tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68568540510187723222024-03-12T22:34:58.340-05:00MJ's WorldExperiencing life from a whole new vantage point. . .Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-40264447140756577582012-02-13T14:34:00.003-06:002012-11-02T09:10:29.333-05:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LFzE-4fP2j0/Tzlz-v5YATI/AAAAAAAAAc4/SQwoNm-Wzco/s1600/adventure.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LFzE-4fP2j0/Tzlz-v5YATI/AAAAAAAAAc4/SQwoNm-Wzco/s200/adventure.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708721524515012914" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Dae:</strong> Yes, but then she would complain that i never get her any flowers or candy or chocolates and my coworker got a GIANT bouquetwhydon'tyoueverdoanythingthoughtfulformewhyisitsohardtofindagoodmannotthatyouaren'tagoodmanbutyoucouldbemorethoughtfulwoulditKILLYOUtobealittlemorethoughtfulespeciallyafterallthosebedroomthingsidoforyouevenwheni'mnotinthemoodireallydon'tthinkit'sthatbigadealbutifyouwanttogowatchthesportsballgamewithyourbuddiesfinei'lljuststayhereandbesadandalonebecausethat'swhatyoureallywantanyhowisn'titohmygodishouldhavemarriedJames.<br /><br /><strong>MJ: </strong>Let me tell it to you this way: Don't waste money on a day when romance is EXPECTED. Obligation does not equal romance. Send her a simple bouquet of flowers on some random day of the year with a note that says, "Just Because." Then she will appreciate you. And that's much more adventurous than "Ohgreatit'sFebruary14thIhopeI canstillfindacardandflowersathegrocerystoreonmywayhomefromwork."Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-20305518120942991162011-06-18T11:58:00.000-05:002011-06-18T11:58:35.037-05:00Miranda Lambert - The House That Built Me<iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DQYNM6SjD_o?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-77571928030446920252011-06-18T11:35:00.004-05:002011-06-18T12:08:10.327-05:00Lemonade Stand<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-42WRhkDFnmQ/TfzXuOhe90I/AAAAAAAAAcg/7uAi1Z83Emk/s1600/lemonade_stand_alexslemonade_400.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619603624224028482" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-42WRhkDFnmQ/TfzXuOhe90I/AAAAAAAAAcg/7uAi1Z83Emk/s200/lemonade_stand_alexslemonade_400.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>I was in my old neighborhood the other day and drove down the street I lived on from ages 2 until 23. My mom lived there until she passed away 4 years ago. What a pleasant surprise to see a group of exuberant kids at the bottom of the driveway of the house I knew most of my life.<br /><br />"LEMONADE!!! Pleeeeeease stop!" they shouted at me as I slowed down and grinned at them. I pulled over and asked, "Do you live here? This is my old house. I grew up here!" The 10-year-old girl who matched the dad and little brother up near the house looked at me in surprise. </div><br /><div>I chose lemonade from their poster board menu. "Give her a crazy straw!" they all shouted to the concessionaire. I paid and was handed a purple cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade (complete with floating lemon seeds) and a blue swirly straw that was way too big for the cup. </div><br /><div>"Have a nice day!" they shouted as I pulled away from the curb. </div><br /><div>I sipped the lemonade as I drove back home, and a tear came to my eye. How many lemonade stands did we have throughout the years in that very same spot? We never could imagine any other family but ours living at 680 Hazelvalley. Now a new family with new kids has taken our place. What a refreshing feeling to "meet" the new tenants and see that they are continuing the tradition in the house that built me.</div><br /><div></div><br />P.S. That was the best lemonade ever. :o)Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-63404979528868056772010-12-19T08:58:00.002-06:002010-12-19T10:28:55.745-06:00Daily Making a Difference in My Life<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyIMuVRgFVSu-DiUsn-_C5PeL1XT_fhZmdar5OtbTUnIbworIsQX9mEUfFo390muFsYz0ZunJpgDw3cZaeQPQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-51348859229409331922010-12-06T19:33:00.004-06:002010-12-06T19:36:56.303-06:00I'm grateful for that boy genius, Mark Zuckerberg<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TP2PP33GGjI/AAAAAAAAAb4/U0b0gqpqD1s/s1600/status2010.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TP2PP33GGjI/AAAAAAAAAb4/U0b0gqpqD1s/s200/status2010.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547747818846165554" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-family: lucida grande;">What did we ever do before Facebook? :o)</span></span><br /></div><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/MIKE%7E1.DFG/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-13.png" alt="" />Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-82613334894399297772010-12-05T15:34:00.003-06:002010-12-06T00:08:42.695-06:00What's Wrong with This Picture?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TPwF5b7g88I/AAAAAAAAAbw/J1FJOiZ5HOk/s1600/family-portrait-17662.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TPwF5b7g88I/AAAAAAAAAbw/J1FJOiZ5HOk/s200/family-portrait-17662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547315325321671618" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">My daughters are going to their dad's tonight for their new blended-family Christmas pictures. I have lots of friends and family with blended families. This is not a new concept to me. It just feels really odd that my girls will be in a family picture without me! </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"><br /><br />I struggle with this perception: This man took a vow to be faithful to </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">only</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"> me, till death do us part. He sl</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);">ept with numerous women while we were still married (all the while pretending to be the good husband). Now he skips off into the sunset with a new wife and family. Something is truly wrong with this picture.<br /><br />And it's not just me. I see this happening in today's society all too often. People are throwing away their marriages with a casual toss at the slightest sign of boredom or problems. Where is the commitment? Are there none that are faithful and want to work out their problems anymore in this day and age?<br /></span>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-11863017901883676892010-11-18T14:57:00.005-06:002010-11-18T21:11:17.909-06:00Beyond Thankful<div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TOWTS-AwWcI/AAAAAAAAAbc/s8Hn1Im2aUM/s1600/leaves.2010.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; display: block; height: 150px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540996870642358722" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TOWTS-AwWcI/AAAAAAAAAbc/s8Hn1Im2aUM/s200/leaves.2010.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><em> A scene from my early morning walk</em></span></div><br /><div align="center"> </div><br /><div style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);" align="left">Thanksgiving is fast becoming my next favorite time of year after Christmas. What used to be just a prelude to the big holiday season, has now become a time of reflection and gratitude for me, finding myself thankful even for the difficult times. I continue to be amazed at God's goodness and how He is turning a tragedy in my life right around into a most beautiful thing.<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />And why did I try to hang on so long to something that made me so miserable? Because change is difficult and requires us to stretch ourselves and move beyond what we are used to--even if it's uncomfortable, cramped, and suffocating in the little box of life we resign ourselves to.</span><br /><div align="left"><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">The horizon before me ever widens as time moves on. And this inexplicable sense of liberty keeps expanding as I move forward. There is still much in me that needs to change, and I'm not disillusioned to think everything will be pie in the sky. I know there will be difficult times ahead. Such is life. But I like the view I have in front of me, and I'm looking forward to the surprises God has in store. </span><br /><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TOWT0shi4vI/AAAAAAAAAbk/54JFTpml3EQ/s1600/Thanksgiving-peanuts-452773_1280_960.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 200px; display: block; height: 150px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540997450063602418" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TOWT0shi4vI/AAAAAAAAAbk/54JFTpml3EQ/s200/Thanksgiving-peanuts-452773_1280_960.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-84870787137010521562010-10-23T11:28:00.002-05:002010-10-23T11:32:03.958-05:00A Symbol of My Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TMMNfT0jTUI/AAAAAAAAAbM/MlXoj8Zdyag/s1600/tree.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TMMNfT0jTUI/AAAAAAAAAbM/MlXoj8Zdyag/s200/tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531279598888897858" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">This is my "tree" that my ex's grandmother gave us in the last year of our marriage. It looked different then. It was tall, ugly, and gangly. I wanted to leave it out on the deck in the winter to die, along with my marriage. But I didn't. And the next spring, along with my new life, I hacked away at all the old crap. There was new growth at the bottom, and this is what it looks like 3 years later. A symbol of my life. Oh, and I love the tree now, by the way! And my life. :o)</span><br /><br /><a style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TMMNVZ_OAsI/AAAAAAAAAbE/wm05XUz7Tk0/s1600/sunroom.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TMMNVZ_OAsI/AAAAAAAAAbE/wm05XUz7Tk0/s200/sunroom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531279428745560770" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> You can see in the background the gangly ugliness of the tree in its previous life (and we won't talk about the guilt flowers from my ex when I had NO CLUE he was being unfaithful to me, but I digress!) </span>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-47357186440577526972010-10-11T22:19:00.008-05:002010-10-11T23:08:37.390-05:00Let Me Eat Cake ;o)<a style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TLPVUvzjHlI/AAAAAAAAAas/dJhUfObmcNc/s1600/wedding+slice.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TLPVUvzjHlI/AAAAAAAAAas/dJhUfObmcNc/s200/wedding+slice.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526995720120507986" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Last Friday night, I enjoyed a delicious slice of my ex-husband's wedding cake.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Yes, you heard that right!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">The wedding and reception were held at the couple's house so my daughters, in their beautiful bridesmaid dresses, brought home enough leftovers for us to host a small dinner party ourselves. As I stood in my kitchen and partook of the delicious chocolate and cream cheese cake (home made by the bride herself), I smiled and thought of how far I have come in these past few years.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">In fact, as hard as it is to explain, I felt a sense of elation that my ex was remarrying. Even though we have been disconnected for some time, this day seemed to pronounce an even deeper sensation of liberty in my life. It makes no sense, I know, but I think someday I will see.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Forgiveness is quite a beautiful thing. It is indeed a gift from God as I never ever could forgive that man on my own. Harboring anger, resentment and the bitterness that stems from it only served to make me a miserable person. As time passed, I realized how much better my life has become as a single woman. This sense of liberty arose within me, a freedom like I never knew.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">I remember talking to God several years ago, feeling so trapped in a miserable marriage, wondering, "Is this all there is to life? I made a vow, 'till death do us part,' that I will adhere to, but God, is this as good as it gets?" The simple reply I got and didn't understand at the time was, "Just wait."</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">I received my own proposal of marriage a few weeks ago from a lovesick man who just isn't my type. His affection is endearing, but makes me realize what an independent woman I have become. At one time in my life, I felt I needed a husband to make me worthwhile. I took the first best thing to come along, even though there were many flaws and it wasn't a good match. There was true love for awhile, but it was short-lived (on his part anyway) and it left me in the cold, wondering what in the world I had been doing.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">So I celebrated that night with that sweet slice of cake, wishing my ex and his bride all the best in my mind (and lots of good luck to her!!)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">The path before me opens ever wider. Unlimited possibilities are within reach.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Dreams really do come true, Cinderella, and they don't always revolve around a prince.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">It's a piece of cake! ;o)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TLPdzBvehLI/AAAAAAAAAa8/58TFgRWqHTU/s1600/cake8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TLPdzBvehLI/AAAAAAAAAa8/58TFgRWqHTU/s200/cake8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527005036424365234" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-8300274967945405762010-09-23T19:59:00.001-05:002010-09-23T20:58:03.025-05:00<span style="color:#333333;"></span><span style="color:#333333;"></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TJv8FJaQXnI/AAAAAAAAAac/oTzer2Vt2uI/s1600/esl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520282933628264050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TJv8FJaQXnI/AAAAAAAAAac/oTzer2Vt2uI/s200/esl.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><span style="color:#333333;">"Please.....what is this......how do you say.....'carry'?" Arina from Kazakhstan asked with her wide blue eyes and shy smile. </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#333333;">I am beaming because I have found my calling, or actually I should say I <em>knew</em> my calling but am finally putting it into action! </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#333333;">Last week I began as a volunteer tutor in an English as a Second Language (ESL) class at a local high school. The certified teacher, Victoria, threw me right into the teaching on the very first day. It felt so natural for me to read a simple story to the class. I carefully <em>a-nun-ci-at-ed </em>each sound, asked the students to "repeat please," and had fun demonstrating what the word, "sway" means by moving back and forth as if I was a tree! </span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#333333;">The class of 12 or 13 students range in age from early 20s to late 50s. Countries represented (so far) include Korea, Mexico, Ukraine, Venezuela, Kenya, Brazil, Kazakhstan, Pakistan, and El Salvador. The very first evening I walked in, the students smiled and looked at me with respect. Within 10 minutes, Soon, an older Korean lady, called me "Teacher," and my heart melted!</span></p><br /><p><span style="color:#333333;">All these students are here voluntarily to improve their English. It's awesome that they attend for free as the program is funded through the State of Missouri. </span></p><p><span style="color:#333333;">I love it when Antonio from Mexico corrects Boris from Ukraine on the correct personal pronoun he needs for a sentence. I love it when we, as a class, from different languages, cultures and parts of the world, can share a joke and all laugh together. I love to see the look in their eyes when understanding comes upon them. </span></p><p><span style="color:#333333;">I already knew, but have learned even moreso, that a smile knows no language barriers. I love it when I see the students from different countries partnering together in their workbooks. </span></p><p><span style="color:#333333;">I love it that at last I have taken one giant leap into my future! </span></p><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TJwBIeFE0XI/AAAAAAAAAak/KUvUmPoq3c8/s1600/world.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520288488274317682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/TJwBIeFE0XI/AAAAAAAAAak/KUvUmPoq3c8/s200/world.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-4496450323148676562010-04-21T23:00:00.011-05:002010-04-21T23:43:51.986-05:00I'm Updating Just for You, Helen!Um, yeah well. I'm rather embarrassed that I never seem to have anything to say here anymore. Maybe because I'm obsessed with the short-and-easy random statuses I leave on Facebook?<br /><br />Kat's friend Helen told her to tell me to update, so here I am! TA-DA! :o)<br /><br />I just survived another tax season. Strange, but good. My top week was 92.5 hours. The older I get, the more stamina I seem to have. Hmm. I imagine one of these years I'll just collapse for real! But I love my job. The overtime is great (and the extra cash, necessary) and the long hours are just short-term.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S8_QX3DZYoI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/fmEup01cA8I/s1600/TaxSeason.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462813981357466242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S8_QX3DZYoI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/fmEup01cA8I/s200/TaxSeason.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now I'm in recovery mode, trying not to fall into the laziness trap and trying not to get overwhelmed by my very long to-do list. Today I made an excursion to <a href="http://www.homedepot.com">this place</a>. I used to be intimidated by such places back in my married days when I was a completely differently person and didn't realize that women could like this stuff too! I'm making a wishlist of cool things I want (yeah, they're really cool to me now!) leaf blower/vacuum, Shark steam mop, maybe a power washer. (I know - call me a freak!)<br /><br />I've been following <a href="http://www.daveramsey.com/">Dave Ramsey's program</a> of paying off the debt I've accumulated because of and since my divorce. I haven't used a credit card since last November. Yeah! I'm anticipating being debt-free (except for the house) in three years. Then I'll be off to see the world (Lord willing!) Whee!<br /><br />Another daily part of my life is <a href="http://dailyaudiobible.com">this</a> and what a HUGE blessing Brian Hardin and his ministry has been to me. I love his realness. God wants us to be REAL, not caught up in tradition and surrounded by a bubble to protect ourselves in. So many people are just too comfortable in their saved spot on the pew each week. WWJD? He got out in the streets where the real people were. I want that too.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S8_Q96U6HXI/AAAAAAAAAaE/gKotuLm_nSA/s1600/Journal.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462814635071249778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S8_Q96U6HXI/AAAAAAAAAaE/gKotuLm_nSA/s200/Journal.bmp" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-14535084258038578762010-01-13T18:59:00.007-06:002010-01-13T22:51:19.721-06:00What's in a Name?<span style="color:#663366;"></span><span style="color:#993399;"></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S06aYxLvKWI/AAAAAAAAAZk/erDL_zwe0Oc/s1600-h/name_cartoon.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426444351338129762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S06aYxLvKWI/AAAAAAAAAZk/erDL_zwe0Oc/s200/name_cartoon.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">My good friend, Kelly, posed a question on Facebook this morning: "What does your name mean and are you living up to it?" Interesting. I've always known the importance of names in biblical days, but today? I didn't give much thought to naming my girls <span style="color:#006600;">Kaitlynn </span>("<em>pure</em>")<span style="color:#006600;"> Rose</span> ("<em>fame</em> or <em>flower</em>") and <span style="color:#006600;">Emily</span> ("<em>rival</em>") <span style="color:#006600;">Ann</span> ("grace"). I just liked the beautiful sound of their names.<br /><br />I Googled a name-meaning website and discovered this:</span><br /><br /></div><div><span style="color:#993399;">My first name <span style="color:#006600;">Mary</span> means "<em>sea of bitterness</em>" (I have swam in that sea) and "<em>rebelliousness</em>" (I have defiantly raised that banner high). I like the Egyptian meaning which is "<em>beloved</em>." My middle name is <span style="color:#006600;">Johanna </span>which is the female version of John which means "gracious" - So I shall call myself "<em>Beloved Grace</em>" and hope I can live up to that! :o) </span><br /><span style="color:#993399;"></span><br /><span style="color:#993399;">Kelly told me that Dr. Gerald Jeffers recently spoke on the name <span style="color:#006600;">Mary</span> which comes from "Mariam" which originally comes from "Moriah" (bitter water). Jesus was born from something meaning "bitter" and He turned it into something great. I like that!</span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#993399;">Which reminds me of one of my favorite worship songs, "So Beautiful" by Kari Jobe and Christ for the Nations. Here is the verse that always touches me so deeply:</span></div><div><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;">Merciful Father</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;">There is none that compares to you</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;">Who can take my b</span><span style="color:#990000;">itterness</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;">And make something sweet?</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;">Only You</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#990000;"></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#993399;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#993399;">This is a cool website to check out: </span><a href="http://www.behindthename.com/"><span style="color:#33cc00;">Behindthename.com</span></a></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="color:#993399;"><br />So what does <strong>your</strong> name mean? Are you living up to it?</span> </span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S06c5ABuTrI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/s_2DyJQMWo8/s1600-h/name.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426447104101732018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/S06c5ABuTrI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/s_2DyJQMWo8/s200/name.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-67651441107418848882009-12-31T10:06:00.004-06:002009-12-31T10:21:45.928-06:00Happy New Year!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SzzN7mW4aNI/AAAAAAAAAZU/XXeRWpSTfzk/s1600-h/frogprince.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421434475239729362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 123px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SzzN7mW4aNI/AAAAAAAAAZU/XXeRWpSTfzk/s200/frogprince.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">Wow....WOW </span><div><span style="color:#009900;">This is the first New Year's Eve since I've been a teenager that I'm not melancholy and wistful and regretful and fearful about the old year and the new.</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">Why has my life always revolved around have the perfect, ideal man - just having a <strong>man</strong>? I guess that's due to the fairy tales we girls are raised on. "Your Prince Charming is out there!"</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">Bleh.</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">I waited for Prince Charming and he turned out to be an ugly toad in disguise. And every New Year's Eve I wished and hoped the new year would magically turn him into a prince. But he only became more hideous.</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">And then *poof* he was gone. And I was sad. Because I thought he was the one and only frog. But once I realized it was a good thing he was gone, I thought instantly the REAL Prince Charming would come galloping up on his white steed.</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">But.....the real Prince Charming apparently had issues of his own and could not be found.</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">So, to make a long story short, this princess is FINALLY and happily content - truly content - to know her self-worth does not involve having a Prince Charming in her life to make her happy. </span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">Now I celebrate the old with no regrets and look joyfully into the New Year and thankful for the road behind and the one that's ahead. No fear, no doubt, no sadness!</span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#009900;">Praying you will have a regret-free and hopeful 2010 as well! </span></div><div><br /> </div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SzzOc0CzxnI/AAAAAAAAAZc/qxpOpgWm_wE/s1600-h/2010.jpg"><span style="color:#009900;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421435045849319026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 149px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SzzOc0CzxnI/AAAAAAAAAZc/qxpOpgWm_wE/s200/2010.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-19947977672624007822009-12-27T09:21:00.004-06:002009-12-27T09:35:18.240-06:00Mourning my Coffee Pot<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Szd7mDzHKBI/AAAAAAAAAZE/0GtzjvlWuJQ/s1600-h/coffeepot.jpg"><span style="color:#663300;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419936570348611602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 101px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Szd7mDzHKBI/AAAAAAAAAZE/0GtzjvlWuJQ/s200/coffeepot.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#663300;"></span><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">Is it wrong to mourn an inanimate object? Yesterday, Emily, in all her 14-year-old carelessness, flung my coffee pot away from the wall, trying to access the microwave. I heard a crash and gasped to see my little 6-cup decanter from Gevalia strewn across the kitchen floor in millions of pieces! </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">It's not that big of a deal. I can probably run up to Walgreen's and get a replacement. But that coffee pot has been around 15 years and has made me many a fine cup of coffee! Since the ex didn't drink coffee, it was the perfect size for me. I could get just about 2-1/2 mugs from it. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">That coffee pot saw me through major changes in my relationship with God - through many good conversations with Him and some deep, revelatory Bible studies. That coffee pot has been around since the early moments when I saw my marriage fall apart and subsequent years where I tried valiantly and failed not-so-valiantly to save my marriage. That coffee pot has seen me through laughter, tears, hundreds of journal entries, hours on the phone, hours spent online, chatting with friends or emailing, comforting times in the sunroom, watching the rain, or the snow. That coffee pot has been around for all the holidays over the years and since my girls were very small!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">*sniff*</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#663300;">Thank you for sharing this time of mourning with me. Thankfully I still have my big coffee pot to fall back on!</span> </div><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Szd9uHPWCmI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Sel2rVLJl4c/s1600-h/coffee.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419938907734542946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Szd9uHPWCmI/AAAAAAAAAZM/Sel2rVLJl4c/s200/coffee.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-84556091523012043282009-12-20T12:32:00.005-06:002009-12-20T12:55:47.575-06:00An Orange in Your Stocking<span style="color:#cc0000;">I'm trying to be healthy amidst the holiday banquets, Christmas cookies, and extra decadent treats that appear this time of year. As I ate my egg substitute breakfast and peeled the orange to go with it, I reflected on Christmases of my early years. Mom used to always put an orange in our stocking, along with the standard pack of gum, pair of socks, and other trinkets. </span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5v4od4uFI/AAAAAAAAAYk/oePiAJ1lyEE/s1600-h/orange.jpg"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417390420499413074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 110px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5v4od4uFI/AAAAAAAAAYk/oePiAJ1lyEE/s200/orange.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">I could never understand the point of the orange. Why is it a gift when I can walk into the kitchen and take one out of the fruit basket any time I please? Mom explained that when she was a child, an orange was a rare thing and considered to be a big treat when found in a stocking on Christmas morn. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5v45_AIUI/AAAAAAAAAYs/16-Z2FrTbyo/s1600-h/stockings.jpg"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417390425201713474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5v45_AIUI/AAAAAAAAAYs/16-Z2FrTbyo/s200/stockings.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">Following tradition, I pack my own children's (and nieces' and nephew's) stockings with the standard package of gum, pair of socks, and other trinkets. It's not surprising to see my girls politely smile at the package of gum and wonder why it's there when they can have gum any time they choose. I explain to them that growing up in a household of five children and one income, a WHOLE package of gum to ourselves was indeed a treat to us!</span></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5wrNCADTI/AAAAAAAAAY0/2jQSxBQ7Qks/s1600-h/gum.jpg"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417391289308024114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 118px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 116px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5wrNCADTI/AAAAAAAAAY0/2jQSxBQ7Qks/s200/gum.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">It makes me wonder what items will be found in the Christmas stockings of my grandchildren someday. Will they look to their mothers and ask, "Why is this here?" and listen as their moms explain that when they were a child, it was a rare treat indeed.</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc0000;">Wishing you and yours a very blessed Christmas and Happy New Year!</span></div><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5xwS83wSI/AAAAAAAAAY8/1ECFW1b5K8U/s1600-h/nativity_scene.jpg"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417392476308095266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 131px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sy5xwS83wSI/AAAAAAAAAY8/1ECFW1b5K8U/s200/nativity_scene.jpg" border="0" /></span></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-21588534763112492632009-07-25T11:28:00.003-05:002009-07-25T11:59:51.974-05:00My List<div align="center"><span style="color:#996633;">Back in January or February, I made the following ATS "after tax season" list of things I wanted to accomplish. I'm proud to say that over half of these are checked off! I have come to a place of forgiveness in my life and with that comes great blessing! I am seeing dreams coming true. Wow, God is so cool! :o)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>WALK</strong> far and long.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Get in shape.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Get healthy.</span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="color:#3333ff;"><strong>CLIMB </strong>stairs at Creve Coeur Lake.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">(prepare for my future)</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Get in a routine.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Thoroughly clean one room per night for starters.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Yardwork/garden ---> *Stop being afraid and learn to enjoy it!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">It's good for you and satisfying to the soul.*</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Work out and implement a debt reduction plan.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Contact International Institute.</span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;">Meet Bhutanese/Nepalese.</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#3333ff;"></span>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-1077390114576959192009-07-09T22:41:00.004-05:002009-07-10T00:18:16.529-05:00It's Time for Me to Fly!<div align="center"></div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 153px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb96/Mamikaem/chick_fly.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="color:#cc66cc;">*Free Chick!* </span></p><span style="color:#cc66cc;"><br /><p align="left"></span><em>"I'm tired of holding onto a feeling I know is gone. I do believe that I've had enough....I believe it's time for me to fly."</em> <span style="font-size:85%;">- (written by Kevin Cronin, REO Speedwagon)</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;">Tomorrow, July 10, 2009, marks the one-year anniversary of my Emancipation....from the heartache, worry, stress, grief, pain, anguish, dashed hopes and dreams of a failed marriage that I tried so hard to make work on my own. </span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#663366;">Whoa, before I get too melodramatic here, let me say this this has been a FANTASTIC year! I have been more than abundantly blessed by God. My Jehovah Jireh (my Provider). I have no cause for worry. This past year has been a relief. </span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#663366;">I wish I could say that I'm completed healed from my 20-year-old marriage crashing down but I'm <strong>im</strong>patiently learning how things take time even when we want to rush them along. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#663366;">So last year at this time, the future was so BRIGHT for me (even through the pain). I made a list of the <strong>new</strong> hopes and dreams I had. But I've learned in the past year, sometimes we think we are going from Point A to Point B but may end up at Point C, something totally unexpected. How cool is that!?</span><br /><br /></p><p></span><a href="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb96/Mamikaem/hhhhhhhhhhh.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb96/Mamikaem/hhhhhhhhhhh.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="color:#663366;">I'm renewing old friendships and making new ones and feel so blessed at all the people I have in my life. I just became president of my company's </span></span><a href="http://www.toastmasters.org/"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#663366;">Toastmasters</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;"> club (who me?!) Life is constantly changing. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#663366;">Sometimes what we think is bad can sometimes turn out to be really good.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SlbHqOaeeDI/AAAAAAAAAYc/uWl2w-WYOkc/s1600-h/LG.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356688335041361970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SlbHqOaeeDI/AAAAAAAAAYc/uWl2w-WYOkc/s200/LG.bmp" border="0" /></a> </p>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-33138802745314163512009-04-24T20:45:00.005-05:002009-04-24T21:27:05.058-05:00Excuses, Excuses!<div align="center"><span style="color:#333399;">Okay, a real post this time! ;o) Em dropped my camera right before tax season and I feel lost blogging without any "real" pictures! Then she dropped HER camera I bought her for Christmas. As soon as it's back from repair (thankfully I forked over the extra $25 for the warranty), I'm stealing it from her and getting back into the groove!</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;">This is the second weekend after Tax Day and I feel like it's finally a "real" weekend. Last weekend I was still out of it from exhaustion. I find myself in the place where I question myself. Where do you draw the line between relaxing and just being plain lazy! ;o) </span><br /><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJys3tr6DI/AAAAAAAAAYE/X_E0fgcP1Mg/s1600-h/lazy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328447424328099890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJys3tr6DI/AAAAAAAAAYE/X_E0fgcP1Mg/s200/lazy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#333399;">At the end of tax season, my mind is full of plans for afterwards: projects, organizing, painting, cleaning, learning to like yard work. Then, it never fails, a few weeks after tax season ends, I find myself drained and lacking motivation.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;">Next weekend I am traveling to the Ozarks (a 4-hour drive from here) with a group of friends for a MUCH NEEDED scrapbooking retreat! We are renting a huge house on the lake. I sooooooo need a getaway in order to get back into scrapbooking mode. Plus a BIG bonus!! Jenn, one of my AOL scrapbooking loopies (we've been together as a group over 10 years) will be driving up to scrap with us one day. This will be the first time I have ever met one of my loopies, </span><span style="color:#333399;">so.................. I CAN'T WAIT!!</span> </p><p align="center"><br /></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJz_8zcd0I/AAAAAAAAAYM/Bgqjm3b9yi0/s1600-h/US27GHA0003-FB~Sunset-over-Table-Rock-Lake-near-Kimberling-City-Missouri-USA-Posters.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328448851623573314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJz_8zcd0I/AAAAAAAAAYM/Bgqjm3b9yi0/s200/US27GHA0003-FB~Sunset-over-Table-Rock-Lake-near-Kimberling-City-Missouri-USA-Posters.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><strong>Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri</strong><br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;">Okay, I'm getting my butt up from the computer and going to do something productive about here. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333399;">Stay tuned!!! (Oh, and thanks for reading, by the way!)</span> </p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJu64fmJ0I/AAAAAAAAAX8/JpeVGcscEFs/s1600-h/PICT3691.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328443267009095490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SfJu64fmJ0I/AAAAAAAAAX8/JpeVGcscEFs/s200/PICT3691.JPG" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-1728793078367809752009-04-23T22:27:00.001-05:002009-04-23T22:27:48.930-05:00Heartbeat, Its a Lovebeat- Defranco Family<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/gggcZvvZLeo' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/gggcZvvZLeo'/></object></p><p>Ah, my 6th grade love, Tony Defranco! (This is where my love of Italian men started! LOL)</p></div>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-19932038213622594352009-03-30T01:41:00.004-05:002009-03-30T01:51:03.608-05:00Beauty in Unexpected Places<span style="color:#993399;">We have been having some beautiful spring weather here in Missouri lately. But our motto is, "If you don't like the weather in Missouri, stick around--it will change!" I should know better than to get excited about good weather so early in the season. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#993399;">Sure enough, I awoke Saturday morning to rainy, damp, cold weather. I went out into the sunroom and was pleasantly surprised with this sight! I bought this plant last summer. It has survived all winter despite my neglect (I think I've only watered it three times all winter!) The pot had even turned over on its side. </span><br /><span style="color:#993399;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#993399;"><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SdBrAqAEN-I/AAAAAAAAAX0/uxgl5TIackw/s1600-h/flower.jpg"><span style="color:#993399;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318868818943293410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SdBrAqAEN-I/AAAAAAAAAX0/uxgl5TIackw/s200/flower.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#993399;"><br /></span><span style="color:#993399;">This was a gentle reminder to me that life can take us by surprise. We can't always go by what we see on the outside. Outside it was rainy and cold, but inside, new life was blooming, even in a place where it was unexpected. </span></p><p><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="color:#993399;">Happy Spring! </span><br /><br /></span></span></p>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-32065354027630341092009-03-12T06:37:00.005-05:002009-03-12T07:28:06.383-05:00Moving Forward<span style="color:#006600;">For several years now, the phrase, "move forward" has come to mind often, especially when praying about various situations. Those words were vital to me when I was caught trudging through life in the months right before and after my marriage ended. My relationship with God is the only thing that propels me forward as I cannot do this alone. </span><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5x4F9pMI/AAAAAAAAAXM/NwB1JuNBIZ4/s1600-h/wayforward.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312270395749803202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5x4F9pMI/AAAAAAAAAXM/NwB1JuNBIZ4/s200/wayforward.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#006600;">Life seems to be flying at me double-speed these days (mainly good things, thankfully!) I see dreams coming true and am learning it's all in the attitude. Proverbs 23:7 says, "...as a man thinketh, so he is in his heart..." I have learned the truth in this! You ARE what you think! I see doors opening before me. In the past, I would hesitate and wonder what was on the other side? What if I made a mistake? What if I failed? It was safer to stay where I was. But staying in the same place makes one stagnant. I have to move forward. I have to take the chance. </span><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj72LN-xlI/AAAAAAAAAXk/5NujT8P40fQ/s1600-h/open-door.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312272668626437714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj72LN-xlI/AAAAAAAAAXk/5NujT8P40fQ/s200/open-door.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#006600;">When I face those mountains that loom ahead of me in life, I hold my head up and move forward. I'm not looking back. I'm not standing still. There's no place to go .... but forward. </span><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5yiK3BbI/AAAAAAAAAXc/uAFiyX8kJQc/s1600-h/himalayas.water.jpg"><span style="color:#006600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312270407044629938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5yiK3BbI/AAAAAAAAAXc/uAFiyX8kJQc/s200/himalayas.water.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#006600;"> </span><br /><span style="color:#006600;">It's funny how a simple conversation can point you in the right direction. Several years ago an old friend mentioned that he wanted to visit Mt. Everest. Interesting to me because, at the time, I had never given that part of the world any thought before. Soon after, I heard someone speak about Nepal (where Everest is located) and my heart was captured. I started to think this was not a coincidence. Actually traveling to that part of the world (albeit Bangladesh) confirmed what my heart was telling me. These were my people! That same friend mentioned he then wanted to go to Bhutan. "Where??" I thought (and was embarrassed to see that Bhutan was just located 2 hours north of where I had been in Dhaka). </span><span style="color:#006600;"><br /></span><span style="color:#006600;"><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj-QgW8LwI/AAAAAAAAAXs/fXM3a0oFNHg/s1600-h/the-himalayas0.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312275320001015554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj-QgW8LwI/AAAAAAAAAXs/fXM3a0oFNHg/s200/the-himalayas0.gif" border="0" /></a><br />Thanks to modern technology and my Facebook obsession, I now have a friend and future tour guide in Bhutan, my cool friend, Karma! Check out his website. <a href="http://www.go2bhutan.com/">http://www.go2bhutan.com/</a> It really is a small world after all. </p><p>Moving forward.....<br /></p></span><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5yQa9a4I/AAAAAAAAAXU/26sRrgFW6DQ/s1600-h/greenlight.jpg"><span style="color:#006600;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312270402280319874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/Sbj5yQa9a4I/AAAAAAAAAXU/26sRrgFW6DQ/s200/greenlight.jpg" border="0" /></span></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-89908239568484260442009-02-28T21:02:00.004-06:002009-02-28T21:11:43.889-06:00Authentic<div align="center"><span style="color:#663366;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Get real.</span><br /><br />That's what I want.<br /><br />That's what I crave.<br /><br />I've noticed that some people are afraid of authenticity. It's much easier and comfortable to stay where they are, in their own little, safe box labeled, "complacency."<br /><br />I have found that some people get angry at me for wanting to be real. Some people run away. Some people cannot bear the thought of change.<br /><br />But I can't stay there anymore. It's suffocating.<br /><br /></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/San7cRTWvRI/AAAAAAAAAXE/IwFDu1kOr6k/s1600-h/authentic.bmp"><span style="color:#663366;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308050098932333842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/San7cRTWvRI/AAAAAAAAAXE/IwFDu1kOr6k/s200/authentic.bmp" border="0" /> </span><p align="center"></a><span style="color:#663366;">Life is too short.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I want what's real.</span><br /><br />I want what's true.</span><br /></p>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-7144141890063287102009-02-13T23:18:00.002-06:002009-02-13T23:32:20.469-06:00Happy Valentine's Day, My Friend!<a href="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb96/Mamikaem/Valentine-Friend.jpg"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 186px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb96/Mamikaem/Valentine-Friend.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">Do you remember grade school? Valentine's Day was a BIG deal. We would spend weeks (it seemed) decorating shoe boxes with construction paper, paste, colored paper, hearts, doilies, candies, foil, and whatever other cool media we could find. Then we would sign scads of Valentine cards, carefully seal them in mini envelopes and address them to our classmates and friends. The party was so cool! Passing out the Valentines was fun but it was even more exciting to get home and open each one received.</span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">But then....puberty arrives and suddenly a fun holiday has shifted from that of friends to that of feeling pressured to have a "sweetheart" at an age when I still thought most boys had cooties. Not to mention, if I did like a boy, I would rather DIE than let him know my true feelings!!</span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">So since I have been about 13, I haven't liked this holiday very much. Even when I had a true love, I always felt sorry for all the single people out there who were meant to feel like losers for being on their own on this holiday of supposed love. </span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">Even during the years of my marriage, I suppressed a bitterness because marriage was not what I had imagined or expected it to be. Sure I received the obligatory flowers and candy, but decided I would rather have nothing rather than a reminder of what was missing in my life.</span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">So now, I'm past the divorce and experiencing such a relief and freedom in my life and I have declared that THIS Valentine's Day I am changing my attitude. I'm going back to grade school in my thinking...excited about sharing a fun holiday with my friends. No pressure. Love is fair and love is equal and love is cool.......for everyone, no matter if you have a sweetheart in your life or not. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">I hope YOU have a wonderful Valentine's Day, no matter how you celebrate!!</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><a href="http://i461.photobucket.com/albums/qq340/pcebabyyy8815/hearts.png"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 166px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 19px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i461.photobucket.com/albums/qq340/pcebabyyy8815/hearts.png" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SZZXM69pTQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/SVrBHQatxHc/s1600-h/PepeLePew.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302521490773200130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_COOVtFpnmOg/SZZXM69pTQI/AAAAAAAAAW8/SVrBHQatxHc/s200/PepeLePew.jpg" border="0" /></a>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-91195474346853709302009-02-11T16:12:00.001-06:002009-02-11T16:12:08.825-06:00Journey - Girl Can't Help It<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/hiUcRTqrLJM' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/hiUcRTqrLJM'/></object></p><p>I've been obsessed with Journey lately. This song is constantly in my head!</p></div>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6856854051018772322.post-28029047730108455832009-01-31T23:10:00.001-06:002009-01-31T23:10:50.247-06:00Train drops of jupiter<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><p><object height='350' width='425'><param value='http://youtube.com/v/VS0CV_GWEMI' name='movie'/><embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/VS0CV_GWEMI'/></object></p><p>missing Marco Polo </p></div>Mary Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06832433722318096929noreply@blogger.com0