<?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-17822278</id><updated>2011-06-06T18:46:23.195-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From the Desk of A Minister of Music</title><subtitle type='html'>This is the blog of Micha Broderick Vick.  He is a minister of music.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>102</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-2657504878301262107</id><published>2010-04-28T18:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T18:45:03.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This blog has moved</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;       This blog is now located at http://mbvick.blogspot.com/.&lt;br /&gt;       You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click &lt;a href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/'&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to&lt;br /&gt;       http://mbvick.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-2657504878301262107?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/' title='This blog has moved'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/2657504878301262107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/2657504878301262107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2010/04/this-blog-has-moved.html' title='This blog has moved'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115765259250408546</id><published>2006-09-07T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T13:09:52.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Help Me Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Can you all help me out?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Go to &lt;a href="http://www.ladawnyasworld.info/pcliphuh/vote.html"&gt;LaDawnya's World Spotlight&lt;/a&gt; and vote for my site to be spotlighted.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My site is dead last in the voting and I am beginning to feel bad.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;Micha&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115765259250408546?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115765259250408546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115765259250408546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/09/help-me-out.html' title='Help Me Out'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594658376703999</id><published>2006-07-28T19:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T19:26:16.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Idea</title><content type='html'>I have no idea what Carlton typed.  He won't tell me.  He had me show his mother and father what he typed.  They looked at the both of us like we were crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis. Franklin said, "When you move out, you can take your little friend with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That caught me off guard.  I had forgotten that this wasn't my house.  I got sad.  Carlton got upset, too.  He asked when I was moving out.  I said I didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent in a housing form to Xenia.  I haven't heard anything yet.  Maybe if I don't, the Franklins will let me stay here.  I can hope right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594658376703999?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594658376703999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594658376703999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/no-idea.html' title='No Idea'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594763729819941</id><published>2006-07-28T19:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T19:34:46.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From Carlton Franklin</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;rfdvcujnm trbgfvhbn rgfv yghb nregfdv ijknm wdscx pokjn edc yhnb efdvc yghb fv .&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;rgfvh bn regfv uhjbn rgfv jn rfv n vfc fvbvhbnjhnedcpkmn edfvc jhb wedfv.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;wsdfvb fv bokjmn wsx qasxc qazwsxc tgb okjnb ojnb efgbn olkjnb pkjnb ujhcdefujhbv cbn nhbgvfcdesastygvc nm ,kmnjopoigftrfdxhnb nhbvcftfdxc.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;okjnhb vn bvcrdtgfv bndc ijhb ferv ijhb edc iuhjbwdsc ytghvb edsc yhbn vc yhjbn dsc qasdcfvb fv ijhbn wedsc sredfcv wedsc iujhbn efdvc yughbn erfdvc uhjbn wsdc iokjnm wdscx ijknb edscx fgv v.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;efrd chb frdvc uhjv fvc hn fredvc jhb vf.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594763729819941?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594763729819941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594763729819941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/from-carlton-franklin.html' title='From Carlton Franklin'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594772123785595</id><published>2006-07-28T19:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T21:44:12.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Much</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;There isn't much to write about these days.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Carlton is in here with me. &lt;a href="http://mbvick.alwaysinspired.info/2006/07/from-carlton-franklin.html"&gt;He wants to type something on here&lt;/a&gt;. I may let him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He likes hanging around with me lately. I don't even understand it. It's cool, though.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594772123785595?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594772123785595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594772123785595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/nothing-much.html' title='Nothing Much'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594552635077444</id><published>2006-07-21T18:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T18:59:13.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leave Me Alone</title><content type='html'>Why is everyone still messing with me about the &lt;a href="http://mbvick.alwaysinspired.info/2006/07/we-got-sick.html"&gt;babysitting disaster last week&lt;/a&gt;? I know why, but why won't they leave me alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to have to hurt Carlton. He is telling everyone about it. Get this... His is lying and sayig that he beat me. I think we may have a supervised skin eating contest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594552635077444?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594552635077444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594552635077444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/leave-me-alone.html' title='Leave Me Alone'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594538067705510</id><published>2006-07-17T18:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T18:56:20.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Got Sick...</title><content type='html'>I don't know how it happened, but Carlton and I had a Skins eating contest on last Friday night. He said that he could eat more skins than me. I told him that he couldn't, so that sparked a contest. I beat him, but he ended up waiting like three big bags of skins before it was all over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, we got sick. Carlton got sick first, then me. We were both sitting in the bathroom fighting over the toilet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, here's the beginning... Eld. and Sis. Franklin went out on a date and they left me to babysit Carlton. Carlton said he didn't need a babysitter and that I was the one who needed a babysitter. Sis. Franklin told Carlton that he could babysit me then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we both needed a babysitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Eld. and Sis. Franklin came home, they found us sitting in the bathroom. Sis. Franklin had a fit. Carlton told her what happened. She yelled at the both of us. I thought Carlton and I were the same age, the way she was yelling at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put us both to bed. Carlton insisted on going into my room. He wanted to stay with me. Sis. Franklin was still fussing at us when she left the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been sick every since then. Carlton felt better earlier today. I am just now starting to feel better. I am never trying to out eat a kid again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Get this... Sis. Franklin said that the next time she and Eld. Franklin go out, she is getting a babysitter for the both of us.&lt;/strong&gt; That's cold!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594538067705510?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594538067705510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594538067705510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/we-got-sick.html' title='We Got Sick...'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594474811777092</id><published>2006-07-07T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T18:45:48.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Convocation Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/Convocations/YouthConvocation.htm"&gt;Convocation&lt;/a&gt; week was great. I had a good time. The &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/About_Us/youthministry.html#YoungAdultMinistry"&gt;young adult choir&lt;/a&gt; sung like crazy. It was so good. I must have played like I was loosing my mind all week. Sis. Twila rehearsed us like crazy everyday. She's cool. She worked us hard though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a very nice surprise on Monday. Keyva was at the Convocation. I was so happy. She hung out with me all week. We had fun. She even sung in the choir. That was so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Franklin's came down on Wednesday night. It was cool. I took Carlton to the zoo on Thursday. He ran around like crazy, but we had fun. He was smiling like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During Thursday's and Friday's service, Carlton sat on the organ with me. He wouldn't sit with his parents for anything. I told him that he didn't bug me while I was playing, he could sit with me. He was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw everybody. Everyone was messing with me about Keyva, especially my boy Terrance.  He was trying to flirt with Keyva, too.  That's my dog for real.  He goes to Logan Tabernacle in Seamands.  We met in 1999.  We have been cool every since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva got mad at me for a minute because everyone was messing with her about me.  I thought she was going to act a fool for a minute.  Terrance talked her out of cutting me because I was always writing about her in my journal.  He said, "He only writes about people he likes.  He never writes about me and I have known him forever.  So, what does that tell you."  He calmed her down.  That's my boy Terrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't ready to leave, but I had to.  I can't wait until next year.  The convocation is going to be in Oxford.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594474811777092?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594474811777092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594474811777092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/07/convocation-week.html' title='Convocation Week'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594230524007841</id><published>2006-06-30T17:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T18:48:05.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Headed For The Convocation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I leave for the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/Convocations/YouthConvocation.htm"&gt;Youth Convocation&lt;/a&gt; on tomorrow. Carlton is half mad at me because I told him that he couldn't go with me. His mother talked to him, but I think she made it worse.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I asked Eld. Franklin if they could come down to the convocation on Thursday and Friday. I could take Carlton to the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/mskiki/2006/05/gbf-day-noble-valley-zoo.html"&gt;zoo on Thursday&lt;/a&gt;. Eld. Franklin said he would think about it. I told Carlton about it. Now, he is bugging his father.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thank goodness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594230524007841?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594230524007841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594230524007841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/headed-for-convocation.html' title='Headed For The Convocation'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115594738621539791</id><published>2006-06-28T19:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T19:29:46.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>By Carlton Franklin</title><content type='html'>c vbolkm rtfc vedcf vijn edfc vwsdxc vokm yhb dcv ijm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;frdcijkmrav c6yghb esdplk,rgfvyhb tgb verdfcv  dcuhjn tgfv uh b ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fc yb trgb vbhnbg vyhn redfc edcv dcplk edctgb sdcqsxc rfgvc uyhjokmplkmwsxc rfv ijn okmpokjnwsdcx tgbv ijn yhgbwsdxfc v.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ygg fv cyhn v yh v hb nfv yghb nfv yhnb fvc yguh fc gyhb fc yghb v ij uhb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115594738621539791?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594738621539791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115594738621539791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/by-carlton-franklin.html' title='By Carlton Franklin'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115144450811188269</id><published>2006-06-23T16:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T16:41:51.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Much Better</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am doing much better these days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; and asked him to go look in on my mother for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was Keyva's suggestion.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My mother wouldn't let Evg. MaCulvie in the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He told her that I had asked him to come by and check on her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She told him that she was fine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Thankfully, my idiot brother wasn't at the house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Evg. MaCulvie told my mother about me getting into &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Xenia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She told him to tell me that she was proud of me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That was cool.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I asked Evg. MaCulvie how my mother looked.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said that she looked fine.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don't think I believe him, though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said that she had told him to tell me not to worry about her, just to focus on my education and my music.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I miss my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I keep praying for her and my brother.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115144450811188269?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115144450811188269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115144450811188269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/much-better.html' title='Much Better'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115051506742282193</id><published>2006-06-16T22:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T22:31:07.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake This Funk</title><content type='html'>Well, Sunday was horrible.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn't feel like going to church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin went off on me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt like crap, but I guess that didn't matter because I am the Minister of Music.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I guess I can't have a bad day.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin and I didn't speak until Wednesday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We didn't say much, but I guess we were cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva came over on Thursday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She brought me some of her mother's Macaroni &amp; Cheese.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I love Macaroni &amp; Cheese, that's my favorite thing to eat ever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was good, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went in the kitchen and heated it up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ate the whole pan.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva was looking at me like I was crazy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After I finished the Macaroni &amp; Cheese, she asked, "Are you coming to choir rehearsal tonight?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "No."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She asked, "Why not?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "Cause I don't want to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't feel like playing music these days."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She shook her head, "Oh well, I guess you won't be getting paid."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I made a face.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She did have a point.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn't get paid for last week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "I just don't feel like playing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What if I bust out crying while I am praying?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smiled, "Well, then I will come over to the organ and hug you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We are your family now, if you are going through, then we are going through, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Besides, church was not good at all without the music."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost believed her when she said that the church members were going through with me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "Those folk up at the church aren't going to care that my brother cursed me out, called me a nerd, told me to stay where I am, and that my mother didn't want me there."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva had a strange look on her face when I told her that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She looked like she was going to cry or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I touched her arm and said, "Are you okay?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva said, "Yea, I see why you don't want to play.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Have you talked to your mother?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "Naw, my brother won't let me talk to her."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva said, "Why don't you call her when he is not there?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "My brother is always there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't have a traditional job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think he may be doing some criminal from the house."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva looked puzzled and said, "Dang boy, you got issues."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "Naw, I got problems."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva said, "It's a good thing God got you out of that situation when He did.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You might have gotten hurt."&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I hadn't even thought about that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;God had gotten me away from my family before something crazy happened.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Instead of thanking Him for protecting me, I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was an idiot.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;God had placed me down here with people who love me and I was being ungrateful.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva interrupted my thoughts when she said, "You do realize that I am here, right?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, "Yea, I was thinking about something."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Before she could ask me what, I kissed her on the jaw and said, "I'll be at choir rehearsal tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I gotta go take care of something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I'll see you later."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walked her to the door and she left.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I emailed Eld. Franklin and told him everything that was going on and asked if we could talk when he got home.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He emailed me back and said yea.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin and I talked for a long time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was late for choir rehearsal because we talked so long.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I apologized and now Eld. Franklin and I are cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got to choir rehearsal and asked Marcus if I could talk to the choir.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said I could after the devotion.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went and sat by Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked her, "What should I tell them?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smiled and said, "Just tell them what you feel comfortable telling them."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn't sure what I was going to say.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Marcus gave me the floor and I said...&lt;br/&gt;I apologize for not being here on last week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was depressed and feeling sorry for my self.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had tried to talk to my mother and my brother was mean to me and said some very mean things to me on the phone.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He wouldn't let me talk to her either.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am worried about my mother.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hadn't realized that God had gotten me out of the situation at my mother's house, which could have been a bad situation.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am still a little upset about what happened, but I am going to keep praying and keep trusting God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hope I didn't let you all down.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If I did, I am sorry.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Why was everybody crying when I got through, including Marcus?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt better having told them what I told them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No one seemed upset about me missing the services.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We finished with choir rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A lot of the choir members came up to me and hugged me and told me to be encouraged.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Most of them said that they were going to be praying with me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt so good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This would have never happened at my old church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;One of the older ladies in the choir walked up to me and said, "Son, I am sure that your mother misses you and is thinking about you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Just wait on God and He will let you talk to her."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That lady gave me the best mother hug I have had in along time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost started crying lying on her shoulder.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I think I am back in everyone's good graces.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;At least I hope I am.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Thank You Lord for getting me out of a situation that could have been dangerous for me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I apologize for feeling sorry for myself.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115051506742282193?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115051506742282193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115051506742282193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/shake-this-funk.html' title='Shake This Funk'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115015392321765098</id><published>2006-06-09T23:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T18:12:03.220-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Depressed</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I'm depressed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My brother answered the phone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He called me a nerd after he cursed me out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said that he didn't care about what college I got into.&lt;br /&gt;"If you can't bring no money into the family, we don't need you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Stay your behind wherever you are and leave us alone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Mama don't want you here anyway."&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You would have thought that would have been enough punishment, but no, I wanted more.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called my father and told him.&lt;br /&gt;He said, "Ok.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I hope you ain't calling me to ask for money."&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I haven't been out of the room all day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I haven't talked to anyone either.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don't feel like it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn't even go to choir rehearsal.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am probably in all kinds of trouble with Marcus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Oh well.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115015392321765098?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115015392321765098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115015392321765098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/depressed.html' title='Depressed'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-115015358719575058</id><published>2006-06-02T18:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T18:06:27.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Told Keyva, Wish I Could Tell My Family</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I told Keyva about getting into &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Xenia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was happy for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was cool.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am feeling all emotional right now.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I want to tell my mother about getting into &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Xenia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, but I know that my brother wouldn't give the phone to my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; asked me if I called my family and told them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I told her no.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Then I went to my room and cried.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I gotta stop doing that.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I called &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; and told him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He and his wife were excited for me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He asked if I had called my family.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I held back the tears.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I cried when I got off the phone with him.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wish I could tell my family about getting into school.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don't even think they would care.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-115015358719575058?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115015358719575058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/115015358719575058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-told-keyva-wish-i-could-tell-my.html' title='I Told Keyva, Wish I Could Tell My Family'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114869456306607279</id><published>2006-05-26T20:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T20:49:23.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I Dance?</title><content type='html'>Well, I am forgiven.  Keyva is no longer mad at me.  Carlton is no longer mad at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Big One...&lt;br /&gt;I have been accepted into &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Xenia Men’s College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.  I am so excited.  I will start in the fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I submitted a couple of applications at the college.  One for the Music Department of the library and another for the Music room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. and Sis. Franklin almost had a fit with me when they found out.  Carlton was excited, too.  I haven't told Keyva yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I Dance?  I may need someone to play the organ for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114869456306607279?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114869456306607279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114869456306607279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/05/can-i-dance.html' title='Can I Dance?'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114818034824741971</id><published>2006-05-21T21:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T22:02:19.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend in Dorinda</title><content type='html'>The &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/Convocations/WomensConvocation/"&gt;Women’s Convocation&lt;/a&gt; was last week in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I heard it was good.     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I flew to Dorinda on Thursday to visit my mother and hopefully to see Keyva because she went to the Convocation. I didn’t get to do either.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My brother wouldn’t let me in the house to see my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keyva didn’t return my phone calls.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I hung out with &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He and his wife were happy to see me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His wife was attending the Women’s Convocation. Evg. MaCulvie preached at a church in Absanie on Saturday &amp;amp; Sunday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He asked me to play for him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was cool.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I went and submitted my application for admission into Xenia Men’s College.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I talked to the music professor that knows the professor I had at &lt;st1:street&gt;&lt;st1:address&gt;Beggs   Street&lt;/st1:address&gt;&lt;/st1:street&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They guy is cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think I am going to enjoy going to Xenia Men’s College.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114818034824741971?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114818034824741971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114818034824741971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/05/weekend-in-dorinda.html' title='Weekend in Dorinda'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114817972750398216</id><published>2006-05-12T20:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T21:48:47.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Service Was Excellent</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sunday service was excellent.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; preached like crazy.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The choir sung like crazy, too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; preached, “That’s the Kind Of God I Serve.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;His text was from Genesis 1:1-31, but he focused on verses 3-8.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was awesome.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It truly blessed me, especially after last week.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After church, &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; told Keyva that he wanted his bears back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;That caused a big mess that Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; ended up having to fix.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; talked to after church.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He almost fell out laughing at me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said, “Boy, you sure can get yourself into some big messes.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t think it was funny at first.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;After he talked to me for awhile longer, the situation got funnier.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here are his words of wisdom…&lt;br /&gt;(Printed with his permission)&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Keyva will forgive you before too long.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; won’t be mad at you too much longer.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Don’t push my son again. (With a smile.)&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Stay out of trouble!&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;         &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I will see how things end up.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114817972750398216?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114817972750398216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114817972750398216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/05/sunday-service-was-excellent.html' title='Sunday Service Was Excellent'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114817868646854921</id><published>2006-05-05T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T21:45:34.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Horrible Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Well, Keyva is still mad at me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She says that I tell too much of “her” business in my blog.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and I had a fight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have a Porsche collectable car that I got from my mother for a birthday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I had it sitting on my desk.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was missing my mother.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Can you believe it?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;He kept trying to get it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I kept telling him to leave it alone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I left the room for a second.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I came back, he had my car and was trying to open the box.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I snatched the box from him and pushed him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(I didn’t mean to push him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t even push him hard.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He ran out of the room crying.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;His mother came in the room and asked me what happened.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She chastised &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and told him not to bother other people’s stuff.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She chastised me and told me not to push little kids.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a disaster.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; told me that he wasn’t my friend anymore and that he wanted the bears that he gave me to give to Keyva back.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t know how I am going to do that.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This has been a horrible week.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114817868646854921?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114817868646854921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114817868646854921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/05/horrible-week.html' title='Horrible Week'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114754913745231712</id><published>2006-04-28T14:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T17:59:31.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Trouble...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I'm in trouble with Keyva.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She has been mad at me since Sunday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Word of our date got out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Okay, so someone found out about it by reading my blog.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don't even know how that happened.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; is the only person who knows about my blog.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keyva is mad at me for writing about our date in my blog, for not telling her that I was going to write about the date in the blog, and for not telling her my website address.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am in so much trouble.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I got her some flowers.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; gave me another one of his bears to give to her, but she said that she didn’t want the bear or the flowers.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;One of the older ladies at the church fussed at Keyva for singing at the piano bar.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I feel bad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can't think of anything to do or say to fix it.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; told me not to worry about it because it will blow over, but I don't think it is going to blow over.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I emailed Keyva and gave her my blog address.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How can I lose my girl before I even get her?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114754913745231712?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114754913745231712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114754913745231712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/in-trouble.html' title='In Trouble...'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114754857759055554</id><published>2006-04-22T01:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T18:00:30.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Date With Keyva</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I changed clothes four times. Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; told me that each outfit was cool, but I kept changing. Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; yelled, "You are worse than a woman boy! Don't make me pick out an outfit for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. Franklin and I laughed. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; gave me one of his teddy bears to give to Keyva as a present. His father told him that I couldn't give Keyva an old ratty looking bear. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; ran crying to his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; walked in the room and gave Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; a crazy look. She looked at the outfit I had on and said, "That's the one you are wearing. Don't change clothes again." I didn't change either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; handed me the keys to his car. I looked at him like I was crazy. He said, "You can use my car tonight." I started crying. I have gotta stop doing that. He said, "Stop crying. I ain't giving you the car cause I like you. I am giving it to you so that you want be tempted to do anything nasty in the preacher's car." That made me laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; gave me one last look before I left the house. She straightened out my collar. Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; told her to leave me alone. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; walked me to the door. He handed me his teddy bear and told me to give it to Keyva. The little guy is cool, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove over to Keyva's house. I got there 15 minutes early. I was nervous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met her uncle and grandmother. Her grandmother gave me a good stare down. She looked like she had been on the earth for along time. She had a raspy voice when she asked, "Can you play the organ?" I said, "Yes, mame." She said, "You any good?" I said, "Yes, mame." She said, "Uhh huh. I'll have to judge for myself." She left the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva finally came into the living room. She looked great. She had on a blue outfit. I almost fell out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hugged me and told me that she liked my outfit. It was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her uncle took some pictures of us. I felt goofy. Keyva kept telling her uncle to quit taking pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally left Keyva's house. When we got into the car, she saw the flowers, candy, and &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;'s teddy bear sitting on the seat. She smiled. She looked at the teddy bear like I was crazy for giving it to her. I looked at her and said, "&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; thought that you would like it." She laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ride was great. We mostly listened to music. She sung most of the way there. It was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up at this piano bar. I looked at Keyva like she was crazy. She laughed at me. We went in and three or four people ran up to Keyva and hugged her. I found out that she sung at the piano bar sometimes. I gave her another crazy look. She laughed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just barely got a seat when a guy walked up to the stage and said, "Tonight we have a treat, Keyva Palmer is here and she is going to sing for us." The crowd went crazy. Keyva smiled at me and went up to the stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva sung three or four songs. She had the crowd rocking. She sung a lot of old songs from the 60s and 70s. It was so cool. She did a lot of &lt;a href="http://k3080.alwaysinspired.info/aboutus/aboutus.html"&gt;Amanda Jacobs'&lt;/a&gt; songs. It was great. I was impressed. My boo can sang something fierce. I half expected Keyva to ask me to come play for her, but she never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she finished singing, she got a standing ovation. It was so cool. She walked back over to the table and sat down. She was breathing hard. She said, "I don't think they will ask me to sing anymore, so we shouldn't be bothered anymore." I smiled at her and told her how great she was. She blushed. A waitress walked over to the table and gave Keyva a cup of tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva looked great. An overwhelming urge to kiss her came over me. She said my name and asked me what was wrong with me. I didn't answer her. She just shook her head at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same guy who had announced Keyva on the stage came over to the table. He sat down with us. Keyva introduced us. The guy said, "Girl, you sang. Do you feel like singing some more?" Keyva looked at me. I looked at the guy and said, "We are here on a date. Can you give her a break tonight?" The guy was like, "I suppose so. It's not me, it's the people. They wanna hear her sing. Blame them." Keyva stared into space. I said, "Give her a break man. This is our first date." The guy made a face and then left. Keyva gave me a kiss on the jaw and whispered in my ear, "Thanks." Why did I blush?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of the night we listened to the band play and a couple of other people sing. We ate and danced a little. I am not a very good dancer. She laughed at me and then said, "Let's sit down. I see why you play." I laughed, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Confession&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was having a good time. This was my first real date. I went to the prom in high school with a girl at school who couldn't get another date. That was a disaster. I had gotten something to eat with a couple of girls at school, but that wasn't really much. I guess I didn't want to date much because of my family life. Why am I so embarrassed by my family life? Forget that. This is supposed to be a positive entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Back to the story&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting close to &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="23"&gt;11:00 PM&lt;/st1:time&gt;. I asked Keyva what time she had to be home. She told me that she didn't have a set time to be home. I told her that I thought we should leave. I didn't want to have her out all night. I didn't want anyone to think that we were doing anything ungodly. (If you know what I mean.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was cool with leaving. She said bye to a couple of people and then we left. We didn't talk much on the ride home. She was quiet, so I didn't say much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to her house. She asked me if I wanted to come in for awhile. I told her no. I just walked her to the door. I had to carry most of her stuff for her. She stopped before she opened the door and smiled at me. She said, "I had a great time tonight. I didn't know that they were going to ask me to sing." I smiled back and said, "It's okay. I enjoyed hearing you sing." She laughed and said, "I bet. You should learn how to dance." We both laughed. She said, "Are you gonna try to kiss me?" I was shocked. I couldn't believe she asked me that. I said, "No." She made a mean face and said, "Okay. Goodnight." She went into the house before I could say goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove home smiling. I think she wanted me to kiss her. I wanted to, but I didn't want to kiss her on her front porch with her family in there. Oh well, I am a big chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally made it home. Eld. Franklin, Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;, and &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; were waiting up for me and it was after &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="0"&gt;midnight&lt;/st1:time&gt; when I got home. When I walked in the door, &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; ran over to me and hugged me. He said, "Did Keyva like my bear?" I told him that he did. He jumped up and down and ran off to his room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. and Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; waited for me to sit down. I started to just go to my room, but I figured that they would just follow me in the room. After I sat down, Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; said, "Did you really give Keyva that nasty bear?" I told her yes. She shook her head and then said, "Did you kiss her?" I made a face and said, "No mame." Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; stood up and said, "Chicken," as she left the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; punched me in the arm. He said, "You are smiling, so that means you had a good time." I said, "Yes sir, I did." He asked, "Are you gonna tell me about the date or do I have to read your blog to find out about it?" He laughed as he got up and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait until our next date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114754857759055554?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114754857759055554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114754857759055554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-date-with-keyva.html' title='My Date With Keyva'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114731237406241042</id><published>2006-04-21T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T20:52:54.063-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight's The Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tonight, I go one my date with Keyva.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am so excited.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114731237406241042?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114731237406241042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114731237406241042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/tonights-night.html' title='Tonight&apos;s The Night'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114731222096028645</id><published>2006-04-19T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T20:53:26.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Week Two in Rowmanellieo</title><content type='html'>This week was great. Things have settled down for me. I have the room at Eld. Franklin’s house set up okay. I am only going to be there for like a month or two. I got my stuff in the storage that Keyva’s uncle let me use. &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; has called me everyday for the past few days.  It’s funny because he is so concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. Franklin said, “If he keeps calling you, I am going to be jealous.”  He laughed after he said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get this; I was in the room crying one day because I felt weird having Evg. MaCulvie, Eld. Franklin, and Marcus care about me. I haven’t had any men care about me like these guys do. My father and brother could care less about me. Carlton came in the room and saw me crying. (He doesn’t know how to knock.) He ran and told his mother that I was crying. His mother came in the room and asked what was wrong. I told her that I was okay. She told Carlton to leave me alone, but he didn’t. He sat in the room with me and rubbed my back while I cried. He told his father that I cried when he got home. Eld. Franklin came to check on me. I started crying again.&lt;br /&gt;I gotta quit that mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t tell Eld. Franklin what was wrong with me. He laughed at me and said, “I’ll just read your blog in a few days. I’ll find out what was up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114731222096028645?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114731222096028645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114731222096028645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/week-two-in-rowmanellieo.html' title='Week Two in Rowmanellieo'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114556634490898311</id><published>2006-04-15T19:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T15:52:24.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Rowmanellieo for a Week</title><content type='html'>I have been in Rowmanellieo for a full week.  It has been fun so far.  I have finally caught up on my sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s the week…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sunday 4/9&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church was great.  Eld. Franklin officially introduced me as the Minister of Music for the church.  Everyone went crazy.  It was too funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday 4/10&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unpacked my trailer.  Most of the stuff is still in there.  I didn’t want to clutter the Franklin’s house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva’s uncle has a storage unit.  He is letting me use it.  I gotta pay him for using it, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva came over to the Franklin’s house.  We have set a date for our big date.  It’s going to be on 4/21.  She wouldn’t tell me what we were going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carlton kept coming into the living room while Keyva and I were talking.  Sis. Franklin kept coming in there to get him.  Finally, I just told Sis. Franklin to let him stay in there with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday 4/11&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I relaxed, at least I tried to.  Carlton spent most of the day in the room with me.  He talked a lot.  He still calls me Mike.  His parents keep correcting me, but he still calls me that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wednesday 4/12&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to church.  It was cool.  Sis. Patten made me some cookies.  They were good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva and Marcus tried to jack me for my cookies.  Sis. Patten told them to leave me alone.  She promised to send some to choir rehearsal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva got mad at me because I wouldn’t give her some cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday 4/13&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choir rehearsal was cool.  Marcus made a big deal about me being there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcus had us learn 3 new songs and then go over like the choir’s whole repertoire.  We got out an hour late.  A couple of people complained.  It was kind of funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis. Patten sent some cookies up to the church.  Why was I not allowed to eat any of the cookies?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday 4/14&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung out with Marcus, Keyva, a guy from the choir named Tre, and a girl from the choir named Marlette.  We went bowling.  I had the lowest score in all 3 games.  It was embarrassing.  I can’t even bowl.  Keyva won two games.  That girl knows she can bowl.  Tre won a game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went and got something to eat.  I haven’t done that in awhile.  It was so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114556634490898311?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114556634490898311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114556634490898311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/in-rowmanellieo-for-week.html' title='In Rowmanellieo for a Week'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114556542929521176</id><published>2006-04-08T20:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T15:37:09.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving Week</title><content type='html'>This week has been crazy.  I have been getting ready for the move.  I finally had a chance to breath.  Here’s a recap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SATURDAY 4/1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I started packing up the stuff at Evg. MaCulvie’s house.  I threw a lot of stuff away.  I didn’t want to take the junk from my old life into my new life.  I heard an old evangelist say that before.  It seemed appropriate for this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sis. MaCulvie helped me out.  She was cool.  She gave me a card.  I opened it later.  It had some money in it.  It was quite a bit of money.  WOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was tired when I finally went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SUNDAY 4/2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_audeliacc/"&gt;Audelia CC&lt;/a&gt; for the last time.  Eld. Ford had me stand up in front of the church and told them that I was moving to Rowmanellieo to be their minister of music.  Why did Sis. K say, “Thank God he is leaving.”  That hurt a little, but I didn’t let it phase me.  I hope she will be happy now that her son can be the youth choir minister of music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thick Eld. Pacheco may be the only person who will miss me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MONDAY 4/3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went over to my mother’s house to pack up the stuff I had over there.  My brother and his friends weren’t there, thankfully.  My mother let me in and then went straight to her room.  Most of the stuff in my room was left untouched.  My mother told me that I could padlock my room when she kicked me out.  I had my bed, a chair, a desk, and a bunch of clothes and shoes left in there.  I packed all of that stuff up in the truck that Evg. MaCulvie’s friend had let me borrow.  My mother came out of the room once.  She asked, “Are you really moving?”  I told her yes.  She asked, “Did you tell your father?”  I told her no.  She told me to tell him.  I couldn’t believe that.  She hates my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hugged my mother before I left the house.  She felt so skinny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went over to my father’s house.  He came to the door, but wouldn’t let me in the house.  I didn’t even care.  I said, “I am moving to Rowmanellieo.  I am going to be the minister of music at a church there.  I just wanted to tell you.”  He smiled, “You did get Pop’s musical ability.  That’s cool.  Write me sometime.”  He handed me a wad of bills before I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was that for the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TUESDAY 4/4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went up to Beggs College and got everything cleared up there.  They are going to send my transcript to me in Rowmanellieo.  My advisor believes that my old credits will transfer to Xenia Men’s College.  My financial aid should be okay according to the Beggs Street College financial aid office.  I sure hope so.  I will have to wait until the Summer semester before I begin classes, but I am going to go ahead and enroll in Xenia when I get to Rowmanellieo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one good thing about Xenia.  It costs less to attend it than Beggs Street.  I am going to miss Beggs Street.  I could go to any one of the music rooms at any time and practice.  One of my music professors knows a professor at Xenia.  She has promised to put in a good word for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my advisor, about 52 of my credit hours will transfer.  That will make me a sophomore at Xenia instead of a junior.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to have to take some extra classes at Xenia to catch up to get a Bachelor of Arts in Music.  I will find out more when I go up to Xenia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WEDNESDAY 4/5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcus flew into town today.  He is going to ride back to Rowmanellieo with me.  He is a little too excited to be in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt;.  I showed him around.  He made a big deal about going to see &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbidhor/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Interdenominational House of Rest&lt;/a&gt;.  Bishop Adkins was there.  We talked to Bishop for a few minutes.  I thought Marcus was gonna pass out because he was so excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went up to &lt;a href="http://www.shimmersinc.info/"&gt;Shimmers Inc&lt;/a&gt;., too.  We got to meet Kourtnee Adams, the President of Shimmers.  Marcus’ bottom lip dropped when he saw her.  She is pretty.  Sis. MaCulvie clowned Marcus.  It was so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an email from Keyva…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hello.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I know you are busy.  Hope everything is going good for you.  Marcus is so excited.  I am tired of him talking about getting to come to Dorinda.  I wish I could have come down instead of him.  :)  Oh well, I guess I will have to wait until you get here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Dea. Patten is all excited, too.  I have no idea why.  His wife is happy that you are coming, too.  She thinks you are cute and that we make a cute couple.  She is so silly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Can’t to see you.  You better have my flowers and candy when you get down here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Be glad when you get here,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THURSDAY 4/6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left for Rowmanellieo at 6:00 AM. Sis. MaCulvie fixed us breakfast.  Evg. MaCulvie prayed for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip was cool.  Marcus talked about all the songs he wanted the choir to sing.  I had to tell him to shut up.  I drove most of the way.  Marcus drives like he is crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to Rowmanellieo after 5:00 PM.  When we go to Eld. Franklin’s house, there was a party going on.  They had a barbeque grill going.  Almost every last member of Canaan was there.  I was surprised.  Keyva wasn’t there.  I was sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The party was fun.  It lasted until 6:30.  I was tired.  I went to my room and laid down.  I slept until after 9:00.  Sis. Franklin woke me up.  Keyva was on the phone.  I talked to her for like 2 minutes and then I got off the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left my stuff in the trailer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FRIDAY 4/7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept until after 1:00 PM.  I was going to go out to my trailer and unpack, but sis. Franklin told me not to worry about it.  I went back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Franklins and I went out to eat for dinner, my treat.  It was so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am too tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114556542929521176?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114556542929521176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114556542929521176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/04/moving-week.html' title='Moving Week'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550518251418165</id><published>2006-03-31T21:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T17:23:46.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Moving</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I told Bishop Adkins and Eld. &lt;?xml:namespace prefix ="" st1 /&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; my decision on the 30&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I told Evg. MaCulvie and his wife later that day.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Everyone is so happy for me.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It's so cool.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am going to move down there on April 6.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I told Keyva when I was going to move.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She is still acting mad at me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I have started packing up my stuff.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I still have some stuff at my mother's house.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I don't know if I am going to be able to go get it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am renting a small trailer and hook it to my car.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It is a 10 hour trip.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mrs. MaCulvie wants me to get someone to ride with me.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I don't really have any friends, so I don't know how I am going to do that.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She even said that she will pay for the plane ticket.&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I will figure something out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am excited.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;?xml:namespace prefix ="" o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550518251418165?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550518251418165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550518251418165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/im-moving.html' title='I&apos;m Moving'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550466764520665</id><published>2006-03-27T20:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T22:44:55.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Email…</title><content type='html'>Keyva emailed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hello.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Please do not think that I am about to apologize for what I said on the phone. It’s good to hear that you are coming down here. It will be good for the choir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Have you told anyone else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I am not planning to tell anyone until you tell me that it’s okay to tell. Don’t think that this means I am no longer mad at you, because I am still upset with you. I am flowers and candy upset with you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I still can’t believe that you didn’t tell me anything.  Every time I think about that, I get mad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;If I weren’t mad at you, I world be doing flips about you coming down here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Smiling on the inside because of the news,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl – Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;P.S.  You’re a duddie head.  :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was so cool.  She know she ain’t mad at me no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550466764520665?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550466764520665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550466764520665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/email.html' title='The Email…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550308319959262</id><published>2006-03-26T19:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T22:18:03.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Cold Stare and a Colder Shoulder</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I went to church today.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When Keyva saw me, she gave me the coldest look I have ever seen.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It sent a dreadful chill down my spine.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;She stared at me through the whole service.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Every time I looked at her, her stare was colder than the previous look.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was hoping that Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; would preach all day, but he didn’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tried to get back to Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;’s office before anyone could say anything to me, but I didn’t make it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Marcus caught me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said, “Man, please tell me that you are going to move down here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Man, we really need you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Down here.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keyva walked by me, on purpose, she stared at me and kept on walking by me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Marcus looked at her and then at me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said, “She is mad at you.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What did you do?”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I said, “It’s what I didn’t do.”&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I called Keyva.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She answered the phone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t even get a chance to say hi before she lit into me.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;“I cannot believe that you had the unmitigated gall to bring your trifling behind down here and not tell me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;You could have at least emailed me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;And don’t give me that surprise crap.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I ain’t buying it.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I know we ain’t in a relationship or anything, but we are supposed to be friends.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If this is how you treat your friends, I hate to see how you treat a girlfriend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I don’t care if you ever move your tail down here.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Bye!”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wanted to fall out laughing.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She was heated.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called her back again, but she never answered the phone.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The last time I called, I left her a message.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Hey it’s me, Micha.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have decided that I am going to move to Rowmanellieo.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wonder what she is going to think when she hears the message.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550308319959262?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550308319959262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550308319959262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/cold-stare-and-colder-shoulder.html' title='A Cold Stare and a Colder Shoulder'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550237936942194</id><published>2006-03-24T21:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T22:06:19.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Feels Like Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am sitting here at Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;’s house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This feels like home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can’t explain it, but it feels like home.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; and I are friends again because he has been coming in and out of here all night.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It’s been cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I played cars with him for awhile.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I asked him to leave though.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I thought about this one time when my brother and I played with some toy cars.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They were the cheap kind, the ones that just have the shell and no body.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We played with those things all day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was so cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It wasn’t too long after that, that he went bad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was nine and he was twelve.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; must have seen me crying.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A few minutes later, Eld. And Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; walked into the room.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here I am sitting on the floor holding onto a toy car, crying.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was so embarrassed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; asked his wife and son to leave.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He sat down on the floor with me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We talked for awhile.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He hugged me after it was all over.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am at home.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550237936942194?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550237936942194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550237936942194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/this-feels-like-home.html' title='This Feels Like Home'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550182342214192</id><published>2006-03-21T23:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:57:03.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>He Read My Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; called me on tonight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He had read my blog and knew about everything that happened last week.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was calling me to check on me.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was too funny.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I felt so much better after he called.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We talked for a long while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I cried like a big ole baby while we were on the phone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I told him everything; my mother, my brother, my father, my old pastor, school, church, and anything else I could come up with.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He listened to me, too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought he was going to tell me that he didn’t want me to come down there after all of the mess I had told him.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He was cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He told me that I should come to Rowmanellieo for the weekend.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He said that a ticket would be waiting for me at the airport.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why did I start crying again?&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I truly need help.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keyva is going to kill me because I am not going to email her and tell her that I am coming down there.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550182342214192?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550182342214192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550182342214192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/he-read-my-blog.html' title='He Read My Blog'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114550136308224161</id><published>2006-03-18T21:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:49:23.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Crazy Week</title><content type='html'>Monday was the only day that didn’t cause me stress.  The rest of the week, Lord, have mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my church in Dorinda to talk to Eld. Ford.  I told him about the offer from Canaan.  Well, that lead to him all but calling me an ungrateful trick worker.  Apparently, I don’t appreciate all that he has done for me.  (He hasn’t done a thing for me.)  He went on and on forever.  I almost started crying, but I held back the tears.  I have never heard anyone say anything so hurtful to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to explain to him that Bishop Adkins had told Eld. Franklin about me.  Eld. Ford didn’t seem to care.  He accused me of going behind his back and asking for the position.  I was in there for an hour.  It was horrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home and called Bishop Adkins.  I told him what had happened, tears included.  He tried his best to calm me down, but I didn’t.  Bishop said that he would set up a meeting between Eld. Ford and I.  I was dreading that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday Morning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My meeting with Bishop and Eld. Ford was in the morning.  I had a meeting scheduled with my college advisor that afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The meeting with Bishop and Eld. Ford was awful.  Eld. Ford talked about me like I wasn’t even in the room.  He called me childish, immature, conniving, hateful, and evil.  Bishop asked me to leave the office for a few minutes.  I have no idea what Bishop said to Eld. Ford, but Eld. Ford apologized when I came back in the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bishop told Eld. Ford that I had nothing to do with the offer.  I still don’t think Eld. Ford believed him.  Eld. Ford left before I did.  Bishop said that he wanted to talk to me some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bishop tried to make me feel better, but I was too upset.  I couldn’t believe that Eld. Ford would even say those things about me.  Bishop told me to not worry about anything and that everything was going to work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday Afternoon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to go talk to my college advisor.  That was a disaster.  It boils down to this, if I withdraw now, my credits from this semester won’t transfer.  This is some bull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thursday Night&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was one bright spot to today.  I had a couple of great emails from Keyva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Email One from Keyva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hey Micha,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I was just thinking about you.  You haven’t emailed me, so I guess you are busy handling whatever it is that you need to handle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hope things are going okay for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;If you get a chance, please email me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Missing you like crazy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl – Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Email Two from Keyva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hey again.  I was thinking about you.  I can’t believe I am missing you this much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;You are probably gonna have a fit with that one.  SMILE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Marcus acted a fool in choir rehearsal.  Someone asked where you were.  Marcus got upset very upset.  He got all purple in the face.  It was too funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;After church, I asked him what was up.  He said that he wished that you were at rehearsal just like ole girl that had commented about you.  Marcus was like, “I will be glad when Micha gets down here for good.  This is crazy.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Everyone misses you.  You should feel so special.  SMILE!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Wishing You Were Here Just like Everyone Else,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl – Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to see my mother.  My brother’s friend wouldn’t let me in the house.  I asked him to ask my mother to come out of the house.  She did.  She looked bad.  I mean sickly.  I could tell that she has been drinking.  I wanted to cry.  I told her that I was going to move to Rowmanellieo.  She said, “Bye.”  I was hoping that she would try to talk me into staying, but she didn’t.  She just went back into the house without even a look back at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to email Keyva back, but every time I went to type, I broke out crying like a big baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114550136308224161?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550136308224161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114550136308224161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-crazy-week.html' title='One Crazy Week'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114532789164111628</id><published>2006-03-12T22:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T17:54:43.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Last Time</title><content type='html'>My flight was scheduled to leave at 8:50. I had a few hours to kill before going to the airport. I was expecting Eld. Franklin to take me to the airport, but Keyva showed up to take me to the airport. I was happy, but I tried not to show it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to the airport in silence. I asked Keyva a couple of questions, but she didn’t answer them. She seemed sad and mad; all at the same time. I didn’t know what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to the airport 4 hours early.  We sat out in the lobby.  Finally, Keyva said something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I guess you think I am crazy now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea, right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Girl, I don’t think you are crazy.  It’s kind of cute that you got jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;You shouldn’t get so excited about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;(I laughed.)  I know.  But it is too cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;You are getting too much pleasure out of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I like you, okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;That’s it.  I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;If you say so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Do you wanna go out with me the next time I come to town?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;When is that going to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I am not sure. I gotta get some stuff in order back at home. I gotta talk to some people. I still have some things to check out in Rowmanellieo before I decide what I am going to do, so I’ll be back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea, I wanna go out with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Can you plan the date?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea, I can do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Cool.  are we cool?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you. I just didn’t like the way that girl was rubbing all on you. And she was in church, too. She was shameless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;You are cute when you get jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea.  So, you wanna be my girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;No, I don’t know anything about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Uhh huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Just don’t be flirting with women in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yes, mame.  I wont.  I am gonna tell everyone that I know in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt; that I have a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea and you’ll be lying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I wont be a liar for long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both laughed.  We talked for awhile longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She kissed me on the cheek when she left.  I am never washing my face again.  (Corny, I know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114532789164111628?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532789164111628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532789164111628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/one-last-time.html' title='One Last Time'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114532665476802825</id><published>2006-03-12T14:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T21:17:34.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Church Was Off the Hook</title><content type='html'>I enjoyed Sunday service. It was great. The choir sounded excellent. Eld. Franklin had us sing “Fret Not” again. He likes that song. We went up with it. it was so cool. Eld. Franklin preached like crazy. I have never seen anyone preach that hard before. His subject was “Fret Not”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that service, I wanted to join the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Psalms 37:1-11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1: Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity.&lt;br /&gt;2: For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.&lt;br /&gt;3: Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.&lt;br /&gt;4: Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.&lt;br /&gt;5: Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.&lt;br /&gt;6: And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.&lt;br /&gt;7: Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.&lt;br /&gt;8: Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil.&lt;br /&gt;9: For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the LORD, they shall inherit the earth.&lt;br /&gt;10: For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be: yea, thou shalt diligently consider his place, and it shall not be.&lt;br /&gt;11: But the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114532665476802825?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532665476802825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532665476802825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/church-was-off-hook.html' title='Church Was Off the Hook'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114532619721460841</id><published>2006-03-11T13:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T21:18:30.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Case You’re Wondering…</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keyva and I made up, if you call it that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Apparently, Marcus reminded Keyva that she and I weren’t involved in a relationship.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;According to Marcus, Keyva rolled her eyes at him and mumbled something bad under her breath.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She still hasn’t talked to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;she didn’t even come to the service tonight.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was sad that I didn’t get to see her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer the phone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I emailed her, but she hasn’t returned the email.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I talked to Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; about what happened with Keyva.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He told me that things would work out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I think that is his response to everything.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I knew he was right, but I sure felt sad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My girl and I had already had a fight and she isn’t even my girl.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I got this thing bad.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114532619721460841?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532619721460841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532619721460841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/in-case-youre-wondering.html' title='In Case You’re Wondering…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114532591980273642</id><published>2006-03-11T10:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T21:05:19.803-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And It’s Saturday…</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keyva and I had plans to go to breakfast on Saturday morning, but because of the young lady from Friday night, Keyva canceled.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was funny because Keyva accused me of flirting with ole girl and I hadn’t.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;when I laughed at Keyva for being jealous, she hung up the phone.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wonder if she realizes that we are not in a relationship.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114532591980273642?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532591980273642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532591980273642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-its-saturday.html' title='And It’s Saturday…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114532569145127733</id><published>2006-03-10T22:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T21:01:31.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>At The Visiting Church</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;We went to Jackson Temple to sing for Evg. Champion Dixon.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Jackson Temple is his home church.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was a good service.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We sung “Fret Not”.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Keyva showed out.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Evg. Dixon showed out, too.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;several people came up to me after the service and congratulated me on becoming the new musician for &lt;st1:place&gt;Canaan&lt;/st1:place&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I shot a couple of crazy looks at Marcus.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He just laughed.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This young lady came up to me and flirted with me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wasn’t even interested.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was kind of funny because Keyva got mad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She walked over to us and said, “Are you ready to go?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We are about to leave.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She didn’t even speak to the young lady.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I wanted to laugh so bad.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I couldn’t believe Keyva was jealous.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The young lady grabbed my arm and walked me out of the church.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The young lady said, “Where did you get those cute eyes?”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I thought Keyva was gonna hit her.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I got to the house, I tried to call Keyva; she still hasn’t answered the phone or returned any of my phone messages or email messages.&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114532569145127733?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532569145127733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114532569145127733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/at-visiting-church.html' title='At The Visiting Church'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114531207950689625</id><published>2006-03-10T14:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T17:14:39.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is Everything</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Earlier, Sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; asked me if I wanted to go to the park with her and &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was scared that she might take me somewhere and leave me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;she hasn’t spoken to me since Wednesday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; ran in the room and jumped up and down on the bed, yelling for me to come with them.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;This kid is a trip.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;One minute he is mad at me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;the next minute, he won’t speak to me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I can’t figure him out.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I took a chance and went to the park.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As you can see, I am safe.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I ran around with &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Carlton&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; for the longest.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I got tired.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I really think that is why sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; invited me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(Don’t tell her I said that.)&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;A couple of his friends were their mothers, so I didn’t have to play with him anymore.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I went and sat with sis. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I figured I should try to talk to her so she wouldn’t hate me anymore.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the end, she said that we were cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;she said that she had gotten over it on Thursday.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She said that she would have talk to me earlier, but I kept avoiding her.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;When I told her why I was avoiding her, I think I got Eld. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; in trouble.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I guess now, everything is everything.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114531207950689625?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114531207950689625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114531207950689625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/everything-is-everything.html' title='Everything is Everything'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114524179913827761</id><published>2006-03-09T23:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T21:43:19.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ride Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Marcus asked me if I wanted Keyva to give me a ride home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;As bad as I wanted to spend time with Keyva, I didn’t want to put her out like that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I told Marcus that he could take me home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Marcus was like, “Naw, I got some stuff to do.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I didn’t believe him, so whatever.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;He called Keyva over and talked to her for a few minutes.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She looked at me a couple of times and smiled at me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I felt like I was being set up.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Keyva gave me a ride to the &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Franklin&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;’s house.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We took the long way.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;She showed me around some parts of Rowmanellieo.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was cool.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I felt weird having her drive around so late.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I kept thinking, “You ain’t even a gentleman.”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We talked and laughed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It was cool.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After she dropped me off, I told her to call me when she made it home.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I got a call about 20 minutes later.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;We talked for an hour or so.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am so tired.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I’m going to bed.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I gotta start getting into bed earlier around here.&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am starting to like Rowmanellieo, though.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;:)&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114524179913827761?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114524179913827761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114524179913827761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/ride-home.html' title='The Ride Home'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114523752428032930</id><published>2006-03-09T23:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T21:44:25.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh My Goodness, Choir Rehearsal – Off the Chain</title><content type='html'>I went to choir rehearsal at Canaan House of Rest. It was off the chain. Marcus came and picked me up. He talked about the songs he wanted the choir to learn. I didn’t know two of them. He wanted them to learn Jehovah Reigns, Cry to Jehovah, and Without Jehovah by &lt;a href="http://shiloh.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Shiloh&lt;/a&gt; and I Worship the Lord by &lt;a href="http://crowleytemplemass.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Crowley Temple Mass Choir&lt;/a&gt;.  I knew all of those.  He also wanted them to learn Center of My Peace by &lt;a href="http://dmadkins.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;D.M. Adkins&lt;/a&gt; and We Are Gonna Praise by &lt;a href="http://rogergrayncij.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Roger Gray and Confident in Jesus&lt;/a&gt;. I didn’t know those. Marcus told me that I could learn those for the next time. He made a crazy face. I laughed at him. Everyone at Canaan is so sure that I am coming down here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choir rehearsal was cool. They start at 6:30 with dinner. At 7:00, they have Bible study. A young preacher that is one of Marcus’ friends did the Bible study. They start rehearsal at 7:30. I was so shocked. They did everything, I mean everything on time. It was so cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marcus talked for a few minutes. After he finished, he gave me the floor to teach the songs. I was half scared. Keyva smiled at me and it made me feel better. We did all of the Shiloh songs. They learned the songs really quickly. It was cool. Marcus asked if they wanted to keep going. Everyone screams yea. I did the song by Crowley Temple Mass. After that I was tired. I had never taught four songs in one rehearsal before. Get this, they wanted to keep going. I was like, uhh huh. Marcus came to my rescue and I was so glad. We got out after 9:00. Normally, they get out before 9, but everyone was having a good time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did some announcements at the end, one of which was a shock for me. Marcus said, “Don’t forget that we are supposed to sing for Champ on tomorrow and Saturday. Hopefully, we can get Micha to play for us.” Marcus’ friend, Champion Dixon clapped louder than the choir members. I knew I didn’t have much of a choice; I was going to play for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if I am gonna get paid.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114523752428032930?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114523752428032930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114523752428032930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/oh-my-goodness-choir-rehearsal-off.html' title='Oh My Goodness, Choir Rehearsal – Off the Chain'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114506872397592178</id><published>2006-03-09T12:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T21:40:13.893-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone Call</title><content type='html'>At about 10:30, Sis. Franklin called my name and said that I had a phone call.  I couldn’t figure out who was calling me.  I went in the living room and picked up the phone.  It was Keyva.  I wanted to fall out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s how it went…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Hello.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Hello.  It’s ya girl, Keyva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Cool.  What’s up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Why you trying to act like you ain’t excited that I called you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I’m cool.  (So, I lied.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Whatever.  I am mad at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I figured that much.  Why are you mad at me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Please you no good and well why I am mad at you.  You are trifling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I ain’t trifling.  Why are you mad at me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Cause you didn’t tell me you were in town.  That’s just shady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I wanted to surprise you when you saw me.  Don’t be mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Quit being cute, cause you are still in trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I know.  Why you clown me like that in front of Eld. Franklin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Why did Eld. Franklin make that suggestion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I didn’t have anything to do with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Whatever.  Ain’t neither one of you all that slick.  I’m gonna tell Sis. Franklin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Don’t do that.  She is already mad at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;What did you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;None of your business.  Why were you late to church?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I got your none of your business.  None of your business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Would you like to go out with me on Saturday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I just asked you out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Are you serious?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Uhh, I can’t on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;(That hurt.)  Oh.  That’s cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;Don’t you wanna know why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Yea, but I wasn’t gonna ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I am going to sing at this musical at a friend’s church.  Can you come play for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;(I’m smiling.)  I guess so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;You sound like I just told you that I hated you or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;I guess I just don’t want to go to church.  I can play for you.  What are you gonna sing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I haven’t decided yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:  &lt;/strong&gt;Just let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keyva:  &lt;/strong&gt;I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked for awhile longer, mostly just getting to know each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Her vitals…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday:  July 10&lt;br /&gt;Favorite color:  pink&lt;br /&gt;Favorite food:  Enchiladas&lt;br /&gt;Favorite dessert:  Pecan Pie and Chocolate Chip Nut Cookies&lt;br /&gt;Pet:  No&lt;br /&gt;Animals:  Horses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My vitals…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday:  June 11&lt;br /&gt;Favorite color: gray&lt;br /&gt;Favorite food:  Macaroni &amp; Cheese&lt;br /&gt;Pet:  Fishes&lt;br /&gt;Animals:  Fishes of all kinds especially whales&lt;br /&gt;Favorite dessert: Any kind of cake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s after midnight.  I’m going to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to choir rehearsal tomorrow night.  Keyva is supposed to come by and pick me up.  I am cheesing all big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114506872397592178?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506872397592178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506872397592178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/phone-call.html' title='Phone Call'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114506046603054970</id><published>2006-03-08T23:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T19:21:06.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Off The Chain</title><content type='html'>Church was off the chain tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deacon Patten picked me up from the house.  I tripped out.  The Franklins must really trust Deacon Patten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the members walked in and saw me on the organ.  They almost flipped out.  It was so funny.  Marcus gave me a big hug.  He asked me if I was there for good.  He got upset when I said no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayer started at 6:30.  The service started at 7:30.  They actually had a service.  There is an optional Friday night Bible study offered at the church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva got to church late.  She didn’t get there until close to 8:00.  Marcus saw me looking at the door, he said, “Boy, she’s gonna be here.  She is usually late on Wednesday.  She has a late class.”  I rolled my eyes at him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keyva walked in.  She did a double take when she saw me.  I think she wanted to come up there where I was.  She smiled at me and I smiled back.  Sis. Franklin made a mean face at me.  I looked down and the keys on the organ.  I think she is still mad at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. Franklin preached good.  I think he read some of my blog because he preached from Psalms 37:40, And the LORD shall help them and deliver them; He shall deliver them from the wicked, And save them, Because they trust in Him.  He looked at me when he said the scripture.  I smiled.  His subject was Lord, Save Me.  The one thing I remember most is that he said that when we are in trouble, we should cry out to God, because He is our only help and that we should wait on God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got out of service at 8:30.  It was so cool.  I have never gotten out of a service that early before.  After church, most of the members asked me if I was there for good.  I kept saying no over and over.  It felt good having everyone try to sweet-talk me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked for Keyva, but she had disappeared.  I was so hurt.  I couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t stuck around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked outside.  Keyva was out there standing by her car.  I walked over to her.  She folded her arms.  She lit into me as soon as I got close to her…  “I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me that you were here.  Why didn’t you email me back?  I can’t stand you.”  I laughed and said, “I’m glad to see you, too.  I wanted it to be a surprise.”  She didn’t move.  That girl is stubborn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eld. Franklin walked up to Keyva and me.  He said, “Are you riding with me or do you want Keyva to give you a ride home?”  I almost fell out.  Keyva rolled her eyes and snipped, “He’s riding with you.”  She walked off after that.  I had to pick my face up off the ground.  Eld. Franklin grabbed me by my neck and said, “You in trouble.”  He laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114506046603054970?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506046603054970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506046603054970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/off-chain.html' title='Off The Chain'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505537541945917</id><published>2006-03-08T08:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:56:50.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Evil House Guest</title><content type='html'>I really hurt Eld. Franklin’s feelings.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought Sis. Franklin was gonna slap me when she walked into the room and said, “What did you say to my husband?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She had an evil look on her dace.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t even care.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just glared back at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t think that she expected that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Man, I bet they change their mind about me coming to play for them now.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Gees, I’m a jerk.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton’s even pissed at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He threw a toy truck at me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There is no one here but me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Nobody left me a note or anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just wanna leave.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Lord, please help me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I feel like an idiot.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I know Eld. Franklin was just trying to help.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hate talking about my family.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That’s what bugging me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wish I could talk to Eld. Franklin.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He seems like he cares.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s just hard to trust new people.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Plus, I don’t even know if I am coming down here to live.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t want to get attached to this dude and end up not coming down here.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That would be even worse than him and his family hating me right.&lt;br/&gt;It’s hard for me right now.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I need some help.&lt;br/&gt;Amen&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was surfing the net and it came to me…&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;“Email Eld. Franklin the link to your blog.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;That was a crazy notion, but it would help me out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wouldn’t have to actually tell him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He could read it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I emailed Keyva and asked for Eld. Franklin’s email address.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She sent it back to me and this note…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Didn’t anyone teach you to speak to someone first thing in the morning?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I see that you are still alive, even though you can’t respond to emails.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Anyway, here’s his address.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl – Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I emailed Eld. Franklin…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Sorry I acted like an idiot.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t mean to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If you will go to my blog &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://mbvick.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;http://mbvick.alwaysinspired.info/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt; and read it, you will find out why I am such an idiot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t even say hello or anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;These folk are gonna think I have no home training.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Oh well.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505537541945917?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505537541945917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505537541945917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/evil-house-guest.html' title='Evil House Guest'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114506666462609465</id><published>2006-03-07T23:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T21:04:24.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking and Thangs…</title><content type='html'>Eld. Franklin was still laughing when we got to the car.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We talked while we drove to the house.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s how it went…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;She is mad at you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Yea.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t tell her I was in town.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Women are hard to understand.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Yea, and it doesn’t get any easier.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I’m 40 and I haven’t figured them out yet.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I only have one in my life and she works my nerves something crazy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I read about that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t know what to say.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Does your mother know that your brother is a criminal?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Yea, she has bailed him out of jail like 500 times.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said that he brings money into the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;More than the pennies that I bring in.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t believe she did me like that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I sat up with her when she was sick and trying to get sober.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wiped the vomit from her mouth when she came home drunk.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I never judged her or said anything bad about her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She ain’t right.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;It’s hard sometimes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You just have to put your brother and your mother in God’s hands and pray for them.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I don’t want to pray for neither of them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If I did pray for them, I would probably pray the wrong prayer.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;You can’t be like that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I know, but that’s how I feel.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got a jacked up family.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The only person that ever acted like she loved me was my grandmother.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And she is my father’s mother.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That nigga won’t even claim me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;We all have jacked up lives in some way.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Every last one of us.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Even the people who you think have it all together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s up to us to put the past behind us and make a better future tomorrow.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Bishop Adkins had to counsel me for the longest when I first got to Greater Buelahland.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother use to beat my sisters and me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had issues with women for a long time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had to go back to a lot of girls from my past and apologize to them for how crazy I had treated them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Parents don’t realize how their actions will affect their children.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am trying hard with my son.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t want to transfer any of the trash from me past to him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I pray about that everyday.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I ain’t having no kids.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That way, I know I won’t give my kids any of my trash.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got plenty of it, too.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;When did you get saved?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;One of my homeboys from school witnessed to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He would always ask me to play for him when he sung at church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He always talked to me about God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was cool peops.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;That’s good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Does anyone else in your family play?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;My grandmother played.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I heard that her father was like a great musician.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He used to play at the area juke joint.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My grandmother told me that I as good as my great-grandfather.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said that I had the music in my heart, hands, and soul.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She always made me feel good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I miss her a lot.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;That’s cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do you play any other instruments?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;The drums, guitar, and piano.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Even if you don’t come down here and play for me, you can always call me and talk to me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Thanks.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;How long is Sis. Franklin gonna be mad at me?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I have no idea.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is very protective of me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You might not want to eat or drink anything she hands you for awhile.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was pretty much it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Things are cool between us now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114506666462609465?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506666462609465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114506666462609465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/talking-and-thangs.html' title='Talking and Thangs…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505454846035044</id><published>2006-03-07T22:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:43:08.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Tonight</title><content type='html'>It got crazy tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I’ll tell you later.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got another email from Keyva.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I guess you were serious about not emailing me until tomorrow.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Anyway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I decided to email you and tell you goodnight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This don’t mean I like you, so don’t even think that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I am supposed to go sing at the student center for the service that they have there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wish you were here to play for me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Oh well.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hopefully, you will email me tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Later…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl – Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505454846035044?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505454846035044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505454846035044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/crazy-tonight.html' title='Crazy Tonight'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505423380306767</id><published>2006-03-07T17:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:38:09.326-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk To Me…</title><content type='html'>I cried myself to sleep.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So, I’m a punk for crying.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sue me!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin woke me up when he got home.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here’s how the conversation went…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Boy, what are you doing sleep this time of day?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Don’t know.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Are you still in that funk?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What’s wrong with you?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;It doesn’t matter anyway.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;It matters to me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Why?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You don’t even know me!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;all you need is a musician.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why does it matter to you what’s bugging me?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I am a minister.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I care about people and it is my job to care about people.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If you couldn’t play, I would still care about what’s bugging you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Whatever.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;It’s hard for you to trust men.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Yea.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I guess.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Why is that?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I don’t want to talk about it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;It’s gonna keep eating at you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You should really talk about it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Look, man, you ain’t my daddy and I ain’t gotta tell you a thang!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I am not trying to be your father.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Me:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Just leave me alone!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Eld. Franklin:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;If that’s what you want.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He left the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think I hurt his feelings.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t really care right now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva emailed me back…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;So, you’re name is Micha Broderick Vick.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That’s cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;how did you get that name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Why did you call your family some heathens?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You need to get out more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;It would be funny to see you trying to teach kids music.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I am thinking about a pediatrics nurse.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I like working with children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;My family is happy that I am in church, although, I get funny looks from time to time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Why do I have to wait for tomorrow for a response back?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Missing you like crazy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I ain’t gonna respond.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I feel like doodoo!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505423380306767?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505423380306767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505423380306767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/talk-to-me.html' title='Talk To Me…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505682351393284</id><published>2006-03-07T16:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T18:20:23.543-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Email Back Sucked…</title><content type='html'>Eld. Franklin emailed me back.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that he would read my blog later.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He also said that Deacon Patten would be by to pick me up for church at 6:00.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to go to church tonight.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505682351393284?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505682351393284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505682351393284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/email-back-sucked.html' title='Email Back Sucked…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505323881522840</id><published>2006-03-07T16:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:22:11.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Emailing And Emotions…</title><content type='html'>I woke up from sleeping.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had an email from Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;here’s what we emailed back and forth.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Keyva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Hey, I am not even mean.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We sung Hold Onto Jesus and Praise The Name of Jesus.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am so tired of those songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You really need to move down here so we can sing some descent songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus really think he be directing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Ohh, he gets on my nerves.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told me that you like me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Is that true?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;We rehearse on Thursday night.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't want to list those songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You need to ask Marcus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Why do you sign your email with M.B.Vick?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;It's obvious that you got your bag because you emailed me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why haven't you said if you liked what was in it?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus told me to make the bag for you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that you told him that you liked M&amp;M's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Why did you get so upset when I looked in your bag?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Glad You Emailed Me,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Wow, those are some old songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told you that I liked you, for real?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;You are good at avoiding questions.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That's just how I sign my emails.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I sign my blog like that, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;I didn't know that you put the bag together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I do like M&amp;M's.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Thanks for making the bag for me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am not sure about the teddy bear though.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That's the first one I have gotten.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Do I have to answer the last question?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't want to talk about it right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Keyva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Yes, Marcus told me that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Well, do you like me?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You have a blog.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What's the address?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do you talk about me in it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I just thought the teddy bear was cute.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You can give it to someone else if you want to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I guess you don't have to answer it if you don't want to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;When are you coming back to Rowmanellieo?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why do you like me?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Are you real eyes green?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I sign my emails like that because that's how I tell my friends it's me on the phone.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;After they say hello, I say, "It's ya girl Keyva."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It's just something I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Yes, I like you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am not telling you the address.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't want you to read it right now.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Yes, I talk about you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;I am not giving away my teddy bear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;I may be back sooner than you think.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I kind of liked it down there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think you’re pretty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You can sing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So, far that's all I know about you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Yes, these are my real eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Were you born in Rowmanellieo?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Does your family go to Canaan?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What do you do for fun?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do you have a boyfriend?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What's your middle name?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What is your major?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Keyva&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;You are so mean.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't wanna read your funky little blog anyway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Go to the movies, go to the park, and go bowling.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They go to a Baptist church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Renee.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Nursing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Anymore questions, nosey?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Were you born in Dorinda?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Does your family go to your church?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What do you do for fun?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do you have a girlfriend?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What's you middle name?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Are you in school?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;I have a class in a few minutes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It may be awhile before I can answer you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Don't be mad if I don't answer you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;From Me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;So, your name is Keyva Renee Palmer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That's pretty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;My blog is not funky or little.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You know that you want to read it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No, they don't.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They are a bunch of heathens.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Play music mostly.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don't go out much.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I never wanted anyone to meet my crazy family.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Broderick.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My major is Music.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have no idea what I am going to do with a Music degree.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Maybe be a music teacher or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Who knows?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;That's cool that you want to be a nurse.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It seems like you would be a great nurse, especially when drawing blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;What does your family think about you going to a Pentecostal church?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;I will email you tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t feel like talking after I answered the question about my family.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They get on my nerves.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am so tired of them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am gonna get off of here and go watch TV or something.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got the craziest family in the world.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My father won’t hardly claim me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother has started drinking again after being sober for a year.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My brother is a criminal, hangs around criminals, and now he is bringing that element into my mother’s house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother would rather live with a criminal than a Christian.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;God help me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am about ready to cry.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505323881522840?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505323881522840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505323881522840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/emailing-and-emotions.html' title='Emailing And Emotions…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114505264517939781</id><published>2006-03-07T14:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:11:46.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To The Store and Back</title><content type='html'>I went to the store with Sis. Franklin.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton kicked me on the way to the car.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin yelled at him and then apologized to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was kinda funny.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;At the store it was crazy, Carlton was begging for everything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin asked me what kind of cereal I liked.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want her to buy anything for me, but she insisted.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She asked me if I wanted anything else.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told her no.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She laughed at me and said, “You are easy to shop for.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I like that.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think she was being sarcastic.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I tried to play with Carlton while he was sitting in the cart, but he just kept kicking me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to punch him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin kept yelling at him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked him, “Why are you being so mean to me?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He swings at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walked away from him because I was about to fight with a 3 year old.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We walked around the store forever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She had a full basket.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost asked her who she was shopping for.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we got to the check out line, I grabbed a thing of M&amp;Ms.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin reached for them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told her that I could pay for them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She gave me the meanest mother look I had ever seen.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton said, “You in trouble.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laughed at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin said, “Boy, go to the candy aisle and get a bigger bag of M&amp;Ms before I whip you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton tried to go with me, but his mother told him no.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It took forever to get all of the bags out of the car when we got back to the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thing Sis. Franklin made me do most of the work.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton wanted to help, but Sis. Franklin told him no.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He threw a fit in the middle of the hallway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin told me to just ignore him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was hard because he kept grabbing my leg as I walked by.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin asked me to watch Carlton while she got dressed for work.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought she had lost her mind.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton smiled and ran to my room and went to banging on my laptop.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I guess whatever he was mad about was over.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Kids are crazy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin came in the room dressed for work.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “Carlton, come on so we can go.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton yelled, “NO!”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought his mother was gonna have a fit.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “Boy, come on.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ain’t got time to be playing with your little tail.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton screamed, “Me wanna stay with Mike!”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at Sis. Franklin and shook my head no.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ain’t never babysat nobody.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin smiled.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She grabbed Carlton and drug him out of the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so glad.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin called my name.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went into the living room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “There is a pad with the numbers on it in the kitchen.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If you need anything, just call one of those numbers.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Make yourself comfortable.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I’ll be back around 6:00.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Aaron may be back before that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I’m no sure.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;See you later.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She walked off the door.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t believe they left me at their house by myself.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am still waiting for Keyva to email me back.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think I am going to go to sleep.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114505264517939781?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505264517939781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114505264517939781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/to-store-and-back.html' title='To The Store and Back'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498604280534498</id><published>2006-03-07T11:09:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T17:29:45.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smiling Like Crazy</title><content type='html'>I emailed Keyva back…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;You are mean.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sorry, I made the lady wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am fine.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wish I could have been there on Sunday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We could have sung Fret Not. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;I hope no one thinks I am a crackhead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;What did you all sing on Sunday?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What night do you all have choir rehearsal on?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What all songs do you all sing besides the ones I knew about for the conference?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;What’s up with signing your emails, Ya Girl – Keyva?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am about to go.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hit me up later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;font-size:130%;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am smiling like crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I want to tell her that I am in town, but I resisted the urge to do that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin said that she is going to the store.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She asked if I wanted to go with her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told her that I wanted to go.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am just too excited about going to the store.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We should be leaving in a few minutes.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Carlton hasn’t been up here all morning to bother me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wonder if he is mad at me or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t have much experience with children.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was asleep when I ate breakfast.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ate with Eld. Franklin.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am rambling.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am getting off.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498604280534498?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498604280534498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498604280534498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/smiling-like-crazy.html' title='Smiling Like Crazy'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498539258891712</id><published>2006-03-07T10:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T22:32:14.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Emailed Me Back</title><content type='html'>Keyva emailed me back.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This is what she said…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"&gt;I see that you finally emailed me back.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It took you forever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You shouldn’t make a lady wait so long.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"&gt;How are you doing?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Service hasn’t been the same with no musician.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had a musician before, but he was shady.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He would just show up to get paid, but he wouldn’t come to rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He barely even made it to Sunday morning service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think he was a crackhead, but I don’t have any proof.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Email me back when you get this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"&gt;Wishing You Were Here,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Lucida Handwriting;font-size:130%;"&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I can’t believe she fussed at me like that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498539258891712?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498539258891712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498539258891712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/she-emailed-me-back.html' title='She Emailed Me Back'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498468605850175</id><published>2006-03-07T10:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T22:24:52.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Emailed Her</title><content type='html'>I just emailed Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t believe I did it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin is at work.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin works part time at a daycare.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She isn’t going to leave until 2:00 PM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I will be here by myself until 6:00, when Sis. Franklin gets home.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton goes to the daycare with her.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here’s what I emailed Keyva…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;Hello, Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s Micha.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was just emailing you to say hello.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hit me back if you have time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Broadway;"&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;How corny was that?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just hope she emails me back.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498468605850175?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498468605850175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498468605850175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-emailed-her.html' title='I Emailed Her'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498386639644043</id><published>2006-03-07T10:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T22:28:02.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Making A Trip 3/6</title><content type='html'>Early Monday morning, Eld. Franklin called me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He asked me if I could be at the airport for a flight to Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked him on what day.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laughed and said, “Today.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I coughed and said, “When would I come back to &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt;?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “On Sunday.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t know if I could do it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had missed a week of school already.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t think that my professors were going to go for another missed week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I will have to go talk to my professors and see if they will let me out of my classes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can call you back and let you know.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We talked for awhile longer and then said goodbye.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I tripped out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why did he want me to come back to Rowmanellieo?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I knew that I could get out of work pretty easily.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn’t too sure about my classes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I talked to my professors, all three of them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Only one of them gave me a hard time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I only have his class one night a week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t have any tests in the class and I had completed all of my homework assignments.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t see the problem.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He went on a tirade forever and then told me to go, but I wouldn’t be able to make-up the assignment for the class I missed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was like cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was 11:46 when I called Eld. Franklin back.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him that I could leave and go to the airport.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was excited about going back to Rowmanellieo.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin met me at the airport.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was surprised.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We didn’t talk much on the ride to his house.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He had a nice house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I found out that he and his wife had a 3 year old son.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He hadn’t been at church with them during the conference.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin was in the kitchen when we got to the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was cooking some fried chicken.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Their son was at the table coloring.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin introduced me to his son.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;“Carlton, this is our new musician, Micha.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Micha jumped down from the table and came over to me and hugged me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Hi, Mike.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin said, “His name is Micha.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton let me go and said, “Mike, Mike, Mike.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dinner was great.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin can burn something fierce.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I know I ate too much food.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They may not want me staying with them for 4 months.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin showed me the guest bedroom.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was where I was supposed to stay when I “moved” down to Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I put my stuff down and sat down on the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin sat down in a chair near the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Your face has been long ever since you got here.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What’s the matter?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Nothing.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “If I am going to be your pastor, you are gonna have to trust me.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed and said, “You are very confident.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He smiled, “Yep.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What’s wrong?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t know this man well enough to tell him my family business.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Nothing.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin said, “Whenever you feel like talking, let me know.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He left the room.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was playing on my laptop when Carlton walked into the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He jumped up in my lap and said, “You playin’ on yo’ puter.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Can I play?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Yea.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He punched on the keys and played around with the mouse.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He got down from my lap and jumped on the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn’t sure what to do.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Are you suppose to be jumping on the bed like that?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He just kept on jumping.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went over to the bed to get him off the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I reached for him and he made a move and fell off the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He started screaming like I had hurt him or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A few seconds later, both of his parents were in the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just knew that they were going to throw me out of their house.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin ran to Carlton.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin asked, “What happened?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to get Carlton into trouble, so I said, “We were playing around and he fell.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin walked over to the bed and looked at it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “It looks like somebody with little feet were jumping on the bed.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked down at the floor.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton smiled at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Uhh uhh, we were playin’ like Mike was said.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to laugh, but Eld. Franklin looked at me like he knew I was lying, so I didn’t.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin held Carlton and said, “Well, you all are going to have to be more careful.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t want either one of you getting hurt.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin left the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin was holding Carlton and trying to walk out of the room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton screamed, “I wanna stay wit Mike.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin said, “We should leave Micha alone.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He doesn’t want to be bothered with you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Carlton said, “Mike is me friend.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanna play.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “It’s okay Sis. Franklin.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He can stay.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She put her son down and left the room.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Carlton grabbed by leg and wrestled with it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost fell down.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I picked him up and threw him on the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We spent the rest of the night wrestling.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498386639644043?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498386639644043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498386639644043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/making-trip-36.html' title='Making A Trip 3/6'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498383801408589</id><published>2006-03-07T08:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T22:30:08.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh My Goodness, DSL</title><content type='html'>I am in Rowmanellieo right now at Eld. &amp; Sis. Franklin's house.  They have DSL.  They also have their house networked where I can use my computer wirelessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Oh, my goodness, DSL!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498383801408589?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498383801408589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498383801408589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/oh-my-goodness-dsl.html' title='Oh My Goodness, DSL'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498153702261098</id><published>2006-03-05T22:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T21:33:11.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What’s in the Bag?</title><content type='html'>I was depressed most of the weekend.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t even go to church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. MaCulvie tried to get me to eat, but I wouldn’t.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just cried.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; tried to talk to me, but I didn’t want to talk to him.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The bag that Deacon Patten had given me popped into my head.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had put it in a drawer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to look in it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went to the drawer and got the bag.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked through it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There was a book about prayer in the bag, a big bag of M&amp;M’s, a teddy bear, and a note.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I opened the note.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was from Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It read…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;font face="Lucida Handwriting" size="4"&gt;&lt;font color="#800040"&gt;Sorry about looking through your bag.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shouldn’t have done that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think you are a great musician.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hope you will come back to see us.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Here’s my email address, if you want to email me.&lt;br/&gt;Miss you already,&lt;br/&gt;Ya Girl - Keyva&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font color="#800040"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/font&gt;The note made me smile.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wondered what, Ya Girl, meant, but I didn’t want to get too excited.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt better.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was still mad about what happened at my mother’s.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;At least, I had Keyva’s email address.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am back in love with Keyva Palmer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498153702261098?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498153702261098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498153702261098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/whats-in-bag.html' title='What’s in the Bag?'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114498090453927369</id><published>2006-03-03T21:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T21:15:45.246-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Whew, This Week…</title><content type='html'>I had to get some rest this week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My head was swimming when I got back into town.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; and his wife asked me a lot of questions when I got to the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tried to answer all of them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said Keyva’s name a couple of times.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. MaCulvie asked me who Keyva was.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She had a silly grin on her face when she asked me about her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tried to play it off, but Sis. MaCulvie wouldn’t let me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told them who Keyva was.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got teased for awhile about it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was cool talking to them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was the best part of the week.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I talked to Evg. MaCulvie about playing for Canaan House of Rest.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I really want to go down there and play for them, but I don’t want to quit my job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt like an idiot because my sole reason for staying in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt; was a job, not my family or church home.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. MaCulvie was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Sometimes, we need to get away from our family to be who God wants us to be.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If we won’t move on our own, God may have to make us move.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You just have to move, so that God won’t push you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laughed when he said that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t see anything to laugh about.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked to me some more.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn’t really listening, though.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I decided to go over to my mother’s house to tell her about moving.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I should have just kept my tail at home.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My brother, his girlfriend, and three of the thuggish looking nigg*s I have ever seen were over there sitting on the couch I help my mother buy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They were drinking beer and smoking.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My brother cussed me out and asked me what I wanted.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him that I was looking for Mama.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told me that she was in the back room.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I went to her room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was laying in the bed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I sat down on the bed next to her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She lifted her head and said hello.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smelt like a liquor store.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She had been sober for a year and now she was drunk.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got mad.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went into the living room and yelled at my brother, “Who gave Mama something to drink?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She had been sober for a year.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My brother said, “Nigg* ain’t nobody give mama nothing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Her trifling old as* went in the kitchen and drunk my sh**.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t care how long she’s been sober.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She must have enjoyed it because she drunk three forties.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Craig and his friends laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walked over to Craig and shoved him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;His two thuggish friends grabbed me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Craig hit me in the stomach and told me to back off.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wrestled free and went back into my mother’s room.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I sat down beside her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I wish you wouldn’t have drunk anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You were doing so good.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She laughed and said, “Boy, I’m an old woman.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Let me have some fun.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just shook my head.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I have a job offer in Rowmanellieo.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She didn’t say anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I repeated what I had said.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She just stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I stared into space.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My mother said, “Are you gonna go to Rowmanellieo?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I don’t know yet.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother said, “It’ll probably be good for you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’ll make a man out of you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got upset.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I am already a man.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother hit me in the back of my head hard.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “You ain’t no man.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You are a little punk.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You need to be more like Craig.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I stood up and yelled, “Craig, ain’t no man.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He is a criminal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If going to jail, selling dope, and treating women like dirt, makes me a man, then I will never be a man.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Craig is going to bring trouble in this house.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother yelled, “At least Craig brings some money up in this house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I mean some real money, not them pennies you bring up in here.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Take you like as* to Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am sick of the sight of you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Get outta my face!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Craig, come this little nigg*!”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I stood up.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Craig walked into the room just as I was walking out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He grabbed me by the arm and drug me out of the room, through the living room.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we got to the door, he said, “Yea, don’t bring your trifling God talking behind around here no more.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The real son is here now. Mama don’t want you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t like you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So, run your butt up outta here.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I betta not see you around here anymore.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He raised his shirt and showed me a gun.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “I promise ya, I will use it.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I cried most of the way home.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114498090453927369?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498090453927369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114498090453927369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/03/whew-this-week.html' title='Whew, This Week…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114497516550157563</id><published>2006-02-28T22:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T21:07:12.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Morning Service 2/26</title><content type='html'>Sunday morning service was good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin asked us to sing Fret Not.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We didn’t sing it like we had on Friday night, but we did a good job.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The guest speaker was Eld. Julian Washington from Phillippi House of Rest.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He preached, “Just Wait for It,” from Isaiah 40:26-31.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about waiting on God and working for Him in the process.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about praying and listening for an answer from God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about having quiet time with God.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I wasn’t listening as much as I should have.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was thinking about being the minister of music for the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It would be a welcomed change from my crazy life.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had seen that being in Rowmanellieo could be crazy just like being in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The only thing that would hold me back is my job at the college.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had been there for two years.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was close to being made assistant manager.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn’t sure what to do.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When service was over, a lot of the members came and hugged me and told me that they enjoyed me playing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A couple of them told me that they would be glad if I chose to come play for the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It felt good to be wanted.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I still wasn’t sure about playing for the church.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Marcus walked up to me and put his arm on my shoulder.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “You are very touchy feely.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He smiled and said, “Yea, I was raised in a family where we are always hugging each other.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Some people get freaked out by it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I forget that everyone isn’t use to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Naw, it’s just kind of weird.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He smiled.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “So, did you and your girl kiss and make up?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “She ain’t my girl.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Dang.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus laughed and said, “Boy, you got it bad for that girl.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You should ask her for her email address.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I made a face.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Whatever man.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus walked off laughing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin hugged me and said, “When are you going to move here?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at her and said, “I don’t know.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “I believe God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He will tell you what to do.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I smiled at her and said, “Yes, mame.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I sat around for awhile waiting for the Deacon Patten to drive me to the airport.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Washington came over to me and sat down.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “I enjoyed you today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hear that they want you to come be there minister of music.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Yes sir.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Have you been praying about it?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Yes sir.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The funny thing is, the only reason I would stay in &lt;a href="http://www.maddocha.info/cityofdorinda/"&gt;Dorinda&lt;/a&gt; is my job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Not my mother, not my brother, not even my current church home.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That’s the funny thing.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Washington said, “Sometimes life can be funny.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Just keep praying, God will let you know what to do.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Just don’t miss your blessing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sometimes God wants us to move from our comfort zone.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He didn’t say anything else after that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The flight home was a quiet one.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hadn’t even looked in the bag that Deacon Patten had given me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that it was a little something from the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just put it in my bag.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What am I going to do?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114497516550157563?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497516550157563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497516550157563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunday-morning-service-226.html' title='Sunday Morning Service 2/26'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114497298069291442</id><published>2006-02-28T22:03:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T19:04:10.666-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Service Saturday 2/25</title><content type='html'>Service was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. Jonathan Reed of Reed Ministries was the guest speaker.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Evg. Reed preached, “Principles of Prayer,” from Matthew 6:9-13.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about the Lord’s Prayer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that it was a revelation of the attitude that we should approach God with when we pray.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that we should talk to God as if He is our Father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We should have an attitude of awe, submission, dependence, and total confidence.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He gave us some prayer directives from the Word that consisted of praying for a lot of things.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He also told us what happens when we continue in a prayer life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was very good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I learned a lot.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After service, Eld. Franklin asked me to come to his office.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we got into his office, Eld. Franklin said, “I appreciate you playing for us this week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I enjoyed you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Here’s a little something for you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He handed me an envelope.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I took the envelope and put it in my pocket.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He gave me a hug before I walked out of his office.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I went to the restroom.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I opened the envelope and looked in it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I counted the money.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There was $200.00 in the envelope.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was surprised, but happy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I walked back into the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus walked up to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Are you gonna go out to eat with us?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to go.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus said, “Come on, man.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The whole choir is going.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shrugged and said, “Whatever.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was quiet most of the time at the restaurant.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No one seemed to even notice.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at Keyva a couple of times.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She just gave me mean looks.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to go home, I mean my real home, not the hotel.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114497298069291442?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497298069291442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497298069291442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-service-saturday-225.html' title='Nightly Service Saturday 2/25'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114497139206726878</id><published>2006-02-28T21:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T18:44:57.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Workshops Saturday 2/25</title><content type='html'>The workshops got started after breakfast.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes, and biscuits for breakfast.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was good.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There were 6 workshops to be given.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They were each 30 minutes long.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We were going to have lunch at 12:00 PM.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I couldn’t believe that Keyva and I went to two workshops together; Praying with Purpose and I Call His Name.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They were both good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;All of the workshops were good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I took a lot of notes and learned a lot.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva and I didn’t have anymore workshops together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was glad about that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As we were ending the conference, Marcus walked over to me and said, “You should apologize for yelling at Keyva.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at him like he had lost his mind.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had to calm down before I yelled at him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Is she going to apologize for rifling through my bag like she was the police?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus said, “Cool, just asked.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was about to go up to my room when I heard one of the workshop leader’s voice say, “Sometimes, you have to do what is right even though you don’t want to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Is it about you or about God?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shook my head and turned around to go find Keyva.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva was talking to an older woman.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I waited for Keyva and the lady to finish.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva looked at me and made a face.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walked over to her and said, “Can I talk to you?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva folded her arms and said, “Do you want to yell at me again?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “No, I want to apologize for yelling at you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva stood rigidly still and said, “So, apologize.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Sorry, I yelled at you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I really hate people touching my stuff without my permission.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sorry.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva said, “Okay.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She walked off.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114497139206726878?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497139206726878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497139206726878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/workshops-saturday-225.html' title='Workshops Saturday 2/25'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114497021860593442</id><published>2006-02-28T21:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T18:27:18.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Made Me Mad 2/25</title><content type='html'>We had workshops on Saturday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We met at the hotel I was staying in at 7:30AM to register.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hadn’t paid a registration fee and I wasn’t sure if I could attend the workshops, but Eld. Franklin told me that everything was taken care of.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went to the table and got my registration packet.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The bag had a pen, pencil, note pad, some mints, and some lotion in it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was about to go sit at a table by myself when Marcus grabbed me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I drug me to a table and said, “You can sit at table with us.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva, two ladies, and a guy were sitting at the table.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus smiled at me when he pointed to the empty chair by Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shook my head and sat down.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva grabbed my bag and started looking in it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at her like she was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;After I grabbed my bag back, I said, “Don’t go through my bag like that!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We ain’t that close!”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was upset.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hate for people to touch my stuff without my permission.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s something from childhood.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My brother, Craig, was always using my stuff.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He stole more of it than anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone at the table looked at me like I was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I stood up with my bag in my hand and said, “Sorry.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t like people touching my stuff.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I left and went outside.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was half tempted to go to my room.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. Franklin walked up to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She asked, “Are you okay?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t even look at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Yes.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She sat down on the couch next to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “It’s hard staying mad.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;What was she talking about?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was tripping.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to be bothered.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She didn’t leave.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “Are you going to come back into the conference?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I mumbled, “Eventually.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “You can be grumpy when you want to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Take as long as you need.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Just don’t leave.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She walked off.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I knew that I couldn’t leave because they had flown me to the conference, so I had to stay.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I prayed…&lt;br/&gt;Lord, help me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I really need Your help right now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I went back into the conference.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to go back to the table, but Marcus grabbed me and said, “You done upset your girlfriend.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She moved to another table.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe that Marcus had said that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “She ain’t my girlfriend and I don’t really care where she sits.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus said, “Chill on the attitude with me, bro.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t do anything to you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I rolled my eyes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus said, “Anyway, she moved, so you can come back to the table.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “I said I didn’t care where she sat.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus said, “Uhh huh.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I sat down at the table.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked in the direction that Keyva was sitting in.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She gave me an evil look when she saw me looking at her.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don’t like that girl anymore!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114497021860593442?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497021860593442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114497021860593442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/she-made-me-mad-225.html' title='She Made Me Mad 2/25'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114496905041674530</id><published>2006-02-28T20:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T21:03:46.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Services Friday 2/24</title><content type='html'>This service was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We sung Fret Not.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva sung the song like she had been at the church all day praying.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was trying to play the organ and crying at the same time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought I was going to have to stop playing at one point.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus looked at me and motioned for me to keep playing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t know how I played with tears in my eyes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Well, after the song, we went up in a dance that was off the hinges.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Folk were dancing like crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keyva was dancing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She dances so cute.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus dances wild.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was funny.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin dances pretty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought Eld. Franklin was going to fall at one point the way he dances.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we finally got through dances, Eld. Franklin said, “I like that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Ain’t no harm to praise God.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A few minutes later, we started up again.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was so awesome.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_ywm/aboutus/eldmicahjwynn.html"&gt;Eld. Micah Wynn&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_ywm/"&gt;Youth Working Ministries&lt;/a&gt; preached, “Hannah’s Prayer,” from I Samuel 1:1-2:11.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that Prayer is power.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about Hannah’s PAIN, PRAYER, PEACE, and PRAISE.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about Hannah praying on purpose for a long time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He reminded us that sometimes, we will have to pray for a long time before we get an answer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said don’t get weary.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laid hands on everyone in the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There were like 70 people there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It took forever.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I had no intention of going through the pray line.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Wynn looked at me and said, “Get over here.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I walked over to him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laid hands on me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I fell out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When I came to, I was still on the floor.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;One of the ushers helped me off the floor.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They were giving the benediction when I stood up.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Marcus came over to me after service and laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “Boy, you sure like to make a scene, don’t you.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus grabbed me by the neck and said, “I am gonna have fun working with you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You are funny.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at him like he was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Who said we are going to be working together?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus laughed and said, “We are gonna be working together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Believe that.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He walked off before I could say anything.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Keyva walked over to me and said, “You hit the floor hard.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She laughed and said, “You should be hurt.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shook my head and said, “You are so mean.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smiled and said, “I know.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When are you leaving?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “Sunday, after church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Are you gonna miss me?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She made a face and said, “NO!”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “You are mean.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She walked off smiling.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I watched Keyva walk off.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I heard Sis. Franklin’s voice say, “I hope you are thinking pure thoughts, young man.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked up at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smiled at me and said, “I enjoyed you playing tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hope that you will join us again, maybe even for awhile.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I smiled at her and said, “I don’t know about all of that.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. Franklin said, “God answers pray and I believe he is going to answer my prayer.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said, “What does that mean?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She smiled, “Just wait and see.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do I need to have pastor talk to you about the sins of the flesh?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just stared at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She gave me a motherly look and then walked off.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I sat there on the bench with my head in my hands.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was trying to wrap my head around everything that had happened.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It seemed like everyone had already decided that I was going to move to Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wasn’t sure about that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t even know anybody in the city.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I would have to leave my mother.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;(That would be easy at this point).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I would have to leave my current church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;(That would be even easier at this point).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I would have to leave my current job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I work in the music department of Beggs College.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I would have to give up my job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I like my job at the college.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I meet a lot of cool people there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am not sure that I want to give up my job.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I guess I gotta pray some more.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114496905041674530?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496905041674530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496905041674530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-services-friday-224.html' title='Nightly Services Friday 2/24'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114496090241443677</id><published>2006-02-27T19:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:42:38.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Services Thursday 2/23</title><content type='html'>I got a phone call from Keyva on Thursday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost dropped the phone when she said her name.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said that she had gotten my info from Marcus.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said that she wanted to check on me and see if I was okay.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We talked for 5 or 6 minutes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to keep talking to her, but she that she had to go because she had a class.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is attending &lt;strong&gt;Xenia Women's College&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was sad when I hung up the phone.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dr. Dewey Medows preached, “You Better Pray,” from I Samuel 2:1-11.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that we need to pray and pray until we get an answer.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that we needed to remember that God’s answer can be Yes, No, or Wait.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that when we get the answer Wait, we can get anxious and want to move past God, but when we felt like that, we needed to stop and praise God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He had us laughing, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t have to play for him because he didn’t tune up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was cool though.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t go out to eat.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went to the hotel because I was scared to go out to eat.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt like a child.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus tried to convince me to go.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “I may talk Keyva into going with us.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just shook my head and told him no.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114496090241443677?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496090241443677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496090241443677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-services-thursday-223.html' title='Nightly Services Thursday 2/23'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114496018599779973</id><published>2006-02-27T19:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:30:37.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Services Wednesday 2/22</title><content type='html'>How about I woke up sick on Wednesday morning?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was throwing up, my eyes were puffy, I had broken out in a rash, and everything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am allergic to nutmeg for some strange reason.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There must have been something in the food last night.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I called Eld. Franklin and told him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told me to rest and he would call me at 4:00 to see how I was feeling then.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He asked if I needed anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him that I needed some Benadryl.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;About 20 minutes later, one of the deacons from the church, &lt;strong&gt;Deacon Scott Patten&lt;/strong&gt;, was knocking on my door with some Benadryl.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I took it and laid down.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I woke up when the phone rang.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was Eld. Franklin.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He asked how I was feeling.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him that I felt better, but I was groggy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt ok to play.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Lionel Kelly preached.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am not even sure what he preached about because I was out of it most of the service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus kept asking me was I ok.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I kept telling him yea.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin came over to me during the offering and asked was I ok.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him yea.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t have to play for Eld. Kelly because he brought a musician with him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so thankful.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Deacon Patten took me home early.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114496018599779973?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496018599779973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114496018599779973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-services-wednesday-222.html' title='Nightly Services Wednesday 2/22'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114495948249779686</id><published>2006-02-27T19:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:19:30.833-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Services Tuesday 2/21</title><content type='html'>Eld. Franklin preached like a mad man.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;At one point, I stopped playing with him and was off the organ jumping up and down.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He stopped preaching, looked at me, and said, “Son, I know it’s good, but I need a little help in here.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I came to myself and went back to playing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone in the church started laughing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus slapped me on the back.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Franklin preached, “Remember Me”, from I Samuel 1:11.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin said that we should ask the Lord to remember us when we pray as Hannah did.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that if we had a relationship with God, he would hear our voice and know who we were.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that we have to remember God more often than we do by serving Him, reading our Bible, and praying.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was awesome.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After service, Marcus, Eld. Franklin, Sis. Franklin, and two other ministers and their wives went out to eat.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin picked up the check.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I road with Marcus again.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was teasing me about Keyva.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “You know you are supposed to be here ministering not checking out women.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You ain’t right.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed and said, “I ain’t checking out nobody.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus smiled and said, “Whatever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You want me to get her number for you?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Every bone in my body wanted to scream YES, but I didn’t say anything.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was cool hanging out with all the preachers and their wives.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was the youngest person there, but they didn’t make me feel like I was a youngster.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was liking the church more and more.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114495948249779686?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495948249779686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495948249779686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-services-tuesday-221.html' title='Nightly Services Tuesday 2/21'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114495877624262833</id><published>2006-02-27T19:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:12:40.936-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Choir Rehearsal 2/21</title><content type='html'>We met at the church for choir rehearsal on Tuesday at 6:00 PM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I taught them two new songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They learned them quickly.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was so cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I taught them, Fret Not by the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_topchoir/"&gt;TOP Choir&lt;/a&gt; and Still Praising Him by &lt;a href="hhttp://ruthfortson-cop.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Ruth Fortson &amp; COP&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Those are my two favorite songs.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The young lady who led Fret Not was pretty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost got into trouble starring at her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is light-skinned with long black hair.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is thick, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I like thick girls.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The girl could sang, too.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As we were walking out of the sanctuary, Marcus said, “Your eyes are gonna pop out of your head staring at Keyva like that.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I made a face and said, “What’s her last name?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Marcus laughed and said, “It’s Palmer.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I smiled.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was in love with &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Keyva Palmer&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114495877624262833?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495877624262833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495877624262833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/choir-rehearsal-221.html' title='Choir Rehearsal 2/21'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114495753847801108</id><published>2006-02-27T18:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T15:20:03.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightly Services Monday 2/20</title><content type='html'>Service was great.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The choir sounded good for only having practiced with me for one time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin was bragging on the choir after each song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had prayed hard enough that we would sound good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;God answers pray.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bishop Adkins preached, “Look on My Affliction”, from I Samuel 1:11.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was off the chain.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that we should live a life that God will recognize us when we call His name.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Also, he said that we should pray often enough where God will recognize our voice easily.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was awesome.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After church, the entire choir went out to eat.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to go because I didn’t have any extra money to eat out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The choir president, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Marcus Trayver&lt;/span&gt;, said that he would cover me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought that was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I rode with him to the restaurant.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think he was interviewing me on the sly.&lt;br/&gt;He asked me what experience I had with playing for choirs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He also asked me about working with difficult people.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost fell out because if he only knew about the old church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t say anything about the folk at my old church, but I told him some thoughts I had on the issue.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to say, “Difficult folk need to be put out of the choir,” but I didn’t.&lt;br/&gt;Hanging out at the restaurant was so cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We were laughing and having fun.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt so great.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The old choir has never done anything like that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We didn’t fellowship at all.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I made it back to the hotel after 12AM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I fell in the bed and went right to sleep after I changed clothes.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114495753847801108?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495753847801108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495753847801108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/nightly-services-monday-220.html' title='Nightly Services Monday 2/20'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114495687237422065</id><published>2006-02-27T18:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T14:44:46.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Conference Information</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Theme:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;Have You Prayed About It?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Scripture:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;I Samuel 1:10-11&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;10: And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the LORD, and wept sore.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;11: And she vowed a vow, and said, O LORD of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thine handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt give unto thine handmaid a man child, then I will give him unto the LORD all the days of his life, and there shall no razor come upon his head.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Guests:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;Bishop J. Berry Adkins &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbidhor/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Interdenominational House of Rest&lt;/a&gt;), &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eld. Aaron Franklin &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(Canaan House of Rest), &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eld. Lionel Kelly &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(Abundant Blessings Church),&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dr. Dewey Medows &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(House of Joy), &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eld. Micah Wynn &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_ywm/"&gt;Youth Working Ministries&lt;/a&gt;), &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Evg. Jonathan Reed &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(Reed Ministries), and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Eld. Julian Washington&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, (Phillippi House of Rest)&lt;br/&gt;All of them are members of the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_ywm/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Fellowship&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I thought that was so cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think I am going to really like this church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114495687237422065?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495687237422065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495687237422065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/conference-information.html' title='Conference Information'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114495520603903100</id><published>2006-02-27T18:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T14:44:11.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Conference in Rowmanellieo</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Almost Late 2/20&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight to Rowmanellieo was scheduled to leave at 11:00 AM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was set to wake-up at 7 AM, but I didn’t wake up until 7:48.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I jumped up and almost lost my head trying to get to the airport.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got to the airport at 9:20.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so embarrassed when Bishop was already sitting at the terminal waiting.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hugged me and laughed at me after he said, “So, you overslept.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We both laughed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Bishop read over his notes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I slept.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We got to Rowmanellieo at 1:24 PM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A member of Canaan House of Rest was waiting on us.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They had a sign with both Bishop’s and my name on it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt so special.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Choir Rehearsal 2/20&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The person who was driving Bishop and I around, said that he would be back to pick me up at 5:30 PM.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was there at 5:25.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Thankfully, I was dressed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked the whole way to the church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Apparently, the church is comprised of people ages 18-45, so it is a relatively young church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin is 39 years old.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;His wife is 26.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That made me want to come down here more than I wanted to before.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the church, most of the people who were in the choir were already there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so surprised.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It felt weird, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone clapped after I was introduced.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt all important.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There were 12 people there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There were 4sapranos, 6 altos, and 2 tenors.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We prayed and I began working with them on the songs that they already sung.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I knew all of the songs already, so it was easy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked them if they would meet with me tomorrow to learn some new songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They all said yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114495520603903100?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495520603903100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114495520603903100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/conference-in-rowmanellieo.html' title='Conference in Rowmanellieo'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-114489430813787563</id><published>2006-02-17T21:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T21:21:30.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Crazy Week…</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Interview @ Shimmers Incorporated 2/13&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I had my interview at &lt;a href="http://www.shimmersinc.info/"&gt;Shimmers Incorporated&lt;/a&gt; on Monday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It didn’t seem to go too well.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was nervous.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My nose decided to run and I had to ask the lady for a Kleenex.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so embarrassed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I interviewed for a position in the Research department as a line worker or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t even think I am qualified for the job.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt like and idiot. Oh well.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;At My Mom’s House 2/14&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I went over to my mother’s house on Tuesday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She proceeded to cuss me out when I first walked into the door.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She started by asking me, “Didn’t I kick your &amp;*&amp; out of my house?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My brother, Craig was there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The criminal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There was some girl there with them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She looked like she was high or something.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Craig cussed me out and as he asked me what I wanted.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I handed my mother the envelope with the money in it and walked out of the house.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I can’t believe my mother is tripping like this.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I still can’t believe she wants Craig living with her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That fool is a straight up criminal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Lord, please help me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An Important Call 2/16&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On Thursday, I got a call from Bishop Adkins, the presiding prelate of the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Fellowship&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He wants to meet with me on Friday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tripped out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t believe it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;An Important Meeting 2/17&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bishop Adkins talked to me about being the Minister of Music at the Canaan House of Rest in Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ain’t even sure exactly where Rowmanellieo is.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that one of the sons of his church had just started at ministry in the city and needed a Minister of Music.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The pastor of the church, Eld. Aaron Franklin, was willing to pay for me to move down there, let me stay with he and his family for 4 months, help me get a job and an apartment.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wouldn’t get a salary for those 4 months, but after the 4 months, I would get paid.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I wasn’t sure what to think.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bishop handed me a plane ticket that would leave on Monday, 2/20 to Rowmanellieo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I would return back on the 26th.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Bishop told me that I had a hotel room in the city as well.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Canaan House of Rest was going to be in their Annual Conference and Bishop was going to fly me down there to play for the conference.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bishop called Eld. Franklin while I was in his office.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Franklin was excited about me coming to his church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He also said asked if I could meet with his choir and rehearse with them on Monday before church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Who in the world can rehearse with choir right before they were supposed to sing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Oh Lord.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him that I could.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked Pastor Franklin if he could have someone email me a list of the songs that his choir sings.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that he would do that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We talked some more.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;By the time we got off the phone, I was excited.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bishop was going to preach on Monday, so we were flying down to Rowmanellieo together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost fainted when he told me that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was very excited about the trip.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-114489430813787563?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114489430813787563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/114489430813787563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-crazy-week.html' title='This Crazy Week…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113968758645561412</id><published>2006-02-11T13:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T13:53:06.523-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally Able to Write About It</title><content type='html'>My mother kicked me out of the house on January 27.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t even know why.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was giving her $200/month, paying the phone bill, and buying groceries.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That hurt badly when she did that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She called me lazy and good for nothing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think she was drunk when she said all of that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just left the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had no idea where I was going.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just got in my car and drove.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I stopped at a payphone and called &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told me to come over to his house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;His wife was cool about it and everything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got over there and cried like a big old baby.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;His wife hugged me and told me that everything was going to be okay.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt like and idiot.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;How did I get kicked out?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Evg. MaCulvie let me stay over at his house that night.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The next day, he helped me formulate a plan of what I was going to do.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He helped me a lot.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He told me I could stay with him and his wife for a month while I save up some money to get my own apartment.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He helped me get on a waiting list for some apartments in the city.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They are pretty reasonable.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They cost more than $200/month.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I know that it is going to be okay.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He created me a budget.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Man, that budget is seriously strict.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tripped out.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He suggested that I still give my mother $100/month.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at him like he was crazy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I agreed to do it, but I don’t even want to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She kicked me out of the house.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I offer to pay him and his wife rent, but he told me that I didn’t have to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost cried when he said that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;His wife is trying to get me a job &lt;a href="http://www.shimmersinc.info/"&gt;Shimmer’s Incorporated&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The one I have now won’t help me a lot, being on my own.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is the president of the company’s secretary, so I know she will probably be able to work something out.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I told my pastor that my mother had thrown me out of the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He touched my shoulder and said, “Son, God will see you through.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got mad.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That’s all he could say.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. MaCulvie said that pastor probably had something on his mind.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t know.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am just glad that Evg. MaCulvie is around because I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t go to him.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Church has gotten any better.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t go to choir rehearsal last week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t even care anymore.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I went to church with Evg. MaCulvie and his wife the last Sunday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I haven’t been any services since the last Sunday in January.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No one from &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_audeliacc/"&gt;Audelia&lt;/a&gt; has even called me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am thinking about leaving because no one seems to care.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I haven’t told anyone yet, though.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I ain’t even praying about it, so there is no need of even lying about it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have an interview at Shimmers on February 13.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hope I do well on the interview.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am going over to my mother’s house to give her the money.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am not even sure how that is going to go.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I heard, from the neighborhood gossip that my oldest brother, Craig, is at the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He has been in and out of jail since he was 20.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t even get that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She would rather have a criminal stay in her house instead of a Christian.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That aint right.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to mail the money to my mother, but Evg. MaCulvie said that I should go over to the house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that I shouldn’t give the devil any leeway to enter into my mother’s mind that I hate her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. MaCulvie says that I can just go over there, say hi, and give her the money.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that I don’t have to carry on a conversation with her, if I don’t want to.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am dreading this.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am about to start crying, so I am going to quit.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;God said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Psalm 50:15&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lord, I need you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Amen.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113968758645561412?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113968758645561412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113968758645561412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/finally-able-to-write-about-it.html' title='Finally Able to Write About It'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113966967824268851</id><published>2006-02-11T08:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T08:55:21.786-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One More Time</title><content type='html'>I have been praying and reading my Bible again all week.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am still encouraged.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I believe God will deliver me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Matthew 11:28-30&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;28: Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.&lt;br/&gt;29: Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.&lt;br/&gt;30: For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113966967824268851?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113966967824268851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113966967824268851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/one-more-time.html' title='One More Time'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113901016924901172</id><published>2006-02-03T17:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:42:49.266-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Refuge &amp; Strength</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Psalm 46 (New King James Version)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;To the Chief Musician. A Psalm of the sons of Korah. A Song for Alamoth.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;1 God is our refuge and strength,&lt;br/&gt;A very present help in trouble.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;2 Therefore we will not fear,&lt;br/&gt;Even though the earth be removed,&lt;br/&gt;And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;3 Though its waters roar and be troubled,&lt;br/&gt;Though the mountains shake with its swelling.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Selah&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;4 There is a river whose streams shall make glad the city of God,&lt;br/&gt;The holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;5 God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved;&lt;br/&gt;God shall help her, just at the break of dawn.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;6 The nations raged, the kingdoms were moved;&lt;br/&gt;He uttered His voice, the earth melted.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;7 The LORD of hosts is with us;&lt;br/&gt;The God of Jacob is our refuge.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Selah&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;8 Come, behold the works of the LORD,&lt;br/&gt;Who has made desolations in the earth.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;&lt;br/&gt;He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;&lt;br/&gt;He burns the chariot in the fire.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;10 Be still, and know that I am God;&lt;br/&gt;I will be exalted among the nations,&lt;br/&gt;I will be exalted in the earth!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;11 The LORD of hosts is with us;&lt;br/&gt;The God of Jacob is our refuge.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Selah&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113901016924901172?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113901016924901172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113901016924901172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/02/my-refuge-strength.html' title='My Refuge &amp; Strength'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900979152467521</id><published>2006-01-31T21:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:39:35.476-06:00</updated><title type='text'>These Helped Me Out...</title><content type='html'>Do not be far from me, for trouble is near.    Psalm 22:11&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me."    Psalm 50:15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you.    Psalm 55:22&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; He will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.    Psalm 27:5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900979152467521?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900979152467521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900979152467521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/these-helped-me-out.html' title='These Helped Me Out...'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900959342045985</id><published>2006-01-27T21:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:33:13.423-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some More Encouragement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Psalm 37 (New King James Version)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Psalm of David.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 Do not fret because of evildoers,&lt;br /&gt;Nor be envious of the workers of iniquity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 For they shall soon be cut down like the grass,&lt;br /&gt;And wither as the green herb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 Trust in the LORD, and do good;&lt;br /&gt;Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 Delight yourself also in the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;And He shall give you the desires of your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 Commit your way to the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;Trust also in Him,&lt;br /&gt;And He shall bring it to pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,&lt;br /&gt;And your justice as the noonday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him;&lt;br /&gt;Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,&lt;br /&gt;Because of the man who brings wicked schemes to pass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 Cease from anger, and forsake wrath;&lt;br /&gt;Do not fret—it only causes harm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 For evildoers shall be cut off;&lt;br /&gt;But those who wait on the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;They shall inherit the earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 For yet a little while and the wicked shall be no more;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, you will look carefully for his place,&lt;br /&gt;But it shall be no more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 But the meek shall inherit the earth,&lt;br /&gt;And shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 The wicked plots against the just,&lt;br /&gt;And gnashes at him with his teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 The Lord laughs at him,&lt;br /&gt;For He sees that his day is coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14 The wicked have drawn the sword&lt;br /&gt;And have bent their bow,&lt;br /&gt;To cast down the poor and needy,&lt;br /&gt;To slay those who are of upright conduct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 Their sword shall enter their own heart,&lt;br /&gt;And their bows shall be broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16 A little that a righteous man has&lt;br /&gt;Is better than the riches of many wicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17 For the arms of the wicked shall be broken,&lt;br /&gt;But the LORD upholds the righteous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18 The LORD knows the days of the upright,&lt;br /&gt;And their inheritance shall be forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19 They shall not be ashamed in the evil time,&lt;br /&gt;And in the days of famine they shall be satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 But the wicked shall perish;&lt;br /&gt;And the enemies of the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;Like the splendor of the meadows, shall vanish.&lt;br /&gt;Into smoke they shall vanish away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21 The wicked borrows and does not repay,&lt;br /&gt;But the righteous shows mercy and gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22 For those blessed by Him shall inherit the earth,&lt;br /&gt;But those cursed by Him shall be cut off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23 The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;And He delights in his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24 Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down;&lt;br /&gt;For the LORD upholds him with His hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25 I have been young, and now am old;&lt;br /&gt;Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken,&lt;br /&gt;Nor his descendants begging bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26 He is ever merciful, and lends;&lt;br /&gt;And his descendants are blessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27 Depart from evil, and do good;&lt;br /&gt;And dwell forevermore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28 For the LORD loves justice,&lt;br /&gt;And does not forsake His saints;&lt;br /&gt;They are preserved forever,&lt;br /&gt;But the descendants of the wicked shall be cut off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29 The righteous shall inherit the land,&lt;br /&gt;And dwell in it forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 The mouth of the righteous speaks wisdom,&lt;br /&gt;And his tongue talks of justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31 The law of his God is in his heart;&lt;br /&gt;None of his steps shall slide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32 The wicked watches the righteous,&lt;br /&gt;And seeks to slay him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33 The LORD will not leave him in his hand,&lt;br /&gt;Nor condemn him when he is judged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34 Wait on the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;And keep His way,&lt;br /&gt;And He shall exalt you to inherit the land;&lt;br /&gt;When the wicked are cut off, you shall see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35 I have seen the wicked in great power,&lt;br /&gt;And spreading himself like a native green tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36 Yet he passed away,[a] and behold, he was no more;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed I sought him, but he could not be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37 Mark the blameless man, and observe the upright;&lt;br /&gt;For the future of that man is peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38 But the transgressors shall be destroyed together;&lt;br /&gt;The future of the wicked shall be cut off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39 But the salvation of the righteous is from the LORD;&lt;br /&gt;He is their strength in the time of trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;40 And the LORD shall help them and deliver them;&lt;br /&gt;He shall deliver them from the wicked,&lt;br /&gt;And save them,&lt;br /&gt;Because they trust in Him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900959342045985?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900959342045985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900959342045985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/some-more-encouragement.html' title='Some More Encouragement'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900938994584295</id><published>2006-01-23T20:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:29:49.946-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More Encouragement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Psalm 27 (New King James Version)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Psalm of David.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 The LORD is my light and my salvation;&lt;br /&gt;Whom shall I fear?&lt;br /&gt;The LORD is the strength of my life;&lt;br /&gt;Of whom shall I be afraid?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 When the wicked came against me&lt;br /&gt;To eat up my flesh,&lt;br /&gt;My enemies and foes,&lt;br /&gt;They stumbled and fell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 Though an army may encamp against me,&lt;br /&gt;My heart shall not fear;&lt;br /&gt;Though war may rise against me,&lt;br /&gt;In this I will be confident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 One thing I have desired of the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;That will I seek:&lt;br /&gt;That I may dwell in the house of the LORD&lt;br /&gt;All the days of my life,&lt;br /&gt;To behold the beauty of the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;And to inquire in His temple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 For in the time of trouble&lt;br /&gt;He shall hide me in His pavilion;&lt;br /&gt;In the secret place of His tabernacle&lt;br /&gt;He shall hide me;&lt;br /&gt;He shall set me high upon a rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 And now my head shall be lifted up above my enemies all around me;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore I will offer sacrifices of joy in His tabernacle;&lt;br /&gt;I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the LORD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice!&lt;br /&gt;Have mercy also upon me, and answer me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 When You said, “Seek My face,”&lt;br /&gt;My heart said to You, “Your face, LORD, I will seek.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 Do not hide Your face from me;&lt;br /&gt;Do not turn Your servant away in anger;&lt;br /&gt;You have been my help;&lt;br /&gt;Do not leave me nor forsake me,&lt;br /&gt;O God of my salvation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 When my father and my mother forsake me,&lt;br /&gt;Then the LORD will take care of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 Teach me Your way, O LORD,&lt;br /&gt;And lead me in a smooth path, because of my enemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 Do not deliver me to the will of my adversaries;&lt;br /&gt;For false witnesses have risen against me,&lt;br /&gt;And such as breathe out violence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 I would have lost heart, unless I had believed&lt;br /&gt;That I would see the goodness of the LORD&lt;br /&gt;In the land of the living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14 Wait on the LORD;&lt;br /&gt;Be of good courage,&lt;br /&gt;And He shall strengthen your heart;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, I say, on the LORD!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900938994584295?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900938994584295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900938994584295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/more-encouragement.html' title='More Encouragement'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900920843036851</id><published>2006-01-20T21:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:26:48.430-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Solely For Encouragement</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Psalm 59 (New King James Version)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the Chief Musician. Set to “Do Not Destroy.”[a] A Michtam of David when Saul sent men, and they watched the house in order to kill him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 Deliver me from my enemies, O my God;&lt;br /&gt;Defend me from those who rise up against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Deliver me from the workers of iniquity,&lt;br /&gt;And save me from bloodthirsty men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 For look, they lie in wait for my life;&lt;br /&gt;The mighty gather against me,&lt;br /&gt;Not for my transgression nor for my sin, O LORD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 They run and prepare themselves through no fault of mine.&lt;br /&gt;Awake to help me, and behold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 You therefore, O LORD God of hosts, the God of Israel,&lt;br /&gt;Awake to punish all the nations;&lt;br /&gt;Do not be merciful to any wicked transgressors.  Selah  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 At evening they return,&lt;br /&gt;They growl like a dog,&lt;br /&gt;And go all around the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 Indeed, they belch with their mouth;&lt;br /&gt;Swords are in their lips;&lt;br /&gt;For they say, “Who hears?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 But You, O LORD, shall laugh at them;&lt;br /&gt;You shall have all the nations in derision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 I will wait for You, O You his Strength;[b]&lt;br /&gt;For God is my defense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 My God of mercy[c] shall come to meet me;&lt;br /&gt;God shall let me see my desire on my enemies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 Do not slay them, lest my people forget;&lt;br /&gt;Scatter them by Your power,&lt;br /&gt;And bring them down,&lt;br /&gt;O Lord our shield.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 For the sin of their mouth and the words of their lips,&lt;br /&gt;Let them even be taken in their pride,&lt;br /&gt;And for the cursing and lying which they speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13 Consume them in wrath, consume them,&lt;br /&gt;That they may not be;&lt;br /&gt;And let them know that God rules in Jacob&lt;br /&gt;To the ends of the earth.  Selah  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14 And at evening they return,&lt;br /&gt;They growl like a dog,&lt;br /&gt;And go all around the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 They wander up and down for food,&lt;br /&gt;And howl[d] if they are not satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16 But I will sing of Your power;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I will sing aloud of Your mercy in the morning;&lt;br /&gt;For You have been my defense&lt;br /&gt;And refuge in the day of my trouble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17 To You, O my Strength, I will sing praises;&lt;br /&gt;For God is my defense,&lt;br /&gt;My God of mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900920843036851?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900920843036851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900920843036851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/solely-for-encouragement.html' title='Solely For Encouragement'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900869153411041</id><published>2006-01-13T21:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:18:11.533-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Is Crazy</title><content type='html'>Life has been crazy every since Watch Meeting service.  I don’t know what happened, but all hell has broken loose in my life and I am about to scream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother went off on me about taking out the garbage, among other things.  She cursed me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choir rehearsal has been awful.  Sis. K has started in on me again.  Eld. Pacheco won’t say anything to her.  I left rehearsal last night so down that I wanted to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called Evg. MaCulvie.  He prayed with me.  At the end of the phone call, he said, “It’s only a test.  Just praise God through it all.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still trying to praise God through all of this.  It’s hard, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900869153411041?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900869153411041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900869153411041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/life-is-crazy.html' title='Life Is Crazy'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113900824706001906</id><published>2006-01-02T17:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T17:10:47.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch Meeting Service</title><content type='html'>Watch Meeting Service was great.  I went to the Fellowship wide watch meeting service of the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Fellowship&lt;/a&gt;.  Bishop Adkins preached like a madman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went through the prayer line.  The elder that laid hands on me said, “I see ministry in you.  I command it to come forth!”  I have never fallen out before, until the service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came to, I was crying like crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B.Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113900824706001906?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900824706001906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113900824706001906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2006/01/watch-meeting-service.html' title='Watch Meeting Service'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113600062480169885</id><published>2005-12-30T21:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T21:43:44.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Setting Up My Computer and A Phone Call</title><content type='html'>We didn’t have choir rehearsal on yesterday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was cool with me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Our church is going to the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/"&gt;Greater Buelahland Fellowship&lt;/a&gt; Watch Meeting Service on Dec. 31.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I set up my computer today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hadn’t really picked it up since Christmas morning.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to accept the gift from my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I talked to &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He asked me was I going to refuse a blessing from the Lord.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When he put it that way, I had to use it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I asked my mother for my father’s phone number so I could call him and tell him thank you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I called him and some woman answered.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She gave the phone to my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him thank you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He didn’t seem too enthused about me calling him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tried to talk to him for awhile, but he rushed me off the phone after he said, “I hope you like the computer.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That phone call left me feeling empty.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I set up my computer, that made me feel better.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;At least my father got me a good computer.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113600062480169885?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113600062480169885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113600062480169885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/setting-up-my-computer-and-phone-call.html' title='Setting Up My Computer and A Phone Call'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599602850144038</id><published>2005-12-25T19:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T20:29:02.416-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Service…</title><content type='html'>Man, service was off the chain.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The youth choir tore up the service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone was clapping and rocking with us.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. Genevie Meyer, one of the associate ministers of the church did a sermonette after the youth choir sung.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The combined choir sung well, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They weren’t as good as the youth, but they were good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Lowell Knox, the director of the &lt;a href="http://www.gbfellowship.info/gbf_audeliacc/family_events.html"&gt;Family Care Ministries&lt;/a&gt; preached the main sermon.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He preached for 25 minutes or so.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;His title was “This Is Your Gift.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked about how Jesus was the greatest gift anyone could ever get.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He tore it up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Pacheco let me play for Eld. Knox.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;While Eld. Knox was tuned up, he looked at me and said, “Boy, you are gonna make me wanna preach playing like that.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Service was so cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We got out of church at 12:22 pm.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599602850144038?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599602850144038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599602850144038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-service.html' title='Christmas Service…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599562847588344</id><published>2005-12-25T07:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T20:19:24.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas…</title><content type='html'>Last night, I brought my mother’s chair from &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie’s&lt;/a&gt; house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother kept trying to figure out what it was.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She couldn’t.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I woke up at 5 something this morning.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was so excited.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I woke my mother up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She almost threw something at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She finally got up and we opened our presents.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was excited about her chair.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is going to have to wait until I put it together.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It won’t take long to do because it is some minor things to put on the chair.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I opened my presents.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother got me some comic books.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She does that every year.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She also got me some cologne.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Evg. MaCulvie and his wife got me a blue sweater for Christmas.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was so cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got a gift from my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t believe that nigg* got me anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think my mother may have had something to do with that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t want to open the box, but my mother made me open it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was a laptop.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I couldn’t believe it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost wanted to tell my mother to give it back to my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I decided to keep it because I wanted a laptop badly.&lt;br/&gt;I wonder what my mother said to him to get him to give me one.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am thankful for the laptop.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am thankful for all of my gifts.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I will be leaving for church in a little while.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599562847588344?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599562847588344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599562847588344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599504522754321</id><published>2005-12-22T23:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T20:10:47.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Christmas Rehearsal and More…</title><content type='html'>Tonight was the last rehearsal before Christmas.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It went very well.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Service is going to start at 10:30 on Sunday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Pastor said that we should be out by 12:30.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said that he might let one of the short-winded elders preach on Sunday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone was laughing like crazy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We had our Christmas party at work today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I attend and work at Beggs Street College in the Music Department.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had a white elephant Christmas gift exchange.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why did I leave with a broken calculator?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s cool though because I brought an old pair of my mother’s house shoes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The gift exchange was fun.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am excited about Christmas.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599504522754321?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599504522754321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599504522754321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/last-christmas-rehearsal-and-more.html' title='Last Christmas Rehearsal and More…'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599384043589281</id><published>2005-12-20T19:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T19:52:50.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts I Am Giving</title><content type='html'>I got my mother’s gift today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got her a massage chair that heats up.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had to save up all year to get it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She has been saying that she wanted one of those chairs forever, so I decided to get her one.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; if I could keep it at his house.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was too cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got Evg. MaCulvie a couple of monogrammed handkerchiefs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I hope he likes them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got his wife the same thing, except with her initials on them.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;That’s pretty much my list right there.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am excited about Christmas.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599384043589281?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599384043589281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599384043589281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/gifts-i-am-giving.html' title='Gifts I Am Giving'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599365207191720</id><published>2005-12-15T23:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T19:55:08.980-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Choir Rehearsal #2</title><content type='html'>We rehearsed for Christmas again tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We did &lt;em&gt;Praise the Name of Jesus &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;Come Let’s Celebrate Christ &lt;/em&gt;(&lt;a href="http://nancyjenkins.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Nancy Jenkins&lt;/a&gt;).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was good.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One of Sis. K’s peoples were there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was checking things out to report back to Sis. K.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;After we finished rehearsing the Christmas songs, Sis. K’s operative left rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Pacheco let me do both songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He laughed after service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He said, “I know Sis. K is going to have a fit when she hears that you did both songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wish I could be a fly on the wall when she hears about it.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laughed, too.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am excited about Christmas.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599365207191720?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599365207191720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599365207191720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-choir-rehearsal-2.html' title='Christmas Choir Rehearsal #2'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599348876074313</id><published>2005-12-12T21:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T19:43:58.046-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas List</title><content type='html'>Here is my Christmas list…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Laptop&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Juicer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;New Suit&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;New Shoes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cologne&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sweaters&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Comic Books (X-Men or Spiderman)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am excited about Christmas.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599348876074313?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599348876074313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599348876074313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-list.html' title='Christmas List'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113599329934076085</id><published>2005-12-08T22:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T19:40:48.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Rehearsal Begins</title><content type='html'>We had choir rehearsal tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I also rehearsed with the youth choir on Tuesday.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We are doing a combined choir with the youth, adult, men’s, and women’s choirs.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The youth choir is going to sing two songs by themselves at the beginning of the service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Then, the combined choir is going to sing four songs later in the service.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That is going to be cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I asked pastor if the youth choir could sing by themselves.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was cool with it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am glad.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Well, Sis. K and her peoples weren’t there tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The rest of the choir members were there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;That was cool.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The rehearsal went pretty well, even with the youth there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had a good time.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here’s the song list…&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Youth Choir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Christ Is Born (&lt;a href="http://dmadkins.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;DM Adkins&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Let’s Celebrate (DM Adkins)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Combined Choir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Silent Night&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Joy to the World (Arranged by Eld. Pacheco and myself)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Praise the Name of Jesus&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;li&gt;Come Let’s Celebrate Christ (&lt;a href="http://nancyjenkins.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Nancy Jenkins&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We went over &lt;em&gt;Silent Night &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;Joy to the World &lt;/em&gt;tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Next week, we are going to go over the other two.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We went over some songs to sing on this Sunday, too.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am excited about Christmas.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113599329934076085?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599329934076085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113599329934076085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/christmas-rehearsal-begins.html' title='Christmas Rehearsal Begins'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598927585069653</id><published>2005-12-01T20:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:33:17.806-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Rehearsal Tonight</title><content type='html'>Eld. Pacheco canceled rehearsal tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I heard through the grapevine that he was reprimanded by Eld. Tracey Ford.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Pastor apparently told Eld. Pacheco that he needed to learn how to control the rehearsal sessions or something of that nature.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Pacheco was so upset after the meeting, that he canceled the rehearsal.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don’t know if that is true or not, but I am glad that I didn’t have to go to rehearsal because I was scared that no one would be there but me and Eld. Pacheco.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598927585069653?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598927585069653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598927585069653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/12/no-rehearsal-tonight.html' title='No Rehearsal Tonight'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598906027432090</id><published>2005-11-24T22:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:29:48.176-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It’s Gonna Hit the Fan</title><content type='html'>Pastor was at choir rehearsal tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. K and her crew were there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t know why they were there or who talked them into coming, but they were there.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pastor took over the rehearsal, well, the session.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We didn’t actually have rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Pastor ended up preaching for the whole two hours.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The general theme of his talk was…&lt;br/&gt;“It has come to my attention that some of you are planning on leaving the choir.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If you leave because you are following someone else, you are dealing in witchcraft and you are being disobedient.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No one should leave the choir because of coercion or persuasion because someone doesn’t like the personnel.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Anyone leaving for a non valid reason, will have to answer to me, but most importantly, have to answer to God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This choir will not be destroyed by any one person or spirit.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He talked about a lot of other stuff.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He talked for like an hour straight before he let us take a break and then, when we came back in, he talked for like 45 more minutes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We were so tired when he got through.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don’t know who is going to leave or who is going to stay, but the next few rehearsals are going to be very interesting.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598906027432090?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598906027432090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598906027432090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/its-gonna-hit-fan.html' title='It’s Gonna Hit the Fan'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598845671028742</id><published>2005-11-20T18:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:21:36.393-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Pastor’s Office</title><content type='html'>Eld. Tracey Ford and Eld. Dena Ford called Eld. Pacheco, Sis. K, and myself into the office after service today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It got heated up in the meeting when Eld. Dena Ford told Sis. K that I had the right to ask her to be quiet while I was teaching the song.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. K snapped, “I will just get out of the choir.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If I do that, you can believe that most of the choir will leave with me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;This sissy is not going to tell me what to do.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Tracey Ford said, “Sis. K, I am going to ask you to not call Min. Vick anymore names.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am trying to be nice, but you are making it very hard.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There is no need to call anyone name.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. K rolled her eyes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She still hasn’t apologized to me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t say a word in the meeting.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I started to at first, but I felt lead to just keep my mouth closed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sis. K stormed out of the office.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She was mumbling about taking the whole choir with her, when she left.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Tracey Ford and Eld. Dena Ford asked me to stay in the office after everyone else left.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Tracey Ford said, “I have been hearing some good things about you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keep up the good work.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Dena Ford said, “Be encouraged.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;They said some other stuff before I left.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598845671028742?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598845671028742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598845671028742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/in-pastors-office.html' title='In the Pastor’s Office'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598806776068256</id><published>2005-11-18T22:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:24:52.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Talked to Evg. MaCulvie</title><content type='html'>I called Evg. MaCulvie today.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him about rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was very encouraging.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He said…&lt;br/&gt;“Don’t let that worry you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;People will always say something negative about you.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s just the devil trying to keep you from getting your blessing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;You know what you are and who you are.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Be confident in that and in God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Let the Lord lead you in how to handle this.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hopefully, the minister of music will go to the pastor with this incident.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Be encouraged.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I will be praying for you.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I felt better after talking to him.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don’t know if anything is going to be done about Sis. K because she and her family have been members of the church since half past forever.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have only been a member there for like 3 years.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Man, this is too crazy.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598806776068256?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598806776068256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598806776068256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/talked-to-evg-maculvie.html' title='Talked to Evg. MaCulvie'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598767162226434</id><published>2005-11-17T23:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:23:34.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lord, Help Me</title><content type='html'>Well, tonight at rehearsal was atrocious.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sis. K acted a fool when I taught the song I was going to teach.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She does not like me at all.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It is not my fault that they picked me over her son.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Her and her friends talked the whole time that I was teaching the song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Finally, I said, “Excuse me Sis. K, is what you are saying more important than the song I am teaching?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If it is, you may have the floor.”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;She decided to go off on me and she called me a sissy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I tripped out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Pacheco told her to be quiet and to sit down.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She did as he asked, but she glared at me as if she wanted me to die on the spot.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Pacheco told everyone that Sis. K had leveled a vicious comment at me that should be ignored.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I doubt that it is going to do any good because people, yes even the saints, like to think the worse.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eld. Pacheco told me that he was going to tell Sis. K to apologize to me or else she wouldn’t be allowed to sing in the choir until she did.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t think that she is going to apologize.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This was one of the worse nights of my life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Lord, help me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598767162226434?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598767162226434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598767162226434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/lord-help-me.html' title='Lord, Help Me'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598703323543781</id><published>2005-11-10T17:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T17:57:13.236-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No Rehearsal</title><content type='html'>There was no rehearsal tonight.  I am glad.  I stayed at the house and relaxed.  I worked on some music, too.  I came up with a wonderful melody.  I will have to come up with some words to it later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598703323543781?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598703323543781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598703323543781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/no-rehearsal.html' title='No Rehearsal'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113598690934204284</id><published>2005-11-03T22:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T18:22:50.813-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Choir Rehearsal</title><content type='html'>Tonight rehearsal was good.  There were no incidents and everyone cooperated.&lt;br /&gt;Thank the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113598690934204284?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598690934204284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113598690934204284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/11/choir-rehearsal.html' title='Choir Rehearsal'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113078363167798481</id><published>2005-10-27T17:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:33:51.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama said, “He’s Right.”</title><content type='html'>I told my mother what &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. Rick MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; said during the revival.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mama said, “He is right.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She didn’t say anthing else after that; which meant that the conversation was closed and she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother is like that.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has never said anything to my about my father other than his name and that he was my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I don’t eve n know if she loved him or why she was intimate with him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I guess I will never know.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have asked my aunts, but they won’t tell me anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Hopefully, one day I will know.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113078363167798481?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078363167798481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078363167798481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/mama-said-hes-right.html' title='Mama said, “He’s Right.”'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113052109254941132</id><published>2005-10-24T12:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:26:50.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Felt Like Shouting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. Rick MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; gave me a token of love.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It is the biggest token of love I have ever received for playing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Felt like shouting.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113052109254941132?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113052109254941132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113052109254941132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/felt-like-shouting.html' title='Felt Like Shouting'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113078324919925700</id><published>2005-10-22T03:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:29:50.646-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Revival Night #4</title><content type='html'>Well, tonight was the night.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Maybe I should say last night because it is Saturday morning.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I go tin at like 2:43 or something from church.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; preached like he had lost his mind.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He prayed for everyone in the church, including me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Why did he have me on the floor crying like a baby?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is about to get personal…&lt;br /&gt;Evg. MaCulvie told me that I was still holding a grudge against my father for something that he had done a long time ago and that I could not get where God wants me to go unless I forgive my father and allow God to heal me of my hurt.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I laid on the floor crying forever, I cannot really remember how long I was down there.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;History…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was seven, I saw my father for the first time, by accident.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My mother had a picture of him in her closet.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She always told me who he was, but never said why he was not in my life.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I saw my father in a mall one day while walking with one of my aunts.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “I cannot believe this.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;There goes your no count daddy.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I broke away from her and ran over to him and this girl he was with.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I got a rude awakening after I called him Daddy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He looked at me and said, “Nigga, I ain’t your daddy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told your ignant mama to have an abortion because I didn’t want no kids, no get out of my face you little bast…”&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried for days after that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have hated my father every since.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I really get jealous when I see other guys with their fathers.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the service, Evg. MaCulvie talked to me about my hatred of my father.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was mad at him at first because he had told all those people my business.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Evg. MaCulvie looked a t me and said, “Do not be mad at me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Be mad at God.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He is the One who revealed your story to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I just did what He told me to do.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I fell into his arms and went to crying again.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have never been hugged by a man like that before.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;For a few minutes, it felt like Evg. MaCulvie was my father.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got through crying, Evg. MaCulvie and his friends let me go out to eat with them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I didn’t want to, but Evg. MaCulvie talked me into it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not the same after tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can’t say that there is no more hatred in my heart for my father, but it isn’t as bad as it was before tonight.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113078324919925700?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078324919925700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078324919925700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/revival-night-4.html' title='Revival Night #4'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113078222492653627</id><published>2005-10-20T23:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:34:31.486-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Revival Night #3</title><content type='html'>On tonight, Thursday, I played for Evg. MaCulvie again.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Kourtnee Adams-Austin, the president of &lt;a href="http://www.shimmersinc.info/"&gt;Shimmers Inc&lt;/a&gt;. was there.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She is the best friend of Evg. MaCulvie’s wife.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She sung the sermonic solo.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She could blow.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I almost fell off the organ.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;After church, Mrs. Adams-Austin told me that she enjoyed my playing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt good.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you all tomorrow.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It’s the last night of the revival.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113078222492653627?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078222492653627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078222492653627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/revival-night-3.html' title='Revival Night #3'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113078200792155303</id><published>2005-10-19T23:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:06:47.920-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Revival Night #2</title><content type='html'>On tonight, Wednesday, I played for Evg. MaCulvie again.  I enjoyed him.  His wife was there.  She was cheering him on like crazy.  I hope one day I can have a wife like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired and going to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113078200792155303?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078200792155303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078200792155303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/revival-night-2.html' title='Revival Night #2'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-113078082457508931</id><published>2005-10-18T23:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T12:03:43.246-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Revival Night #1</title><content type='html'>On tonight, Tuesday, I played for &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. Rick MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt; at Greater New Haven Pentecostal Church.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was great.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am tired, so I won’t be writing that much about it.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I will tell you more later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-113078082457508931?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078082457508931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/113078082457508931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/revival-night-1.html' title='Revival Night #1'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-112967175385060210</id><published>2005-10-18T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T16:42:33.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Phone Call</title><content type='html'>I just got a phone call from &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He is preaching in the city of Wyman.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He asked me to come play for him tonight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I told him yes.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am about to flip out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I will write more after tonight.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-112967175385060210?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112967175385060210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112967175385060210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/phone-call.html' title='A Phone Call'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-112966752940542333</id><published>2005-10-18T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T18:28:57.320-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Morning Service</title><content type='html'>Sunday morning service was on fire.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had a guest evangelist, &lt;a href="http://rmacmin.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;Evg. Rick MaCulvie&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He was good.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We went through service as usual.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I invited my aunt, cousins, and some friends to hear me play.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wish my grandmother could have been here to see this.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She died two years ago.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I still miss her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Everyone came.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was cool.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My song was the third song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The choir usually sings four songs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The song was great.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The voice parts were on point; no one missed a note, and the soloist, Shannon Henderson, song under the anointing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It was so amazing.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Folk went to dancing after we finished.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to dance myself, but I stayed on the organ and played.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I cannot believe Eld. Pacheco let me stay on the organ.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He usually plays the shouting music.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The best part of the whole service was that Evg. MaCulvie asked if I could be his accompaniment while he preached.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I wanted to fall out.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Pacheco let me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got in the flesh for a moment.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I looked at Sis. K with a not so nice look on my face.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We made eye contact, too.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I repented before I played for Evg. MaCulvie. :)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-112966752940542333?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112966752940542333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112966752940542333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/sunday-morning-service.html' title='Sunday Morning Service'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17822278.post-112966683218981611</id><published>2005-10-18T15:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T15:23:15.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Night at Choir Rehearsal</title><content type='html'>The last time I spoke to you, I told you about Bible Study and that I would tell you about choir rehearsal on Thursday.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On Thursday, I went to choir rehearsal.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It started out good.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Things went crazy when I was supposed to teach the choir my song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I was going to teach them the &lt;a href="http://dmadkins.alwaysinspired.info/"&gt;DM Adkins&lt;/a&gt; song, “Power in Praise”.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Well, Sis. K, as I will call her stood up and said, “Why is this child teaching us a song?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He is not a part of this choir.”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Eld. Gregg Pacheco, the Minister of Music responded, “Because I asked him, too.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Do you have a problem with it?”&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She said, “Yes,” and then gathered up her stuff and left, along with two of her friends.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I was hurt because her and her friends do that every time I teach the choir a song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think she is mad because I was appointed the Youth Minister of Music over her son, who doesn’t play an instrument.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Her son can sing, but how can you be a minister of music and you cannot play an instrument.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In taught the choir the song.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It went very well.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;M.B. Vick&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17822278-112966683218981611?l=mbvick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112966683218981611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17822278/posts/default/112966683218981611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mbvick.blogspot.com/2005/10/thursday-night-at-choir-rehearsal.html' title='Thursday Night at Choir Rehearsal'/><author><name>Me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_vWzYHRdS2vU/SHjH_vGQAQI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0lGxOgzsdzA/S220/avt_jwidel_DODGE.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
