<?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-60879724163543849</id><updated>2011-07-16T21:34:10.820-05:00</updated><category term='Other'/><category term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Coram DEO</title><subtitle type='html'>Seek and you will find</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-5126907936685658901</id><published>2008-10-21T10:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T12:22:29.753-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt13</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; could not get the woman's words out of his mind, as hard as he tried. They nagged him, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;comforted&lt;/span&gt; him, and confused him. On one hand they struck him as so astoundingly and delightfully true, but something about them seemed false. Wavering at the back of his mind was a small, quiet voice of reason telling him that she was wrong and even dangerous. Excusing this, he let himself entertain the voice's notions. His father was not an evil man, he had always been kind to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;. In fact, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; could never really remember a time when his father had been cruel to him. But he had made one unforgivable error: he had viewed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; as common and ordinary. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; could not get over the falseness of that description, he was so obviously extraordinary! Or was he? Was he really as special as he imagined himself to be? Didn't people wish they could be him? Didn't he have more power than his lame father would ever have? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; decided that he must rise to even higher greatness so as to leave no doubt in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;anyone's&lt;/span&gt; mind of his worth. The woman had been right, he acknowledged humbly. His anger and -what had she called it? Ah, "bitterness"- his anger and bitterness were driving him to become better. He was becoming a master over his own mind and he would wield the power of his emotions to his own advantage. He push the small voice so far into the recesses of his thoughts that he could no longer hear its lies. He hungrily painted a new but skewed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;picture&lt;/span&gt; of his father- worthless, weak and foolish. His deep happiness was hindered by one thing, however- in remembering his father he was forced to recall his mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-5126907936685658901?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/5126907936685658901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=5126907936685658901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5126907936685658901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5126907936685658901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/10/lemurick-pt13.html' title='Lemurick pt13'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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-60879724163543849.post-1821494697880373741</id><published>2008-10-20T15:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T16:36:17.272-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt12</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/SPz4hOSspwI/AAAAAAAAADo/Y5mN8cqoYvA/s1600-h/2010218305_3dd4d236c2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/SPz4hOSspwI/AAAAAAAAADo/Y5mN8cqoYvA/s200/2010218305_3dd4d236c2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259351714517788418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; was lying on an unfamiliar couch, feeling cold and uncomfortable. He figured the couch was supposed to make him relax but lying down only made him feel more vulnerable and tense. He looked around the room slowly. It was annoying clean and bright. L&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;emurick was sure this had been a mistake&lt;/span&gt; and his earlier missgivings came flooding back into his mind. Idiot, he told himself, going to a shrink is an absolute waste of time- what if word got out that the great Lemurick needed mental help? A low, soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Please tell me about yourself, Lemurick" The plain woman next to him was saying. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick nearly fell of the couch in surprise, he hadn't heard her even come it&lt;/span&gt;. "Er..." he mumbled, "I-I don't know what to tell you." "Start at the beginning, then" she said softly. A rush of images came back to Lemurick- his humble home, his bedroom, his toys, his childhood friends and then his father. There was that feeling again. The woman must have noticed a change in Lemurick because she suddenly said, "Tell me what you are thinking about right now- what is your mind seeing?" Lemurick reluctantly told her about how his father had said that he was an ordinary boy. "Why does that bother you?" asked the woman. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lemurick did not immediately answer her.&lt;/span&gt; He ran the question over and over in his head and decided that she was entirely too nosey. "I think I'm done here." Lemurick said firmly.  She didn't try to stop him, she just calmly spoke to his retreating back, "Don't be afraid of your anger, and let your bitterness compell you to prove him wrong, Lemurick. Bitterness is a powerful tool in the hands of him who knows how to control it- You are greater than they think you are. Prove them all wrong ." &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick paused slightly and then continued out of the office, her words playing over and over in his mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-1821494697880373741?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/1821494697880373741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=1821494697880373741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1821494697880373741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1821494697880373741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/10/lemurick-pt12.html' title='Lemurick pt12'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/SPz4hOSspwI/AAAAAAAAADo/Y5mN8cqoYvA/s72-c/2010218305_3dd4d236c2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-4416328171426074319</id><published>2008-10-20T15:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T16:33:42.563-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt11</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; could not shake &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;FairweatherFriend's&lt;/span&gt; words from his mind, as hard as he tried. There was a lingering doubt that told him that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fairweather&lt;/span&gt; was, indeed, happier than himself. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; comforted himself with the fact that he was a greater success than &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;FairweatherFriend&lt;/span&gt; would ever be. It was true- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; was at the verge of unquestionable greatness. People were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; to notice him and view him as a threat to their own success and his name was often uttered quietly as he walked proudly down the street. Even those who knew him best said that he was unstoppable, he was to them an immovable rock of strength and brilliance. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; secretly hoped that his father could see him now, he who had considered &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; to be common. Thinking of his father stirred a new emotion inside of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;. He paused curiously to ponder what it was. He could not figure it out. It was a little of glee, and little of fierce anger and a lot of dogged determination. I bothered &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; to not understand what he was feeling so much that he could not shake the feeling itself. He began to become obsessed- if word got out that he was not an immovable rock than he would no longer be trusted and admired. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; could see his world crashing in on him. He knew what he must do, but it must be done carefully and with great secrecy. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-4416328171426074319?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/4416328171426074319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=4416328171426074319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/4416328171426074319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/4416328171426074319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/10/lemurick-pt11.html' title='Lemurick pt11'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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-60879724163543849.post-1478652154745960561</id><published>2008-04-10T00:06:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T23:09:12.102-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt10</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R_5jE1TqXRI/AAAAAAAAADg/Jb-FSZchKMc/s1600-h/p_001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R_5jE1TqXRI/AAAAAAAAADg/Jb-FSZchKMc/s200/p_001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187692755457563922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;emurick had no time to enjoy his success,&lt;/span&gt; he had to fight for every inch he gained. Exhaustion was not an option, because it meant failure and Lemurick would not allow himself to fail. Failure meant that he truly was worthless. In his struggles he saw many great men, giants of the city. When they stood, everyone rose; when they pointed, men rushed in that direction; if they sneezed, whole companies winced. They seemed to hold men's very lives in their hands. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They were the gods of the city,&lt;/span&gt; the city breathed with their breath and beat with their heart. It rose and fell with their success and destruction. Lemurick copied their moves, he played their words over and over in his head- he would one day be one of them, he was certain.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; One day&lt;/span&gt; he had a business dealing that crossed his path with that of an old friend's, FairweatherFriend. Lemurick; in his sharp suit, polished shoes, and perfect hair; looked down on his friend and his scruffy, unkempt appearance. His life is so low, thought Lemurick. He must look at me and wish he had my success. FairweatherFriend did not seem ashamed, though. On the contrary, he seemed very proud. "Lemurick, old buddy! What've you been doing to yourself? You look terrible!" He said.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; was baffled. &lt;/span&gt;He could only stammer that he had been working a lot. "I'll say!" responded FairweatherFriend, "Who's your boss? Satan?" Lemurick was embarrassed. He had expected his friend to be humbled and wish for his greatness.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "Foolish &lt;/span&gt;FairweatherFriend&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;!, what did he know, who wasted his life in pursuit of fun?" &lt;/span&gt;he thought, "He would never become anything more than a bum." Lemurick was angry and a little curious. "How is it that you are so happy in your life?" He asked his peculiar friend. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; not to be happy about?"&lt;/span&gt; Countered FairweatherFriend, "I don't have much, but I get by. I have friends who are there for me, they may not be superstars, but we're all in this together. They stick by me. I've even got a little lady at home. I've got it made- &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;what more could I want?&lt;/span&gt; Yeah, sometimes it's bad, but what ain't?" He looked long and hard at Lemurick and grinned a sad smile, "Hang in there buddy, it'll be ok- just don't forget to have a little fun and make some friends, 'k?" And he left.&lt;br /&gt;  Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; was dumbstruck. &lt;/span&gt;Never would he have guessed his friend would be happier than he. Was he right all along? Is life really about having fun and getting by? "No!"Lemurick shouted to the wind. He refused to believe that he was wrong. He just had to hold out and he would see success in the end.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He smiled and laughed when he pictured a poor and destitute&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FairweatherFriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; crawling back to him for help. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-1478652154745960561?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/1478652154745960561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=1478652154745960561' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1478652154745960561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1478652154745960561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/04/lemurick-pt10.html' title='Lemurick pt10'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R_5jE1TqXRI/AAAAAAAAADg/Jb-FSZchKMc/s72-c/p_001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-3466774021908508415</id><published>2008-03-06T00:10:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T23:08:54.655-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt9</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-QtWpAT_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/V49wq1rUA-Q/s1600-h/165355474_23647269af.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174513605718069234" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-QtWpAT_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/V49wq1rUA-Q/s200/165355474_23647269af.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; had not gone too far&lt;/span&gt; when he began to see glimpses of a whole other part to the city he had lived in. (Actually, this was originally part of the city-but it was so different and so much better that the citizens of this part refused to claim the other half and made it an entirely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt; city). His heart beat faster, this city was clean and bright and busy. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;People rushed everywhere, clearly headed to important &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;appointments&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; How different it was from the other city, where people strolled about lazily and ran in packs in search of fun and happiness. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here everyone seemed to be the god of their own personal world,&lt;/span&gt; they rarely acknowledged each other's existence. "What power!" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; thought.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; These people trade with all the world and hold the lives of hundreds, even &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thousands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; in their hands.&lt;/span&gt; Like a hunting wolf lusts for more blood after he has tasted it, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;hungrily&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; basked in the world of success and dreamed of the power and glory he would gain for himself.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Fortunately&lt;/span&gt; for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;, he had been taught well by his father that fortunes are not gained over night. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He knew he would have to work very, very hard to live at the top.&lt;/span&gt; So he started at the bottom, he got a job that matched his degree and snatched at every new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;opening&lt;/span&gt; and chance for promotion. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He became adept at manipulation and acting.&lt;/span&gt; He could &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;breeze&lt;/span&gt; through any interview, provided they didn't look at his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;qualifications&lt;/span&gt;. Rejected time and again for good jobs, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; resorted to forging and doctoring important documents. He learned that for the right price, you could find people who could work all kinds of magic. He was now on the fast track to success: money.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Money meant power and power meant greatness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Maybe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;wasn't so ordinary after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-3466774021908508415?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/3466774021908508415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=3466774021908508415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3466774021908508415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3466774021908508415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/03/lemurick-had-not-gone-too-far-when-he.html' title='Lemurick pt9'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-QtWpAT_I/AAAAAAAAADQ/V49wq1rUA-Q/s72-c/165355474_23647269af.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-8272712909938590479</id><published>2008-03-06T00:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T00:14:33.686-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt8</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-KdWpAT-I/AAAAAAAAADI/GviqNflvjQU/s1600-h/54628.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-KdWpAT-I/AAAAAAAAADI/GviqNflvjQU/s200/54628.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174506733770395618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; stayed in the city for two years.&lt;/span&gt; At one year, eleven months and ten days Lemurick finally told his friend "no" and for once, stayed home. He needed to think. Lemuirck was a little afraid he would be able to anymore, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all the hats had played with his mind, and it hurt so much to think.&lt;/span&gt; He forced himself consider what his life had become. He pondered what he had learned from the citypeople and FairweatherFriend: 1. he learned that no one really cares for you, you have to take what you can get. 2. Worrying about hurting other people will only give them an advantage to hurt you, so beat them to it. 3. Happiness is not free. 4. Happiness is bought at the Hat House. 5. Love is passing and will almost never last more than a night. 6. Friends are only friends as long as they get something out of your friendship. 7. And no one wants to be friends with a poor man. Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; was very tired. &lt;/span&gt;He worked a dead-end job to be able to stay in a crummy room and eat enough food to live. What ever else he made was spent &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;entirely on hats and parties to forget his terrible life.&lt;/span&gt; But every morning he would wake up and reality would still be there. Finally he gave up working and started stealing so that he could forgo reality completely. He had only been caught once and spent a three months in prison. After than Lemurick went back to the cycle of working and forgetting. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It would all be bearable if I had someone to share this with, he had rationalized. &lt;/span&gt;But he could never find a girl who would stay by him, and though he had had his share of relationships, they had all ended terribly, leaving him more dazed and bitter than before. He finally realized that he had nothing to share. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How could he invite someone to join in this awful life? &lt;/span&gt;Lemurick was utterly depressed. And this is where we find him, pondering the out come of his life and what he has gained thus far. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A complete failure&lt;/span&gt; was all Lemurick could use to describe his life. He resolved to make something of himself. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He would pull himself up by the boot strings and become a self-made success.&lt;/span&gt; Twenty days after this conclusion, without so much as a note good bye, Lemurick collected his few belongings and headed off in the direction that looked most successful. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;There was a look of determination on his face and a spring in his step.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-8272712909938590479?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/8272712909938590479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=8272712909938590479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/8272712909938590479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/8272712909938590479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/03/lemurick-pt8.html' title='Lemurick pt8'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8-KdWpAT-I/AAAAAAAAADI/GviqNflvjQU/s72-c/54628.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-2068851566800010635</id><published>2008-03-01T12:31:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:45:53.788-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt7</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8muJIUpzGI/AAAAAAAAAC0/gFjS0gabaOo/s1600-h/mooople.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8muJIUpzGI/AAAAAAAAAC0/gFjS0gabaOo/s200/mooople.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172857118887890018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick stared in awe at the sights around him. &lt;/span&gt;Everywhere he looked the sky was filled with flashing neon lights and bold signs. He was a little embarrassed at what some of the signs said and showed. The buildings were so tall! And the people looked so happy! They were clinging to each other and laughing very loudly. He watched an especially large group of people stumble out of a door way. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The door to happiness, &lt;/span&gt;Lemurick&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; determined. &lt;/span&gt;He eagerly entered. The room was filled with happy, loud people all with strange hats on their heads. Some where singing, some were dancing, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;but almost all were smiling.&lt;/span&gt; The room had a strange odor, but Lemurick ignored it. He went up to a counter that many people sat around and found they had gathered around a man without a hat. Several people noticed him approaching and asked him where his hat was. Lemurick&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; said that he had left his at home.&lt;/span&gt; They roared with laughter and Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; wished he had stayed outside.&lt;/span&gt; One man put his arm around him and said, "Don't listen to them, I used to be like you. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Don't worry, I'll show you how to live. &lt;/span&gt;You're still a kid, you've gotta grow up." He turned to the hat-less man and said, "Give me a good one for my friend here." The hat-less man handed him a big, strange looking hat and took his money. The man put it on Lemurick's head. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"My name's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;FairwheatherFriend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; he said. "I'm everyone's buddy- stick with me and you'll be alright." The goofy hat felt odd on Lemuirck's head- at first it felt the same as any other hat but then he noticed a difference- &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;he started to feel happy,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;happier than he'd felt in a while.&lt;/span&gt; With the happy feeling came a strange sad feeling. Lemurick was scared, and he started to take the hat off. "No!" said FairwheatherFriend, "I bought that for you, wear it. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The longer you do the better you will feel. Trust me.&lt;/span&gt;" Lemurick kept the hat on and his friend was right, he felt really good. How had he lived without this for so long? Lemurick&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; was sure he had found paradise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-2068851566800010635?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/2068851566800010635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=2068851566800010635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/2068851566800010635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/2068851566800010635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/03/lemurick-pt7.html' title='Lemurick pt7'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8muJIUpzGI/AAAAAAAAAC0/gFjS0gabaOo/s72-c/mooople.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-3422308163915040004</id><published>2008-02-24T17:58:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:45:38.742-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt6</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8IO5Iq70hI/AAAAAAAAACs/33ZzsMuxJ5U/s1600-h/haus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170711696917647890" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8IO5Iq70hI/AAAAAAAAACs/33ZzsMuxJ5U/s200/haus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lemurick's ardent faith in his plan and list slowly dwindled&lt;/strong&gt; as he was rejected time and again. He gradually and wisely cut things from his list of "necessary qualities". &lt;em&gt;The first to go were "unsurpassed beauty" and "vast stores of knowledge".&lt;/em&gt; Finally, after Lermurick had crossed off the final item from his list and thrown it angrily into the fire, he drafted a brand new list. He took out a sheet of paper and wrote at the very top in big, fine letters: &lt;strong&gt;"She must love me and think that I am great and wonderful".&lt;/strong&gt; He drew a check box beside this qualification and folded the paper careful and placed in a safe place. With new resolve and less qualifications to hamper him, &lt;em&gt;Lemurick was confident that he could find a woman to be his. &lt;/em&gt;Days turned into months and eventually Lemurick found himself at graduation time with a degree in a field he cared little for and no woman to love him. &lt;strong&gt;He had failed DecidingFate.&lt;/strong&gt; Because he had cared little about his career and chased after a person who apparently didn't exist, he had defaulted to perhaps the most common and undesired course of schooling. Lemurick tore up his final list and sat with his head in his hands. &lt;em&gt;He felt as empty as the dorm room he was sitting in.&lt;/em&gt; He resolved to forget all others but himself and to live for the sole purpose of finding the one thing that made him happiest in any given moment. &lt;strong&gt;Suddenly feeling very alive, Lemurick got up and walk toward the nearest city.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-3422308163915040004?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/3422308163915040004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=3422308163915040004' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3422308163915040004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3422308163915040004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/02/lermurick-pt6.html' title='Lemurick pt6'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R8IO5Iq70hI/AAAAAAAAACs/33ZzsMuxJ5U/s72-c/haus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-5251984408618214549</id><published>2008-02-24T16:55:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:44:59.826-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt5</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; embarked on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;DecidingFate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;anxiety&lt;/span&gt; and excitement.&lt;/strong&gt; For once in his life he seemed to be important and wanted. Many voices clamoured for his ear,&lt;em&gt; though&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;none cared for his well-being, but rather for their own gain.&lt;/em&gt; These people flattered and gave &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;generously&lt;/span&gt; for a season in hopes of keeping you and &lt;strong&gt;promptly forgot their promises once they had you. &lt;/strong&gt;At first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; became foolishly puffed up with a false lie of self-importance and stupidly followed them, all of them. He chased any leader who offered him bribe or promise of fame. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Fortunately&lt;/span&gt;, this did not last long as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; came to see the truth. &lt;em&gt;Trying to follow everyone would do nothing but keep him where he was now: &lt;strong&gt;in a terrible state of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;anonymity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; He was at a loss. As he was not exceptional at anything, what could he pursue to lift himself from this pit of horrible &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;commonness&lt;/span&gt;? &lt;strong&gt;He became bitterly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;depressed&lt;/span&gt; because he could see no way out. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;       &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; continued like this for some time until he concluded that since he had not been blessed by luck (that cruel force that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;unfairly&lt;/span&gt; gives everything to some and nothing to others) to have any talents or good qualities, he would resign to it.&lt;/strong&gt; He decided now that he would never be seen as great by the masses. He must devote his energies to finding and keeping &lt;em&gt;just one person who will see his greatness.&lt;/em&gt; This seemed to him to be one the cleverest plans that any common man could ever devise. He was quite pleased with himself and started to write a list of qualities this person must have, both to be liked by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and to find himself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;likable&lt;/span&gt;. Having fashioned the list so (which erred, as such lists often do, on the side of being far too picky and &lt;strong&gt;unattainable&lt;/strong&gt;-there existed no person either &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Lemurick's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; time or now who could live up to such a list), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; set off to search among his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;colleagues&lt;/span&gt; for a woman who would love him and see him as great all his life. The eager &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Lemurick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; could not have foreseen the difficulties in this task. It seemed to him a simple and wonderful job, but it turned out to be horrible, exhausting and very defeating. &lt;strong&gt;No woman wanted to connect herself with him as he would not add but rather subtract from her own pursuit of greatness.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-5251984408618214549?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/5251984408618214549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=5251984408618214549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5251984408618214549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5251984408618214549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/02/lemurick-pt5.html' title='Lemurick pt5'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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-60879724163543849.post-80248004140405850</id><published>2008-02-10T16:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:45:17.709-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt4</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R6-LuYq70gI/AAAAAAAAACk/EH2dyata86s/s1600-h/prison.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165500926630023682" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R6-LuYq70gI/AAAAAAAAACk/EH2dyata86s/s200/prison.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lemurick grew older&lt;/strong&gt;, as many boys are privileged to do, and went to college. In Lemurick's world college was termed DecidingFate because they believed &lt;em&gt;one's fate was decided by this school.&lt;/em&gt; You could never be anything of value if you did not go to DecidingFate, and if you did not do well in it you were considered worthless. But what constituted worth at DecidingFate? &lt;strong&gt;Two circles of thought were prevalent and widely accepted&lt;/strong&gt;. There were others, but in a world where majority ruled, &lt;em&gt;only the most prominent really mattered.&lt;/em&gt; The First circle deemed brains to be pointless and boring. &lt;strong&gt;To truly be different and stand out&lt;/strong&gt; you must prove yourself great through wit, cunning, athletics and beauty. The second circle discounted those things as foolish and fleeting and focused, rather, on intelligence and academic accomplishments. They fought with each other constantly. &lt;em&gt;Once in a great while there arose a student who fit into both categories. &lt;/em&gt;Those privileged enough to have wit, athleticism, beauty, and intelligence enjoyed a heightened status of importance and were certainly &lt;strong&gt;destined to live a life of splendor and greatness.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;College was a time for a person to start a fresh.&lt;/em&gt; If you were popular in your town you might go to a school nearby where people would know your name and give you deference. If you were unpopular but rich you could travel far away and &lt;strong&gt;forget your past.&lt;/strong&gt; Lemurick was not unpopular, he was simply unknown. And he was not rich, so he did not travel far. He was given opportunity of studying anything he wanted, so long as the funds were present. Lemurick was excited but very anxious. &lt;em&gt;This was his last chance.&lt;/em&gt; If he did not gain importance at DecidingFate he would be a nobody for his entire existence. The pressure was thick and overwhelming. Not surprisingly, the suicide rate for students his age was very high. As Lemurick left home, his mother cried silently and inwardly. She was worried, but she knew that he was not hers to keep. &lt;strong&gt;She was over swept with peace as she knelt once again to ask the One to watch over her son and show Himself to him. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-80248004140405850?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/80248004140405850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=80248004140405850' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/80248004140405850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/80248004140405850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/02/lermurick-pt4.html' title='Lemurick pt4'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R6-LuYq70gI/AAAAAAAAACk/EH2dyata86s/s72-c/prison.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-3742097088946934357</id><published>2008-01-02T19:44:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:44:27.329-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;emurick's mother was a woman of few words.&lt;/span&gt; She was wise, keen and full of grace- she chose her words carefully and effectively. Passion, flattery and glibness were the rage of her day; and consequently, she was considered quite common and dull. And so, consistent with her character and personality, she answered Lemurick cautiously: "I have not lied to you, my son. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You are special.&lt;/span&gt; You are one of a kind and there is no other quite like you." Lemurick wondered aloud: "So there is no other like me... what good is it to be the only one of your kind if no one cares or considers you worth anything. What good is it to be the only hammer made of glass if you are completely useless?" Lemurick's mother tried not to smile as she answered: "But a hammer made of glass is worth more than one of wood and iron, because it has been carefully and masterfully crafted- for a different purpose than its origin. A hammer made of glass would own the honor of being a centerpiece for all to see and admire." Lemurick carefully digested what she had said, it made a little sense to him- but still he wondered what good it would be to be a fine glass hammer if no one saw your worth, as no one did him. As Lemurick was leaving his mother whispered, "I ask everyday that you will meet someone who will show you your true worth and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;your true purpose."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-3742097088946934357?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/3742097088946934357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=3742097088946934357' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3742097088946934357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/3742097088946934357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2008/01/lemurick-pt3.html' title='Lemurick pt3'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-5175089018158375781</id><published>2007-12-31T11:02:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:44:02.766-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;emurick slowly grew older,&lt;/span&gt; but no more uncommon, his mother always told him that he was special, but after a while Lemurick started to doubt. Once he made the mistake of telling the other children that his mother said he was special. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They laughed and told him that he was the most un-special person they had met and all mothers are supposed to think their kids are special. &lt;/span&gt;Lemurick was surprised- the thought had never occurred to him that other mothers might think their children to be special. He watched carefully and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;discovered that it was true,&lt;/span&gt; in fact, nearly every mother he saw thought her child was at least partly different. All mothers are like that, and fathers too, the children said. Lemurick thought long and hard about this and determined it was because children are a reflection of their parents. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The parents, ever striving to be good, different, and special; think that since they themselves are so, that their children must be as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lemurick was dumbfounded.&lt;/span&gt; Was his own mother the same way? Had she lied to him for his whole life by telling him he was different and important when he was really common and worthless? Lemurick determined not to ask her, at least not yet- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he didn't know if he wanted to know the truth. &lt;/span&gt;As the months went by, Lemurick got quieter and more sullen. He spent most of his time silently observing the life around him, scared to join it and terrified to be apart from it. He could see that there were so many problems with his world, but it would be impossible for him to exist without it. Now Lemurick's mother annoyed him, he saw her as fake and every time she told him that he was special and loved, his anger boiled inside him. One day he couldn't hold it in any longer. "Why do you lie to me?" He demanded. His mother was surprised at his outburst. "What do you mean, my son?" she asked shyly. Lemurick softened. "Why do you keep telling me I am special when I am no different than any other, in fact, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am probably the most common person I know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-5175089018158375781?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/5175089018158375781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=5175089018158375781' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5175089018158375781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/5175089018158375781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2007/12/lemurick-pt2.html' title='Lemurick pt2'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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-60879724163543849.post-54910891937354271</id><published>2007-12-30T00:48:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:43:30.250-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lemurick'/><title type='text'>Lemurick pt1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3dHr6a-AJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/5kHLDKTTBHE/s1600-h/lemurick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149663518663770258" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3dHr6a-AJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/5kHLDKTTBHE/s200/lemurick.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;nce upon a time there lived a boy named Lemurick&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; Lemurick was a fairly ordinary boy to most everyone except his mother. Even his father considered him to be quite usual- &lt;em&gt;he wasn't very big and he wasn't very small, he wasn't very smart, but he wasn't very dumb.&lt;/em&gt; He couldn't do handstands or sing or run fast and he had a face that was easily confused with other ordinary little boys. &lt;strong&gt;In fact,&lt;/strong&gt; most people paid little attention to Lemurick, and those who did know who he was could never for the life of them &lt;em&gt;remember what his name was&lt;/em&gt;. None of this bothered little Lemurick- for he was not alone.&lt;strong&gt; You see&lt;/strong&gt;, where he lived there were quite a few ordinary little boys, so many in fact, &lt;em&gt;that their parents were always trying to dress them up and teach them new skills, parade them around and boast at how unusual their child is compared to an ordinary one. &lt;/em&gt;For them there is &lt;strong&gt;nothing worse than being ordinary&lt;/strong&gt;, for people do not sing songs praising the ordinary, they do not give ordinary people gifts or desire to be their friend. Lemurick's entire world was centered around the quest to be unusual, &lt;strong&gt;to be the name on everyone's lips&lt;/strong&gt;, to walk by and hear the murmuring of &lt;em&gt;ordinary people wishing they were like you. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Every once in a while&lt;/strong&gt; there was born a child who was really and truly &lt;em&gt;special, right from birth.&lt;/em&gt; These children had everything made for them, an easy life of fame and fortune. Or so one would think, but these children often grew up to be adults who killed and slandered each other &lt;strong&gt;in order to be the best&lt;/strong&gt; and to survive the dangerous life at the top. They were ever discontent and always needed more. Lemurick could consider himself lucky he was not born special, and so he did- &lt;strong&gt;although no one else in the world would agree.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&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/60879724163543849-54910891937354271?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/54910891937354271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=54910891937354271' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/54910891937354271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/54910891937354271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2007/12/lemurick-pt1.html' title='Lemurick pt1'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3dHr6a-AJI/AAAAAAAAAB8/5kHLDKTTBHE/s72-c/lemurick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-1547924575657548435</id><published>2007-12-25T00:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:47:48.996-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Other'/><title type='text'>The Magic of Christmas?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3Cw9aa-AFI/AAAAAAAAABU/ccXSSnAfcmU/s1600-h/00483.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3Cw9aa-AFI/AAAAAAAAABU/ccXSSnAfcmU/s200/00483.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147808943195422802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;Merry Christmas!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; A little girl's wish comes true, suddenly tightwads feel like they should throw some money at poor homeless people, and families that fight all year pretend to like each other for a whole day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt; Somehow the world has taught us that at Christmas the world should be a wonderful place and that all of the bad things in the world should stop for one day. How many people buy this? A dwindling number, I'm sure. For many Christmas has become nothing more than &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;another popularity contest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;- who can get the best gifts, wear the best outfit to the party, or even make the best holiday cookies. It's not hard to see why some people hate Christmas, but I happen to like it. I love to give gifts and hang with my family, and listen to the Christmas story. But Christmas holds no special magic for me- I don't expect that by wishing for world peace it will magically come, I don't expect everyone to love my gifts or to give me perfect ones. I don't even hold it as a special "religious holiday" because the day is not known when Jesus was born. I do celebrate the fact that He came to earth to die for me, to give me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;hope of real life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;. I wish that everyone could have the hope that I have and the joy that fills my heart. Fortunately, it does not only come at Christmastime- but is offered to me (and everyone) all year long! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;So Merry Christmas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-1547924575657548435?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/1547924575657548435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=1547924575657548435' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1547924575657548435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/1547924575657548435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2007/12/magic-of-christmas.html' title='The Magic of Christmas?'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</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/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3Cw9aa-AFI/AAAAAAAAABU/ccXSSnAfcmU/s72-c/00483.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60879724163543849.post-6117237948273279553</id><published>2007-12-24T23:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T13:47:33.181-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Other'/><title type='text'>Chase the wind, lose your breath</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3CXY6a-ACI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1aNwEE4Cvsk/s1600-h/35.large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147780828339503138" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3CXY6a-ACI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1aNwEE4Cvsk/s200/35.large.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;thought about filling this space with words. Mostly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;questions about how to live&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;, like: how do I be "In the world but not of it?", and how do I run the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;race set before me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;?, and am how do I find time to pray when all I can think about is me? Then I realized that I already know the answer to all of those questions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Seek Christ. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The rest sort of falls into place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;So I did end up filling this space with words after all...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/60879724163543849-6117237948273279553?l=coramd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/feeds/6117237948273279553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=60879724163543849&amp;postID=6117237948273279553' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/6117237948273279553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/60879724163543849/posts/default/6117237948273279553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://coramd.blogspot.com/2007/12/chase-wind-lose-your-breath.html' title='Chase the wind, lose your breath'/><author><name>Beth Ann</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09247914740745752104</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_eHKgsSviiP8/R3CXY6a-ACI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1aNwEE4Cvsk/s72-c/35.large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
