id><published>2010-01-27T23:12:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T23:34:13.105-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who You Really Are...Is AMAZING!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you ever see yourself as someone you are not?  As a skewed version of who you really are?  Do you ever "feel" not yourself?  When you are not feeling or seeing yourself clearly, does this effect your view of yourself?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This week I have been sick.  Nothing horribly debilitating.  A head and throat cold.  Pain in my throat, a runny nose, minor headaches and drowsiness.  I feel gross.  Tonight as I got ready for bed and finished up some paperwork that is long over due, my computer went into screensaver mode.  It started f&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;lashing pictures, all of me (funny that!).  The song playing on my itunes was slow and reflective.  As I watched these pictures of me, I started thinking, "that is a great picture," or "I look really good there."  Wit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;h one picture I reminisced about my old haircut - which I loved!  It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; really was a great haircut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Then my thoughts went deeper.   "I am a good person."  "I have a dream."  "I want to help others realize how amazing they are."  "I want to make a difference."  "I am good at being me and I have some great qualities to share with the world."  What really ended up hap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;pening was quite beautiful.  In the midst of my sickness and feeling gross, I realized how amazing I actually am despite the fact that I could not "feel" it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So what is holding you back from allowing you to see how amazing you are?  Is it feelings?  A person in your life?  Is it YOU?  Is it someone that hurt you a long time ago?  Or maybe a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; tragic event?  What is it?  How can you push, what may feel like, a boulder aside so that you can look into the mirror of truth?  That is my challenge for you today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;P.S. So to show you, the reader, how much I believe in what I wrote, I am posting pictures that appeared on my computer this night.  Enjoy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S2EgMqi2nMI/AAAAAAAAA94/-bOnTTLi7q0/s200/Jen+Samayoa-34.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431658027536522434" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S2EfYjNWwBI/AAAAAAAAA9o/tA9hPBoQv3w/s200/Jen+Samayoa-22.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431657132214108178" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The pics were taking awhile to upload.  To see them all, you can access my &lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/jen.samayoa/TheShoot#"&gt;picasa album by clicking here.  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&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/4125320390462012635-4359092661057440507?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4359092661057440507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4359092661057440507' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4359092661057440507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4359092661057440507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/01/who-you-really-areis-amazing.html' title='Who You Really Are...Is AMAZING!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S2EgMqi2nMI/AAAAAAAAA94/-bOnTTLi7q0/s72-c/Jen+Samayoa-34.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4572072544415900341</id><published>2010-01-22T14:54:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T22:46:42.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you believe in miracles?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;My friend possibly experien&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1oWwMBceXI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/OFsu3rY75Ug/s320/miracles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429677317865372018" /&gt;ce a miraculous healing last week.  She received test results that showed her "levels" were back to normal.  What the doctors kept seeing before is no longer there.  Miraculous!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A few weeks prior this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; young lady surrendered to the Lord and accepted His will in her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;life.  Even more, she accepted His power as God.  She finally understood and embraced the fact that Go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;d can do whatever He wants.  He can move mountains, grow flowers in the dead of winter or part the red sea.  Endless.  His powers are endless.  Why, as human beings, do we struggle to see that God can do miracles in our own lives?  Can God make that friend who hurt you three years ago apologize?  Can He help you find a job in the worst recession since the early 80's?  Can He remove your brother from a car crash without a scratch?  Can He do it?  Seriously.  Can He?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I pose these questions to you, the reader, because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1oXccXLLRI/AAAAAAAAA9g/VQUs_5BcaZ4/s320/christ-in-eucharist.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429678078165724434" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;for a long&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; time I have thought that God was not that powerful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; I knew that God was powerful but I refused to believe that He wanted to be powerful in my own life.  Why wouldn't He want to be powerful in MY life?  He loves me just as much as the next guy.  Every day in the Mass, He comes to earth to meet me in a miraculous way.  Why wouldn't I believe that God could work miracles in my own life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I am choosing to believe.  I am so impressed with what happened to my friend.  No.  I am inspired.  I am inspired and moved to surrender my fears and doubts to the King of all creation.  I am not necessarily seeking a miracle but I am announcing my belief in miraculous movements from the Almighty!  Do you believe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1oXG6uqsqI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/GDSrhRP_ZGE/s320/miraclestorieslogo1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429677708360200866" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&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/4125320390462012635-4572072544415900341?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4572072544415900341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4572072544415900341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4572072544415900341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4572072544415900341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/01/do-you-believe-in-miracles.html' title='Do you believe in miracles?'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1oWwMBceXI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/OFsu3rY75Ug/s72-c/miracles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3369887760169794642</id><published>2010-01-15T10:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T10:38:46.511-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops.  I am sorry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This week I am watching a two year old.  He is funny and loves spending his days watching Cars, stuffing his face with 'urt' (yogurt), and racing through the house on his four wheeler.  This morning something caught my eye.  As he crashed his Tonka truck into the side of the wall near some audio equipment something broke.  He ran over to the scene of the crash and discovered something broken.  He looked up at me and said, "Oh no, oght oh."  There was no shame in his face.  He was not scared of my reaction.  He was informing me that he had broken something.  (It turned out to be nothing.  He had come across a broken plastic light bulb piece for the lights we hang on Christmas trees.)&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 249px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1CZ4ARlguI/AAAAAAAAA8k/32OFpsUNVsU/s320/kid-mess-with-peanut-butter.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427006738406933218" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;I just looked and him as he shared with me about the broken finding.  I saw the innocence in his eyes and on his face.  He was coming to his current guardian, me, to let me know of his findings.  He was not nervous or worried about my thoughts or what might happen to him.  He knew that when something is broken, he must tell the person watching over him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What do we do when we have something we are ashamed of?  Whether it is a sin or something broken inside of us?  Do we hide?  Do we run to God and tell him all about it asking Him to hold us?  How do we react?  Think of a moment in your life in which you hid instead of revealing yourself and your mistake.  What did you do? How did you feel?  How does this experience relate with your relationship with God?  Do you run to Him with your biggest struggles, sins and aches?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After the fall, Adam and Eve hid from God.  God knew where they were but they hid in shame.  They were afraid of His reaction.  We know that God is all loving and we have not need to fear!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Again, He is patiently waiting.  I challenge you to go to Him with your deepest fears, shames, and worries.  &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/4125320390462012635-3369887760169794642?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3369887760169794642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3369887760169794642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3369887760169794642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3369887760169794642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/01/oops-i-am-sorry.html' title='Oops.  I am sorry.'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S1CZ4ARlguI/AAAAAAAAA8k/32OFpsUNVsU/s72-c/kid-mess-with-peanut-butter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4980513380289617960</id><published>2010-01-12T13:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T14:05:38.753-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord is patiently awaiting us</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Reflecting on Luke 24 story, Road to Emmaus, two disciples leave Jerusalem and are on the way to Emmaus.  They have left Jerusalem after watching Jesus' crucifixion and they eagerly awaited his rising.  To no avail, they left in despair. As they travel, Jesus draws near.  It says, "but their eyes were kept from recognizing him."  Then they continued to watch further and night drew near.  They reached their destination and Jesus appeared to be going further.  Luke writes, "but they constrained him saying, "stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent."  They begged Jesus to stay with them.  Their eyes were being gently opened to Jesus and they were eager for Him to stay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The beautiful part of this story is revealed by a commentary from the Navarre Bible.  About these verses, St. Gregory Nazianzen wrote,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S0zV9WLWRlI/AAAAAAAAA8U/Qj_d8dvr93I/s200/GLORY+RESURRECTION+Emmaus+road.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425946900976518738" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"This Lord of ours never forces himself on us.  He wants us to turn to him freely, when we begin to grasp the purity of his Love which he has placed in our souls.  We have to hold him back and beg him, "stay with us, for it is towards evening and the day is now far spent."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana, serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Do you ever wonder where Jesus in your life?  Do you wonder what He is doing in your life?  Maybe your eyes were not ready to be opened to see all that God is doing.  Go to your knees and beg Jesus to be with you.  To come and sit beside you.  To stay with you and to journey on with you further.  For it is with Jesus and in Jesus that our eyes become opened to the goodness before us.  &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/4125320390462012635-4980513380289617960?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4980513380289617960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4980513380289617960' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4980513380289617960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4980513380289617960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2010/01/lord-is-patiently-awaiting-us.html' title='The Lord is patiently awaiting us'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/S0zV9WLWRlI/AAAAAAAAA8U/Qj_d8dvr93I/s72-c/GLORY+RESURRECTION+Emmaus+road.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-977049223689331392</id><published>2009-12-15T23:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T23:26:28.402-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhere in the Middle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyhvbXQHSxI/AAAAAAAAA8M/nxIlg0l2aec/s1600-h/10174138.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 203px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyhvbXQHSxI/AAAAAAAAA8M/nxIlg0l2aec/s200/10174138.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415701067801774866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A fearless warrior trapped in a picket fence.  Interesting image, isn't it.  On Monday, I revisited a great song that I enjoy.  It brings up an interesting point and as I reflected it left me wanting more. The song is called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Somewhere in the Middle&lt;/span&gt; by Casting Crowns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The song is about the confusion we find ourselves in as we live a life here on earth even though we were created for eternity.  It is about longing for greatness but making decisions based on common sense.  It &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;is a longing for surrender but not really wanting to loose control.  It is about being a fearless warrior ready to lay down your life for the Gospel but being trapped in a picket fence not able to actually go out and fight.  You are stuck in the fence with a bunch of passion and no where to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine living life that way?  I live life that way.  I have a lot of passion for God and for sharing His Good News but I am too scared to lay it all on the line.  I have great things I want to do with my life but I am too overwhelmed to move forward because I might do something wrong.  RIDICULOUS!  Can you image in living life this way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider that question for yourself.  How are you living your life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics to the song are below and you can listen as you play the youtube video with the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Somewhere between the hot and the cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between the new and the old&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between the wrong and the right&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between the darkness and the light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Fearless warriors in a picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Deep water faith in the shallow end and we are caught in the middle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; With eyes wide open to the differences, the God we want and the God who is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; But will we trade our dreams for His or are we caught in the middle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Are we caught in the middle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between my heart and my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between my faith and my plans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between the safety of the boat and the crashing waves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between a whisper and a roar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between the altar and the door&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere between contented peace and always wanting more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Somewhere in the middle You'll find me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Just how close can I get, Lord, to my surrender without losing all control&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Lord, I feel You in this place and I know You're by my side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt; Loving me even on these nights when I'm caught in the midd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;le&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DveYBno-pmQ&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DveYBno-pmQ&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-977049223689331392?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/977049223689331392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=977049223689331392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/977049223689331392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/977049223689331392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/12/somewhere-in-middle.html' title='Somewhere in the Middle'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyhvbXQHSxI/AAAAAAAAA8M/nxIlg0l2aec/s72-c/10174138.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4296090380271086623</id><published>2009-12-09T14:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T17:42:09.835-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Minute of Bravery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyA1wNtBeAI/AAAAAAAAA8A/t1EpwfjRTCY/s1600-h/braveheart0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyA1wNtBeAI/AAAAAAAAA8A/t1EpwfjRTCY/s200/braveheart0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413385854527830018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Motivation.  Where does it come from?  How does it find us?  How does it well up within us?  Do we have a motivation reserve that we can tap into when we need some?  Do certain things trigger in us motivation?  How does it move us?  Motivation, it is a mysterious thing to me.  At least recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I had one moment of motivation that lead to a minute of bravery.  I am thankful for my one minute of bravery because it allowed me for one minute to lack fear and move forward with something for me that had been a bit frightening.  For one minute today, I pushed all fear and angst aside and put myself out there in not even that big of way (but it seemed big to me)!  It was a glorious moment of bravery.  When I completed my task, I felt like a brave warrior riding off into the sunset with a smile of victory wiped across my face.  It was glorious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motivational.  The internal pump up.  Do not take it for granted.  It gives us permission to move past those things that hold us back and invites us to move forward with gusto.  May you find motivation today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-4296090380271086623?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4296090380271086623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4296090380271086623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4296090380271086623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4296090380271086623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/12/one-minute-of-bravery.html' title='One Minute of Bravery'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SyA1wNtBeAI/AAAAAAAAA8A/t1EpwfjRTCY/s72-c/braveheart0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3085762455822932241</id><published>2009-11-20T13:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T14:03:00.899-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You are being lied to.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Swbxfw_gq0I/AAAAAAAAA74/3c2Pwm_n6yI/s1600/84831395.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Swbxfw_gq0I/AAAAAAAAA74/3c2Pwm_n6yI/s200/84831395.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406273930734381890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When you wash your hands, your hair or your body with soap or shampoo, do you expect to see soap suds?  Well, I usually do not feel as if I am getting clean unless the soap I am using produces soap suds.  For instance, my new face wash does not create suds and for some reason, I think, "oh I need more soap because my face is not getting clean."  Then I reach for more soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought this issue to my hair dresser the other day.  I heard on an infomercial that soap suds are bad - especially for your hair.  Most shampoo I have used always creates soap suds.  He said that I was right.  In shampoo, companies adds a certain chemical to make the shampoo sudsy even though it is not a good chemical for the hair.  With the suds, Americans, especially, believe they are getting clean when the soap suds.  This is not true.  This is a lie that the marketers have gotten us to believe and now we deem suds as necessary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got me to thinking about how true this is for many different things in our world, not just soap suds.  For example, kleenex is just a brand of tissue.  When we need a tissue, we usually ask for a Kleenex.  (By the way, I love Kleenex and I love their blue coach commercial.  Scroll down to watch it.)  I digress.   The American culture has come to believe that we have to leave our home town to experience a vacation.  But with the recession and everyone cutting back, stay-cations are becoming very popular.  We think credit cards allow us to buy the things we need, when they really get us in a trouble because we spend beyond our means.  Lastly, we believe that we are setting a woman free if she has the choice to abort her baby.  In reality, it is taking the life of an innocent being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been food for thought as I have been pondering all of the false lies I believe.  What are you lies are you believing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="360" width="580"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vNyHJAT6-JI&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vNyHJAT6-JI&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="360" width="580"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-3085762455822932241?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3085762455822932241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3085762455822932241' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3085762455822932241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3085762455822932241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/11/you-are-being-lied-to.html' title='You are being lied to.'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Swbxfw_gq0I/AAAAAAAAA74/3c2Pwm_n6yI/s72-c/84831395.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-31441530745180849</id><published>2009-11-19T09:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T09:50:49.677-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Yes, Martha, Mary has chosen the better part..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A friend sent me a beautiful letter from a mother about her daughter entering the convent.  I found the letter to be genuine and vulnerable.  The mother was not afraid to let her true emotions show whether it was pity or anger.  The one part that stuck out to me the most was in reference to Martha and Mary.  I love the Martha and Mary story (so much that I have written numerous articles about it and some I may have to share with you on my blog).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwVomjlILeI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/3UJZS3h_M8s/s1600/GREENE_Nathan_Martha_and_Mary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwVomjlILeI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/3UJZS3h_M8s/s200/GREENE_Nathan_Martha_and_Mary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405841939323432418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The mother is describing her feelings after her daughter has left for the convent and she w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;as left with the other 4 children and her husband to pick up her daughter's part of the chores on the farm.  She says they divided up her responsibilities among the family. On some days, things seemed completely unmanageable.  The family members would look at one another understanding that no longer their needs needed to be voiced because..."Yes, Martha, Mary had chosen the better&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; part."  (Mary being the daughter in the convent and Martha being the family).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I feel as though my life has been taken over by the "Martha" part of me.  I am very much a "Mary".  I love to sit and be with Jesus.  To experience His presence and take in all He has to give me.  I feel content at His feet but not as of lately.  The "Martha" in me has totally taken over and I stay busy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; that I cannot seem to find time for sitting at His feet; which is actually moronic because I am unemployed.  I have all the time in the world!  This is my confession and commitment to you, the reader.  I will make time for prayer - for being "Mary."  What about you?  Have you spent time being "Mary" or are you stuck in a "Martha" state of mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.diocese-kcsj.org/content/vocations/consecrated_life/parents/a_letter_from__a_mother/"&gt;Take 5 minutes and enjoy this letter from a mother.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-31441530745180849?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/31441530745180849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=31441530745180849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/31441530745180849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/31441530745180849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/11/yes-martha-mary-has-chosen-better-part.html' title='&quot;Yes, Martha, Mary has chosen the better part...&quot;'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwVomjlILeI/AAAAAAAAA7Y/3UJZS3h_M8s/s72-c/GREENE_Nathan_Martha_and_Mary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8800639193142342462</id><published>2009-11-16T14:13:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T10:12:23.371-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Glory of Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;WOMEN.  God's most beautiful creation.  His crown of creation.  How lovely.  Most of the readers of this blog are women.  Men, don't be discouraged, I am confident you have something to learn from this blog post.  If God made us so glorious, why are we the ones that doubt our abilities and most important qualities?  I rarely meet women that are very egotistical.  I meet women that have it all together and that have a very high self-esteem but even in these women, I encounter struggle.  I encounter their confusion about their gifts and talents.  I encounter many women that don't understand the greatest qualities that make them women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Today, I am sharing a poem about the greatness of woman.  Remember, God created you, how could you NOT be delightful, wonderful and beautiful.  Thank God today for all He has given you in the gift of being woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Women have stre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLKOurZGvI/AAAAAAAAA6s/5QOMnrv2zho/s1600/P8010005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLKOurZGvI/AAAAAAAAA6s/5QOMnrv2zho/s200/P8010005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405104857195027186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ngths that amaze men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They bear hardshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;ps and they carry burdens,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But they hold happiness, love and joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They smile when they want to scream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They sing when they want to cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLKwLNwkhI/AAAAAAAAA60/ITFpWsQqbvQ/s1600/Shelley,+Emily,+Kari+and+Jen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLKwLNwkhI/AAAAAAAAA60/ITFpWsQqbvQ/s200/Shelley,+Emily,+Kari+and+Jen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405105431791047186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They cry when they are happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And laugh when they are nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They fight for what they believe in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They stand up to injustice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They don't tak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;e "no" for an answer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When they believe there is a better solution.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They go without so their family can have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They love unconditionally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They cry when their children excel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLLLIxzgWI/AAAAAAAAA68/S_eaz5SFfWw/s1600/PC080408.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLLLIxzgWI/AAAAAAAAA68/S_eaz5SFfWw/s200/PC080408.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405105894993396066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And cheer when their friends get awards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They are happy when they hear about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A birth or a wedding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their hearts break when a friend dies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They grieve at the loss of a family member,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Yet they are strong when they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think there is no strength left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;They know that a hug and a kiss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can heal a broken heart.&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/4125320390462012635-8800639193142342462?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8800639193142342462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8800639193142342462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8800639193142342462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8800639193142342462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/11/glory-of-woman.html' title='The Glory of Woman'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwLKOurZGvI/AAAAAAAAA6s/5QOMnrv2zho/s72-c/P8010005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8705146744722570781</id><published>2009-11-16T13:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T14:10:26.804-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Longing for Eden</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwGvFWCSkOI/AAAAAAAAA6k/UcdUxEJV5xY/s1600/the-garden-of-eden.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwGvFWCSkOI/AAAAAAAAA6k/UcdUxEJV5xY/s320/the-garden-of-eden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404793534170697954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Picture Adam working in the field trying to harvest and bring home dinner for his beloved, Eve.  He is exhausted, the hot sun has been beating on his back all day and he just wants to take a break.  Life is beautiful but it has gotten more demanding over time.  With two kids and wife to provide for, Adam feels the pressure to be diligent during the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as he sits down and sets his feet upon a rock to rest for a moment, he finds himself recalling life in the Garden of Eden.  He walked with God.  God called his name and he came running.  He did not have any cares in the world.  He was God's and God was his.  Happiness was with him.  To top it all off, God created woman for him.  Just for him.  Someone to share his life with.  How beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now things are different and what joy it would be to return to the glorious days in the garden filled with running, playing and enjoying life.  Enjoying the company of Eve and walking with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past month, I have been engulfed by the this image of Adam recalling life with God.  Recalling that perfect time.  Adam wanted to return to Eden, to the time when everything was good and perfect.  Then, I think about us.  We don't even have to look back and recall what life used to be like.  We have the glorious life to look forward to.  We have Heaven, where God will walk with us and we will worship.  Where we will have not shame and no need to hide.  How glorious!  What are you joyfully waiting for?  Is it Heaven?  If it is Heaven, what do you picture Heaven to be like?  What are you waiting for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To help explain this image more fully, one of my favorite worship leaders has written a song explaining this thought of Adam remembering life before the Fall.  Enjoy and may it bless you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KFuUPkFrIHY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KFuUPkFrIHY&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="364" width="445"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8705146744722570781?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8705146744722570781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8705146744722570781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8705146744722570781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8705146744722570781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/11/picture-adam-working-in-field-trying-to.html' title='Longing for Eden'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwGvFWCSkOI/AAAAAAAAA6k/UcdUxEJV5xY/s72-c/the-garden-of-eden.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-728833769268792096</id><published>2009-10-29T22:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T22:18:23.852-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Listening to God Talk About YOU!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;A friend that is a priest shared this story with me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; font-style: italic;"&gt;"On Monday I was in Topeka hanging with some other priests.  We played Balderdash, had an amazing dinner, and watched Napoleon Dynamite.  Before all of the fun though, I had the opportunity to see someone I hadn’t seen for over a year.  His name is Michael.  He has MS and has been in a bed for almost 20 years.  He can’t speak, but he can mouth words and his mom interprets.  Well, this time I had to see Michael in the hospital where he’s been for over 40 days.  I ran into his mom, Betty, too.  She told me that Michael still prays for me every day (which is beyond awesome).  I had to share with Michael this concept of prayer that one of my seminary professors liked to say:  Prayer is listening to the conversation the Father and the Son are having about how much they love you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;God loves you and He does cares about all the intimate details.  Go spend some time with Him - it is worth it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-728833769268792096?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/728833769268792096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=728833769268792096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/728833769268792096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/728833769268792096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/10/listening-to-god-talk-about-you.html' title='Listening to God Talk About YOU!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4984099712277801790</id><published>2009-09-20T21:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T22:31:31.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Worship is never what I expect it to be.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Srbudh12WvI/AAAAAAAAA4I/q1cBm2c0aUs/s1600-h/worship.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Srbudh12WvI/AAAAAAAAA4I/q1cBm2c0aUs/s320/worship.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383752595635854066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Worship is never what I expect it to be.  During the past two months, I have been to a few worship services.  One was in Colorado and I had been anticipating this worship experience for months...literally months.  When the service started, the band was different than I expected and they played songs that I did not know.  The started with a really slow song and it really threw me off. &lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I went to a new church to experience what others had told me was the best worship in town.  I went into the church area and the chairs were gone and people were sitting on the floor.  The worship leader started with a slow song, then we had to sit, then they spoke to us, then we sang one song, then we sat and they talked to us some more.  It was very distressing.  As I attempted to invite the Holy Spirit into my prayer and worship experience, I realized that this was not what I expected.   This was not the type of worship that I had been waiting for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had an experience where it was less than you hoped it would be?  Have you ever been disappointed by your own expectations?  Tonight, my worship experience was less than intense and less than prayerful.  I was distracted by the up, down of the night and all the talking.  I think it is interesting that God always knows - better than I ever will.  His plan is so much more grandiose than I could ever imagine.  He always manages to surprise me in ways that I never expect.  Even though worship has not been what I was expecting it to be, He is teaching me.  Teaching me not to rely on the worship - not to rely on what I want - but to welcome what He brings because He knows.  He knows better than me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What unexpected moments has God brought into your life lately?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-4984099712277801790?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4984099712277801790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4984099712277801790' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4984099712277801790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4984099712277801790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/09/worship-is-never-what-i-expect-it-to-be.html' title='Worship is never what I expect it to be.'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Srbudh12WvI/AAAAAAAAA4I/q1cBm2c0aUs/s72-c/worship.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-9125993145593620515</id><published>2009-09-15T12:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T12:28:07.337-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Do not forget the works of the Lord.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Do not forget the works of the Lord," Psalm 78 reminds us that in times of forgetfulness, discouragement and trial that we should not forget the works of the Lord.  When Jesus works in our life, His works are true and good.  They are for us to give us encouragment, hope and strength.  Jesus wants us to recall all that He has done so that we may not find ourselves discouraged.  Easier said than done, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found discouragement to be a cross that I bear.  Discouragement over things that do not matter - my job, or lack there of, the way I view myself, my needs and my next steps.  At times my mind takes control and it seems like there is nothing stopping it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Psalm from yesterday's Mass readings especially hit.   When you find yourself discouraged, doubting, fearful, and alone, draw back to the life-giving words the Lord has given you in the past.  For me, it is verses such as Jeremiah 31:30, "for I have loved you with an everlasting love," and Isaiah 62:3, "You shall be a glorious crown in the hand of the Lord, a royal diadem held by your God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are those verses or phrases that God has spoken to you in the past that need to be brought into the light?  Here are a few more of mine to chew on:  &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/isaiah/isaiah49.htm"&gt;Isaiah 49:1-6&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/1john/1john4.htm"&gt;1 John 4&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/matthew/matthew6.htm"&gt;Matthew 6:25-34&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/jeremiah/jeremiah29.htm"&gt;Jeremiah 29:11&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/ephesians/ephesians3.htm"&gt;Ephesians 3:14 - 21&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/philippians/philippians4.htm"&gt;Philippians 4:4-7&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-9125993145593620515?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/9125993145593620515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=9125993145593620515' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/9125993145593620515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/9125993145593620515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/09/do-not-forget-works-of-lord.html' title='Do not forget the works of the Lord.'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8431057059172455171</id><published>2009-09-01T22:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T22:43:07.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The most important thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Sp3ps8GQllI/AAAAAAAAA3o/qP5In4tIAXU/s1600-h/P9010012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Sp3ps8GQllI/AAAAAAAAA3o/qP5In4tIAXU/s320/P9010012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376710488406136402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I was reminded today of the most important thing in our lives...our relationships.  Tonight, while sipping champagne and eating chocolates and "the best ever" strawberries, a few ladies and I discussed our favorite places to go in Kansas City.  By discussing this, I was hoping to get some ideas of what to do with them throughout the year.  However, I only came away with a few ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first young lady excitedly said she her favorite place in Kansas City was her friend's house.  She likes going over there because there is always something going on and a television, since she does not have one.  The next young lady gave the address of her favorite place.  Which happened to be a few houses down from here where 6 fun, loving young ladies live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I listened, I found this funny and beautiful all at the same time.  They were not naming places, they were naming places where their favorite people live.  It is our relationships that matter the most to us.  It is not about our jobs or how much we make or how we perceive ourselves.  Our lives are full because of the people that enter into them.  Our relationships make our life rich!  Which relationships in your life are you thankful to God for today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8431057059172455171?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8431057059172455171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8431057059172455171' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8431057059172455171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8431057059172455171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/09/most-important-thing.html' title='The most important thing'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/Sp3ps8GQllI/AAAAAAAAA3o/qP5In4tIAXU/s72-c/P9010012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8921138624810217830</id><published>2009-08-31T10:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T10:58:26.094-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Consider This...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This quote was shared with me today by a dear friend.  Consider what it means for you in your own life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;'A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ, That a man should have to seek Him first to find her.'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8921138624810217830?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8921138624810217830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8921138624810217830' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8921138624810217830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8921138624810217830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/consider-this.html' title='Consider This...'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8536934915408665429</id><published>2009-08-29T20:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T20:16:04.379-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SpnSlwekv7I/AAAAAAAAA3g/bNleoswBFBU/s1600-h/P5200262.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 185px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SpnSlwekv7I/AAAAAAAAA3g/bNleoswBFBU/s320/P5200262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375559176353529778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I have to dedicate this blog to my friend, Carolyn.  She has just become a follower of the blog. So, to Carolyn, welcome!  Last night as I blogged, I was thinking about Carolyn.  She just moved to Ireland and I had all these things I wanted to tell her.  So I started posting things on her facebook.  One after the other.  It was very sporatic and I kind of felt bad because I posted 3 comments and I would have put them all in one but I did not think about it while I was posting.  It ended up as three different posts and they were quirky because I was trying to be funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lo and behold, Carolyn received my posts from thousands of miles away.  She wrote me a long and beautiful message telling me about her life and how much my posts meant to her.  It was the delight of my day.  At a moment when God seems so far away, He came close and revealed to me His closeness in Carolyn and her beautiful words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Praise be Jesus Christ for the gift of friendship and Carolyn.  What gifts as He gives you today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8536934915408665429?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8536934915408665429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8536934915408665429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8536934915408665429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8536934915408665429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-friend.html' title='My Friend'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SpnSlwekv7I/AAAAAAAAA3g/bNleoswBFBU/s72-c/P5200262.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4731220894230567637</id><published>2009-08-28T23:24:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T23:44:54.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life happens...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tonight I met God at the free &lt;a href="http://www.jodeemessina.com/"&gt;JoDee Messina&lt;/a&gt; concert.  Wow!  She was real.  A real, authentic woman.  She shared herself and as I listened to her music, I noticed that she sang about real life, the ups and the downs.  She was very real about struggle and life happening.  At times, life is not always as a cupcake with sprinkles.  It isn't a walk in the park and we are left to deal with life as it comes.  Some fall and stay down; others get up and realize that down times are just a phase in life.  A couple of the songs that really hit my heart were "I'm not going down" and "Get up Again".  Check out Get Up Again.&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nqc_-88QgpY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Nqc_-88QgpY&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I listened to the authenticity of the message in these songs, I could not help but see how it fit my own life.  My circumstances may not be the prettiest, they are not favorable.  Neither is anyone's situation.  The economy is bad.  People are losing their jobs.  Does it kill me to get a job so I can pay the bills?  Let's just face reality!  For me, the question is what do I need to do to positively affect my circumstances?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Jesus is in all of this.  He is in my poor circumstances, He is in my job loss, He is in my life.  What a beautiful invitation from the Lord, tonight, to be open and honest with Him about my feelings towards my situations.  These circumstances are not forever.  This is a beautiful opportunity to invite Jesus into my circumstances and plead for His healing power and love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-4731220894230567637?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4731220894230567637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4731220894230567637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4731220894230567637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4731220894230567637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-happens.html' title='Life happens...'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7745414350896622648</id><published>2009-08-24T22:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:15:13.989-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Come and Encounter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nathanael was skeptical.  "What good can come from Nazareth?"  He said of Jesus when Philip told him he found the Savior.  So Philip responds, "Well, come and see for yourself..."  This invitation from Philip allowed Nathanael to see for himself.  To try Jesus out for himself.  To take a trial run of our Lord. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is never good enough when we hear about products, businesses or services from someone else.  When we try it out for ourselves and like it, we become convinced.  Even, at times, convicted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not enough for Nathanael to be the one Jesus saw by the tree - to be the one to just hear about Jesus.  No!  Nathanael was called "to be a light to all nations, so my [God's] salvation will be known to the ends of the earth" and to think - it was all because of a little invitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come and see" really should have been "come and encounter."  Because to try something first hand, is what all big companies want today for their customers.  Try Oxyiclean, try Dove, try the new and improved Apple product.  If you try it, they know you'll love it.  This is the same for Jesus.  If you will just "come and see" - I guarantee an encounter.  You will fall in love with this man, this God we call King.  "Come and see." Will you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-7745414350896622648?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7745414350896622648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7745414350896622648' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7745414350896622648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7745414350896622648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/come-and-encounter.html' title='Come and Encounter...'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-8735996447234303018</id><published>2009-08-19T19:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T19:41:46.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Did you ever notice?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;I have seen Pride and Prejudice (the 2 hour version) probably 50 times or something radiculous like that.  Tonight I was watching the beginning of the movie (on mute) because I was half-heartidly talking to my friend (I hope she is not reading this right now...eek!).  One of the first scenes is of a public ball being held at a facility similar to a town hall.  The music and dancing abruptly stops as Mr. Bingley, his sister and Mr. Darcy enter the room.  The three walk sternly through the ballroom, making their presence known.  The mayor introduces the three to the entire room and they stood at the back of the room as if royalty assessing their own royal ball.  If you look closely, Mr. Darcy's eyes are gazing off the right.  This is the same side that Elizabeth Bennett is on.  I have never noticed this before.  He is totally staring....at her!  He is captured just by her sheer presence.  How beautiful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never noticed but I love that at the beginning of this movie, Mr. Darcy's affection begins to stir for Elizabeth.  He gazes upon her lovely face even though from a distance.  I love that I noticed his little glance this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me feel like Elizabeth Bennett.  Usually when I think Jesus does not notice me, His glance is so careful, so pure and so purposeful on me.  Watching my every move and planning His next move with passion and purpose.  His eyes are always affixed upon me because He so ardently loves me.  This is a great reminder when I am in the midst of a difficult situation, frustration with self or something trivial. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, know that He is watching.  He is gazing upon you with love.  Even though you might not notice, be assured of His glances and love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-8735996447234303018?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/8735996447234303018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=8735996447234303018' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8735996447234303018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/8735996447234303018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/did-you-ever-notice.html' title='Did you ever notice?'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-393558778743845303</id><published>2009-08-07T23:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T00:02:11.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Write or Die!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;I met with delightful woman today.  Her name is Martha.  She is a friend of my mother's and we officially met about four years ago over a lunch salad at Applebee's in Prairie Village, which is now Cactus Grill (a.k.a. my favorite restaurant in KC).  She was delightful then and she is equally or more delightful now!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Martha agreed to meet with me today to help with my job search and to reconnect.  We met at Starbucks on the Plaza and I was excited about the meeting even before we met.  As Martha walked in, I was glad she found me because I was not sure we would remember one another.  (I guess it is a good thing I am starting to look like my mom, even though, Judy will say we don't look anything alike.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we sat and talked, her energy really lit up the conversation.  She was excited to hear about what I was doing and yet, understanding about my circumstances.  We talked about what I wanted to do and it slipped out that I love Nordstroms.  She gently suggested, "why don't you go work there?"  I was baffled that she said that but it was beautiful at the same time.  She was giving me permission, in a way, to go and do what I enjoy.  Our culture tells us that we have to have the great job and the big paycheck, etc.  Working at Nordstroms sure would not do that but it would be part of my journey.  I was excited she said that.  I might even think about it some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, her energy and approach to her life was particularly beautiful because she did not take life too seriously!  It was a perfect reminder.  I am not in a hurry to find a job but I am looking for the perfect job for me.  If it takes a few months, that is okay.  In the meantime, I need to be good to myself and not so uptight about what I do or do not accomplish each day.  She suggested I spend my day writing for a few hours and completing a do-able goal related to my job search and then go hang with friends and do something I love.  I think if I do that, I will be a lot happier and peaceful about my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Martha!  Thank you for inspiring me to keep or get started writing.  Thank you for helping me take life a little less seriously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-393558778743845303?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/393558778743845303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=393558778743845303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/393558778743845303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/393558778743845303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/08/write-or-die.html' title='Write or Die!!!!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5032230942427943683</id><published>2009-07-28T19:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:34:27.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He is a gentleman</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:webdings;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So, I am job-less.  My position was eliminated at my previous employer due to a decrease in funding.  It was a bummer.  I enjoyed the work and my coworkers. I would have enjoyed staying for a little long.  I guess Jesus had other plans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;On Monday morning, I called upon a friend this week to help me approach my job search.  I said, "I just do not feel like job searching yet.  I feel like it is too soon to start putting myself out there.  I need Jesus to heal some stuff in my heart before I can begin opening doors."  My friend gently said to me, "Jen, invite Jesus to open doors for you.  Tell Him that you are tired and that you need healing.  Ask Him to open those doors for you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;THE LORD IS A GENTLEMAN, He will open the doors for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;"  I just melted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;We all wait...for the man of our dreams.  Ladies, it is true.  We want that knight in shining armor to come on the white horse and sweep us off our feet.  Chivalry is beautiful and any man that gets our door, our luggage, our kneeler, or let's us go first for communion can have our heart.  We probably would just give it over without a fight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Look, my knight in shinning armor has come.  My Beloved is calling to me saying, "Let me get that door."  I cannot tell you the feeling of relief that rushed over me as my friend spoke those words.  The imagery gets me as well.  It makes me want to melt. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;As I move forward in my job search, one day I might be ready to open the doors.  Until now, I will let the Lord lead.  I desire to be lead by My Beloved into places I never imagined.  What doors is the Lord holding open for you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-5032230942427943683?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5032230942427943683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5032230942427943683' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5032230942427943683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5032230942427943683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/07/he-is-gentleman.html' title='He is a gentleman'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-1068764715431085498</id><published>2009-06-17T16:57:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:35:14.049-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello, My Name Is...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I am now Scott's friend!  You might want to be Scott's friend as well.  I met a young man yesterday named Scott and we are now friends!  Scott is a speaker, author and name tag wearer.  Perhaps you have heard of Scott.  He has made his fame and fortune (or not) by wearing a name tag and promoting approachability!  What a concept.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.hellomynameisscott.com/"&gt;You can check him out here at his website.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Scott spoke yesterday at YouthFriends National School-based mentoring conference on approachability and becoming &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; guy or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; girl.  I have been excited for Scott's visit for month.  I just wanted to hear what he had to say and see if I could get any advice about starting my own ministry.  Well, he did!  He talked about creating a name for yourself, i.e. giving yourself an image.  He talked about having a passion and helping other excavate their passions as well!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;For me, I want to be memorable.  I want to people to enjoy being around me, I want people to feel empowered and inspired when they leave my presence.  I want to be exactly who I am in hopes of inviting people to be exactly who they are meant to be.  Throughout the entire day, all I could think of was this powerful quote by Nelson Mandela.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(14, 15, 50); line-height: 22px;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span class="qo" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(117, 105, 33); line-height: 1em;color:#0000e0;" &gt;“&lt;/span&gt;Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you&lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.&lt;span class="qc" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; color: rgb(117, 105, 33); line-height: 0.5em;color:#0000e0;" &gt;”&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I feel as though I need to spend some time looking inward to discover what is stopping me or permitting me to be exactly who I am!  Scott did leave us with some questions that I want to challenge you with.  Take some time to consider you are and what your passions are!  Consider this:  How do people experience you?  How do people experience themselves when they are with you?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13;"&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/4125320390462012635-1068764715431085498?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/1068764715431085498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=1068764715431085498' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1068764715431085498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/1068764715431085498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/06/hello-my-name-is.html' title='Hello, My Name Is...'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7511211156711934988</id><published>2009-05-25T20:44:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:35:59.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;So, I love free stuff.  Who doesn't?!?  When I say Free Stuff, I mean like an extra dump of M&amp;amp;Ms in my McFlurry without paying for extra or getting $6 in free coupons for M&amp;amp;Ms.  My free stuff does not always revolve around M&amp;amp;Ms but it usually revolves around things I enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My latest free stuff story comes from a simple trip to Quick Trip.  So I love the QT.  It is one of the greatest drink stops - they have tons of flavors.  I really love QT because of the experience I get when I go into the store.  The attendants always greet me and every trip is guaranteed!  So I know that if I have a poor experience, they will make up for it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My coworker and I stopped into QT for a Diet Pepsi (another love of mine) before a big work BBQ event.  I had to go to the bathroom and so I dashed to the back to do my business.  SPARKLING CLEAN!  The women's restroom was sparkling.  Let's talk about that for a moment. Raise you hand if you have made a pit stop only to discover that the gas station bathroom is so dirty you can only handle breathing in and out of your mouth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Anyway, the bathroom was sparkling.  I could tell it had just been cleaned and I was the first one to leave water droppings next to the sink.  On the way out of the bathroom, I noticed a comment card.  So I filled it out - telling QT of my love for their stores, their great hospitality, their cleanliness, etc.  I did not expect anything in return.  Lo and behold, a week later, I received a letter with 5 free drink coupons!  Now this made my day!  I loved it.  I get free drinks from QT, so they are helping my loyalty to grow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;You need to just give the free stuff a try.  You never know what kind of free stuff you might get when you just ask.  For example, going through the drive thru for the local Mickey D's, I ordered a McFlurry.  I got up to the second window and the friendly employee told me it would be just a moment.  They were making my Mc Flurry.  I politely suggested, "Don't worry if you accidentally put some extra M&amp;amp;Ms in my McFlurry."  She said, "I'll go suggest that to the guy making it."  Lo and behold, I got double the helping of M&amp;amp;Ms in my McFlurry which ensured me that there would be M&amp;amp;Ms waiting for me when I reached the bottom of the cup.  It was a joyous occasion and all I had to do was ask!  What a concept.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Give it a try.  Let me know how it turns out for you!  Blessings to you on this new endeavor!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:13;"  &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/4125320390462012635-7511211156711934988?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7511211156711934988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7511211156711934988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7511211156711934988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7511211156711934988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/05/free-stuff.html' title='Free stuff'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-7911018486552276473</id><published>2009-05-25T20:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:36:14.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>May Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;My friend shared with me a really cool video that I wanted to share with you.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxjjyXhO9EA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Check it out.  It is kind of unexpected.  Let it inspire you and motivate you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4125320390462012635-7911018486552276473?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/7911018486552276473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=7911018486552276473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7911018486552276473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/7911018486552276473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/05/may-feelings.html' title='May Feelings'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-3664950223463715086</id><published>2009-05-10T00:13:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:36:23.991-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jesus if Your love's fuel, then I'm a desperate flame!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lpIdFPNljM"&gt;"Jesus, if your love's fuel, then I'm a desperate flame..."&lt;/a&gt;  Lyrics from Phil Wickham's song, "Desire" struck me the other morning.  Wow!  How powerful!  I totally am a desperate flame.  Desperate for something to spark in me.  Desperate for someone to fan my flame.  Desperate for that love that takes me from a small spark to a burning fire.  Just this week, Jesus fanned my flame, so to say.  He wooed me.  I was at Mass on Friday at the Cathedral.  I don't know what it was, there was just something that struck me.  Monsignor Offett was saying Mass which meant the consecration of the bread and wine was done in the voice of Clint Eastwood.  It is very powerful!  There was something in the Eucharist that reached out in invitation to me.  I saw Jesus in the breaking of the bread.  A peace, a calmness, a rush, a love, a softness....everything....came over me.  I was struck.  I sat there peacefully and took in what was to be Jesus' serene presence.  He was fanning my flame in the moment.  He was giving me that love that He knew would make me a large burning fire.  It was all in His love.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So has Jesus fanned your flame lately?  How?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. Check out Phil Wickham's live album, Singalong.  You can download it for free at &lt;a href="http://www.philwickham.com/"&gt;www.philwickham.com/blog&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/4125320390462012635-3664950223463715086?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/3664950223463715086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=3664950223463715086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3664950223463715086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/3664950223463715086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/05/jesus-if-your-loves-fuel-then-im.html' title='Jesus if Your love&apos;s fuel, then I&apos;m a desperate flame!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6104187706521090118</id><published>2009-05-01T22:28:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T22:36:34.717-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Soloist</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://moviesmedia.ign.com/movies/image/article/941/941171/the-soloist-20081230083121268_640w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 426px;" src="http://moviesmedia.ign.com/movies/image/article/941/941171/the-soloist-20081230083121268_640w.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Tonight I saw the movie, the Soloist. It is a true story about a writer for the LA Times that happens upon a talented musician that happens to be homeless.  He hears a beautiful song coming from a small violin and wonders what more could there be.  He quickly discovers that man attended Juliard and the story begins.  Nathaniel is the writer's muse.  His running column features stories of this miraculous man that lives among rats and desperately protects his shopping cart filled with his treasures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;The story is captivating in and of itself; but beyond that story lied another tale.  The tale of an inspiring friendship.  What does a homeless man and a famous newspaper columnist have in common?  Much more than meets the eye.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;I was touched by the stories triumph in the small things.  The powerful roar of a small act of forgiveness.  The strength in a human's touch.  The faithful commitment of a friend.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;These things are not supernatural but we are affected by them in supernatural ways.  I was awestruck and moved by the small acts portrayed in this movie.  What if I...  What if I...  What if I acted in this way?  Put out a hand to someone in need?  Tossed aside a long standing grudge?  Overcame bitterness to find forgiveness?  Offered a hug, just because?  For me, the act is bigger than the effect.  Lord, come and help a feeble soul in need of a big fix so I can stretch out and attempt small acts of charity.&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/4125320390462012635-6104187706521090118?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6104187706521090118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6104187706521090118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6104187706521090118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6104187706521090118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/05/soloist.html' title='The Soloist'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6229345997484293770</id><published>2009-04-21T14:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T23:23:19.262-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Videos</title><content type='html'>My friend sent me this video and I found it very inspiring.  I wanted to share it with you and hope that is inspires you.  &lt;span dir="ltr" id=":pm"&gt;&lt;span class="kt"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFZgvKNWDcw"&gt;http://ww&lt;wbr&gt;w.youtube&lt;wbr&gt;.com/watc&lt;wbr&gt;h?v=AFZgv&lt;wbr&gt;KNWDcw&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She brings up some interesting points.  Let the Lord love you through this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-6229345997484293770?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6229345997484293770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6229345997484293770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6229345997484293770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6229345997484293770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/04/videos.html' title='Videos'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-2383238313762676268</id><published>2009-04-05T00:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T23:26:33.552-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Community</title><content type='html'>Whoa, rain down on me Jesus.  Do you take for granted those people around you that make you feel happy and excited?  Tonight, I heard a short meditation on the importance of community.  I realized that has been seriously missing in my life.  I moved to Kansas City in June of 2008.  For two years before that I was giving my life in love and service to college students in Colorado.  It was a full time job that actually took up 90% of my week and 100% of my life.  It was the best and most rewarding work.  That kind of work can be the most draining.  Ultimately, I experienced burn out.  For those of you not familiar with the term, when my two year commitment was up, I was burnt to a crisp.  I was so burnt, there were not even ashes left over to throw out.  I had completely evaporated due to exhaustion.  This is what happens when you give 150% of yourself - it leaves you with -50% of yourself.  Moving back to Kansas City, I was in search of recovering that 150% that as lost - so I could even out at a cool 100% of self.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Step one, moving back, I moved in with mom and dad.  I love mom and dad.  They are great.  They let me sleep, eat, shower, etc in the home I grew up in.  No rent - it is great!  I have been living with my parent's for a little over 10 months and I am beginning to realize that it is time to move out.  Tonight the Lord came and spoke to me - not in an audible voice - but clear enough that I understood.  A young lady shared a meditation on community.  She quoted Thomas Merton who said that even though we may be living with people, it means we are not alone but it does not mean we are in community.  It was like a soft brick was thrown at my head.  I slowly began to realize living with my parent's was not true community.  When I come home at night, they do not ask me about my prayer life or pray with me when I've had a bad day.  I am the kid and they are the parents - sometimes we fight about dumb things and sometimes we talk about serious things.  This is not the community I have been needing and longing for to fill me back up to 100%.  My goal in moving to Kansas City was to be full again and as I waited for that these last 10 months, I realized tonight that I was not surrounding myself with the proper living community to return to 100%.  So I am going to work with what I have got.  I will enjoy my parent's and our time together.  I am going to look to my friends and my King Jesus to talk to me about my prayer life.  So whose filling you up these days?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4125320390462012635-2383238313762676268?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/2383238313762676268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=2383238313762676268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2383238313762676268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2383238313762676268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/04/community.html' title='Community'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-2036794660195918280</id><published>2009-01-19T00:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:32:08.009-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Let’s talk about standing at concerts.  Tonight I went to see &lt;a href="http://www.rascalflatts.com"&gt;Rascal Flatts&lt;/a&gt; or as I fondly call them, “The Rasc!!!”.  The concert was at the Sprint Center and my friends and I were seated in section 230 (i.e. the nosebleed section).  As we awaited the opening song, I was eagerly anticipating standing and dancing through the entire show.  As a big pop of sparks flew into air to start the show, the audience flew out of their seats and stood, cheering Gary, Joe Don and Jay, except the nosebleed sections.  They did not move a muscle!  Some people stood but after awhile they found their bottoms nestled into the comfy seat they purchased for $63.75.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I was offended that I couldn’t stand.  But wait, I could have stood through the entirety of the show as the rest of the audience did in the closer sections.  I knew I would have been yelled at or gently encouraged to “take my seat.”  As I sat, drowning in the sea of Gary’s vocal range, I wondered, “why is everyone in these upper sections not standing?”  As I continued to ponder I came to a realization - one that makes sense to me so I will share it with you.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I think the upper deck sections do not stand because they do not feel like they are having an intimate experience with the band or group performing.  They feel removed.  They are just spectators, not participants.  They are too far to even be noticed.  Therefore, they sit because if they are not really a part of the action, why act like you are a part of the action when you are really just watching it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I think this is a symptom of a bigger problem.  Most people want to have great experiences but they end up most of the time just being a spectator.  For example, a handsome young man sees a beautiful young lady sitting alone.  He wants to go and talk to her.  As he waits while he thinks of a great opening line and builds up the courage to walk over to her, another young man enters the scene and steals the show.  The first young man ends up watching and admiring this other man make his move.  He wants the experience of the second young man but he ends up just being a spectator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;This can be evident of our relationship with God as well.  People want to have experiences of God but they too often end up as the spectator.  They see others having experiences of God but they think that stuff “doesn’t happen to them.”  So they close the door to their heart and when God comes knocking they are too far away to notice.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;This thought is a bit lofty and I have not come full circle with it.  These are the initial thoughts.  I’ll make changes as I understand more fully my thoughts on this topic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(60, 21, 3); font-family: 'Hoefler Text'; font-size: 13px;"&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/4125320390462012635-2036794660195918280?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/2036794660195918280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=2036794660195918280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2036794660195918280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/2036794660195918280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2009/01/standing.html' title='Standing'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5021078104823315065</id><published>2008-12-23T00:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:31:24.967-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It was from the President!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Today, something unexpected and surprising happened.  I was given the real meaning of Christmas and it totally took me by surprise!  Last night, I was supposed to prepare for a White Elephant gift exchange for my work Christmas party.  I was feeling kind of down because my b.f.f. left after a weekend of fun together.  I arrived home too late to get the little flower pins from my mom and so I decided to not participate in the White Elephant exchange.  Plus, I don’t even really understand White Elephant exchanges.  The concept confuses me and I usually leave disappointed.  So tell me, what fun is there in that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Finally, I made the decision to be content just being a spectator for the game.  Before the party, I worked for 4 hours.  My 25 year old coworker called me asking for directions to the president’s house, where the party would be located.  I gave her directions and mentioned that I decided not to participate in the White Elephant.  I arrived at the party and told the president’s assitant that I did not bring a gift so I would not be participating in the game.  I made my way to food table and prepared a plate of party finger food.  As I sat, eating my plate of deliciousness, the president took my arm and said, “Follow me.”  I was very confused.  She said, “We cannot have anyone without a gift, come on!”  It all happened so fast and I was walking down the stairs to the basement trying to find the words to explain that I really don’t even understand White Elephant exchanges and that she didn’t need to do give me a gift to give.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;She took me to the basement closet and offered me two options for a gift to give for the exchange in a few moments.  I chose the really nice candle that apparently she was going to use as a white elephant gift some day.  I had even thought about buying this candle for my mom but it was out of my price range.  She whipped out a bag and a few pieces of red tissue paper and botta-bing, I had a white elephant gift to exchange.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I added my new gift to the pile of presents as the staff gathered around, taking their seats and preparing to battle over the Irish Creme and Christmas plum wine.  The 25 year old coworker sat next to me and I told her about how the president found a gift for me to give.  She casually commented that she was going to bring a gift for me to give but could not find anything at her house.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The funny coincidence about the gift from the president is that the gift I went home with happened to be the president’s gift.  It was really nice.  A little toy microphone with tons of silver glitter, 2 books, potpourri and a candle.  I really just picked it because I liked the bag.  It had a huge fake jewel on it.  I thought it would be good for one of my hand-made cards.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;After the party, I felt guilty.  I received a really nice gift from the party that I totally did not deserve.  I did not even bring a gift; therefore, I should not have left with a gift.  The lady that brought the beloved Irish Creme went home with the ugliest doily I have ever seen.  It was terrible and should just be burned.  I left with a fun gift that was totally over the $10 limit.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;As I told this story to my mom, I realized this is exactly what the meaning of Christmas is.  I was given something I did not deserve.  It was given to me freely and without reservation.  More importantly, it was given to me from the president of our organization.  If my 25 year old coworker would have given me a gift to exchange, I would not have thought twice about it or even felt bad that she had made a kind gesture toward me.  The free gift to give was from the president, the highest member of the organization.  Out of the goodness of her own heart came this simple candle that allowed me to participate in a fun staff event and leave with a nice set of gifts - even if they were White Elephant gifts.  I was overwhelmed by love.  It was even hard for me to receive this love.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The most beautiful part about the story is that I was totally undeserving.  I had not done anything to merit receiving this candle to give during the exchange.  Each Christmas, we are reminded of the extraordinary sacrifice made by the King of all Kings to come down to the earth and be born as a babe and to die for our sins.  What have you done to deserve this?  What have I done to deserve this?  Nothing.  Each day, I separate myself from God through my sin.  His only desire is to be close to us.  This is why He came.  To give us a gift that we do not deserve.  The gift of eternal life.  What is more beautiful?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Hoefler Text; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;As Christmas is only a day away, there is more to this manger than the human eye might see.  Salvation awaits us in the crib made of straw. 2000 years ago, there was no room for Him in the inn.  Is there room this year in your heart for His gift of extraordinary love?&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/4125320390462012635-5021078104823315065?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5021078104823315065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5021078104823315065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5021078104823315065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5021078104823315065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2008/12/it-was-from-president.html' title='It was from the President!'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-6903101374506347550</id><published>2008-08-23T00:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:30:43.034-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unavoidable Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;This morning, a young man with a purpose and a passion stood in front of 50 school administrators sharing his plan to revitalize the Kansas City, Missouri School District.  He said he was there to tell us of this “unavoidable hope.”  As I listened to this man, all I heard was inspiring beauty.  His name is &lt;a href="http://www.airick.com/"&gt;Airick Leonard West&lt;/a&gt;.  He is a man with a vision.  He stood in front of this swanky meeting room wearing a nice gray suit, scuffed black shoes and ratty dreads trying to ignite excitement within these 50 some school administrators.  It sent chills up and down my spine as I recalled my last two years with FOCUS.  Airick’s shoes were scuffed but for some reason I saw beyond the white scuffs and saw all the places he has been and all the people he has shared his message with.  His hair was definitley in need of a touch up but it had character and I saw that he doesn’t have time to get his dreads re-braided because all of his time and energy goes to sharing his plan to change a community.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I found delight in seeing a young man run after the true desires of his heart.  He believes he is going to enrich the community that will form around the school district.  He believes in it so much that he will soon go door to door to tell people about this initiative.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I was dumbfounded and inspired.  Do I have a message that I am willing to go door to door for?  Yes.  Even better for me, I have a great message that will allow me into the hearts and homes of women.  I will approach them in more creative ways than going door to door.  I dream of a place where women can come and receiving counseling, fashion advice, makeup help and a renewed relationship with Jesus.  I want to help women find out who God made them to be and the love He has for them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 16.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Really, today brought tears to my eyes because I was so overwhelmed with this one man’s conviction.  This is what I want for myself.  Sometimes I feel that when I left FOCUS, I left my message and my conviction behind.  This is not true!  I continue to remind myself daily that God has created me for a purpose and He has a plan to use me.  His plan does not stop when I leave an organization that asks me to go out and share a message of hope everyday.&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/4125320390462012635-6903101374506347550?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/6903101374506347550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=6903101374506347550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6903101374506347550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/6903101374506347550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2008/08/unavoidable-hope.html' title='Unavoidable Hope'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-4342513709196435419</id><published>2008-08-21T00:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:28:30.915-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hearing God</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I heard God today.  As an almost full blown melancholic temperament, I find refuge in a mellow experience.  After calming down from 2 hours of Ultimate Frisbee, I am sitting down to blog.  I’m trying to review the day deciding what will make the blog.  I turned on a song, &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/seanmcconnell"&gt;“Madly In Love with You” by Sean McConnel&lt;/a&gt;l.  I wasn’t really listening but then the words pierced my heart like a sword.  “But every morning sunrise says, ‘I’m madly in love with you.’”  God transported His voice to come out during the song.  I heard God in these words, the speak truth and light to me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Today when I was playing frisbee, I noticed that I would get high fives and ‘great job, Jen’ whenever I made a good play.  When I did not make a good play, no one was there to congratulate me.  No one gave me a friendly slap on the back with a quick word of encouragement.  I found myself noticing that no one said anything when I did not make a good play and that is where I fixed my attention.  I was far more concerned when I made a mistake than when I had a great play.  Why?  On the way to work this morning, I listened to the opening talk of the FOCUS Conference 2008 from Jeff Cavins.  He said that when we consider starting something, we automatically begin to consider all the qualities or qualifications we do not possess.  “Oh, I don’t have a masters degree” or “I am not qualified for that position.”  These comments flood our minds and hearts.  They cloud our true view of ourself but more importantly, they cloud our view of God.  Instead of seeing the truth of who God is, we only see our sort comings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;The truth about my frisbee game tonight is that my worth is not determined by the way how well I caught or threw the frisbee. God has given each of His children different gifts.  He loves all of us equally but there will always be someone else that is better at throwing a frisbee or riding a bike, etc.  The &lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/082008.shtml"&gt;Gospel today&lt;/a&gt; struck me.  It was the story of the Landowner and his workers in the vineyard.  The landowner hires many workers at all different times of the day and agrees to pay them all the same wage.  When the ones that worked all day see that the worker that began at the end of the day received the same wage as them, they were angered.  The landowner looks at the morning workers and says, “Are you envious because I am generous?”  Bam!  They must have been hit over the head!  I know this morning I was! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“Are you envious because I am generous?”  To me, God is asking, “Are you holding my actions against me?”  I feel like we should know better.  I hold God’s actions against Him all the time and not to mention, I do it to my parents as well.  When I am getting what I want, life is good with God and when I am struggling, God hears about it!  I try not to live like this but I know it can be a struggle.  I want to have the attitude of&lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/job/job1.htm"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/job/job1.htm"&gt;Job&lt;/a&gt;. He was a lover of God and no matter what trial or tribulation came upon him, he praised the Lord.  His famous line is “naked I come forth from my mothers womb, naked I will return.  The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD!” (Job 1:22)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;So returning to the song, God loves me with the sunrise every morning.  He is consistent.  The sun always rises, no question.  His love for me is consistent at every moment of everyday.  Because I am blinded, He has to remind me several times a day.  I am thankful for His reminders but I want to stand hard and fast upon the truth of His love and Always find myself praising God no matter what happens.  Do you have a conditional love for God?  Are you in love with the consolations of God or the God of consolations?&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/4125320390462012635-4342513709196435419?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/4342513709196435419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=4342513709196435419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4342513709196435419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/4342513709196435419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2008/08/hearing-god.html' title='Hearing God'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4125320390462012635.post-5409794406405011109</id><published>2008-08-19T00:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:29:32.101-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;As I archive emails at work, I am listening to &lt;a href="http://www.shellymooreband.com"&gt;Shelly Moore Band&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.shellymooreband.com"&gt;.&lt;/a&gt;  These songs hit me like a brick wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;I am reminded of last year.  I can experience it in all of my senses.  I can smell the campus center and see myself setting up for the spa night.  I can hear Shelly Moore passionately belting out her songs from Renee’s computer; which I turned up full blast.  I can feel the cold outside but I was still wearing my heels, I didn’t care!  I can see and sense calmness of the dim lighting in the basement even though right now, I am in a well lit building during the hottest summer month.  The sense of the songs is so strong.  They bring me back to last year and everything about setting up for spa night.  Everything that had to do with that evening.  I can feel the anticipation and the excitement I had for all the women attending.  I can feel the love that I wanted to pour over the women.  The trust and faith that God was going to do something great was evident.  I was covered in HIS peace as He invited me to revisit that evening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Today, I returned there.  To that place  and everything that surrounded it.  It brought warmth and comfort to me and my new situation that seems radically different to where I was 4 months ago.  I gladly welcome those memories of comfort.  I know I will need them as I transition.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Then upon my arrival home, I opened an email from my best friend, Renee.  She sent a video file of a huge sign that covered a building on one of the busy Chicago streets.  The sign boldly read, “You Are Beautiful!”  Wow! At first, the sign struck me and I was overcome with joy.  God was reminding me of my beauty simply because I am His daughter.  But, Renee had commented that a large bus got in the way of the sign and she could not edit it out.  So as I watched it again, the bus completely blocked the sign from the camera’s view.  Not long after, I realized that the bus represented the world’s sin and my daily confusion.  We are a fallen race.  We have a tendency to sin.  So, we run after ALL the things that we think will make us happy.  We try to perfect our bodies and color our hair to mimic the latest Hollywood starlit. We are confused.  Our confusion keeps us running after things that only offer instant gratification.  Our eyes are covered by a veil and we cannot see our own beauty and dignity until we lift the veil.  The truth is that I am beautiful because I am created with an inherent worth and dignity.  And so are you!  You are beautiful.  Don’t believe anything else because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font: 14.0px Palatino; letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;“You are a beautiful daughter of God and He delights in You!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503; min-height: 19.0px"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Palatino; color: #3c1503"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"&gt;Are you going to lift the veil today and let God show you your beauty?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(60, 21, 3); font-family: Palatino; font-size: 14px;"&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/4125320390462012635-5409794406405011109?l=jensamayoa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/feeds/5409794406405011109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4125320390462012635&amp;postID=5409794406405011109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5409794406405011109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4125320390462012635/posts/default/5409794406405011109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jensamayoa.blogspot.com/2008/08/remembering-feelings.html' title='Remembering Feelings'/><author><name>Jen Samayoa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07449039623452801994</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_G6L6Z--YUHg/SwDNt0GB7qI/AAAAAAAAA5w/ABWqq6hzfwM/S220/Jen1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
