Sunday, January 31, 2010
~ Inviting All Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ladies ~
Friday, January 29, 2010
~ And now for the rest of the PINK ... ~
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
~ Just A Little Walk With Me ... ~
Sunday, January 24, 2010
~ Just Around the Corner, She Peaks So Gently Thru ... ~ GIVEAWAY @ Rebecca's ~
Saturday, January 23, 2010
~ A Little Chuckle of Cuteness Today ~
Thursday, January 21, 2010
~ FEEDSACK FABRIC PURSE CREATION & New Blog Friend ~
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
~ Update ... & Tucking Away Memories For Another Year ~
Monday, January 18, 2010
~ ... & Hear My Words..... ~
A powerful site rising above the horizon to Heaven, as you drive around the north side of the 'beltway' in Maryland/DC/VA, on the Maryland side near Connecticut/Georgia avenues ... (more history below) on this beautiful Mormon Temple.
***Listening is not the same as being quiet. After the quiet comes the effort to show you understand.***
~~~
The Drs. told me a 4 to 6 week recovery, I now believe him. Have a beautiful day.
Hugs to all, Marydon
The Washington D.C. Temple was the first temple built in the East Coast of the United States.
The Washington D.C. Temple was the first temple to feature six spires since the construction of the Salt Lake Temple, which inspired the design.
Soaring to a height of 288 feet, the Washington D.C. Temple is the tallest temple in the Church.
The Washington D.C. Temple is the only temple outside of Utah to be built with six ordinance rooms. (The temples in Utah with six ordinance rooms are the Ogden Utah Temple, Provo Utah Temple, and Jordan River Utah Temple.)
The Washington D.C. Temple was originally named the Washington Temple.
The Washington D.C. Temple is one of five temples featuring an angel Moroni statue holding the gold plates. (The other four temples are the Los Angeles California Temple, Jordan River Utah Temple, Seattle Washington Temple, and México City México Temple.)
The main lobby of the Washington D.C. Temple features a striking 30-foot-long mural depicting the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. An image of the temple was incorporated into the mural.
Following the completion ceremonies for the Washington D.C. Temple, in which a time capsule was placed in the northeast corner of the building, President Spencer W. Kimball conducted the largest press conference in the Church's history.
The highly successful public open house of the Washington D.C. Temple was attended by 758,328 guests including special guest Betty Ford—wife of then-U.S. President Gerald Ford. These tours resulted in over 75,000 missionary referrals.
During the ten dedicatory sessions of the Washington D.C. Temple, all but two of the Church's General Authorities delivered speeches.
Friday, January 15, 2010
~ Please Join Me ~
Our daughter-in-love's (Cathelene) parents have safely survived in Haiti, their town is a good distance outside of Port-au-Prince. They have received 'via mouth' that some relatives are okay.
I ask you, please pray for all our sisters & brothers during this devastating time ... also, I ask you to send your monies to support the restoration & salvation of Haiti to the www.americanredcross.org. We know this organization is upfront with their monies to help others.
Thank you.
~PS Update~
This has been the nastiest recovery I have ever gone thru & I have a very long way to go. Thank you for all the lovely cards, emails & parcels ... they are so appreciated, brightening a dismal day on the couch. Hugs of love, Marydon
Saturday, January 9, 2010
~~~ NOT In In The Pink (Saturday)Yet ~~~
Saturday, January 2, 2010
~ Information Please ~
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information, Please" and there was nothing she did not know.
"Information, Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time. My first personal experience with this genie-in the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear, "Information."
"I hurt my finger," I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question. "Nobody's home but me." I blubbered. "Are you bleeding?" the voice asked. "No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.
After that, I called "Information, Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me wherePhiladelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information, Please" and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child, but I was inconsolable.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."
Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. "Information, Please." "Information," said the now familiar voice. "How do you spell fix?" I asked. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country toBoston . I missed my friend very much. "Information, Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.
As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about half an hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please." Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information."
I hadn't planned this but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?" There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer," I guess your finger must have healed by now." I laughed. "So it's really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time." "I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls." I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. "Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."
Three months later I was back in Seattle . A different voice answered, "Information." I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" She asked. "Yes, a very old friend," I answered. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally has been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean." I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.
Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?
I leave you with the observation that touch is everything. Real, imagined, physical, mental . . . touch is everything. And all it takes to accomplish it is a little extra reach.