<?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-30227875</id><updated>2011-07-07T21:03:32.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flight Path</title><subtitle type='html'>My musings on life as I request clearance from the ultimate Air Traffic Controler,God</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-1588555015764212458</id><published>2010-07-02T11:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T12:00:03.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready or not here I come</title><content type='html'>I work at a golf course and many of our machines have headlights on them. For some particular reason, Steve, one of my fellow work mates, decided he would flash his headlights at people to simulate shooting them. So, in essence, we are having flashlight wars with very expensive flashlights.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Steve is very good at this game and very sneaky. Sometimes I can see him approaching and other times he is very sneaky. He has an advantage, he is not using a mower but using a work vehicle that allows him to speed all over the golf course to do what he needs to do. The advantage is that he can hear where I am and can slowly creep over the brow of hill behind me, or hide behind trees and wait for me to turn my machine around and then, WHAM, he hits me with a dazzling display of incandescent glory, leaving me frustrated that he has got me again. When I see him coming, it's a matter of who is thinking about their light switch or who is faster to the draw to determine who is the winner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In a sense, Satan also plays a similar game with us. He is always in attack mode. Sometimes we see him coming but still allow him to attack. What's your power source and how good is it? Are you connected to God allowing him to powerfully shine his light through you or have you temporarily disconnected the cable from this power source. The choice is ours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shine on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-1588555015764212458?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/1588555015764212458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=1588555015764212458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1588555015764212458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1588555015764212458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2010/07/ready-or-not-here-i-come.html' title='Ready or not here I come'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-7639328010109382462</id><published>2008-04-20T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T13:14:59.138-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bobber People</title><content type='html'>Have you ever gone fishing with a bobber and a worm? When that fish hits the worm on the end of the line, the bobber dips or plunges below the surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life can be like that. We represent the bobber and our circumstances represent the dips and plunging. With God, we will always return to the surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John 16:33b "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/SAwH7Fvz5RI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XQjpgF2q_aE/s1600-h/Boober-People.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191533182187726098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/SAwH7Fvz5RI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XQjpgF2q_aE/s320/Boober-People.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-7639328010109382462?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/7639328010109382462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=7639328010109382462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/7639328010109382462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/7639328010109382462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2008/04/boober-people.html' title='Bobber People'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/SAwH7Fvz5RI/AAAAAAAAAEI/XQjpgF2q_aE/s72-c/Boober-People.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-8859481185722894060</id><published>2008-01-01T17:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T18:27:11.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong Runway Dude</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-5293c4ec684a8464" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D5293c4ec684a8464%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330180614%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6658168DDA9F0D28177A04E897E4D947B42A27ED.4E222637A9187E73B5BD9959FD1E52257420E641%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D5293c4ec684a8464%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6Tw8ThmafzjEciG9qlaRrEpOdOU&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v4.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D5293c4ec684a8464%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330180614%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6658168DDA9F0D28177A04E897E4D947B42A27ED.4E222637A9187E73B5BD9959FD1E52257420E641%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D5293c4ec684a8464%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6Tw8ThmafzjEciG9qlaRrEpOdOU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Courtenay Airpark 2006&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Back in November of 2006 I wrote a post called "Boom Baby". At the end of post I mentioned eventually taking off again. Well, I have been flying again. Just remember, a runway has two numbers, one for each direction it faces. The sinlge runway at Nanaimo is 16 or 34, Vernon 05 or 23 and Qualicum 11 or 29.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may be cleared to fly but make sure you use the right runway. I took off awhile ago and flew in the wrong direction. BOOM! Whoa, there goes the tail section. Anti-aircraft guns are still in operation. As expected, crash and burn. Now, I have a mess and repairs to be done. Having said all that, the incident has given me the answer to my question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last day I flew an actual plane I used the wrong runway. I heard the radio operator say the wind direction, but it went in one ear and out the other. I never really considered the information given to me. Never takeoff in a tailwind. Everything turned out alright, but listening would have eliminated the problem. The consequence was I never flew again, ...my decision, nobody elses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I fly again? Yes, figuratively and possibly in reality as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-8859481185722894060?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=5293c4ec684a8464&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/8859481185722894060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=8859481185722894060' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8859481185722894060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8859481185722894060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2008/01/wrong-runway-dude.html' title='Wrong Runway Dude'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-6416085326780703283</id><published>2007-10-31T22:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T22:44:37.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Picture</title><content type='html'>Sometimes people ask me where I work. When I tell them I work at a golf course at which one it is the reponse is something like, "Oh, that is such a nice course!" My reponse (to my self) is generally something like, "Yah, whatever." They don't work at the course so they don't see the wet spots, the ruts, the bumps, the bare batches...and on and on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is your life like that? Are you seeing the bumps and ruts and missing the beauty that others see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day at work recently, I was thinking, "Why do I suck at being social?" Here is the thought that came to me. "Because that is the way I made you and I got a plan."That's doesn't mean God doesn't want me to improve in this area but let's stick with my original thought shall we.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My social ineptitude is a bump, BUT God sees the BIG PICTURE. He's got a plan for me. He's got a plan for you. Maybe we need to step back every once and awhile and take a look at the big picture and not the details.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-6416085326780703283?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/6416085326780703283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=6416085326780703283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6416085326780703283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6416085326780703283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/10/big-picture.html' title='The Big Picture'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-2554401646275096020</id><published>2007-08-14T18:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T19:15:26.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stray glove</title><content type='html'>In the Bible, in Matthew 18:10-14 you can read The Parable of the Lost Sheep. It tells of a man who has a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away. The man leaves the 99 to go look for the one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why would somebody do this? Would somebody actually do that? This parable has always sort of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;baffled&lt;/span&gt; me. But maybe we do what the parable is talking about and we don't even know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other morning I was making my way down from my third floor apartment to my motorcycle. I had a lot of stuff with me as I was about to make my way to work. When I finally made it to my motorcycle I realized I had dropped a glove on my way from my apartment. I left &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; I had brought with me in the parking lot next to my motorcycle to go find the missing glove. And when I found it, great joy was mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parable has nothing to do with motorcycle gloves. After I looked in my Bible commentary, I found out the parable has to do with God having concern about his little ones and how we should show concern for others as well. But that is not the point I am trying to make here. The point I am trying to make is that the God's Word does make sense and does reflect our tendencies as humans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-2554401646275096020?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/2554401646275096020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=2554401646275096020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/2554401646275096020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/2554401646275096020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/08/stray-glove.html' title='Stray glove'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-4598451866706083331</id><published>2007-08-14T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T18:46:08.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Traffic Signals</title><content type='html'>Your travelling down a busy road, surrounded by other vehicles doing the same. You are all hurtling you way toward a traffic signal which at the moment is green. Suddenly brakelights appear in front of you, and the long string of traffic slows down and eventually comes to a halt. The traffic signal has changed from green to red. You are close enough to the intersection to see what is crossing the path of the busy intersection, one car. ONE CAR! Are you kidding me? The traffic light changed for that one car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you where the only one on earth, Jesus still would have died for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-4598451866706083331?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/4598451866706083331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=4598451866706083331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/4598451866706083331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/4598451866706083331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/08/traffic-signals.html' title='Traffic Signals'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-8549127747819591683</id><published>2007-06-22T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T13:23:27.831-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Biblical DOH!</title><content type='html'>In the book of 1 Samuel 13 we read the account of King Saul getting impatient waiting for Samuel, the prophet, to arrive. Saul in his haste sacrificed burnt offerings and fellowship offerings in place of Samuel. Samuel, in chapter 10 verse 8 had told Saul that he would come and sacrifce the offerings. Shortly after King Saul had finished with the sacrifices, guess who showed up? Yup, Samuel. DOH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you waiting for something from God? Are waiting for that special someone that just never seems to arrive? Does it seem like you are in an impossible situation? Are you tired of hearing God say, "Nope, not that one."? I know I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Saul disobeyed Samuel it cost him the kingship. If we decide not to wait for God's leading and obey his instructions in this matter, disaster is the order of the day... and it probably doesn't come wtih fries and a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does God have someone for each one of us? It is possible. Some of us may never marry. But you may be on the edge of the Jordon about to cross into the promised land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is better to wait than to say DOH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-8549127747819591683?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/8549127747819591683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=8549127747819591683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8549127747819591683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8549127747819591683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/06/biblical-doe.html' title='Biblical DOH!'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-6834669782656239980</id><published>2007-06-22T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T23:15:38.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Zamboni</title><content type='html'>Have you ever seen a sheet of ice at an arena before it has been skated on? Our life is kind of like that sheet of ice, smooth and shiny at the beginning for most of us. As life continues, we get gouged and rutted up over time with out experiences. But if we come to know Jesus, He floods into our lives and the gouges and ruts are smoothed out. He is the Great Zamboni. Do all our problems and troubles disappear when we invite the Great Zamboni onto our ice surface? No, but He gives us the strength to carry on when we face those gouges and rough spots in life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-6834669782656239980?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/6834669782656239980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=6834669782656239980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6834669782656239980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6834669782656239980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/06/great-zamboni.html' title='The Great Zamboni'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-6745640209768092351</id><published>2007-06-22T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T23:07:17.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord is my SAR Tech I shall not sink...</title><content type='html'>As I a child I had a poster of a ship sinking at sea in the middle of a storm. A man was still on the ship waiting to be resuced. Above him was a military helicopter with a Search and Rescue (SAR)Technician being lowered down to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have been thinking of my salvation along these lines. The sea represents my sin and me sinking in it. The helicopter represents God. Big and almighty with all sorts of power as the rotors of the helicopter spin with tremendous noise and incredible force. The SAR tech represents Jesus. He was lowered from heaven to save me from my sin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salvation to me is being resuced from my sin and that is what Jesus did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-6745640209768092351?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/6745640209768092351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=6745640209768092351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6745640209768092351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/6745640209768092351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/06/lord-is-my-sar-tech-i-shall-not-sink.html' title='The Lord is my SAR Tech I shall not sink...'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-8683536235004156777</id><published>2007-05-14T00:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T01:10:08.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who are the people in your neighbourhood?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't go to church tonight. Why? Probably because I don't know the people in my neighbourhood. When we go to church I, like many, normally sit down in the same general area. You could call this our neighbourhood. Do we welcome our neighbours, or just accept that they are there and don't bother to get to know them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was helping to stack chairs at an evening service. Helping is great, but my motive was wrong. I was avoiding getting to know my neighbours. If I help long enough, people leave and I don't have to get to know them. Pretty sneaky huh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I rode a train from Edmonton to Vancouver one year as I headed back to the Island for Christmas. I got to talking to two other fellows on the trip. What we talked about was just stuff, nothing of real importance from what I remember. Here is the kicker, none of us throughout the entire trip knew the other person's name! We didn't really know our neighbour, we just accepted they where there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a pastor tell me one time, "I knew you where here, I saw your truck." That might not mean much to you, but to me it spoke volumes. You know my face, you know my name, you know my TRUCK. Thanks neighbour. I know your vehicle also.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know about you, but I need to meet my neighbours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-8683536235004156777?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/8683536235004156777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=8683536235004156777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8683536235004156777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8683536235004156777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/05/who-are-people-in-your-neighbourhood.html' title='Who are the people in your neighbourhood?'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-2227407297257327118</id><published>2007-05-13T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T00:21:26.698-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prison Walls</title><content type='html'>I taught a Sunday School class today on Acts 12, the miraculous escape of Peter from prison. Amazingly enough I think it has applications to us singles out there that want to be married. You may feel that being single, you are in an impossible situation. Let's face it, sometimes it feels that way doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter was in an impossible situation, chained up between two watchmen, guards everywhere, a locked iron gate that lead to the city and not a Tim Hortons coffee to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disregard the Tim Horton thing...I don't even drink coffee. Better make it a Tim Horton peanut butter cookie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our "impossible" situation is like a prison. But be sure of this, God still cares and He knows what we are going through and He has a plan. We do serve an impossible God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-2227407297257327118?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/2227407297257327118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=2227407297257327118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/2227407297257327118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/2227407297257327118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/05/prison-walls.html' title='Prison Walls'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-1247114020796247825</id><published>2007-04-11T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T10:40:42.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The jack-in-the-box</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rh0ZV75mfbI/AAAAAAAAADM/mZZ4f0-CJYQ/s1600-h/JackintheBox.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052222221626801586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rh0ZV75mfbI/AAAAAAAAADM/mZZ4f0-CJYQ/s200/JackintheBox.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Growing up as a child we had a jack-in-the-box in our family. Sometimes I would grab that handle and spin it as fast as I could to see how fast I could get the music to go while holding down the lid. I can still remember the tune it played.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; I bought the jack-in-the-box pictured here for my niece and what was the first thing I did when I got it? Spun that handle as fast as I could to see how fast the music would go. Is this a guy thing? Focus! Focus!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The jack-in-the-box we had was a clown with thin plastic hands. Sometimes I would stick his hands out, push the rest of him into the box and close the lid. The only part of the clown sticking out was his little plastic hands pinched between the lid. I wonder what is in that box? I see some plastic hands so there must be something in there, but what?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I heard a sermon recently about God living inside of us. It reminded me of this jack-in-the-box. How much of God's character do we show, just the hands? If somebody was to turn your handle, what would pop out? What music would you play? Let God out of your box. He wants to come out.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-1247114020796247825?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/1247114020796247825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=1247114020796247825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1247114020796247825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1247114020796247825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/04/jack-in-box.html' title='The jack-in-the-box'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rh0ZV75mfbI/AAAAAAAAADM/mZZ4f0-CJYQ/s72-c/JackintheBox.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-8934691421276781184</id><published>2007-03-14T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-14T14:42:32.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life in the Inuksuk Pile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RfhPhjPExOI/AAAAAAAAADA/kOYsV_s0vRE/s1600-h/Inuksukpile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041867220654015714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RfhPhjPExOI/AAAAAAAAADA/kOYsV_s0vRE/s320/Inuksukpile.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I was in Duncan on Monday visiting a friend. We went to Dairy Queen for something to eat. Dairy Queen in Duncan has planters along the booths with white stones in the planters. Being a mature adult waiting for a meal and sitting next to loose rocks I decided to build with them. What does a mature adult build with rocks? An Inuksuk (Innuit spelling).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on the internet today to try to figure out how to spell Inuksuk as I could not find a spelling in my dictionary. I also found out a little about them. Each stone is balanced and supported by others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You provide balance and support to others. You are important! You are here for a purpose; your life has meaning.  Why? Because that is the way God designed you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:13-16&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-8934691421276781184?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/8934691421276781184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=8934691421276781184' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8934691421276781184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8934691421276781184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/03/life-in-inuksuk-pile.html' title='Life in the Inuksuk Pile'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RfhPhjPExOI/AAAAAAAAADA/kOYsV_s0vRE/s72-c/Inuksukpile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-3162660396258576246</id><published>2007-02-11T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T21:53:51.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kevin's Lumber Yard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RdAk7nVaIMI/AAAAAAAAAC0/kiBvD_Kad2E/s1600-h/felcosurpriseWR.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since about the middle of October I have been working Sundays. So no more going to church. This week I have been very annoyed by the fact that only one person has called me to see why I haven't been at church. Many people know why I haven't been to church, but I haven't been to anything else either due to my fluctuating schedule or because I just didn't want to go. Why hasn't anyone called me to see how I am doing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ring Ring!&lt;br /&gt;"Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Hey Kevin, it's God."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh hey God"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"I would like to order four 2X4's and six 2X8's."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all time there is a plank in your own eye?"&lt;/span&gt; Mattew 7:3-4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time ago a man at our church had a stroke. I never went to the hospital to see him and I never called when I heard he had come home...I still haven't called.&lt;br /&gt;When I was teaching Sunday School there was kids that just seemed to stop coming. What happened to Dakota, Cameron, Lizzy, Shania...? The list goes on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Kevin's Lumber Yard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-3162660396258576246?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/3162660396258576246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=3162660396258576246' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/3162660396258576246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/3162660396258576246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/02/kevins-lumber-yard.html' title='Kevin&apos;s Lumber Yard'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-1034651671887789545</id><published>2007-02-05T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T00:20:05.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing buddies and Tonka Joe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RdAidHVaIKI/AAAAAAAAACc/okVxS-RG5zA/s1600-h/Happy-FishingWR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030558667353235618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RdAidHVaIKI/AAAAAAAAACc/okVxS-RG5zA/s200/Happy-FishingWR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I was looking through some old papers a while ago and found a quote from a sermon I had heard, "Lone Rangers are Dead Rangers." This got me thinking about my post, "In the harbour". Not a good idea to be heading out to the open sea without other fishing buddies. As Ecclesiastes 4:12 puts it, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."&lt;br /&gt;We need fishing buddies for defense and preventitive maintenance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I heard from a sermon that was about loneliness: to overcome loniless, build bridges, not walls. It's hard to make friends when you are surrounded by walls. I have been reminded recently that if I am waiting for somebody to call me to say something like, "Hey man! What's going on?"It's not going to happen. I have to put my engineer hat on and start building bridges. You can call me Tonka Joe, from Tonka Joe Construction. Gotta go, I am expecting a delivery of steel girders.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030555416062992530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RdAff3VaIJI/AAAAAAAAACI/ko2N24W-dKo/s200/tonkakenWR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-1034651671887789545?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/1034651671887789545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=1034651671887789545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1034651671887789545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/1034651671887789545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/02/fishing-buddies-and-tonka-joe.html' title='Fishing buddies and Tonka Joe'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RdAidHVaIKI/AAAAAAAAACc/okVxS-RG5zA/s72-c/Happy-FishingWR.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-4746050552307777763</id><published>2007-01-28T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T18:40:16.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Will Praise You In This Storm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rb1cxHXm5vI/AAAAAAAAABE/S8SNOnSUQTc/s1600-h/storm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025274758076753650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rb1cxHXm5vI/AAAAAAAAABE/S8SNOnSUQTc/s320/storm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The waves they just seem to keep coming, relentlessy,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Again and again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lord, will you calm the storm?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You have calmed the storms so many times in my life&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So why do I find myself questioning if you will do it again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This time it's different though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But is it really?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You are the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lord, calm me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-4746050552307777763?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/4746050552307777763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=4746050552307777763' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/4746050552307777763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/4746050552307777763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-will-praise-you-in-this-storm.html' title='I Will Praise You In This Storm'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rb1cxHXm5vI/AAAAAAAAABE/S8SNOnSUQTc/s72-c/storm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-206609712099043693</id><published>2007-01-11T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T23:49:16.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In the harbour</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rac1w82ud2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/TgEOg7QHwDk/s1600-h/Five+Fingers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019039424813365090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rac1w82ud2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/TgEOg7QHwDk/s320/Five+Fingers.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's is nice in the harbour, even on a foggy day. The colours may be muted, but it is still a pretty place to be. A harbour by nature is a shelther from the storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at a church service this week and the question was asked, "What are you hungry for?"&lt;br /&gt;During the service I could picture a fishing vessel heading out of the harbour into the open water, bobbing up and down with seagulls flying around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out in the open it is not so safe. The water is much deeper and the wind much stronger, but the water is much fresher. Am I hungry to go deeper with God? Am I willing to get knocked around by the storms of life because of what I believe? Am I willing to put my faith into action? Is God really my anchor in the sea of suffering?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you are just coming into the harbour from being battered around out there. Welcome, enjoy your stay and get refreshed, repaired, restored and whatever else you need to do. You can take my berth, I've been in the harbour far too long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-206609712099043693?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/206609712099043693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=206609712099043693' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/206609712099043693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/206609712099043693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2007/01/in-harbour.html' title='In the harbour'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/Rac1w82ud2I/AAAAAAAAAAs/TgEOg7QHwDk/s72-c/Five+Fingers.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-8453274765212910015</id><published>2006-12-14T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T20:10:00.288-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn signals</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RYIJzwwKqmI/AAAAAAAAAAM/brVfNdgbbaw/s1600-h/Turnsignal.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008576520454318690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RYIJzwwKqmI/AAAAAAAAAAM/brVfNdgbbaw/s200/Turnsignal.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of my pet peeves while driving is the fact that people don't use their turn signals."Nice signal buddy!" All vehicles have them and I am sure the majority of them work. People just decide not to use them. They benefit the driver but they also benefit those around the driver, maybe even more so than the driver.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has given us all gifts. They benefit us, but they are also given to benefit those around us. Use your gifts! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administrating God's grace in its various forms. 1 Peter 4:10&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-8453274765212910015?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/8453274765212910015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=8453274765212910015' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8453274765212910015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/8453274765212910015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/12/turn-signals.html' title='Turn signals'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LEfVvcsMXtw/RYIJzwwKqmI/AAAAAAAAAAM/brVfNdgbbaw/s72-c/Turnsignal.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-470930800425297391</id><published>2006-12-04T22:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T23:42:13.842-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reminders</title><content type='html'>I must admit I am struggling with this flight back down to the ground. Maybe it was a case of friendly fire? No, I don't think so. Below are reminders that tell me to just wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Will you follow where I lead?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Will you surrender all to me? All the dreams, all the plans?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future..." Jeremiah 29:11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God does the impossible. He is an impossible God          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sees each tear that falls and he hears me when I call - song, &lt;em&gt;He knows my name&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe God wants for me the exact thing that I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't settle for second best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to tell you I feel a lot better now than when I started entering this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-470930800425297391?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/470930800425297391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=470930800425297391' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/470930800425297391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/470930800425297391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/12/boom-baby-part-two.html' title='Reminders'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-7672796657521654900</id><published>2006-11-27T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T16:12:09.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boom Baby!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7587/3689/1600/323656/boomboom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7587/3689/200/471738/boomboom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Ahhhh, flying the friendly skies. I think today I will fly over enemy territory and see if that special young lady has any mutal feelings for me. &lt;strong&gt;BOOM!&lt;/strong&gt; Whoa! Taking some damage, but I am still flying. No worries, I'll just head back to base. &lt;strong&gt;BOOM!&lt;/strong&gt; Direct hit! Mayday Mayday! I can't hold her any longer. I'm going down. I have to bail out! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;So off comes the canopy and a push of the ejection button and &lt;em&gt;whoosh&lt;/em&gt;, I am clear of my burning wreakage I once called a possibility. Another dream shot down to earth in a heap of flames, but it's not so bad. The journey back to earth is a time to reflect on what happened. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Better to live in reality than fantasy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Prayer is a dangerous thing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;"Lord help me to know if I should pursue a relationship with this particular person."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Sure, no problem. I can do that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BOOM! BOOM!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;"Thanks Lord...your hilarious."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;When I finally reach the ground, it will be time to find the airport, get in another plane, and wait for clearance to go flying again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-7672796657521654900?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/7672796657521654900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=7672796657521654900' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/7672796657521654900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/7672796657521654900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/11/boom-baby.html' title='Boom Baby!'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-5092860605782480944</id><published>2006-11-25T20:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T21:09:42.031-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you want?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7587/3689/1600/181886/NastyCropped.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 177px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" height="198" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/7587/3689/320/233149/NastyCropped.jpg" width="192" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Every once and awhile somebody will approach me and I know that the only reason they are going to come talk to me is because they want something, not because they care to know how I am doing, or anything else about me. Sometimes I wish they would just want to say hello.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Having said that, do I treat God that way? "Hey God, how are you? Yah yah whatever. I got this problem and I need you to fix it for me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I met this fellow a few years ago and he said that he told God jokes. I thought he was crazy. Telling God jokes! Seriously? As I think about it now, maybe it's not so crazy. Maybe that is the way our relationship with God is supposed to be. A real relationship, not just wanting stuff all the time but wanting to just spend time with Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I might not start telling Him jokes, but I can cetainly improve on my just spending time with Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-5092860605782480944?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/5092860605782480944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=5092860605782480944' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/5092860605782480944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/5092860605782480944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-do-you-want.html' title='What do you want?'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-116405599015506323</id><published>2006-11-20T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-25T18:06:43.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What happened???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/armsleeves.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" height="318" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/400/armsleeves.jpg" width="237" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been offline for a month. That is why there has not been any recent posts to my blog. But why, why has there not been any posts? When your arms are fuzzy it is hard to type. Now that I have shaved my arms here is the reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of October I went away to a thing called an Encounter Weekend. This is when you dedicate the whole weekend to being with God and learning more about Him. At the end of the weekend there is an option to take a 30 day media fast. That includes no books, no music, no tv, no video games, no internet-unless it is for work. The idea being it helps you focus on God. Oh, you can read your Bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hard at times but for the most part I didn't miss the media. The other day I turned on my radio and shortly after it was on I turned it off. I didn't need it, it was annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a few blog ideas while I was on my media fast and I hope to share them shortly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-116405599015506323?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/116405599015506323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=116405599015506323' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/116405599015506323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/116405599015506323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/11/what-happened.html' title='What happened???'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115931809518010981</id><published>2006-09-26T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T18:30:52.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick your battles</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/fightersunset2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/320/fightersunset2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever received a poison email? Maybe you have sent a poison email. The old adage is true. It is better to give than receive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh how techonology has opened up wonderful ways for us to get back at each other. Unfortunately email lacks inflection in tone, and body language. At least with the phone you used to be able to slam the reciever back into it's cradle to make a point. But now there is a pleasant little 'click'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point. Think twice before you send that email. Is it really worth the battle you may start, or continue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;An offended brother is more unyeilding than a fortified city, and disputes are like the barred gates of a citadel - Proverbs 18:19&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/320/pilot-lookback.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115931809518010981?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115931809518010981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115931809518010981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115931809518010981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115931809518010981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/09/pick-your-battles.html' title='Pick your battles'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115799081079064550</id><published>2006-09-11T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-18T15:43:12.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you hear what I hear?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/FriendsWR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/320/FriendsWR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;WARNING: If you don't like gross things, you won't want to read the first part, just skip to the second paragraph.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;This morning I was awoken by a familiar sound. The sound of one of my cats vomitting somewhere in the apartment. As I lay in my bed I was trying to figure out which cat it was before I got up to find out where they where and how much of a mess they had made. I am familiar enough with the sounds that I able to figure out most times which cat is disloding a hairball, plant dirt or whatever it is that is disagreeing with them. This skill, if you can call it a skill, takes time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;How skillfull are we at distinguishing the voice of God from our own? I don't always get it right as I am very good at justifying what I want to do and somehow line it up Biblically. The Bible tells us that the heart is deceitful above all things. Jeremiah 17:9. You would be wise to check it out for yourself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Let's not give up on the practicing of listening for God. Tune your internal radio to His station and in time there will be less and less static and we will hear Him more clearly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115799081079064550?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115799081079064550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115799081079064550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115799081079064550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115799081079064550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/09/do-you-hear-what-i-hear.html' title='Do you hear what I hear?'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115750555242096018</id><published>2006-09-05T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T18:25:25.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Animal Tracks</title><content type='html'>I work at a golf course and at this particular golf course we have sand traps. We also have wildlife, such as, blacktailed deer, Canadian Geese, American Geese if their passports  are up to date, racoons and other such critters. These animals sometimes like to walk through the sand traps. They leave footprints which give us evidence that they have been in the sand trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day on my way home from work I had a statement come up in my mind as might be asked by a non-Christian. "Show me evidence that He lives inside of you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about some of the things I do. Is this evidence, or is it just a show? "We can do it too Poochanella Poochanella" as the Elementary song goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is the God Print in my life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115750555242096018?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115750555242096018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115750555242096018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115750555242096018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115750555242096018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/09/animal-tracks.html' title='Animal Tracks'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115561163932498239</id><published>2006-08-14T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T18:11:08.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Deep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/qbblue.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/200/qbblue.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the weekend I was playing flag football. In one of the huddles the quaterback told me to run straight down the field and just keep going. If I was open he would throw me the ball. After the play started, off I went. I beat my coverage, Shadow Brown, and had gone a far distance down the field and thought to myself, I have gone to far; he can't throw it that far. I could hear the quaterback faintly in the distance, "&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;keep going, keep going&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;". I slowed down but kept moving farther down the field. The quaterback let go of the ball and it sailed way over my head. The quaterback knew he could throw that far. He knew what he was talking about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times do we limit God. God, you can't do that. It's too far, it's too hard, it's not natural.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's that Lord? Yes Lord, going deep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115561163932498239?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115561163932498239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115561163932498239' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115561163932498239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115561163932498239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/08/go-deep.html' title='Go Deep'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115489517399841055</id><published>2006-08-06T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T21:17:58.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken Wheelbarrow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/wheelbarrow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/200/wheelbarrow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A long long time ago in a land not so far away, I was using a wheelbarrow. I was piling rocks in it and hauling them away. On one of those loads I put too many rocks in it and the wheelbarrow tipped over. The wheelbarrow was made of hard plastic and when it tipped the cargo area flexed with the weight that was in it and large crack was created in the bottom of the wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow still works but it makes it hard to put water in it to wash tools or soak potted plants when water keeps leaking out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are like that wheelbarrow. We make mistakes and get cracked and broken and then figure God can't use us anymore. We may be broken but God can still use us. The Bible is full of people just like you and me who have made bad choices who have gone on to do incredible things for God. David and Moses come to mind right away. You may be broken but God can still use you...and he can use me too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115489517399841055?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115489517399841055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115489517399841055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115489517399841055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115489517399841055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/08/broken-wheelbarrow.html' title='Broken Wheelbarrow'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115437363681112832</id><published>2006-07-31T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-06T23:52:19.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When the fog rolls in</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/grainelevatorwackedoutskyWR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="255" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/320/grainelevatorwackedoutskyWR.jpg" width="188" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/NanharbMarch06.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/1600/NanharbMarch06.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the joy of oil painting. I start out with such vigor and things go great. The painting gets further and further along and then it happens. I realize something is not right. Now what am I going do?Oil painting is not like drawing where out comes the Pink Pearl eraser when I make a booboo. I have two choices, wipe it off or use more paint. Trying to cover up mistakes is difficult and the painting starts to look like a big fog has come in covering over all the details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="228" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/101/3237/320/whenthefogrollsinWR.jpg" width="217" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How often in life do we start out with great vigor? What happens when the fog rolls in? How close are those rocks in the sea of life that looked so far in the distance before the fog rolled in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 23 tells us that the Lord will lead us through the valley of the shadow of death. How about the valley of what ever we are going through? I believe He will. Maybe at this time, you are like me, and you seem to be in that fog and the details have become smudged. Rest assure if we look to our Shepherd He will lead us through and the sun will once again shine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my painting will once again have details and be finished. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115437363681112832?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115437363681112832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115437363681112832' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115437363681112832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115437363681112832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/07/when-fog-rolls-in.html' title='When the fog rolls in'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115318668608102893</id><published>2006-07-17T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T21:06:14.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Favourite Inventor</title><content type='html'>Do you have a favourite inventor? I do and it's Thomas Edison, the inventor of the lightbulb.&lt;br /&gt;How about a second favourite inventor? How about Archimedes, you know, the maker of the Archimedes screw for drawing water up from ditches to irrigation canals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The great thing I like about the stories about Edison is that he was accustomed to failure. But he didn't quit. "Results? Why, man, I have gotten lots of results! If I find 10, 000 ways something won't work, I haven't failed." - Thomas Edison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Failure is normal, and haven't we all failed. I know I have, whether it be failed tests, failed relationships, failed dreams, or failing to clean up my apartment. I am working on the apartment thing...really I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reading a book called, "The Art of Rejection" by Hayley DiMarco and Michael DiMarco. They use Edison as an example and his invention of the lightbulb, and maybe that is why I like the book so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every undesirable result brings me one step closer to finding the answer. One day I will invent the lightbulb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115318668608102893?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115318668608102893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115318668608102893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115318668608102893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115318668608102893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/07/favourite-inventor.html' title='Favourite Inventor'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115197733204789928</id><published>2006-07-03T18:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T18:54:43.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How hard could it be?</title><content type='html'>Today I made my way down to Duncan to visit a friend to play some golf...I totally rallied, great word Heather. Anyhow, while I was down there I thought I might as well go find the airport in Duncan after I had finished visiting. I have had some interest in finding it as I am a former student pilot. So the time came for the adventure to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a general idea of where to go, but not really. How hard could it be? Things where going great until I came to a four way stop, or was it a five way stop? Anyhow, which was the right way? I choose a direction and went with it. After driving for what seemed a long time I decided to pull over and see if my map of the Cowichan Valley was still in my vehicle. It was, so I located it and still got a little lost but eventually found my way to the private airstrip. When it came time to drive back to town, with the help of the map, I discovered that the airstrip really wasn't that far from the main road. I had made my journey way harder than it had to be without the map.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My adventure is not unlike my Spiritual walk at times. I figure I can make it on my own. How hard could it be? After awhile I eventually do pull over and look for the map I have had from the very start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Maybe you should pull over?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No Lord, just a little bit further I think I can make it from here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"Ok, but I am here when you need me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have the Bible but it also helpful to have people to guide us who have been down the same road. Just like when I asked a gentleman working in his garden if he knew where the airport was. I read the map wrong and it lead to his house, but he had been down the road to the airport before and was able to guide me back on the right path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded of a message given by Chris King that went something like this. As long as we keep moving God can still direct us. It may take longer to get where He wants us, but we will eventually get there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115197733204789928?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115197733204789928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115197733204789928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115197733204789928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115197733204789928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-hard-could-it-be.html' title='How hard could it be?'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115182340302573350</id><published>2006-07-01T23:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T20:39:01.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get those roots down</title><content type='html'>Back in elementary school I can clearly remember a science project I saw in one of our text books dealing with erosion. It had a before and after picture of the effects of erosion. There was pile of soil with coloured popsicle sticks placed in it. The popsicle sticks where standing straight up. After water was applied to the soil the popsicle sticks where no longer straight but a various angles. Erosion changes things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Christian life is also subject to erosion. Erosion doesn't happen all of a sudden, it's gradual, from my understanding. My thought life can erode my Christian walk. Summer is tough on a guy. There is a lot of erosion out there...any time of the year. If you think you are going to be safe at church, don't kid yourself. I find that can be one of the worst places. The mall ranks right up there in the top three. Not sure what the third is? I will have to think about that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do we fight erosion? "How can a young man keep his way pure? By living according to your word. I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands." Psalm 119: 9-10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One way to stop erosion in the natural is by having plants send down roots. So we should do the same. I need to send my roots deeper into the word of God. Psalm 1 talks about the righteous, being "...like a tree that is planted by the sreams of water which yeilds its fruit in season and does not wither." I want to be that tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115182340302573350?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115182340302573350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115182340302573350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115182340302573350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115182340302573350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/07/get-those-roots-down.html' title='Get those roots down'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30227875.post-115163912573313997</id><published>2006-06-29T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T20:59:14.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The wisdom of fly paper</title><content type='html'>Ever have one of those days, maybe even one of those weeks...Shall I continue?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at work the other morning, looked at my watch and only an hour had gone by. Seven more hours of feeling whatever I was feeling. I was cutting tee decks at the golf course during a shotgun start so I am sure I was frustrated. Beating myself up that I was taking far too long, trying to convince myself that I do a better job than everybody else so it was ok to take longer. Fact is, nobody cares how well they are done, just get them done. Although that may not be entirely true, we care a little bit as a crew how well somebody else does their job, very little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was feeling pretty crappy when I walked in the door to my living space. The cats normally greet me, happy to see that the food guy just arrived. Today was different, Sarah greeted with a roll of fly paper stuck to her fur. Suddenly all those feelings about me disappear and the only thing that concerns me is this cat with fly paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it strange how one event can change the attitudes we have. We may be feeling great all day and something may happen and our whole day is ruined and we turn into a Mr. Grumpy Pants. Unfortunately, it seldom happens the other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't take advice well, if someone had told me to snap out of it, I probably would respond with a classic response to myself,something like,"Shut up!" But when a cat and some fly paper give me advice, I listen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/30227875-115163912573313997?l=turfsmurf.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/feeds/115163912573313997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=30227875&amp;postID=115163912573313997' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115163912573313997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/30227875/posts/default/115163912573313997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://turfsmurf.blogspot.com/2006/06/wisdom-of-fly-paper.html' title='The wisdom of fly paper'/><author><name>Kevin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06182909312182363272</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
