tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64408849061137216282024-03-04T22:56:57.130-07:00Covered in CharisMalloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-85370321514310492952017-05-16T22:51:00.000-06:002017-05-16T23:06:47.987-06:00How My Brain Got Fat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I got to the campus bookstore in preparation for my final semester of college I could not believe the number of books that were required for just one semester. That is a typical experience in college I believe, and being a Global Studies major I always tended to do quite a bit of reading for class. But this time I had 25 books to read in just 15 weeks of classes. I was screwed.<br />
<br />
I did a lot of skimming in the weeks that followed, but for a girl who would normally read all day on the weekends for fun, that semester killed my desire to read. Killed it.<br />
<br />
It has been ten years since I graduated from university I can count on one hand the number of books I have read AND finished since I embarked on adulthood. Which is sad, absolutely sad.<br />
<br />
I'll be honest, I didn't make it a priority in my life. At all. I wished I could read all the great books people recommended to me, but I just always found other things to do after a day at work (like watch Friends for the 500th time). I just got lazy with my education, with stretching myself. <br />
<br />
One day, something changed. Its as if my mind and heart woke up from a deep slumber and I was hungry for more than I had been giving myself. My brain felt stagnant, almost like it had gained 20 pounds from sitting on the couch eating Oreos for a decade. I once was so sure of myself and my beliefs and my feelings and over time I just lost all of it to business and laziness. So many of my thoughts and feelings are here on this blog from years past. I forgot about stretching myself that I had nothing worth sharing with the world for the last 5 and half years. Wow. <br />
<br />
But something clicked that one day. <br />
<br />
And I knew I needed more.<br />
<br />
I credit it to becoming a mom. I was watching my daughter grow and all of a sudden I knew that I had to impart wisdom on her, but I didn't even know what wisdom was worth sharing anymore. My thoughts were robotic and all repeated from someone else. I felt had nothing genuine to give her. And I knew the only way I could unleash myself and satisfy the hunger for the world was to start cracking open books again. I love books. I love the pages and underlining the sage advice from others who came before. I have an e-reader, but I have found I'm not inspired by the words on a computer screen. Probably because I sit in front of a computer all day at work.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly it wasn't actual books that got me back and running again. It was audio books. <br />
<br />
I commute everyday for work, not long, but its still a commute and I have chosen to use that time to "read" books. Some people have given me crap about this and said it doesn't count because I didn't actually read them, but that's dumb. It counts. Its been over a year since I started this habit, but I finally hit my stride at the start of 2017. A few weeks ago I wrote down all the books I had finished since the start of the year and for just being the end of April, I was already finished with book seven. SEVEN. Maybe that is normal for you, or you read that many in a month. But when you consider that I had read and finished maybe three books in the last 10 years, SEVEN in 4 months is pretty impressive. <br />
<br />
I was shocked to say the least. My shock turned to motivation, which caused me to wonder how many books can I read this year? For 2017, my goal is to read and finish at least 30 books. This goal was not a New Year's Resolution, but I took something that I was already trying to be better at and said, "Hey let's keep this going."<br />
<br />
So far this year I have read mostly fiction, but I have added in some non-fiction as well in the last month. I am about to finish books 8 and 9, and 10 will follow shortly thereafter.<br />
<br />
Yeah...I've gone nuts. I'm reading three books at the same time right now. <br />
<br />
I'm not ready to join a book club or anything, because you know that Howard motto "you can't tell me what to do." But I have read some really good things so far this year, and if you have had a conversation with me in the last couple months I probably told you about one of the books I have found fascinating. Right now the audio book I am listening to is probably my favorite so far. I am enthralled with it...and its a book about time travel. Which is not a subject matter that usually draw me in. I think Chris Pratt should star in the movie. But I digress.<br />
<br />
It feels so good to be reading again. Diving into books that expand my creativity, cause me to think about things differently than I ever have before. And its just one way I am taking back my life from business and laziness (yes they coexist in my life). Mostly its for me so I can figure out who I am as mom and wife and all the other labels I wear during a day. But its kinda for my daughter too, so she can see how fun it is to learn and grow, no matter your age.<br />
<br />
And you know what? She recently discovered books too! She has read way more than 7...actually we read that one book 7 times tonight. Yup.<br />
<br />
----------<br />
<br />
For Grins & Accountability, here is my current list for 2017:<br />
1. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Heaven-Randy-Alcorn/dp/0842379428/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494995798&sr=8-1&keywords=heaven+randy+alcorn">Heaven</a> by Randy Alcorn<br />
2. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Confessions-Scary-Mommy-Irreverent-Motherhood/dp/1451673779/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494995873&sr=8-1&keywords=confessions+of+a+scary+mommy">Confessions of a Scary Mommy</a> by Jill Smokler<br />
3. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hamilton-Revolution-Lin-Manuel-Miranda/dp/1455539740/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494995943&sr=8-1&keywords=hamilton+the+revolution">Hamilton: The Revolution</a> by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter<br />
4. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Red-Tent-20th-Anniversary-Novel/dp/0312427298/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996163&sr=8-1&keywords=the+red+tent" target="_blank">The Red Tent</a> by Anita Diamond<br />
5. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Man-Called-Ove-Novel/dp/1476738025/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996193&sr=8-1&keywords=a+man+called+ove" target="_blank">A Man Called Ove</a> by Fredrik Backman<br />
6. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hidden-Figures-American-Untold-Mathematicians/dp/0062363603/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996226&sr=8-2&keywords=hidden+figures" target="_blank">Hidden Figures</a> by Margot Lee Shetterly<br />
7. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Lincoln-Bardo-Novel-George-Saunders/dp/0812995341/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996256&sr=8-1&keywords=lincoln+in+the+bardo" target="_blank">Lincoln in the Bardo</a> by George Saunders<br />
8. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Contagious-Things-Catch-Jonah-Berger/dp/1451686587/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996290&sr=8-1&keywords=contagious+why+things+catch+on" target="_blank">Contagious: Why Things Catch On</a> by Jonah Berger<br />
9. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/All-Our-Wrong-Todays-Novel/dp/1101985135/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494996340&sr=8-1&keywords=all+our+wrong+todays" target="_blank">All Our Wrong Todays</a> by Elan Mastai<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02156779392994027571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-86412178719375811172011-11-17T06:56:00.001-07:002011-11-17T07:03:49.046-07:00The End<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJaSjHN0FC9WBJFMEYCBn1ptN_HX375A-kEOUUuqXym4cXDOPs_yNwAQkj0GTkwtrzIrjlOoWuVW30QHV1VGSwv2qkT-dGvyV_9uCnFNnopV6kkznd5Me9rJB8UYmTmKb1xZm49vzeGmw/s1600/door-curtain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJaSjHN0FC9WBJFMEYCBn1ptN_HX375A-kEOUUuqXym4cXDOPs_yNwAQkj0GTkwtrzIrjlOoWuVW30QHV1VGSwv2qkT-dGvyV_9uCnFNnopV6kkznd5Me9rJB8UYmTmKb1xZm49vzeGmw/s320/door-curtain.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is harder I thought it would be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart and my head know that this
chapter of my life is ending, there is no doubt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the lights turned off my heart sank in sadness and my
eyes welled up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This really is
ending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For so long I have been driven to this place, the stories,
the people, the brokenness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see
a country overcoming a history of being trampled upon to becoming an equal
among greats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This place is so
different now, yet very much the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You can find Oreos now, but the toilet paper is still like
sandpaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When crossing the
border my blue passport used to give me an advantage, now I stand in line with
the rest of the world as Europeans whizz by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coalmines have closed, shopping malls built in their
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I hardly believe
this is the same place I stepped foot eight years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much has changed…I have changed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I met a young boy tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked with a crutch and tried to impress me with his
knowledge of English swear words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I could tell he longed for affirmation, a man to come into his life and
guide him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that he is a
gifted musician, if you believe that one can be gifted in rap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard a song he wrote, and sung about
his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About his anger toward
his abusive father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About the belt
he and his mother were beaten with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Heart wrenching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He now
lives with a foster family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What is this place!?!” My head screamed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is there so much brokenness?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it so hard to fix?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why now, is my chapter here ending?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In so many ways the last two weeks of closure have been
affirming that my time, this season is changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next one is just beginning and I have no idea what it
holds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not know how I
would feel returning to Poland, other than knowing I am here to say
goodbye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some moments it is easy, I
have missed being away from my fiancé so much and cannot wait to get home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But others, like tonight when I realize
that I may never step foot in “the Club” again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And next time I am here, there will be many things I do not
recognize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are moments when I look at a friend’s face, the world
turns hazy and I know deep in my heart that I will miss them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss the sound of little
children playing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss
seeing them all bundled up, even when its warm outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss shaking every man’s hand
and kissing every woman on the cheek when the arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss the slow paced culture and feeling no pressure
when I sit down to coffee with a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will miss the little flower markets and Babcias selling vegetables on
the street corners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss
the friendships I have built and knowing that they are praying for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am going to miss this place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the same moments when my heart sinks in sadness it is
also surging forward in confidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next time, Lord willing, I am in Poland…I will not be alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so excited for this next chapter
to begin, to settle in as his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wife, wow, I cannot believe I am almost one of those.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that the next chapter is just beginning, but I am a
little nervous too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is unknown,
and like on Christmas morning there are so many gifts awaiting you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is exciting and overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I force myself forward unsure of the
unknown all the while knowing I have to find out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As much as it pains my heart to let go of the known, and
shelf a piece of my identity, I know that my “home” is Denver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the first time in my life I feel
like a foreigner in Poland, outside of my homeland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The unknown is exciting and nerve wrecking but it is
the next adventure waiting for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alongside my best friend, in a city I thought I would never
live…my own backyard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Poland, you are beautiful and I love you so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for teaching me about people
different from myself, and how to love out of the depths of my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without you I would still be my old
self, but somehow you were a place where I found God and He made me more like
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I will never fully
understand my place in your land, or your affect on me until heaven, but thank
you for being a firm rock in my life, a place I always felt welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were exactly what I needed during
this season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You helped prepare me
for this next one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss you
often and I cannot wait to introduce my husband and children to you one
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leaving you is the hardest
and easiest decision I have ever made.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I turn off the lights and lock the door behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A kiss on the cheek and a tear in my
eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do widzenia!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Goodbye!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel different somehow still the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A smile creeps to my face because
tomorrow</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will be home.</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-50402756755593600622011-10-31T10:16:00.001-06:002011-10-31T10:17:11.848-06:00I Need Beans!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is 7am and the line is getting closer and closer to the back wall. The cars in the drive-thru have wrapped their way around the parking lot. The pressure is on, we have to get these drinks out as fast as possible. Along with eight other Baristas we have our places, everyone knows what they need to do, where they need to stay. We are a team, highly dependent on those around us.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Last week I was working the morning rush, like usual, and my job was to make all the drinks for our drive thru customers. There is a lot of pressure to get drinks out in the allotted time, with as few mistakes as possible. Your ears are constantly flooded with new drink orders coming in as well as fellow coworkers telling you if you need to work faster. Pressure.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For a while this system works, but eventually the rush takes its toll and you need more milk, or vanilla syrup, or lids, or ice. I cannot move from my spot, I have to keep making drinks so that customers outside are not left waiting. All I can do is yell at the top of my lungs, "I need Grande Hot Lids!" and hope someone who can run heard me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hear in the distance someone yell, "Grande Hot Lids!" Relief, I have been heard, I can keep up my pace, keep doing what I need to do. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I walked away from work that day exhausted, but completely happy. Every request, every need that I made known to my coworkers was heard and they met it for me. It filled my heart on so many levels, and really made me think, when was the last time I made sure I was surrounded by people and activities that fill my heart, meet my needs. And not just when I get desperate, but looking ahead and knowing what my needs will be when I have a busy week.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Rarely, lets be honest.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If I hadn't already been blown away by having all my needs met for 8 hours straight one day, it hit the next day. I don't know what changed, but no one heard me all day. I was constantly calling out what I needed and no one responded. It left me doing eight things at once and drained me completely. I could not function like that and after time I couldn't keep up with not being heard which slowed everyone else down too. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My life is so similar to the morning rush at Starbucks. I go through periods when things are crazy and I need built in people and activities to help keep me sane. If I don't build those into my life automatically then I will be left trying to do everything on my own. Trying to get everything I need and give it all out at the same time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Working at Starbucks is teaching me more and more about taking care of my heart, but also looking out for the needs of others. Not focusing so much on myself to not hear the calls for "More Mocha" or "Bacon Sandwiches" but to make sure that I am making my needs known, getting them taken care of, so that I can help in the needs of others.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-11360440892503395092011-09-01T11:11:00.000-06:002011-09-01T11:11:14.658-06:00Having Adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKDJjbnwGlzaW0YSGqzLKYnU1WgKJLjFqled4weqZiXOJwqqVjMYODXvdLd-9WeWJdO1vbkhimrYz-gbDucBdKJN54-G0mhzlZiPfNwtuRKLsd8Axgth0G_W-l4s2z_G4fbvsADP-1FoF/s1600/rockclimbingbride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKDJjbnwGlzaW0YSGqzLKYnU1WgKJLjFqled4weqZiXOJwqqVjMYODXvdLd-9WeWJdO1vbkhimrYz-gbDucBdKJN54-G0mhzlZiPfNwtuRKLsd8Axgth0G_W-l4s2z_G4fbvsADP-1FoF/s400/rockclimbingbride.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
For as long as I can remember there have only been two things that I wanted in life: to be a missionary and to get married. Rooted somewhere in the depths of my heart there is an intense desire to follow God wherever he leads, but equally as powerful was my desire to love a man and have him love me back.<br />
<br />
And for so long I was absolutely convinced that I couldn't have both.<br />
<br />
I learned very quickly that out of these two passions I had, showing that passion to the world was only really acceptable for missions. I wanted to share about how deeply I longed to be married, but the voices of others taught me that it was not ok to desire marriage that much.<br />
<br />
"You are too young to get married."<br />
<br />
"Live your life before you settle down."<br />
<br />
"You don't even have a boyfriend why are you thinking about marriage?"<br />
<br />
My heart learned that even though I wanted to be a wife and support a man through thick and thin, it wasn't ok to desire it.<br />
<br />
So, I ran with my other passion: missions, asking God for crazy adventures, a life of seeing Him redeem people unto himself. My adventures took me all around the world and I was absolutely convinced that marriage and missions just didn't go together...for me.<br />
<br />
In all of this I started to believe the lie that missions was a much higher calling than marriage. I don't know how it started, but my heart believed it as truth.<br />
<br />
"I knew this girl once who started dating a guy back in the states and she never went back overseas."<br />
<br />
Look at Hudson Taylor, he left the girl he was dating because she didn't want to go to China. Missions must be a higher calling than marriage. <br />
<br />
In my own life every single one of my dating relationships ended because of how strongly I felt called to serve in Poland. It was always Poland vs Men. I tried to "convince" the men I dated that missions was awesome and they should join me. In my head thinking, you just aren't doing what God called you to do if you don't join me in this."<br />
<br />
I was really proud of myself. I had taken on the missionary call, therefore I was the most awesome. I silently judged those who pursued missions but then stopped to get married. I told myself they were settling. Not stepping up to what God REALLY wanted for them.<br />
<br />
In the last eight months something has changed. Slowly, God started to challenge me in this thinking. Is a life of missions really a higher calling than marriage? <br />
<br />
I started to allow myself to ask my heart hard questions<br />
<br />
"Does God see me as a missionary failure if I desire marriage?"<br />
<br />
"Do I have to abandon everything I am (even my crazy adventure seeking ways) in order to get married?"<br />
<br />
"Do I even believe that God can work in marriage, just as he does in missions?"<br />
<br />
And just as God does when he really wants you to learn a lesson I started reading all about marriage in blogs and hearing conversations around me.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;">It’s not about just you anymore. It’s waking up and realizing your dreams didn’t die, but now you have someone who can help you achieve them, and you’re responsible for helping them accomplish theirs too. It’s knowing that your last name might change, but your soul and its makeup don’t.</span></blockquote>
<br />
I am still me in marriage. I can still be called to ministry, I can still love Poland in the depths of my heart AND spend forever with my best friend. <br />
<br />
As God slowly opened up my eyes to the fact that He uses marriage to do amazing things, I was seeing the heart of my boyfriend change. He was falling in love with Jesus all over again and talking about doing ministry with me in the future. Not only did he change, but I changed too.<br />
<br />
My heart still deeply desired to have crazy God adventures, but they didn't require a passport. I started to see God where he had me. I started to see the need in my own city, the gaps and brokenness I had never noticed in my 25 years here.<br />
<br />
I learned that everyday with this man, my best friend, was an adventure. And it has God's finger prints all over it.<br />
<br />
Just like that I let my heart feel the greatness of love. Love from a God who cares about every little desire in my heart. Love from a man who has seen me at my best and at my worst and loves every little part of it.<br />
<br />
I made the decision to resign from my missionary title (for now) and let God spoil me a bit with my relationship with Devin. So yes, maybe right now missions and marriage don't go together. But marriage and being right where God wants you does. <br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, Devin took me to the heart of Denver, this city that we feel lead to serve and be a part of and asked me to marry him. To start a crazy adventure with him.<br />
<br />
Missionary Mallory is still a part of me and who I am. But maybe just maybe, God has something bigger in mind for me that I couldn't do alone. Teaching me once again that it is not all about me, missions never was, and marriage definitely is not. But it is all about becoming more like Christ and He will call us to adventures that make us more like Him.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #555555; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.9px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Marriage hasn’t changed our makeup, but each day, it is making us a little more selfless, a little bit more like Christ. And that, I think, is how it’s supposed to be.</div>
</span></blockquote>
------<br />
<br />
Thanks to <a href="http://goodwomenproject.com/">Good Women Project</a> for helping God open my eyes to seeing that marriage is a great thing too. Especially for <a href="http://goodwomenproject.com/marriage/what-no-one-told-me-youll-still-be-you#more-392">this post</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-77631810269590582082011-06-20T15:58:00.000-06:002011-06-20T15:58:33.382-06:00The Wake of Father's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp28vQWR4dXPqMditPavFBLlU_OVA-T70l23qE6MfO9iD5Q0UhGlYD4tGgRZi65tuLtXwQ5VsTBe5Ly2UfBTsDxkOHwMuiYnMXkz1_5SQGy5JXKLTXkCNZILc3PNHAp8MxfQYFd2T7010s/s1600/TireSwing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp28vQWR4dXPqMditPavFBLlU_OVA-T70l23qE6MfO9iD5Q0UhGlYD4tGgRZi65tuLtXwQ5VsTBe5Ly2UfBTsDxkOHwMuiYnMXkz1_5SQGy5JXKLTXkCNZILc3PNHAp8MxfQYFd2T7010s/s320/TireSwing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>If you have spent any time with me in the last few years you know I wrestle deeply with the relationship I have with my dad. My heart has taken the idea of "fatherhood" and twisted it into something frustrating, confusing, and painful.<br />
<br />
For years I have been living in the shadow of my father's failures, letting them define how I approach the world and relate to my God.<br />
<br />
And finally, I have broken down and realized that I don't want my cracked expectations of a fairy-tale father to dictate my life anymore.<br />
<br />
It is painful.<br />
<br />
It is uncovering many lies that have taken root in my heart.<br />
<br />
Lies that have told me that my dad is not allowed to fail, he is supposed to be perfect 24 hours a day. That he is exempt from being human, from slipping up on occasion.<br />
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Lies that have told me that I am less of a daughter because I don't feel like I can write fabulous things on my Facebook wall about my dad on Father's Day.<br />
<br />
Lies that have told me that I don't deserve the very best from the men in my life. That I will always be let down. Left stranded to "deal" on my own in a tower like Fiona from Shrek.<br />
<br />
Slowly but surely I am digging to the root of my "daddy issues." So weird, because for the first time in my life I deeply desire to sort this out instead of burying it deeper. I think that's God's amazing grace as bring another man into my life in a BIG way.<br />
<br />
This year, I actually wished my dad a happy father's day. Progress.<br />
<br />
And yesterday as I logged onto my Facebook and saw all my friends praise their amazing fathers I let God speak to my heart as I got jealous and angry all at the same time.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Am I not father enough?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Deep down in my heart I have always been a Daddy's Girl and I am making my way there again. But this time realizing that I have a perfect father who loves me unconditionally. My earthly father will always fail me, simply because he is human. But it is not fair to hold him in a place of perfection.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Allow God to heal the wounds of my dad and fill those holes with His love. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Who knows maybe my daddy issues will end up being a gift?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, Georgia, serif; line-height: 22px;"><em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Battle wounds create a pain that drives us to a healer we would not otherwise know & give a God-assigned purpose we never could have found. -Lauren Lankford</em></span></blockquote>--<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #52392b; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">“I have chosen you. The little girl with the brunette ringlets and the big blue eyes – she was and is my daughter. Have you forgotten how beautiful I created you? Have you let others speak and tell you otherwise? Let all those voices be silent once and for all, for I am the Great I Am. They cannot stand against me. And they are nothing to me. I have created you as beautiful and in my eyes you have lost none of the innocence you possessed when I first gave you life. You are like new to me every morning, just as my mercy is new to you every morning. I have heard your cries – I am the Lord.” - <a href="http://deeperstory.com/a-letter-to-the-girl-without-a-father/">An Excerpt From This Awesome Blog</a></em></span>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-7555102923233024962011-05-19T14:45:00.000-06:002011-05-19T14:45:27.283-06:00Leading with the Heart, Not the Head<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdA96nJxWA2Wv7uiNlPf7r_0KeMjOr4G92MiqSovs-956WItbvimvSZWjTP070_3Q0KYQbMXc6LIkqXD6ETdf5vnBuAvOCRFb2zl-kTjSsvRg88Aeq0aE37VJ0y_lZtB4CaCInHDYgfJJ/s1600/hikers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdA96nJxWA2Wv7uiNlPf7r_0KeMjOr4G92MiqSovs-956WItbvimvSZWjTP070_3Q0KYQbMXc6LIkqXD6ETdf5vnBuAvOCRFb2zl-kTjSsvRg88Aeq0aE37VJ0y_lZtB4CaCInHDYgfJJ/s320/hikers.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I have always been drawn to leadership. Not only do I love to be in leadership, but I love to associate myself with "great leaders." Especially men in leadership. My heart thrives in leadership, but I have never had a problem following a man in leadership (granted done well). This probably makes me seem anti-feminist, but as a strong, independent woman I prefer a man to take the lead.<div><br />
</div><div>For one, I have always believed it was Biblical. "A husband is to rule over his wife as Christ does the church." And other such references. I don't believe it is a call for men to act like dictators over women, definitely not. But I do believe that God gave men their "warrior-like" tendencies in order to lead the people in their life. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Whilst growing in and discovering my God-given femininity as a young girl I had always looked up to strong-leading men. Many of whom were impressive leaders with an attitude of "Follow me or get left behind." It was always a mad dash to keep up with wherever they were going, fully trusting that their sprint to the summit was the exact route and pace that God had set before them. </div><div><br />
</div><div>From youth leaders, to boyfriends, to my father I have always been completely happy being told what to do, being controlled, and completely trusting that they were leading those in their life in the exact model Christ set up for relationships.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then, I stumbled across <a href="http://www.allyspotts.com/the-first-of-four-qualities-of-a-biblical-man-he-is-a-leader">this blog</a> and it kinda rocked my world. It challenged me to rethink how I view male leadership. </div><div><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">Sometimes I get caught in the impression that leadership is about power or authority or who gets to make the decisions. But, by the end of the hike, I couldn’t help but think about how this must be what true leadership looks like: <em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">loving guidance, taking responsibility for safety and direction, carrying extra weight and running ahead to check for danger</em>.</span></blockquote>What? A man who leads with his heart instead of his head is a good thing? They aren't considered weak because whilst leading, they don't stop caring about those they are leading. They step up when the need arises, but not so far as to leave people behind.<br />
<br />
I had always been taught that great leaders are born outside of relationship. Not true, Christ was an amazing leader and spent 90% of his time inside relationship. Christ was not afraid to call people out, but he also was not afraid to kneel down and heal. <br />
<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">Leadership happens in <em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">relationship</em>, not outside of it.</span></blockquote><br />
That one sentence speaks deeply to my heart. It affirms a desire in my soul to be lead but not left behind. In relationships I had always tied myself to men that were fantastic head-leaders. They could see a vision and go after it, they knew what they wanted and when they wanted it. Which always left me in dust not sure if I could go along with their goals. Something in my heart just didn't connect, that's not the kind of leadership I wanted in a future husband...but history told me that's all that was out there.<br />
<br />
But its not. Men who lead with the heart are out there, I should know, I'm dating one. When all I have known is head-leaders, heart-leaders are really uncomfortable. The more I sit in actual relationship with a heart-leader I know this is how God intended it to be. You move forward together as a team, sharing the weight of each other's burdens, taking time to make sure you are still on the right path.<br />
<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 22px;">Leadership is not about competition. It’s about getting everyone out of the woods before dark.</span></blockquote><br />
A man who leads with his heart is not weak or lazy because in the end he arrives at the summit alongside those he loves...instead of alone.<br />
<br />
Ladies, have you seen examples of good male heart-leaders? How has that impacted your identity?<br />
<br />
Men, how does being in leadership challenge you? Who are some men that have taught you how to lead well?</div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-26673698429014054892011-04-22T15:37:00.000-06:002011-04-22T15:37:22.495-06:00Grace in Death<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoI5ptikR5r3vLLxeaW2yvmXeM2IiSNemq3w_9mVGXtcg1PYFf0kjE1YcZMa1ZBsHrzHH368SlxW7y7Oxs9F4TWzQO7HwmFZg42XvNSnWf7fi4L3Byo1M1g1i0FlF3leQo7FoA3WcVtby/s1600/jesuscross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoI5ptikR5r3vLLxeaW2yvmXeM2IiSNemq3w_9mVGXtcg1PYFf0kjE1YcZMa1ZBsHrzHH368SlxW7y7Oxs9F4TWzQO7HwmFZg42XvNSnWf7fi4L3Byo1M1g1i0FlF3leQo7FoA3WcVtby/s320/jesuscross.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It is no secret that I am deeply enthralled with God's grace. I love sharing about God's grace in my life; how it has changed me and given me passion. It just makes me smile!<br />
<br />
Today it hit me, I don't often think about what had to happen for me to experience God's grace directly. <br />
<br />
I grew up in Christian church culture. To say that I have heard the Good Friday and Easter stories numerous times would be an understatement. For goodness sakes, I became a missionary which in simple terms means I am supposed to share those stories with other people! I should not be surprised that the message of Good Friday and Easter has kind of lost its fervor on my heart.<br />
<br />
It is familiar. And when things get too familiar, they get boring.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I was starting to get a little bored with the idea of grace.<br />
<br />
Admitting those things kinda makes me feel like the worst Christian on the planet.<br />
<br />
But I know I'm not. Because I know other people get bored with the real meaning of Easter too. That's why we paint eggs, eat lots of candy, have brunch with family and other silly Easter traditions. We get bored with Jesus on a cross. We get tired of saying "He is Risen." I get tired of how fake Easter feels...<br />
<br />
I think we get bored because we don't really like to let the cross affect us. We get bored with it because the deep reality of Jesus taking on all the messiness of human life is uncomfortable. It pricks something in our hearts that reminds us that life is not our own. If Jesus really DID go through that much torture and pain all out of love...then I feel really foolish for how I act.<br />
<br />
I don't like feeling foolish. Or like I have made mistakes. And let's face it, Good Friday, when really felt, kinda slaps you in the face.<br />
<br />
Ouch.<br />
<br />
Jesus' death is the whole reason we have grace. I like having grace that doesn't make come face to face with my mistakes. Which is unfortunately not how this works. Crap. <br />
<br />
I wish I could skip right over Good Friday, go straight to Easter. Put on a new dress and a smile and pretend like I am perfect. But I am not. <br />
<br />
Thanks to the cross I am redeemed. I am holy. I am God's daughter. But I think I need my heart to feel the weight of Jesus' death a little more. I don't want Easter to be fake this year, just something I do to get extra "Christian Points." I want to wrestle with the events of Good Friday. So that when I celebrate Easter I can say that my burdens are really dead at the cross. I am not clinging to my messy life any more, pretending that I'm not bored with the message of God's grace.<br />
<br />
I want to feel the effect of grace again. Deeply.<br />
<br />
So I can celebrate that Jesus is alive. Forever.Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-61151803417081000402011-04-04T14:32:00.000-06:002011-04-04T14:32:36.531-06:00That's All I am Asking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M88O6kMVOJAg-fWRdtAlEOIQaHwQPwrwsXA08k7bzjof9EaruuaPUPsWzL0IptJfWOH6UI9lkoylB6TlSCmy7R5amHNOhSihh2jiSBhfzT69OjRB-7fzLHOWutNO6YgSQUSn1B7fgbeX/s1600/holding_hands_by_homarte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1M88O6kMVOJAg-fWRdtAlEOIQaHwQPwrwsXA08k7bzjof9EaruuaPUPsWzL0IptJfWOH6UI9lkoylB6TlSCmy7R5amHNOhSihh2jiSBhfzT69OjRB-7fzLHOWutNO6YgSQUSn1B7fgbeX/s320/holding_hands_by_homarte.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>One month ago a childhood friend came to me. "I want to take you on a date." I hemmed and hawed, but eventually replied, "I will give you one date, just one." He replied, "That's all I am asking."<br />
<br />
Dinner and a movie with slight undertones of awkwardness came and went. A few days later he said to me, "I want to date you." I thought and prayed, listened to my heart. Replied to his anxious heart, "I will date you, let you pursue me, but I will not be your girlfriend just yet." He answered, "That's all I am asking."<br />
<br />
Over the next few weeks we learned about our love of building things together. We also became addicted to Ben & Jerry's ice cream and Salsa Verde. Legos, puzzles, grocery store trips, LOST...somewhere in there we found something special.<br />
<br />
Late one night my phone rang. "Will you be my girlfriend?" "Yes," I immediately replied. "I have no idea where this will go, but I want to be your girlfriend."<br />
<br />
"That's all I am asking."<br />
<br />
<i>Happy one month since our first date, Dev! You make me smile and feel so loved. Thanks for being patient with my heart. I can't wait to see where this goes! Go Rockies!</i>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-53968959799206003542011-03-28T15:10:00.001-06:002011-03-28T15:10:50.089-06:00Fifteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh5HMv_4MITg6hj6fEdoW1GNb1Aw7B4eL48rj6glke6P19n90MdBIOdky24JjDSeCg1GpNaH3hZDl_yucusQ4_Kzn8sV2DSOkwILMvuGU-b8BesJOCnvXfvZPi9FxVR78gFTp2j3R4pUB/s1600/journal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh5HMv_4MITg6hj6fEdoW1GNb1Aw7B4eL48rj6glke6P19n90MdBIOdky24JjDSeCg1GpNaH3hZDl_yucusQ4_Kzn8sV2DSOkwILMvuGU-b8BesJOCnvXfvZPi9FxVR78gFTp2j3R4pUB/s320/journal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>About once a year I blow the dust off. Turn the pages gently. Read the scribbled writing. Remember what it was like to be back in high school. <br />
<br />
A few weeks ago I pulled out my old journals. Usually I read them to remind myself that I have grown and matured since I was fifteen, but this time around it didn't make me feel better where I am at. Instead I wished there were somethings I could tell fifteen year old me. I know journeying through life is what makes us great, but here is a letter to Mallory, ten years ago.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Hey Love,</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I admire your faith immensely. How you fell in love with missions just a year ago and want to pursue it for the rest of your life. Guess what, you make it! It may seem impossible now, but you do get to live overseas. It's not in South America, but somewhere so awesome. It will become like home to you. But I'm not going to give it away, you gotta wait and see where God takes you.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Ok, girlie, let's talk about boys. I know they are your entire world right now. And I know you are going to hate me for saying this, but let go a little bit. You know some awesome guys right now that will raise your standards for men, be friends with them, but don't be upset when they don't fall head over heels for you. Get what you can out of their friendship and be grateful when your lives go different directions. You may think these guys are awesome, but you have no idea who you are going to meet after college. They will rock your world. Spoil you. Teach you what it is like to be respected. Make you laugh. Just you wait.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>You are going to make some big mistakes in the next few years. You are going to struggle with failure and not being perfect. It's ok hun, because you are going to learn some remarkable things about God in the process. Those mistakes, those failures, are going to be the darkest times of your life, but they will inspire you to change the world around you. I am not going to tell you how to avoid them, or to power through. No, you need to hurt. You need to break. It is ok. Cry. Yell. Be angry. You will come out stronger.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I just want you to know that you are loved. Life is not going to turn out the way you want it to right now. It will be better because it will be exactly what God wants. So chill out a little bit. Put down the imaginary wedding planning. Go read your Bible. Don't stress so much about math class, life doesn't depend on getting A's in algebra. Don't stop dancing. Love your brothers, they are amazing.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Oh yeah, next summer you are going to work at Camp Id-Ra-Ha-Je again. One of your coworkers, talk with him, get to know him. He is going to become an important part of your life down the road. :-)</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>You are beautiful and amazing. Don't forget that.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Love, 25 year old Mallory</i><br />
<i><br />
</i>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-66046651505312549052011-03-17T15:29:00.000-06:002011-03-17T15:29:37.476-06:00Unlucky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtsbkvc__zS7FlVAcucQw0Osh7PgwLj5uRxXsGj8NokfWN3StkORI5qxUc9lmbtCW4u_ENxJ4pmXD_drvfzipaSGUDq9M6zNr-_fvDCeEUNnd1Y6GlukMh4TfEPCR5FMSOwEY-fQCtV37/s1600/4-leaf-clover-optimized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtsbkvc__zS7FlVAcucQw0Osh7PgwLj5uRxXsGj8NokfWN3StkORI5qxUc9lmbtCW4u_ENxJ4pmXD_drvfzipaSGUDq9M6zNr-_fvDCeEUNnd1Y6GlukMh4TfEPCR5FMSOwEY-fQCtV37/s320/4-leaf-clover-optimized.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Bring on the 4-leaf clovers, green beer, leprechauns, and anything remotely Irish. Today is the day to stake your claim in luck. Today is Saint Patrick's Day.<br />
<br />
Growing up in the church I was always told that there was no such thing as "luck" and that God is behind everything. Yes, of course. I do believe that God has a purpose to everything, even the terrible things which He redeems magnificently. <br />
<br />
But then when I was in middle school I learned the meaning behind my name. Mallory means "unlucky." No joke.<br />
<br />
At an age when you are searching for meaning in your identity, hoping that the name your parents bestowed upon you had some secret purpose behind it. To find out that you are "destined" to be unlucky is one bound to give you a complex.<br />
<br />
My mom says that they had no idea what my name meant when they wrote it on the birth certificate, and I believe her. But for many years the meaning behind my name has lurked in the shadows taunting me. Any time something unfortunate happened I would be reminded that my life is just purposed to be unlucky. I have been tempted to blame every failed relationship, every closed door on the fact that I am inherently unlucky.<br />
<br />
With friends claiming names with deeper meanings, "Beloved" "Child of God" "Powerful" "Poet" to turn around with "unlucky" was a total slap in the face.<br />
<br />
This year I found a t-shirt with "Born Lucky" scrolled across the front. And I just smirk when I wear it because I know I was born "unlucky." <br />
<br />
But just because I may be deemed unlucky, does not mean I am unblessed.<br />
<br />
<i>Thanks Sheryl for opening my eyes to that fact. </i>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-6457336524459597442011-03-14T16:24:00.000-06:002011-03-14T16:24:40.002-06:00Choosing Bitterness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR3sTmoYunB9dvG4W8w3HLUX0-eJbP8Z5nC-Gk3Op5mbDjr7wYAKzV9Re63uBDuSyrzEolzTtV0HIqt4c79Sika0lCavl7HMoYzRi_OPSNkvRoxlnuyMGcpesj5ci0SUF6-KwSK0R2lBs/s1600/bitterfruitaward.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR3sTmoYunB9dvG4W8w3HLUX0-eJbP8Z5nC-Gk3Op5mbDjr7wYAKzV9Re63uBDuSyrzEolzTtV0HIqt4c79Sika0lCavl7HMoYzRi_OPSNkvRoxlnuyMGcpesj5ci0SUF6-KwSK0R2lBs/s320/bitterfruitaward.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>Hi, my name is Mallory. And I hold on to things way longer than I should. Especially bitterness.<br />
<br />
A couple weeks ago a very dear friend of mine hurt me. Not intentionally. But it happened. Hurt my heart in one of its most tender areas. Sucky.<br />
<br />
As the days go on the pain of someone else's actions slowly fade, but they are turning into bitterness. Frustration and anger toward one of my favorite people on earth. <br />
<br />
Every day I look at my phone and contemplate sending a text, leaving a voicemail to say I am sorry. To say I don't want you out of my life despite what went down a few weeks ago. <br />
<br />
But I cannot bring myself to do it.<br />
<br />
Somehow I have convinced myself that the longer I hold onto bitterness the more pain I am causing the person I am bitter against. The longer I withhold contact maybe, just maybe we will be even on the hurt front. <br />
<br />
I have been here many times before. Lost friendships because I cannot let go of the hurt and bitterness. Truth of the matter is, I am only hurting myself.<br />
<br />
Here I am, in limbo. Do I let go of the bitterness and open myself up to friendship again. Or do I let go of the friendship because it is just too painful?<br />
<br />
Today I have the chance to be raw and vulnerable in the most beautiful way possible. I have a chance at forgiveness. <br />
<br />
Question is will I take it?Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-54395722865180987172011-03-07T14:50:00.000-07:002011-03-07T14:50:31.998-07:00Lost in Confidence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEYhF8Ui_dA7RATEswBWpBxnVEFbb2gH4RFP_7k7FhGEdlyVZFRmUfrVjrzSFDk8V1x-r8tbgTvxi-eNo_Xs9x7QwlBbY0brqNIGiTIIzFNyqYyHcTN5G3LlsfJpiXN8IB36eF381PJAEC/s1600/spark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEYhF8Ui_dA7RATEswBWpBxnVEFbb2gH4RFP_7k7FhGEdlyVZFRmUfrVjrzSFDk8V1x-r8tbgTvxi-eNo_Xs9x7QwlBbY0brqNIGiTIIzFNyqYyHcTN5G3LlsfJpiXN8IB36eF381PJAEC/s320/spark.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I have a friend who exudes confidence. He knows who he is, what he likes, and most importantly his role as a child of God. He's not even 30 yet. Impressive.<br />
<br />
I feel like now more than ever my peers are struggling deeply with the questions, "Who am I?" and "Why am I here?" They want a job that is more than just a way to bring in money, they want to do something that they love. My generation want to make a difference in the world using their God-given talents. Problem is, there aren't many jobs out there that look like hobbies with pay. That is, if you even know what you want to do...for the rest of your life.<br />
<br />
When you don't know what you want to do with your life it is hard to be confident. When you cannot separate what you do from who you are as a person its easy to feel lost. More and more I see peers define themselves by things and people around them. It is like we are still in high school. Awkward and unsure of ourselves most of the time.<br />
<br />
Then we encounter someone who knows who they are. And they are awesomely confident, not like someone who uses confidence to act like a douchebag. These people who know who they <i>really </i>are, are attractive and terrifying. I have seen friends interact with a truly confident person and it makes them uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable too. <br />
<br />
It dawned on me last week, when I heard someone bashing a confident someone else that as a generation we yearn for confidence. But at the same time we are not comfortable with people who have figured out who they are as a child of God. Misery does love company. We want to be lost and confused together.<br />
<br />
The sad truth is that so many people never figure out who they are in Christ. They can go their whole lives without really having the chance to live confidently in who they are created to be. And they will spend their lives trying to douse the confidence others have found. Breaks my heart.<br />
<br />
In the last few months I have really begun to see my beauty as a daughter of God. Realizing that I love the ridiculous and being goofy. I love laughing and being unconventional. <br />
<br />
But I have also learned how quickly that spark of confidence can be extinguished. So here's to finding a bonfire of confidence that cannot be put out by others who have not found their spark yet.<br />
<br />
Moreover, here's hoping that my bonfire will ignite someone else's spark.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>John 10:10 The Message</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ml6mvky/Fire+Sparkles">Littleman</a></i></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-32162040822903802392011-03-03T14:48:00.001-07:002011-03-03T14:50:13.525-07:00I AM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaXLQtl32bwi-QggoYtGQkSDcoEq8orm8KxMgSbEVY_eAd_3RIaN1HxFKOua75G2BvbZjUI4f2wZmP4j9zcKosLnPkkAdfNDToEwQpXp4LmLYebvWcHglt31KAKUReXYwWFkzAHfxjCCF/s1600/past-present-future.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaXLQtl32bwi-QggoYtGQkSDcoEq8orm8KxMgSbEVY_eAd_3RIaN1HxFKOua75G2BvbZjUI4f2wZmP4j9zcKosLnPkkAdfNDToEwQpXp4LmLYebvWcHglt31KAKUReXYwWFkzAHfxjCCF/s400/past-present-future.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was regretting the past and fearing the future.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Suddenly my LORD was speaking:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"My name is I AM"</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">He paused.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I waited.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He continued.</div><div style="text-align: center;">"When you live in the past with its</div><div style="text-align: center;">mistakes and regrets, it is hard.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am not there.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My name is not <b> I WAS</b>.</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you live in the future with its</div><div style="text-align: center;">problems and fears, it is hard.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am not there.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My name is not <b>I WILL BE</b>.</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you live in this moment,</div><div style="text-align: center;">It is not hard.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am here.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>My name is I AM</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i>-Hellen Mallicoat</i></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-69379975163175207862011-03-02T15:25:00.000-07:002011-03-02T15:25:38.357-07:00Scars of the Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwaMDWjYcppMq5M_bX3hvB5UrCBjNPurgHFg3PtsXdmg6Pyq0SrU_pNu67L3da8_NyInvE68XVpQkGW5kt1VmiDAkhH7zYhuGdTn7B4HHUA6xB3yDj42bHZn2nFFz4SnX67atYM-ImExe/s1600/woundedheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwaMDWjYcppMq5M_bX3hvB5UrCBjNPurgHFg3PtsXdmg6Pyq0SrU_pNu67L3da8_NyInvE68XVpQkGW5kt1VmiDAkhH7zYhuGdTn7B4HHUA6xB3yDj42bHZn2nFFz4SnX67atYM-ImExe/s320/woundedheart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>-Harry Crews</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was having a conversation on Sunday with a dear friend about hurt, sin and scars. "I am not bitter anymore about this scar on my elbow from falling, or this scar here from a medical procedure," I explained. "I don't even feel them anymore."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I went to bed that night thinking about my physical scars, remember the pain I experienced with every single one. I hardly ever think about them anymore, nor do I notice them. Each has their own tale that weaves into the greater story of who Mallory is. Some are from chasing a boy and tripping on a dirt road. Others are from slipping on gravel while riding my bike. My knees are covered in scars from having warts removed (gross I know). </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Physical scars almost seem easier than emotional ones, scars on the heart. You can watch them heal. Its common knowledge on how to treat a fresh wound and the appropriate steps to make sure you are left with the smallest scar possible. Its not that easy when your heart is wounded. Emotional wounds seem never ending. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Physical scars once healed simply just hold memories. You can touch it, look at it, poke it and you won't open up the wound again. Its healed. The pain is gone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Emotional scars are forever wounds. You can heal, move on, but if you look at your scarred heart the wound can reopen. The worst is when someone else touches the scar, and how quickly it reopens and floods your heart in old pain.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Scars of the heart are precious tales of where sin and grace converge in our life. They are dark corners of our heart we only reveal to those we trust the most. And when someone reveals their heart scars to you it is a gift to be cherished. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My heart scars will always be the best parts of me, but they will also cause me the most pain. Over and over. It is only in sharing those scars with other people that they will cease to hurt us. Instead of making us vulnerable, they will make us stronger.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-50351500802203625312011-02-10T10:44:00.001-07:002011-02-10T10:48:24.256-07:00Two Birds of a Feather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPT_YVSx2nIFg9KKRiC0tU5fqADDVqcGPwSjSa-x-6twrYw3L3B5KSU4AmBOZh0d8p8vi6XH_Ww-R9tmKlfRR6JyvWY1r2X4B90yYXmzthoqAOHs5tocRn75Lfk-eZ1yKjxJkZ5PISMca2/s1600/feather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPT_YVSx2nIFg9KKRiC0tU5fqADDVqcGPwSjSa-x-6twrYw3L3B5KSU4AmBOZh0d8p8vi6XH_Ww-R9tmKlfRR6JyvWY1r2X4B90yYXmzthoqAOHs5tocRn75Lfk-eZ1yKjxJkZ5PISMca2/s320/feather.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I have never been overly fascinated with birds. Granted my first pet was a parakeet named Woodstock, and I had four more birds before I left elementary school. However, as I look back on my "Salvation Story" I see that God has used the imagery of birds to catch my attention more than once.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br />
The first time I remember vividly. I was sitting at TeePee Camp (the 4-6 grade area of Camp Id-Ra-Ha-Je) in between meals. The camp was quiet, campers were off playing games in a nearby field. There I sat cross-legged on top of the cold gray picnic table. <br />
<br />
In the months leading up to working at Camp for the third summer I was struggling deeply with my self image. I saw myself as fat and worthless. Teetering on the edge of an eating disorder. <br />
<br />
Sitting on the concrete table my heart was finally quiet. Quiet enough to notice the two small birds that had flown in. I watched them as they found a french fry and other snacks the campers had dropped at lunch. And just like that my soul filled with scripture.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Therefore I tell you do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothes? <b>Look at the birds of the air</b>; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. <b>Are you not much more valuable than they? </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Matthew 6:25-26</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">These birds are so tiny, yet God cares ever so much about them. And just like that this verse set me on a journey (that I am still traveling) of seeing myself as God's daughter, His Princess.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">In the last few months birds have come to mean something else to me. If you have been following this blog for long you have probably noticed the birds that hang out at the top. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Some people have asked me if I can sum up my time in Poland thus far in just a few words. I could use a number of adjectives "good, awesome, phenomenal, challenging, lonely..." But there is one image that seems to sum it up for me. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Picture a bird sitting on a barren branch (if you are having trouble, just look at the top of the page). Then picture a bird flying away. At this time in my life I resonate with the second bird.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Birds are created for a purpose, like everything. I don't believe God creates something for nothing. Birds are created to fly, soar above the earth. Have you ever watched a bird fly? Freedom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">A soaring bird is how my heart felt in Poland. I was living out my purpose in this phase of life. God created me for a reason and it was time to fly, be free. I was not created to sit on a branch for my whole life and watch the world go by. No, I am created to take part in God's divine creation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sure, sometimes flying solo the whole time is exhausting. And that is what the branch is for. Moments of rest. I just can't get stuck there, I am created to fly freely.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This weekend I visited my friend <a href="http://www.natepaultattoos.com/">Nate Paul</a> and had him tattoo that very image on my foot. Reminding me that it is ok to rest, but I also need to soar.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVT8vysMO_3KiuPr6fdI3P-H2CI5mq6S0NCXhBmW2P4bOWkEsGHK9QR7KJ3nJDwkfRsBwGtj18HgIqL3gvTMqVlQya2IwCm9BXOheMYWgg7mS_mNeBMhBZO0tMmSxYBz7FRp4yIEwh9vs6/s1600/0205111539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVT8vysMO_3KiuPr6fdI3P-H2CI5mq6S0NCXhBmW2P4bOWkEsGHK9QR7KJ3nJDwkfRsBwGtj18HgIqL3gvTMqVlQya2IwCm9BXOheMYWgg7mS_mNeBMhBZO0tMmSxYBz7FRp4yIEwh9vs6/s320/0205111539.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mtJH0QU/feather+fly">duchesssa</a></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-58522421099745855162011-02-08T12:51:00.001-07:002011-02-08T12:55:13.386-07:00The Men in My Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qlrfwl2SIzUe9agillMXRIvBCcCFp9644Z4ZBiChFrD7kgSz5wpwrk9SO5Tod40yHXjxfZsrCSF3cgZKTlhabmlPQygdhb6Eh4nKwkzcCT0J70xDcjtt5R9ZBCPUE1bN4xYthnjn3bwy/s1600/men.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qlrfwl2SIzUe9agillMXRIvBCcCFp9644Z4ZBiChFrD7kgSz5wpwrk9SO5Tod40yHXjxfZsrCSF3cgZKTlhabmlPQygdhb6Eh4nKwkzcCT0J70xDcjtt5R9ZBCPUE1bN4xYthnjn3bwy/s200/men.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>Over the weekend a friend was gracious enough to let me borrow her car while she went out of town. Transportational freedom! Even with all the snow Denver got blasted with over the weekend I was ever grateful to have a way to run some extra errands and meet with some people farther away.<br />
<br />
However, on Friday I had a slight change of plans when the car battery died. I will spare you the details, but after several jumps, a new battery and enlisting the help of some awesome men I was back in good shape. As I came home Friday night I started thinking about the men in my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. <br />
<br />
For as long as I can remember I have always had a wealth of guy friends. Maybe it is because I have two brothers, or maybe that's just how I roll. I have blogged about some of my guy friends before, but today, I want to highlight two in particular. They usually go unnoticed, and are as humble as their male egos will let them be. These two are the "heroes" of my car conundrum over the weekend and definitely deserve a shout out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtgQWNIqtPXNwWNuhqkPd4ZTgkxQIOvV3WyQUwoUwgJFppqMezSfTvxD9BWwKFE7yyrUZxnJ3W03WmQrjZ4lLbcfpUW3_bKHj74vpoh9iH3awdoS7vs46eAoOY0FtDqRgjmyslbvqU0Ly/s1600/DSCN6472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtgQWNIqtPXNwWNuhqkPd4ZTgkxQIOvV3WyQUwoUwgJFppqMezSfTvxD9BWwKFE7yyrUZxnJ3W03WmQrjZ4lLbcfpUW3_bKHj74vpoh9iH3awdoS7vs46eAoOY0FtDqRgjmyslbvqU0Ly/s200/DSCN6472.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Everyone, meet Chris. He is my baby brother. Well, he is nearly 21 and stands a good eight inches taller than me. In the last year or so he has taught me how to change a tire and how to jump a car. Honestly, I would much rather play the role of "damsel in distress" and have a guy do those things for me. But every time Chris makes me get out of the car and learn how to do it myself. I don't know if he sees it or not, but that tells me he loves me enough to not be totally helpless with car stuff. (Which I am...) Chris has something special in store for his life and I cannot wait to see him discover it. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoMOl7C_tm-OwLn0gdAs3eUdElLCuqOkmtqbePAs2svm1m2gcOpKlAh-xhX_ZHG8Xp_ql81rtV5PopqI6xsIEp81nktoXxq-13C4Xl4CO_iEc3QpyJkaAYyJe_uoQ4CJN3CvurCK1Xri4/s1600/DSCN4948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIoMOl7C_tm-OwLn0gdAs3eUdElLCuqOkmtqbePAs2svm1m2gcOpKlAh-xhX_ZHG8Xp_ql81rtV5PopqI6xsIEp81nktoXxq-13C4Xl4CO_iEc3QpyJkaAYyJe_uoQ4CJN3CvurCK1Xri4/s200/DSCN4948.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>This is Devin. He is my oldest friend going all the way back to my Camp Id-Ra-Ha-Je days. He (and his dad) are the big heroes of the battery dilemma. When someone loves sports as much as Devin does and turns off the game to come help...believe me it does not go unnoticed. All four hours he and his dad were there, teaching me how to change a battery, knowing exactly what the issues were and well, just being awesome. Many people don't understand why Devin and I are friends, but there's history there. When you have shared enough of life together you can't just let them go. Seriously, you should know Devin. He is one of my favorite people in the world. And, his family has single-handedly given me hope for restoration in family. Go Team Howard!<br />
<br />
As I talk to some of my girl friends most of us agree on one thing. Men (or one man in particular) are desired for times just like this. Someone to come to our rescue when we just don't know what to do. Sometimes I get upset because I don't feel like I can call my dad for help with cars, but I am constantly amazed at God's goodness for exactly where I am in life. More often than I care to admit I forget to thank God for the little things. I am never forgotten and He is always with me. <br />
<br />
So thanks Abba Father for always having my back and sending some great men in my life to help me out when you just can't be there in person.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Photo Courtesy of <a href="http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mf8dWGS/Rustic+Lavatory+Signs+2">2heads_Advertising</a></i>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-8895041363871437272011-01-20T11:53:00.001-07:002011-01-20T23:58:30.748-07:00Independent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZxRo96_5uhtjrcG2xGxT2YFbg9lsg9283B2v55Kuw9tNxKPBjO1l97Y4OMeqF824-GdkEiaPT8339K1r6QoYixxHKydHgm74Sp7l1W8tjl0ztbN8kKCJXMF85Tli2ggJSxed0SjK4aCB/s1600/independent-woman-copy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZxRo96_5uhtjrcG2xGxT2YFbg9lsg9283B2v55Kuw9tNxKPBjO1l97Y4OMeqF824-GdkEiaPT8339K1r6QoYixxHKydHgm74Sp7l1W8tjl0ztbN8kKCJXMF85Tli2ggJSxed0SjK4aCB/s320/independent-woman-copy1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px;">in·de·pend·ent</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px;"><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">[</span><span class="pron" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">in-di-<span class="boldface" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">pen</span>-d<span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">uh</span><img alt="" border="0" class="luna-Img" src="http://sp.dictionary.com/dictstatic/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: text-top;" />nt</span><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">]</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px;"><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="pg" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 3px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">–adjective</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">1.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">not</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">influenced</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">by</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">the</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">thought</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">action</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">others:</span></span><span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">independent</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">research.</span></span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">2.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">not</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">dependent;</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">not</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">depending</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">contingent</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">upon</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">something</span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">else</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">for</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">existence,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">operation,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">etc.</span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">3.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">not</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">relying</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">on</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">another</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">others</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">for</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">aid</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">support.</span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">4.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="labset" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">Mathematics</span> </span></span><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">. </span></span><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">(of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">quantity</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">function)</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">not</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">depending</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">upon</span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">another</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">for</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">its</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">value.</span></span></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">5.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="labset" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">Grammar</span> </span></span><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">. </span></span><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">capable</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">standing</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">syntactically</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">as</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">complete </span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">sentence</span></span></div><div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">I was raised to be independent. Do things myself, do them well. Becoming an independent adult was a big value my dad impressed upon me. It wasn't until this summer when I started to wonder if being independent was a bad thing.</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">Not just my family, but I think being an independent woman is a value of American culture today. We are moving away from feeling like we need a man to accomplish anything in life...or anyone. You see it in the movies, hear it in music all the time. The only way to get anywhere in life is to do it yourself. An attitude of "you are only responsible for you, make it count." Which, may not be a bad thing inherently, but once it festers...</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">Like I said, I never thought being independent was a bad thing. My independence put me through high school in 3 years, gave me the courage to move to Poland at 17, and again at 24. Independence I credit toward some of my best life experiences. If it wasn't for my gut telling me to not hold anything back...my life would be so boring.</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;">This summer I was talking to some girls in Poland for a short-term mission trip and mentioned that I have always been "independent." The looks on their faces were puzzled. "What do you mean you are independent?" "So you don't think you need other people?" WHAT? No, that is not what I meant at all...</span></span><br />
<span id="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: static;"><br />
</span></span><br />
I struggled to explain myself and they cautioned me against using the word independent in the future. Never would I have thought that being independent was something to be wary of. Over the next few months I wrestled with the idea of independence, was I really doing something completely wrong?<br />
<br />
No, I don't think being independent is a bad thing. If I wasn't independent I would have totally floundered in Poland. God created me this way, and if I was heavily dependent I never would have moved to Poland in the first place. Where my problem lies is I hate asking people for help.<br />
<br />
I hate knowing I am a burden to other people and I won't ask for help unless there is absolutely no way to get it done myself. That's my fall. For example, I wanted to color my hair for the first time and I spent 4 hours translating the directions from Polish to English on Google Translate. I could have just called a friend and have them tell me, but no. Independence for the win.<br />
<br />
God knows exactly where we struggle, its funny because he won't let us stay there. I see that with where my life is right now. I don't have a car so I have to depend on other people to get around. I don't know how long I am in Colorado, so for now I am sleeping on someone's couch. I can't go back to Poland until I have the funding, which means I have to ask people to donate.<br />
<br />
My life is hanging on dependency. It has been tough, but I am learning to humble myself and ask for help. My stomach churns at the thought, but I think its good for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Independence? That's middle class blasphemy. We are all dependent on one another, every soul of us on earth. -George Bernard Shaw</i></div></div></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-22978872333879428852011-01-10T14:06:00.002-07:002011-01-10T14:41:09.693-07:00Happy Birthday Lovely Lauren!I have the best friend any girl could ask for and today she turns 25! Lovely Lauren is an amazing woman of God and doesn't let me get away with anything. We don't get to see each other all that often, but she is my soulmate. I love you Lauren! I wish we could curl up on the couch watching FRIENDS and throwing Teddy Grahams at each other. But I guess you are old now, so time to be a grown up, right?<br />
<br />
Now take a moment to reflect on the last seven years...because we also met January 10, 2004.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqc_l-BdqWsHT-eBDMcBX3L4QF4iAlMTfNSEwThjVDJeKBYb0nQIILOM5qDicV88293_H9_kYd2AqBw-1q50R9SZdwDASvkx-k4xwddl0zkbtcWDwTNKUGzJRGZGrN0zxja82JPKa60Z0/s1600/LaurenMallory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqc_l-BdqWsHT-eBDMcBX3L4QF4iAlMTfNSEwThjVDJeKBYb0nQIILOM5qDicV88293_H9_kYd2AqBw-1q50R9SZdwDASvkx-k4xwddl0zkbtcWDwTNKUGzJRGZGrN0zxja82JPKa60Z0/s320/LaurenMallory.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annual Tradition!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcO561VcIF1nz0OxsyCRH9_kc-5kPQufWPkWTRJJ5f2RAZGYffs2G8qbKrUA8Ld4NPyt60lv8E6Hh6hy5CYz233QsowkAiTh5bvvlUV1RG7emBjN1XCMv_Q65yzJHFbUR27xN7tJmYAssp/s1600/Angels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcO561VcIF1nz0OxsyCRH9_kc-5kPQufWPkWTRJJ5f2RAZGYffs2G8qbKrUA8Ld4NPyt60lv8E6Hh6hy5CYz233QsowkAiTh5bvvlUV1RG7emBjN1XCMv_Q65yzJHFbUR27xN7tJmYAssp/s320/Angels.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshman year of college - 04/04</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNOBfPMvPoIeIjLR0TI0oaGX0tMkvbHGGF_nRNm0Ow5zqqN7GwTapg_swMgWL_GHzSngEdxe9xcOD0hO7mrqxxkm9sfBOg0UNUV9vUTR9n2nP40CfXFpnOSJst4QVQz8GjqcXKC0Ulh6R/s1600/Lauren%2526Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNOBfPMvPoIeIjLR0TI0oaGX0tMkvbHGGF_nRNm0Ow5zqqN7GwTapg_swMgWL_GHzSngEdxe9xcOD0hO7mrqxxkm9sfBOg0UNUV9vUTR9n2nP40CfXFpnOSJst4QVQz8GjqcXKC0Ulh6R/s320/Lauren%2526Me.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping up with tradition</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4jaWJ_v7BTCqUx6wPLhYQCI1hkNIGv1Bj-RtnsggGFC_fkbhVZ5d60mWtJt8Jul6mNvsZuJgnG03O_ic1oy6PCUFnL5Eg6Wr5mJY6PSOYCqHoPaoWktXX2Wmnko3y7nk5c5dvcvX9Xyt/s1600/WeirdestHerd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4jaWJ_v7BTCqUx6wPLhYQCI1hkNIGv1Bj-RtnsggGFC_fkbhVZ5d60mWtJt8Jul6mNvsZuJgnG03O_ic1oy6PCUFnL5Eg6Wr5mJY6PSOYCqHoPaoWktXX2Wmnko3y7nk5c5dvcvX9Xyt/s320/WeirdestHerd.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Herd" before life split us up - 12/05</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAKJoeIhGphwszS-n4M0DLQl9KbiKK7cj7Iw3-L5KoG5Xamvj7ydpHZaJHVYT-AHasiQcFyZ5SfNZffwDy54GiMUIZTxbeWdrWYZz-3JBk3LIobcnzkNT76qAkm21R0m-X7cnQgYv70CH/s1600/DSCN0654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAKJoeIhGphwszS-n4M0DLQl9KbiKK7cj7Iw3-L5KoG5Xamvj7ydpHZaJHVYT-AHasiQcFyZ5SfNZffwDy54GiMUIZTxbeWdrWYZz-3JBk3LIobcnzkNT76qAkm21R0m-X7cnQgYv70CH/s320/DSCN0654.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denver Zoo</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrfYtIifNZ44Iy8qTWBvANUySYvCuw2XBe7KcHsMzDIf-WMyWVhykK5kPXLnEC4DBDSANewRnCtyZ4sW9bCGiwYY0XK7VJVKzwxVm1jfDM7QN8uQX_18fWRx2nAttc0MWMP8VswECnGG6/s1600/DSCN0668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrfYtIifNZ44Iy8qTWBvANUySYvCuw2XBe7KcHsMzDIf-WMyWVhykK5kPXLnEC4DBDSANewRnCtyZ4sW9bCGiwYY0XK7VJVKzwxVm1jfDM7QN8uQX_18fWRx2nAttc0MWMP8VswECnGG6/s320/DSCN0668.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made a Build-A-Bear for Ben, stationed in Germany at the time</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrO0hcodT_gAjlv_GtHuAf8pPq4QEfKYc1d1VY8cWp2Bak_rRmEPq9TRWF9vhhanyq_bEZzvXgDcTQxvov1aLaJZHRt-DuiYm4o99_7HZL6Wyc2FWOVp2NJKFZ-IjXC5vhNjAU4nRx3tN/s1600/DSCN2659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrO0hcodT_gAjlv_GtHuAf8pPq4QEfKYc1d1VY8cWp2Bak_rRmEPq9TRWF9vhhanyq_bEZzvXgDcTQxvov1aLaJZHRt-DuiYm4o99_7HZL6Wyc2FWOVp2NJKFZ-IjXC5vhNjAU4nRx3tN/s320/DSCN2659.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having dinner in the Springs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUiKU9LQQz4x43JyC-iYFY0Sgft_jhkHmb7b5TlJIYl_XerKGk7HojoWrzm51PUaKO4jBgOZbdqzsAvwSbTwHrQcmQ62pAWuP7OI3daeKZ07RydSFKZXbvJaoV5VbYqTxeUeu7zhMIqIQ/s1600/DSCN2662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLUiKU9LQQz4x43JyC-iYFY0Sgft_jhkHmb7b5TlJIYl_XerKGk7HojoWrzm51PUaKO4jBgOZbdqzsAvwSbTwHrQcmQ62pAWuP7OI3daeKZ07RydSFKZXbvJaoV5VbYqTxeUeu7zhMIqIQ/s320/DSCN2662.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12/06 - "The Herd" getting back together FINALLY</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfy1FTEsoZJMqtq2O61mPyJkIbv7wGkz52XJhG8d_fzXXGJfdF73nOyjNiebu6fZmkJRSrqhphrTZDno3GDgjvSERKcfXGP94EKAjM2IK9qqk9Q8N3gOtAYq_KsTL-DrmQXTrJzHKmyk6/s1600/Noses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfy1FTEsoZJMqtq2O61mPyJkIbv7wGkz52XJhG8d_fzXXGJfdF73nOyjNiebu6fZmkJRSrqhphrTZDno3GDgjvSERKcfXGP94EKAjM2IK9qqk9Q8N3gOtAYq_KsTL-DrmQXTrJzHKmyk6/s320/Noses.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whoever touches the nose first wins - 12/06</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLJBcFK4FxpTqNDu4MNhN2AeYpHz3k0lKEXFp4Ry3PBRIoJToceDqXJ2ppeAwf6hmrtCBBm1eX8uKuCaaoo3QdCuVIV12p4J8xt1Wm_ORDx4QqjWFp4Xje0YB3kY3wJ2ruD9X9XAQZMov/s1600/DSCN3257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLJBcFK4FxpTqNDu4MNhN2AeYpHz3k0lKEXFp4Ry3PBRIoJToceDqXJ2ppeAwf6hmrtCBBm1eX8uKuCaaoo3QdCuVIV12p4J8xt1Wm_ORDx4QqjWFp4Xje0YB3kY3wJ2ruD9X9XAQZMov/s320/DSCN3257.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loving on my new puppy Tucker - 11/07</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwpiHSHnUwtjU0SWwGRqKXCsQKvcCO01_ehG5sQR2hltvdQ8CS0e8eAlwOCmiqiKwdtxK9nUk3xskkf2BXWRr9WArHiMZaVDhyAnj6PKKA0LXEbLF9epjpHv_aG-XcuFgH_6BEH0EN2AA/s1600/DSCN3515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwpiHSHnUwtjU0SWwGRqKXCsQKvcCO01_ehG5sQR2hltvdQ8CS0e8eAlwOCmiqiKwdtxK9nUk3xskkf2BXWRr9WArHiMZaVDhyAnj6PKKA0LXEbLF9epjpHv_aG-XcuFgH_6BEH0EN2AA/s320/DSCN3515.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lauren's 23! Ben drove into town to surprise her! 1/09</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY6ePua9L6QLPtCDTMAI9oLUSi4ZBsH8o4fXVUCybqSyECbdJPAND15erjOgqhbJUbqHQ2IUDD29XHpjnp0YfAF-NniWUSyxRb6jWX1RJkfY0iTnbVRGXDScH_uy5nNhSbisu-3bJPYEf/s1600/DSCN4304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbY6ePua9L6QLPtCDTMAI9oLUSi4ZBsH8o4fXVUCybqSyECbdJPAND15erjOgqhbJUbqHQ2IUDD29XHpjnp0YfAF-NniWUSyxRb6jWX1RJkfY0iTnbVRGXDScH_uy5nNhSbisu-3bJPYEf/s320/DSCN4304.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're 24! Right before our "birthday piercings." 2/10</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4h8TboSTjzS8GMRDWnebgapIzmflcejXPF69Z2goCv5770WPHMkXaxyC6WD9_ZSZ4JBYTqELQS_WY4P_QEJXbm3gTWIyO29FVK_vodEIA-0f4yQsdWM8P7Tnlr16DjNsJcZ_7X0NrF9OF/s1600/DSCN4913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4h8TboSTjzS8GMRDWnebgapIzmflcejXPF69Z2goCv5770WPHMkXaxyC6WD9_ZSZ4JBYTqELQS_WY4P_QEJXbm3gTWIyO29FVK_vodEIA-0f4yQsdWM8P7Tnlr16DjNsJcZ_7X0NrF9OF/s320/DSCN4913.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last outing before I leave the country... 6/10</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6brQXWFXO1bcGqaRqCzUcKzlqGJJdu0ahUwaC2r8ae2uN4qaO08BL_-p0UwTTOJ_Sndc3gG1U-i_dOcl6ALUb4OQoT_MPE0Vl0_lKcjHq5LIjlwdFy9O0sgQd-th_MMNyhP666nhUM1c/s1600/DSCN4963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6brQXWFXO1bcGqaRqCzUcKzlqGJJdu0ahUwaC2r8ae2uN4qaO08BL_-p0UwTTOJ_Sndc3gG1U-i_dOcl6ALUb4OQoT_MPE0Vl0_lKcjHq5LIjlwdFy9O0sgQd-th_MMNyhP666nhUM1c/s320/DSCN4963.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying goodbye one last time before Poland 6/10</td></tr>
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</div></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-59792475927230445212011-01-10T13:00:00.000-07:002011-01-10T13:00:51.504-07:00One of Those Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwhr77y2VAacae79skfd-YEQbCnMkCPF6ZAkeVkOrv02M-7E_tmDbJaHyUABtwPWQ0vshud22YAeMB9nJWvNplvDMPn3uD-_sr41W4xas7zkcH9zwLimfU2rVadYRTDDnSheC2zkb3p9o/s1600/mfe8WlO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwhr77y2VAacae79skfd-YEQbCnMkCPF6ZAkeVkOrv02M-7E_tmDbJaHyUABtwPWQ0vshud22YAeMB9nJWvNplvDMPn3uD-_sr41W4xas7zkcH9zwLimfU2rVadYRTDDnSheC2zkb3p9o/s320/mfe8WlO.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>They happen to everyone at some point or another. Days that just seem to work backwards and every little thing goes wrong. I am having one of those days...<br />
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I had scheduled a meeting with my friend Zach who handles all my web stuff for <a href="http://MalloryinPolska.com/">MalloryinPolska.com</a> at the Starbucks in Aspen Grove at 11am. Here is how that went over...<br />
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9am: Wake up late, rush to get out the door in the next 30 minutes<br />
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9:32am: Head for the bus...I have 6 minutes to make it there<br />
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9:38am: Watch Bus 24 drive past while I try to run and make it<br />
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9:40am: Decide to walk to the next bus stop, sidewalks are not plowed so I trudge through a foot of snow, about a mile.<br />
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9:59am: Watch Bus 67 drive past as I wait at the crosswalk...fail. Next bus doesn't come for another hour.<br />
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10:03am: I decide to just walk the rest of the way, about 3 miles. Text my web guy to let him know I will be late.<br />
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10:37am: Get a text back from my web guy suggesting we meet at a Starbucks about 3/4ths of a mile back...guess I'll turn around.<br />
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10:40am: Snowplows come through a cover all the sidewalks even more. Snow up to my knees.<br />
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10:53am: Made it. Finally.<br />
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Noon: Get back home...but managed to lose my cell phone somewhere between Starbucks and home...le sigh.<br />
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Its a day. Thanks for letting me vent. Now I am going to curl up with some FRIENDS and pretend it all never happened...Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-89396247059291758542011-01-06T21:49:00.000-07:002011-01-06T21:49:11.161-07:00A Heart of ExcitementIt is no secret that I absolutely adore my dog Tucker. He is a three year old all black mini schnauzer with loads of personality. He and I have been through a lot together, maybe one day I will actually share more about our life the last three years. <br />
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Tucker loves two things: playing and cuddling. I am always tripping over dog toys on the floor when I am not stuck in a chair with a puppy on my lap. Tucker comes with me to Poland and helped immensely with loneliness during my first few months. There is just something about an excited puppy that makes you feel welcome when you walk through your front door.<br />
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Today I was playing fetch with Tucker, and I noticed something about his excitement for me to throw the toy. It was so funny that I had to video it. I hope you enjoy seeing the heart of excitement in Tucker. And if you ever want to play fetch with him I know he would love it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WZaNNPm708U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-73217082884145554322011-01-03T16:24:00.000-07:002011-01-03T16:24:20.205-07:00No Small Affair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_J550RCHHnnT0RabkAGVJhcvFYo819xSMed3u7aAn6iGyig0TPo-wsoCLN_Br9-0lwbj97BRnAcZXa2osWqxGb47x81uv9CRap8uZZ8PP2pWnGBlpd0s7lVpsPydMsp0DFJiVwSngazJ/s1600/1144861766_ml-177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_J550RCHHnnT0RabkAGVJhcvFYo819xSMed3u7aAn6iGyig0TPo-wsoCLN_Br9-0lwbj97BRnAcZXa2osWqxGb47x81uv9CRap8uZZ8PP2pWnGBlpd0s7lVpsPydMsp0DFJiVwSngazJ/s200/1144861766_ml-177.jpg" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYP8XvEuPIhrnqsbk6B_5j3PV4MIBhs6jlqSFrZg6zeno3tUuUMFtg9pxKhAsxUfLyHNZrc9ENeBpz0BVrcRG9FJURPlMe6dEaoRC6bKAg8Pa2PX0KY957Y6hUBzhRK1qICiNUYJW2WTo/s1600/1144990409_ml-672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeYP8XvEuPIhrnqsbk6B_5j3PV4MIBhs6jlqSFrZg6zeno3tUuUMFtg9pxKhAsxUfLyHNZrc9ENeBpz0BVrcRG9FJURPlMe6dEaoRC6bKAg8Pa2PX0KY957Y6hUBzhRK1qICiNUYJW2WTo/s320/1144990409_ml-672.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FfMrKW-h6LBQqXKfoXGWT-Yglltxa13PQVz9xbzu7TSpgsAMUeZ6hbgX9Y3bQjxu_CAnoP-TkLgwtF2lrhi6dZB61MmoXbQ9NCrW10YsbiXBJowWc_RtUFYfTpvMLmSTcZJjwhyphenhyphenbJekd/s1600/1144907584_ml-361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FfMrKW-h6LBQqXKfoXGWT-Yglltxa13PQVz9xbzu7TSpgsAMUeZ6hbgX9Y3bQjxu_CAnoP-TkLgwtF2lrhi6dZB61MmoXbQ9NCrW10YsbiXBJowWc_RtUFYfTpvMLmSTcZJjwhyphenhyphenbJekd/s200/1144907584_ml-361.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was a "Wedding Virgin" until Liz asked me to be her Maid of Honor. Ok well, I was a Junior Bridesmaid for my Aunt Pammy when I was ten...but I don't really count that. Mike and Liz are very dear friends to me. If it wasn't for death and breakups I doubt we would still be friends. It is funny how the real stuff of life, the hard stuff, can either make or break relationships. For me, Liz and Mike, it was a recipe for success. All credit to them, they fought for my friendship. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCIm7j0nVu_lAzCpN2bSY1i6CCd6D7tNt5ZLcHTPmSsh_XcWBqJllMKpxr-R3-5JIVz6M2WIfIuuCRYz416F-xsJZohNXaUB0oV-iMqQWOnz02Mt_Lh2clz6t5vOOmcvFsPJabCzM_6c4G/s1600/1144939916_ml-487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCIm7j0nVu_lAzCpN2bSY1i6CCd6D7tNt5ZLcHTPmSsh_XcWBqJllMKpxr-R3-5JIVz6M2WIfIuuCRYz416F-xsJZohNXaUB0oV-iMqQWOnz02Mt_Lh2clz6t5vOOmcvFsPJabCzM_6c4G/s320/1144939916_ml-487.jpg" width="320" /></a>The first time I met Liz was the first time Mike's whole family met her, lunch after church. She was a big surprise, no one expected to see Mike walk in with a girl. It was a perfect "fly on the wall" moment. To just sit back and watch his family interact with this unexpected girl. I still remember that afternoon ever so clearly, and I chuckle every time I think about the look on Mike's dad's face. Classic.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a LONG 19 months of wedding planning, they are off honeymooning in the Bahamas. Glorious. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2xRmjAiu1FwtjuW7gfq8IEFKPOT8U6ivCMSmXrPxyn4XS2iCekG4-xuTFQjMJod83vvXja4CJtEe8mZLis912MmglCCM7JCO7CRUong0UfPikb7X9BOPiWOFh_xQp-XLtx1NAWQF42qo/s1600/1144850368_ml-124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2xRmjAiu1FwtjuW7gfq8IEFKPOT8U6ivCMSmXrPxyn4XS2iCekG4-xuTFQjMJod83vvXja4CJtEe8mZLis912MmglCCM7JCO7CRUong0UfPikb7X9BOPiWOFh_xQp-XLtx1NAWQF42qo/s320/1144850368_ml-124.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
I love weddings, always have. When I was in between Jr. High and High School I became obsessed with them. My head and heart were engulfed in the desire to be a bride. One day to wear the most beautiful dress and walk toward a man that wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. It was my one dream in high school. To be a bride.<br />
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I bought the magazines, browsed TheKnot.com, gazed at wedding dresses. I was all in. I always told friends that if God hadn't called me to missions I wanted to be a wedding planner. I loved weddings. I planned out my "Big Day" to every last detail, except who would be waiting for me at the front of the church. That was my big ?.<br />
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Somewhere along the way I lost my fervor for weddings. The magazines got packed up in my mom's closet, the "Wedding Ideas" file got lost somewhere. Chalk it up to maturing, heartbreak, reality or something else, but I didn't care any more. Until Liz said, "I want you to be my Maid of Honor."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-zRrOhDtYx64sUfciJcwfwQCHobwvc9ykW1Y505pVD8z7SuxFeJlI7jEFBI3NT9cVYqvM6Xonbs8cZQsVjyaIkX9OVQvoZnfVWWDl4BD7BAgoNSXpbFpgnU89tZu81C1RzbwpATCCO9g/s1600/1144991141_ml-675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-zRrOhDtYx64sUfciJcwfwQCHobwvc9ykW1Y505pVD8z7SuxFeJlI7jEFBI3NT9cVYqvM6Xonbs8cZQsVjyaIkX9OVQvoZnfVWWDl4BD7BAgoNSXpbFpgnU89tZu81C1RzbwpATCCO9g/s320/1144991141_ml-675.jpg" width="320" /></a>Planning a <i>real</i> wedding takes a lot of work. Especially one like Mike & Liz's. And I wasn't even in the country for the last six months! Walking through the preparation process with these guys caused me to reflect on my old wedding obsession. I wanted a wedding. Not a marriage. I wanted a big fancy white wedding. I had no idea how to be a Godly wife. Which I see now as God's provision. Thanks God, you always know best.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This wedding, albeit very exciting, had me more nervous than most. Mainly because it was a step back into my past. I had no idea how I would handle being around my infamous "Ex" or being in my old church or simply just being at a wedding. Do weddings mess with your head too? Only by God's grace was my heart completely fine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Armed with my new confident attitude (so I am told by friends), knowing that I looked amazing in my dress, and the awesome Ben as my date, I set myself up for success. And I had a blast dancing the night away with old friends and taking full credit for bringing a date with the most ridiculous dance moves. Realizing that I don't want a big fancy white wedding. My life is perfect right now exactly as God orchestrated it and anything different would be lame.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1Zx5Y1_eMwpgl_t_Eh21vWXyrxDU3UgJ_Sq1TdWERtDVQa58ktzu19_vz_zg0njKmWqqazbeonG0UAoh7lQhPDI-MySFTMIi5lObzff6GPiULj3T0cZ07u_SLt6OdotR0JGYtcnfBmaJ/s1600/1145062322_ml-880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1Zx5Y1_eMwpgl_t_Eh21vWXyrxDU3UgJ_Sq1TdWERtDVQa58ktzu19_vz_zg0njKmWqqazbeonG0UAoh7lQhPDI-MySFTMIi5lObzff6GPiULj3T0cZ07u_SLt6OdotR0JGYtcnfBmaJ/s320/1145062322_ml-880.jpg" width="320" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghgI1peTmyj_LKPM0kreKi-Cm8eqJfXJrYNr1bdqDJCK2O02OYRYz5qR6tmWGgOweYFAARPZwkpOKXt9YiJnZw5lnhJYNytPAxJ0ebFGiAqo-v9YCJS5VsccT7lcx1i64fq3FRgmkQVtP9/s1600/1145079642_ml-931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghgI1peTmyj_LKPM0kreKi-Cm8eqJfXJrYNr1bdqDJCK2O02OYRYz5qR6tmWGgOweYFAARPZwkpOKXt9YiJnZw5lnhJYNytPAxJ0ebFGiAqo-v9YCJS5VsccT7lcx1i64fq3FRgmkQVtP9/s320/1145079642_ml-931.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"Here's to the men that love us, the losers that lost us, and the lucky bastards that have yet to meet us!"</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>--</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>All photos courtesy of the amazing <a href="http://www.sarahchristinephotography.com/">Sarah Christine Photography</a>. Seriously check her out. Fun fact, she and I once dated the same guy...creepy and awesome all at the same time. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-61915850757689260842010-12-31T08:00:00.001-07:002010-12-31T08:00:11.753-07:0010 Things I Learned About Myself in 2010<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXArfRDMO8VITcvEMyTAxN43jqvH1XT8W4LvupYLfv6y86qd1H6uKfLlLksfMTyoDf3UYmumf-_mrWviJi7CSxWNpajrkIGNV1hpKeQ3-_b1idNBKsS7AFkXIQa-xqrM2inS4WLBUsMnoK/s1600/teacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXArfRDMO8VITcvEMyTAxN43jqvH1XT8W4LvupYLfv6y86qd1H6uKfLlLksfMTyoDf3UYmumf-_mrWviJi7CSxWNpajrkIGNV1hpKeQ3-_b1idNBKsS7AFkXIQa-xqrM2inS4WLBUsMnoK/s320/teacher.jpg" width="212" /></a>2010 was a big year of self-discovery for me. Wow, ok that sounds cheesy. </div><br />
But seriously, I learned a lot about myself this year and I thought I would share my top ten.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>10. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I absolutely love the ridiculousness of the 80's and 90's. Particularly the music. I really wasn't ready for the boy band era to end.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>9. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I prefer French Press coffee over anything else. It is just soooo much better.</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>8. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Star Wars. Totally love it.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>7. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am so much healthier when I write regularly.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>6. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am not made for a desk job, I need to do something that makes me feel like I am making a difference.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>5. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I need to fight to keep friendships alive. People don't stick around if you don't show them they are worth it.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>4. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have to constantly remind myself to enjoy the good times but not dwell on the tough stuff. Life never stops moving and you need to move with it.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>3. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am usually attracted to the most dense guys...where hinting does absolutely no good.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>2. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All I am responsible for is following God's leading on my life. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>1. </b></span>I am worth more than I give myself credit for.Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-75013738408686424702010-12-30T14:39:00.000-07:002010-12-30T14:39:32.641-07:00New Years Eve. Alone?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrHzMCvqygqcCdRkmiA-blXQphErZYDt5Pja2eH_9lgq5wVXc2f925_7yBRklGIALcuqREi2xAkrUO3Qbcj49k1AxeayPLB6MI2LqWfCtb8Orl4At8RzXTEIxpA0cZJ5oOaPRJjzJ7ORD/s1600/2011blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrHzMCvqygqcCdRkmiA-blXQphErZYDt5Pja2eH_9lgq5wVXc2f925_7yBRklGIALcuqREi2xAkrUO3Qbcj49k1AxeayPLB6MI2LqWfCtb8Orl4At8RzXTEIxpA0cZJ5oOaPRJjzJ7ORD/s320/2011blue.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>New Years Eve, just like Valentine's Day, is one of those days that single people complain about spending it alone. I get it, I really do. Ringing in a New Year is a moment to be hopeful about the months to come, and its hard to be hopeful when you are alone. Especially when there is all the social pressure to get kissed at midnight. Or wasted.<br />
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</div><div>It is the day before and I personally have no plans for ringing in 2011, mainly because I totally forgot there was another holiday after Christmas. Oops. I have spent the last two years ringing in the year with Tucker and watching Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin Eve. Ok, maybe this makes me sound super lame, but I also have no bad memories, regretful kisses, or painful hangovers to mark the start of my year.</div><div><br />
</div><div>New Years Eve is full of parties all around the world, and I'm sure they can be a lot of fun. At the same time they are exhausting and full of expectations that have a greater chance of smashing to pieces than actually happening.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe this just reflects my low-risk attitude and how I like to be in control of things. But spending a quiet evening alone gives me the chance to set realistic expectations and reflect on the passing year. Maybe its enjoying a glass of wine, eating my favorite dinner, and watching one of my favorite movies. Just no chick flicks, those just are a recipe for a bummin' attitude.</div><div><br />
</div><div>To me spending NYE alone isn't as lame as people make it out to be, its smart. Don't get me wrong, if I was invited to some party tomorrow night I would go. But I'm not going to get all upset and down on myself because I am greeting 2011 sans people. I won't be totally alone, you can count on me texting my favorite friends who have also chosen to spend the evening by themselves.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I won't be dancing in my favorite heels or wearing a rockin' dress. Just reflecting on God's goodness in my life during 2010 and dreaming big dreams for 2011.</div><div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="mallory_long" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mJ0BxLY/Happy+New+Year%21+3">ba1969</a></i></div></div>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-8868505191091545852010-11-25T05:30:00.000-07:002010-11-25T05:30:23.054-07:00Reflections on Thankfulness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96hLjynE60RvAkE6KXysPo-3UF08k31SFEOQpEeDwZaVMmmqLQ0_vC56TbiF7PpSlLndJ8seB_56H4ZEDZSPVbXvd9T49SdBKKODVpR9QRD-8nV81Ijl-_XXfhGjyEpOc7yUM-tzcHCku/s1600/blessed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96hLjynE60RvAkE6KXysPo-3UF08k31SFEOQpEeDwZaVMmmqLQ0_vC56TbiF7PpSlLndJ8seB_56H4ZEDZSPVbXvd9T49SdBKKODVpR9QRD-8nV81Ijl-_XXfhGjyEpOc7yUM-tzcHCku/s320/blessed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Earlier this week it hit me, Thanksgiving is this week! Oh man. When you live far from America its really easy for these holidays to sneak up on you. I found myself this week really wishing I had spent more time this year pondering what I am thankful for. Ok yes, if you ask me I will allow things like "roof over my head," "food," "family," and "God" to roll of my tongue without really giving it much thought.<br />
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I think the reason why I, and maybe you too, don't spend much time actually being grateful for the simplest things in life is because we get stuck thinking we have a "right" to them. It is easy for me to surround my head with thinking that I <i>deserve</i> a nice flat, I <i>deserve</i> good quality food, I <i>deserve</i> a good family, I<i> deserve</i> God's grace. Whoh there.<br />
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I don't deserve any of those things, but I have them. <br />
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So today, and for the rest of the week (I get to celebrate Thanksgiving on Saturday) I hope that you will join me in refocusing your heart in being thankful for those things that we don't deserve, yet God has blessed us with.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Just a few other things I am ever thankful for...</i></span><br />
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My bestest ever friend Lauren, we don't talk often or even hang out that much but she still understands my heart better than anyone else on this earth<br />
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Coffee. Enough Said.<br />
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Facebook, Skype, Twitter, iTunes. All the lovely pieces of technology that keep me sane here in Poland<br />
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Tucker, he has been the cure to loneliness over the last 3 years<br />
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Greg & Erin, they helped me come back to life here in Poland. They are amazing and have this awesome heart for the youth of Poland<br />
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The youth at the Club who keep me laughing and make me feel like a part of this crazy family<br />
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All the people back in the US who are faithfully supporting me financially every month so that I can be here doing what I love and seeing God change lives<br />
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<i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jojo71/301741496/">JojoDee</a></i>Malloryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09368457154175848779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6440884906113721628.post-61349444751199994212010-11-15T13:13:00.002-07:002010-11-22T09:38:13.285-07:00How I Met Your Father<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTnDiRh7T6AEQXwCvfZ2xMWGXzKARnqbMRyuSMNyhHQdg233CY2Elp6evqmCS15iPvkI0HVVog1fG2ckbC_9hxRj_fFDTX4q1vpqSzCpFLNFo5vG3uvNnQbFBqk096d7q3HMhmRv4O4Bx/s1600/yellowumbrella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTnDiRh7T6AEQXwCvfZ2xMWGXzKARnqbMRyuSMNyhHQdg233CY2Elp6evqmCS15iPvkI0HVVog1fG2ckbC_9hxRj_fFDTX4q1vpqSzCpFLNFo5vG3uvNnQbFBqk096d7q3HMhmRv4O4Bx/s320/yellowumbrella.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><i>"Kid's, I'm gonna tell you an incredible story. The story of how I met your mother..."</i></div><br />
If there is anything that my addiction to TV show <i><a href="http://www.cbs.com/primetime/how_i_met_your_mother/">How I Met Your Mother</a></i> has taught me is that when I have teenage kids and I sit down to tell them how I met their father, they will sit for at least six years. Ha, yeah right.<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>"Man, when I have kids and I tell them how I met their mother. I'm gonna tell them everything, </i><i>the whole damn story..."</i></div><br />
If you have never seen the show, it follows Ted Mosby an architect in NYC and his quest for a wife, his dream girl. BUT the entire show is done in flashbacks, as if he was telling his kids how he met their mother. <br />
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On one particular rainy day here in Katowice I was walking to the bus, protected from the downpour with my yellow umbrella. I got to thinking, Ted and I have a lot in common. We have both have "career" dreams, but life has molded them into something even better than we could imagine. And really, we are both looking forward to the day when we meet our dream guy/gal. <br />
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But I realized I am living my own "How I Met Your Father" story, right now. I am at a point where I can look back on the last few years of my life and see how every decision I have made has dictated which decision I made next. Just like Ted. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>"But you see kids, I could have gone to Schlegal's Bagels as usual, gone home, gotten to work, and you kids might never have been born..."</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">It makes me so completely grateful for every little thing; the joyous and broken. They all lead somewhere new, closer to a dream. I see how God's providence in bringing romance into my life in college led me to making a better decision about serving in ministry. How the end of that relationship led to my push to put big change into my life, pursuing a vision of using dance in youth ministry. I see how depression started to trickle back in and it led me to allowing a new friendship to bloom. And that friendship ultimately gave me to courage to act on the vision and just go for it. None of those things were changes I asked for or wanted at that time in my life. They just sort of happened. And I am better because of it.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Kids, I've been telling you the story of how I met your mother. And though there are many things to learn from this story, this may be the biggest. The great moments of your life won't necessarily be the things you do. They'll also be the things that happen to you. Now I'm not saying you can't take action to affect the outcome of your life. You have to take action, and you will. But never forget that on any day you could step out the front door and your whole life can change forever."</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div>I guess this is just coming from a place in my heart that is full of hope. I am starting to see God's divine purpose in why I am single in this phase of life and am totally loving it...well most days. *wink* I have spent a lot of time questioning God on why my life had to be this way, and He never answered. Hm. Maybe He just wanted me to wait and watch life unfold, see it for myself. And as always, it's better this way. <br />
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Over the last few months a number of people have told me that they are going to pray for a husband for me. I always politely say thanks, but in my heart I kinda just laugh it off. My attitude has been, "well that's great if you think I need that, but I know I am right where God wants me, and that's not in the cards right now." I guess I kinda felt like it was useless to pray for that. But in the last few weeks I have been really convicted about the whole thing. Turns out it has been a pride thing...suck. In Barcelona God really broke me of my "Single Pride." I have been trying to come before Jehovah-Jirah everyday asking for a ministry partner. Its tough. Its teaching me humility. I am learning to be genuinely grateful when people say they will pray with me. I am getting up the courage to ask some key people in my life to join me in prayer over this one thing. <br />
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I don't know why praying for a life partner is such a hard thing for me. Something in my thinking got all screwed up that a husband isn't a gift from God but a distraction from what He has really called you to. Hm. I don't really know how that happened. <br />
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So here I am, learning humility in asking God to bring someone into my life to serve in ministry with. Who knows what the big finale will be to my "Single Story" but I look forward to what God has in store. In the meantime, I am gonna keep sitting on the edge of my seat to see how Ted's story ends. And just remember to humbly ask God for my dream guy. It's gonna be legen...wait for it...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>"Kids, there's more than one story of how I met your mother. You know the short version, the thing with your mom's yellow umbrella...But there's a bigger story. The story of how I became who I had to become before I could meet her. And that story begins here."</i></span></i></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How I Met Your Mother airs on CBS Mondays 8/7c or at 2am if you live in Poland like me!</span><br />
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