<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563</id><updated>2011-07-30T13:41:40.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hearts to live by.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>83</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2874168089289885761</id><published>2010-10-07T22:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T22:38:11.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Burn Bridges, Cross Them</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TK6qLEFszDI/AAAAAAAAAqE/M6E8N__GcLQ/s1600/bridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TK6qLEFszDI/AAAAAAAAAqE/M6E8N__GcLQ/s400/bridge.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525540899883109426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have been sent so many wonderful pictures and I have so neglected this gift I have been given. No more! I am going to cross that bridge and get back in line. Here is a great example of Love just hovering waiting to be noticed. &lt;div&gt;My niece Toni took a trip with friends of hers to New York and while there they crossed this beautiful bridge and had to take a picture. It wasn't until she got home that her children were looking at the pictures and one of then said, "hey Mom, did you notice the heart?" That's love for you! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cross bridges, don't burn them. I had a really good friend in grade school that I truly admired. She was so pretty and as we got to that awkward stage it hit me head on but not her. She continued to be pretty and feminine. The only problem was our friendship suffered and we went separate ways. Recently I saw her name on Facebook and wanted to make contact with her. I wrote to her and asked if she remembered me to which she replied, "of course." I was so happy to talk to her again and I was so glad that I had not burned that bridge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think so fondly of many of the friends that I had in my youth. I wish that I knew where they all were so I could say, "Hi, I hope you are doing well." Friendship and love is just across the bridge, don't be afraid to cross it and for sure, don't burn it. Time will pass and so will hurt feelings and they will be replaced with fond memories. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2874168089289885761?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2874168089289885761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2874168089289885761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/10/so-many-choices.html' title='Don&apos;t Burn Bridges, Cross Them'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TK6qLEFszDI/AAAAAAAAAqE/M6E8N__GcLQ/s72-c/bridge.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-727010192796401689</id><published>2010-08-27T22:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T22:58:34.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Samuel!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/THilAb_Y2WI/AAAAAAAAAp0/oBSZizqrytk/s1600/samuel+b+day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 95px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/THilAb_Y2WI/AAAAAAAAAp0/oBSZizqrytk/s400/samuel+b+day.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510335571020011874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's my sweet little boys birthday!  He just turned a "quarter of a century old," as his father announced. Today Samuel was eating an apple and after the first bite and looking at the apple, he made that face that he makes when he questions something in unbelief.  He turned the apple and showed it to his sister Charmaine to which she replied, "take a picture."  I was actually asleep in the same room and quickly woke up at her words to see what needed picturing.  Well, all I can say is, "Samuel Jr. you ARE loved!!!"  Happy birthday, 25 is a pretty good number. You are the best son a mother could have.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-727010192796401689?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/727010192796401689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/727010192796401689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/08/happy-birthday-samuel.html' title='Happy Birthday Samuel!'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/THilAb_Y2WI/AAAAAAAAAp0/oBSZizqrytk/s72-c/samuel+b+day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2445973458602246093</id><published>2010-08-19T22:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T22:23:52.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Canning Apples</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It has been weeks since I last blogged and here is one of the reasons why.  We have had a wonderful crop this year of apples, plumbs, apricots, citrus and figs.  I did take the time to can some apples and they turned out pretty good.  I saved the one apple that had a heart shaped bruise on it so I could picture it with the canned apple sauce.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TG4RBdXtjyI/AAAAAAAAAps/GvyIhlFD03U/s400/apple.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 306px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507358111082319650" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I learned to love doing things like canning from my grandmothers.  Pickles and Chow Chow from my Gran Butler, Jelly and fruit from my Grandma Ollerton.  I loved learning these skills and I love remembering the times I spent with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2445973458602246093?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2445973458602246093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2445973458602246093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/08/canning-apples.html' title='Canning Apples'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TG4RBdXtjyI/AAAAAAAAAps/GvyIhlFD03U/s72-c/apple.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1615237986335419844</id><published>2010-06-07T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T23:02:12.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love  A Clean Kitchen &amp; Dishes</title><content type='html'>This is a heart that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Clarissa&lt;/span&gt; sent to me, she found it while she &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; doing dishes. This heart is soap bubbles on a cookie sheet. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480193990654152050" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TA2PZjErzXI/AAAAAAAAApc/ecv-YPSveRs/s400/soap.jpeg" /&gt;When my kids were &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I tried an experiment&lt;/span&gt; to see if I could get my kids to like doing dishes. I would fill the sink with warm sudsy water and then put my hands in the water and rave on and on about how much fun I was having and how nice the water felt and how much I loved cleaning. Well it seems &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;was able to &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;brain wash&lt;/span&gt; only &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;one&lt;/span&gt; or two of my &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;kid&lt;/span&gt;s but I really do love a clean kitchen and an empty sink. One of my favorite surprises of the day is when I get up in the morning and go to the dishwasher to empty it and I find that my wonderful husband or son has already emptied it. I love that they know that small act will make my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mother used to say that the dishes weren't done until the sink was clean and the counters and table wiped off. I would say the same thing to my kids and love hearing them rehearse the same to their families. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 390px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480193997667312498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TA2PZ9MwI3I/AAAAAAAAApk/5l5iVehLg5Y/s400/cooking.jpg" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Happy Dish Washing Everyone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1615237986335419844?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1615237986335419844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1615237986335419844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-love-clean-kitchen-dishes.html' title='I love  A Clean Kitchen &amp; Dishes'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/TA2PZjErzXI/AAAAAAAAApc/ecv-YPSveRs/s72-c/soap.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2027986386436371561</id><published>2010-05-06T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T18:27:52.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M_GIttLnI/AAAAAAAAApM/F_UIixEPJX8/s1600/mothers9.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468283747208867442" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M_GIttLnI/AAAAAAAAApM/F_UIixEPJX8/s200/mothers9.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well I had a wonderful &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;starting on Tuesday. As I was driving to the Temple I was thinking about my kids and how &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;blessed I am&lt;/span&gt; to have them. I was thinking of how &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; they are and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;kind, hard working, supportive, great mothers, wonderful sons&lt;/span&gt;. I was especially thinking about how good they are to me. The girls have always shown &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;great respect and friendship&lt;/span&gt; to me. That is not to say Samuel Jr. hasn't because he has -- it is just different with the girls. So anyway as I was driving along I was thinking that I really needed to let them know this Mother's day that as their mother &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I am so happy with them&lt;/span&gt; and the people that they have turned out to be. Well &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Clarissa&lt;/span&gt; beat me to the punch. I have found this situation to be true so often. Whenever I have been thinking a nice thought about someone it seems they too are thinking about me. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Good karma&lt;/span&gt; I guess. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468276181780168402" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M4NxS8ftI/AAAAAAAAApE/YqQBMIj95Uc/s400/mothers+2.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-MPre5kSII/AAAAAAAAAnk/bVkLV0qPUq0/s1600/mothers.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So anyway Clarissa gave me a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;3 mile long heart attack, &lt;/span&gt;and this is how it went... Wednesday morning,Cindy Lines, my walking buddy &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468272678908624914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M1B4FSgBI/AAAAAAAAAoc/AIOgivKOfx0/s400/mothers+4.jpg" /&gt;called to get me going on the day's walk. As I was leaving the house Samuel told me to take my camera and take pictures of nice things for him. I said no I don't want to take my camera which I really didn't want to do and so I didn't.  Anyway as Cindy and I started walking we got to the green belt just south of my house and there in the grass was a set of hearts that said, &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468231599755158898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-MPqwT45XI/AAAAAAAAAnc/Nj7lIiow0YU/s400/mothers1.JPG" /&gt;"I hope you enjoy your walk today." I thought that was very sweet and that someone had done something nice for someone, not even thinking it could be for me. Then a few steps later there was another set of hearts.  These were just pretty plain ones in pastel colors and then it struck me that&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468273188843613442" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M1fjvQ7QI/AAAAAAAAAok/KVSpd6kEoyM/s400/mothers5.jpg" /&gt; Samuel had been trying to get me to take my camera and that this may have been done by him but he couldn't have because he had just had surgery on Monday and he wouldn't have been up to getting out and doing all this. I just thought that someone else had a sweet child that was giving them a great day. I bemoaned my not bringing my camera to Cindy and before I even knew it she whipped out her camera saying that she grabbed her fanny pack this morning and that her camera just happened to be in it. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468274981280007410" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M3H5FZxPI/AAAAAAAAAo8/JA_M5oUwa9c/s400/mothers7.jpg" /&gt;She played the part so well, I totally believed her so I took her camera and went back to take pictures. Little did I know that I would be taking pictures for the full 3 mile walk that we take each day. About half way through Cindy said well I guess it is about time to give you this to which she handed me a card that Clarissa had taken to her to give to me. It was a very sweet card with an even sweeter sentiment written by her to me. Then I knew the hearts were from Clarissa and her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468232893717753346" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-MQ2EsnLgI/AAAAAAAAAoE/jqT0cF9nAtA/s400/mothers.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of the sayings that she wrote along the way are, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Motherhood is closer to divinity." "Mother Dear I love you so, your happy smiling face." "Roses are red, violets are blue, you are my mother and I love you." "A mother is a mother still the holiest thing alive." "A mother is the truest friend we have."&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468273568007585090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M11oO__UI/AAAAAAAAAos/7lJ_OahpHSI/s400/mothers6.jpg" /&gt; "Of all the rights of women the greatest is to be a mother." "If at first I don't succeed, I do what my mother told me to do." "Mother's are real super heroes dressed as women." "You are beautiful." "You are talented." "Have a wonderful day." &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-NEYOzByMI/AAAAAAAAApU/zwqcsEeePQ8/s1600/DSC_3124%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 173px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468289555637586114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-NEYOzByMI/AAAAAAAAApU/zwqcsEeePQ8/s200/DSC_3124%5B1%5D.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Happy Mother's Day." "I love you." &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;and my favorite&lt;/span&gt;, "When I grow up I want to be just like you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Those of you who follow my blog know that I find hearts everywhere I go but these hearts are among the sweetest because they were placed there on purpose. We may find love along our way and that is great, a good outlook at life but when someone goes out of there way to make sure you know you are loved that is when love really pays off. I love my children, all of them, boys too, but to my girls I want them to know I that I want to be just like them and that I think they are the greatest women and mothers that I know. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468271888385104354" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M0T3Jy2eI/AAAAAAAAAoU/fFHaBNC4nUA/s400/mothers3.jpg" /&gt;I thank my &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Heavenly Father&lt;/span&gt; for them each and every day and pray for their happiness and success. I love them more than I can adequately express. And ofcourse to Clarissa, Thank you for the sweet expression of love from you and your sweet husband and Bou. I love you. Happy Mother's Day to all of the woderful women in my life.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468274264414872338" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M2eKjb4xI/AAAAAAAAAo0/duYdDFOJrb4/s400/mothers8.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2027986386436371561?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2027986386436371561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2027986386436371561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S-M_GIttLnI/AAAAAAAAApM/F_UIixEPJX8/s72-c/mothers9.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-4852592714623550732</id><published>2010-02-27T12:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-27T12:57:58.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Was That Love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4mGKnIGHTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/MDyW1Fwewvk/s1600-h/shan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443029141513706802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4mGKnIGHTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/MDyW1Fwewvk/s400/shan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other day I went to the Zoo with 3 of my daughters. Chantal was going with her daughter Katie's class and she invited Jenny, Clarissa and myself to go also. It was an absolutely beautiful day. We had a great time, only stayed until about noon, didn't loose anyone and avoided any major accidents. Sounds like success to me. As we were entering the Zoo there were tons of people going in the school entrance and so we went through the usual run of warnings to the kids to stay close to us. Each of the adults were to watch out for one of the kids so no one would get lost. All of the little cousins that live here in the area were there except Brian Jr. who should have been in school but stayed home sick. Anyway as we were walking into the zoo with tons of people around, Lacy shots out, "where is Brian?" She said it like she was really worried, suddenly she realized that he wasn't there and she wanted us to find him. It really touched me, I hope that when the cousins are older and they see one going astray or "not there" that they will worry and want to find them and bring them back. Now that is love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Picture taken at the Phoenix Zoo by Clarissa Baxter Feb. 25th 2010, we think it is a duck.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-4852592714623550732?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4852592714623550732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4852592714623550732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/02/was-that-love.html' title='Was That Love?'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4mGKnIGHTI/AAAAAAAAAnU/MDyW1Fwewvk/s72-c/shan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2034991541998142081</id><published>2010-02-20T18:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T18:41:17.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Fruits of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4CcimNGWAI/AAAAAAAAAnM/_AWB2aCVCP4/s1600-h/LIsa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440520468048533506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4CcimNGWAI/AAAAAAAAAnM/_AWB2aCVCP4/s400/LIsa.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is one of those great pictures that a friend sent to me. Her name is Lisa. Lisa was preparing dinner for her family one evening and while cutting a cantaloupe in half she found this perfect heart. I love it! I can think of so many implications for where and how she found this heart but the strongest one I think of is all of is the &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sweet Fruit of Love&lt;/span&gt; that we harvest when as a family we sit at the dinner table and eat together. I do not find preparing dinner to be fun, but I do it because I want to have a healthy meal together with my family, I do &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; having that time that we all rely on to be together, I do &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; that that is when we can talk about our day and what we are doing, what has made us happy or what has made us sad. The preparation of dinner, the setting of the table, and the time around it truly yields bountiful harvests of &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Sweet Love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2034991541998142081?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2034991541998142081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2034991541998142081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/02/sweet-fruits-of-love.html' title='Sweet Fruits of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S4CcimNGWAI/AAAAAAAAAnM/_AWB2aCVCP4/s72-c/LIsa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-4894330558378479331</id><published>2010-02-12T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-12T10:41:35.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Loves Perspective</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437426337148461330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S3WeceYWYRI/AAAAAAAAAm8/_LmAmtoe2FM/s400/Rochelle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Love really is all about &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Perspective&lt;/span&gt;. How you look at things is how you will ultimately feel about life in the end. A sweet friend of mine while vacationing in Hawaii found this heart shape in what looked like to me, a huge cliff. You can see the ocean through the whole and it seems that the heart is huge and that you can really view life from it in a wonderful light. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437426343395569586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S3Wec1pxr7I/AAAAAAAAAnE/XKgAo_UwBFo/s400/Rochelle.jpg+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Then the next picture she sent shows her kneeling down behind the hole and it is only about the size of her face, the cliff is really just a rock and the ocean is very far away. It is just amazing to me how the angle of the camera and the positioning of the people made all the difference and that really is how life is. I have found that if I look at my husband with the thought on my mind that he is wonderful that I love him and that I want him close to me, well then that is exactly how I feel. But on the other hand if when he enters the room I think, here comes trouble, that is what I would get. I know that I am the happy person that I am because I am loved but also because I want to see love all around me were ever I can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Loves Perspective is a way of life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-4894330558378479331?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4894330558378479331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4894330558378479331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/02/loves-perspective.html' title='Loves Perspective'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S3WeceYWYRI/AAAAAAAAAm8/_LmAmtoe2FM/s72-c/Rochelle.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2986851461348591321</id><published>2010-02-05T07:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T07:00:03.719-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragile Love or Spicy Love</title><content type='html'>I find heart shaped chips quite often. It seems that I am usually with members of my family eating lunch and someone will find one. This chip is no exception, I think Clarissa found it. (It's a spicy bbq chip.) As I was looking through my pictures thinking about &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Charmaine&lt;/span&gt; and her upcoming &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;30th&lt;/span&gt; birthday I hoped to find one to convey the feelings that I am having at this time. I miss her so much and wish that we could all be together to celebrate this mile stone. I hope that she is able to realize just how much I love her and miss her, Randal and their boys. I hope that her heart isn't fragile and that she has a spicy good time. Charmaine you are &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Amazing&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Wonderful&lt;/span&gt;, my heart is so blessed because of you. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Happy Birthday&lt;/span&gt;, I love you!!!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434566349370692898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S2t1TRqIFSI/AAAAAAAAAm0/A9TDXwQXmgY/s400/chip.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2986851461348591321?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2986851461348591321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2986851461348591321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2010/02/fragile-love-or-spicy-love.html' title='Fragile Love or Spicy Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/S2t1TRqIFSI/AAAAAAAAAm0/A9TDXwQXmgY/s72-c/chip.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-8027933807593482318</id><published>2009-12-24T22:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T22:56:09.115-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You light up my life heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SzRhmWpKzmI/AAAAAAAAAlc/J_xMfGnIbzc/s1600-h/Light.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419063563174727266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 395px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SzRhmWpKzmI/AAAAAAAAAlc/J_xMfGnIbzc/s400/Light.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Can you blame me? I haven't blogged in 20 days. December is the craziest month for doing anything let alone blogging. My family has been so patient, I hate shopping and they don't make me feel too guilty about not going all out in the gift department. I spent almost every waking moment at the Temple Visitors Center for 1 week and then only half a day for the second week while I set up nativities with 3 other women. We eat take out a lot during that time. It just seems like no matter what I plan I have to be willing to go with the flow. I'm so glad that I can do that and that my family does that too. This heart shaped light is a little trick that Samuel Jr. performed. He took a light that was one ridged shape and waved it in the air making a heart. Being able to go with the flow is really an act of love when it means that you flow with your family and friends and their needs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-8027933807593482318?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8027933807593482318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8027933807593482318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-light-up-my-life-heart.html' title='You light up my life heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SzRhmWpKzmI/AAAAAAAAAlc/J_xMfGnIbzc/s72-c/Light.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7913554087551802463</id><published>2009-12-04T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T13:00:25.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Adjusted Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sxl3umqotXI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/8WvkX8FMiWk/s1600-h/leaf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411488069799425394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sxl3umqotXI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/8WvkX8FMiWk/s400/leaf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This morning as I was walking I found that the orthotic in my shoe was hurting my foot and that I really need to find a place to sit down and take care of it. As I was looking for a bench to sit on I also found this cute heart shaped leaf, it was from an olive tree that was very near the bench I found to sit on. I looked at the tree's other leaves and I could not find another heart shaped leaf. Something made it grow this way. As I took off my shoe to make the very slight adjustment I thought about that leaf. I made and adjustment to my orthotic, put my shoe back on and off I went. Everything was fine after that. It is just amazing how far just a little adjustment can go. It was just a little adjustment just a slight influence on the development of that leaf that turned it to love. We can be the same way, when any influence affects our existence for good or bad let it turn our hearts to love and everyone around us will benefit from the experience.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411488062611824258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sxl3uL4-noI/AAAAAAAAAlI/XimyadL3LBc/s400/face.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Doesn't the thougth just make you happier!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7913554087551802463?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7913554087551802463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7913554087551802463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/12/well-adjusted-heart.html' title='Well Adjusted Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sxl3umqotXI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/8WvkX8FMiWk/s72-c/leaf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7620293318928452501</id><published>2009-11-29T22:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T22:47:00.056-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You See What I See</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SxNpbAOIF7I/AAAAAAAAAko/ARywfKjFK7s/s1600/Temple.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409783490038732722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SxNpbAOIF7I/AAAAAAAAAko/ARywfKjFK7s/s400/Temple.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Sometimes I wonder if people see the same things I see. I see hearts everywhere and now I am seeing happy faces. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SxNqR0i-l6I/AAAAAAAAAkw/YQREM_r_H68/s1600/happy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409784431797770146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SxNqR0i-l6I/AAAAAAAAAkw/YQREM_r_H68/s200/happy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The other day I was walking with my friend Shelly as she gave me a ride to the Temple. We were walking up to the gate of the Temple when on the ground I saw this heart in the sidewalk. Shelly said oh that is a really good one so I knew that she too could see it clearly. The words in the title of this blog where used as a title to a song about the star that was the sign given in the heavens of the birth of our Savior Jesus Christ. Being able to have a spiritual eye or witness of him is more important to me than anything else that I could observe in life. I love seeing hearts but I believe that all things testify of Heavenly Father and of Jesus Christ and the love they have for us. Every little heart reminds me of this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7620293318928452501?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7620293318928452501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7620293318928452501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/do-you-see-what-i-see.html' title='Do You See What I See'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SxNpbAOIF7I/AAAAAAAAAko/ARywfKjFK7s/s72-c/Temple.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7119199783387462141</id><published>2009-11-23T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T20:18:58.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I lost my Grandma Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SwtbmfKQb3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/NFEbLBO6MyE/s1600/Lacy2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407516494346088306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SwtbmfKQb3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/NFEbLBO6MyE/s400/Lacy2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is my cute little granddaughter Lacy Jo. The Jo part of her name she gets from me, proud grandma. My daughter Jenny sent me these pictures several days ago but I was having a hard time thinking of a message to go with the heart shaped stain on her shirt. Then just last Saturday Jenny and I went to a boutique to do some Christmas shopping along with her 3 children. I took Lacy by the hand and told her that she needed to stay with me so she wouldn't get lost and that I would be responsible for her. Well you know how things like that go. After entering the very crowded boutique Lacy quickly disappeared. It turns out that she went into each of the vender's rooms to ask if they had seen her Grandma because she was lost. When Jenny and I realized that Lacy was not with us we split up and went in different directions looking for her. I went outside and Jenny stayed in. After a while of not finding her I went back inside to find Lacy and a woman standing with Jenny but the extremely helpful women was not going to give Lacy up to Jenny. Jenny said you've go to hear this. The kind lady was calling out for Lacy's grandma when Jenny found them. Jenny said, "I am her mother" to which Lacy replied, "she's not my grandma." It cracked me up. In Lacy's mind she was not the problem she was not lost, her grandma was lost and Jenny was not the find she was looking for. When I finally showed up the helpful lady turned Lacy over to me and all was well. So how does that heart shaped stain fit into all of this? Well, I guess it really doesn't, I'm just glad that Jenny's reputation wasn't stained by her having to whip out her phone and show the lady pictures of Lacy to prove her ownership and then have the lady think Jenny was some crazy stalker taking pictures of random children claiming them to be her own. All's well that end well. Phew!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407516499557221410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SwtbmyksBCI/AAAAAAAAAkg/sLeP301YnVo/s400/Lacy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7119199783387462141?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7119199783387462141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7119199783387462141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-lost-my-grandma-heart.html' title='I lost my Grandma Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SwtbmfKQb3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/NFEbLBO6MyE/s72-c/Lacy2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6265373894142358008</id><published>2009-11-21T00:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T00:32:08.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cross section of a Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SweldFWdbZI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/TM934o-i958/s1600/cross+cut.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406471796752739730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SweldFWdbZI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/TM934o-i958/s400/cross+cut.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When you look at the cross section of something you can really view it carefully. When I look at this heart, cut from the branch of a tree, I can tell, how old it is by the number of rings in it and that it has a small crack in it. My husband and I are like this slice right now. Our years together are in the numbers and we have a few cracks to prove it. Despite the gray hair and the wrinkles we really are not that bad off. I think of the book, “The Enchanted Cottage” and how the couple that lived there saw each other. They were far from perfect, but they saw each other as beautiful and perfect for each other. When the world looked at them they did not see them that way. I had a friend that said he had received some criticism for his relationship with his wife. His response was, “too bad, it works for us.” That is how I feel too, sometime no one else understand why and relationship might work just as long as it works, it's good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6265373894142358008?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6265373894142358008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6265373894142358008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/cross-section-of-heart.html' title='Cross section of a Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SweldFWdbZI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/TM934o-i958/s72-c/cross+cut.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3256914839273240718</id><published>2009-11-15T04:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T05:21:28.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Onion Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sv__ivBVulI/AAAAAAAAAkI/3G7zkLVB9OY/s1600-h/onion.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404319050070604370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sv__ivBVulI/AAAAAAAAAkI/3G7zkLVB9OY/s400/onion.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Personally, I love onions. Growing up I don't think I had a single meal without onions somewhere in the meal. My grandmother told me once, "It just wasn't dinner without onions." My mother was absolutely meticulous about cutting onions. When she would put them in potato salad she cut them so fine that every bite of salad was assured a wonderful, even, and generous amount of onion flavor. As a young single women it was so important to me to marry a man that liked onions that one time I made an entire meal with onions in every dish for a boy I was dating just to see how he would react. He was so polite but needless to say, I'm glad that I married the onion lover that I did. I had a friend once say if you are too busy doing other things and have neglected dinner, before your family gets home just cut up an onion and quickly get it frying, then when they walk in the door and smell the onion cooking they will think dinner is on it's way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3256914839273240718?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3256914839273240718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3256914839273240718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/onion-heart.html' title='Onion Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sv__ivBVulI/AAAAAAAAAkI/3G7zkLVB9OY/s72-c/onion.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7066956175184985515</id><published>2009-11-10T08:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T08:00:06.577-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Olive Tree Hearts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj05M1SArI/AAAAAAAAAj4/OtzT0it-78k/s1600-h/tree3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402337016565334706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj05M1SArI/AAAAAAAAAj4/OtzT0it-78k/s200/tree3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;It seems that the olive tree is the best at creating this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SvjzO4T2qEI/AAAAAAAAAjI/ZCO48gBNQZQ/s1600-h/tree+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;phenomenon. Today it struck me, the Savior &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SvjzPfXRoFI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/4rkAL3MKjJQ/s1600-h/tree3.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;suffered for us in the Garden of Gethsemane. The garden was one of &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj04tnKE1I/AAAAAAAAAjw/5DzGrHAgJAU/s1600-h/tree+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402337008184595282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj04tnKE1I/AAAAAAAAAjw/5DzGrHAgJAU/s200/tree+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Olive trees. The greatest love and offering ever made for us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; was given in a Olive garden. So each time I see an Olive tree with the symbol of a heart I think I will always think of that great sacrifice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj04Jz5NSI/AAAAAAAAAjo/w5NsB5AvuEs/s1600-h/olive.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402336998574339362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj04Jz5NSI/AAAAAAAAAjo/w5NsB5AvuEs/s200/olive.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svjzuz6uuCI/AAAAAAAAAjg/txrG_T4Xp_c/s1600-h/olive.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7066956175184985515?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7066956175184985515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7066956175184985515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/olive-tree-hearts.html' title='Olive Tree Hearts'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Svj05M1SArI/AAAAAAAAAj4/OtzT0it-78k/s72-c/tree3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5450999101988841262</id><published>2009-11-09T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T13:34:35.135-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Consumed Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SviKwjJHdGI/AAAAAAAAAio/Y5B-874v2ww/s1600-h/broken.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402220319702742114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 382px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SviKwjJHdGI/AAAAAAAAAio/Y5B-874v2ww/s400/broken.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This heart is just almost being consumed by it's surroundings. It is deep in the soil around it, it has little rocks on it's top and sides and even on one side they are creeping up to the point of almost over taking that side. I find that sometimes my life is the same way. I absolutely love my family and grand kids and I want them around me and hugging me and loving all over me. I want to do the same to them, but everyone once in a while I feel like I am being consumed. I guess we just have to be as solid as rock but also be willing to yield to the forces around us too. Being a parent and a grandparent &lt;em&gt;"isn't easy but it is worth it."&lt;/em&gt; And that is what &lt;em&gt;I &lt;/em&gt;said!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5450999101988841262?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5450999101988841262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5450999101988841262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/consumed-heart.html' title='Consumed Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SviKwjJHdGI/AAAAAAAAAio/Y5B-874v2ww/s72-c/broken.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-796707671349366359</id><published>2009-11-05T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T22:08:29.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paint Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SvO7FEIMaJI/AAAAAAAAAig/kryZoHPwSLo/s1600-h/paint.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400866073829206162" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SvO7FEIMaJI/AAAAAAAAAig/kryZoHPwSLo/s400/paint.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So I'm painting my office. I am so excited! I just love it. My desire started a while back when Samuel kept turning his computer monitor away from the sun so he could see his screen. I knew it needed to be fixed but I wasn't sure what to do exactly. Well to make a long story short (it involves the need for new desks that could go onto a different wall, blah blah, blah) I won a beautiful painting on a cruise and I decided to use it as my color pallet to go with the new desk. The colors of the painting are very similar to my Latin Guest room and so our home office is now on it's way to becoming our second Latin room. I began painting today and as I was doing so I found that I had painted myself a heart in a corner. It was quite by accident and so I quickly located my camera and captured it. I love the deep slate blue color that we chose to paint the room. I love being creative and expressing my love for fun intense colors. I love that Samuel supports and trusts me and wants me to express myself. I love that we have been able to find such great deals to accomplish the things that we want to do. So today I would say that "Love" equals Thankful!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-796707671349366359?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/796707671349366359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/796707671349366359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/paint-love.html' title='Paint Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SvO7FEIMaJI/AAAAAAAAAig/kryZoHPwSLo/s72-c/paint.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7513454895851067268</id><published>2009-11-01T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T09:48:02.115-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thankful Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Su3JxezneFI/AAAAAAAAAiY/RGtLZe_uBiw/s1600-h/Potato.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399193380207425618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Su3JxezneFI/AAAAAAAAAiY/RGtLZe_uBiw/s400/Potato.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Thankfully it is only a small spot of a heart in this potato. I took this picture a couple of years ago while visiting Chantal's family for Thanksgiving. Our whole family packed up and went to San Diego so that we could all be together for Thanksgiving. Chantal was expecting Susan and was way too pregnant to travel. I loved that we were able to make the trip, I loved the weather, I loved the fantastic food, I loved the visit, I loved the extended family company, I love the little spot of love that that Thanksgiving experience has left in my heart. I look forward to this years Thanksgiving season and I am happy to give thanks again to my Heavenly Father who has made it all possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7513454895851067268?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7513454895851067268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7513454895851067268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/11/thankful-heart.html' title='Thankful Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Su3JxezneFI/AAAAAAAAAiY/RGtLZe_uBiw/s72-c/Potato.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-669179543631611006</id><published>2009-10-31T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T08:00:00.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scary Halloween Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6IoN0BTnI/AAAAAAAAAgM/54v7k6cnFa8/s1600-h/stump.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394899628120428146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6IoN0BTnI/AAAAAAAAAgM/54v7k6cnFa8/s400/stump.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every year at Halloween I find something new that is Halloween scary. Each year we make potato soup for Halloween dinner and one year I made it with leaks, sweet potatoes and ham and it was a little scary. Another year Chamaine had to have surgery on her foot and it left a ghost shaped scar. I thought it was only fitting that this heart be posted today being that it looks like it has eyes and a nose and is coming out of the ground. Happy Halloween everyone! Gotta love a stumpy heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-669179543631611006?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/669179543631611006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/669179543631611006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/scary-halloween-heart.html' title='Scary Halloween Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6IoN0BTnI/AAAAAAAAAgM/54v7k6cnFa8/s72-c/stump.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-229271654775965381</id><published>2009-10-30T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T20:48:54.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wizard Of Oz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuqJF1fdqvI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/0QKn6BK5avM/s1600-h/man+with+heart.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398277836708358898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuqJF1fdqvI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/0QKn6BK5avM/s400/man+with+heart.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I feel like the wizard of OZ. Funny thing is I just typed, "AZ" in stead of "OZ" so I guess that is more accurate. I just gave a tin man a heart! This is the water tower at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ASU&lt;/span&gt; East campus and normally he does not have a heart but I just couldn't resist giving him one. For the whole story you can go &lt;a href="http://trollerdition.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Everyone really does deserve a heart don't you think? (Thank you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Courtney&lt;/span&gt; for the inspiration.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-229271654775965381?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/229271654775965381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/229271654775965381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/wizard-of-oz.html' title='The Wizard Of Oz'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuqJF1fdqvI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/0QKn6BK5avM/s72-c/man+with+heart.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6131604727260794252</id><published>2009-10-29T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T09:24:41.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Food Storage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SunAxLPNvuI/AAAAAAAAAh4/jKXD6QTAYwc/s1600-h/Alfrado.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398057579442978530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SunAxLPNvuI/AAAAAAAAAh4/jKXD6QTAYwc/s400/Alfrado.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughter Clarissa sent me this picture a couple of weeks ago. Last night she asked me if I blog all the pictures that people send me to which I said yes but that I have to get some inspiration first as to what I am going to write. Clarissa then proceeded to tell me the story behind the heart and I got inspired. She said she was on the phone with her sister Jenny and they were talking about what to make for dinner. Clarissa was low on money for the month so she was having to dip into her stored foods. Not looking forward to a canned dinner she grabbed a bottle of Alfredo and opened it. When she turned to lid over there it was, a heart. Just another reminder of the wisdom of storing foods. Clarissa said that her heart was touched by the reminder too and she was happy to be eating Alfredo for dinner that night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6131604727260794252?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6131604727260794252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6131604727260794252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/love-food-storage.html' title='Love Food Storage'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SunAxLPNvuI/AAAAAAAAAh4/jKXD6QTAYwc/s72-c/Alfrado.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6858439908852822551</id><published>2009-10-28T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T09:56:53.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lovely Heart just the way you are (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Suh3wbpkRhI/AAAAAAAAAhw/Z1urK8W5pFY/s1600-h/lovely.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397695827343066642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 367px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Suh3wbpkRhI/AAAAAAAAAhw/Z1urK8W5pFY/s400/lovely.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was to my husband: When we were dating you quoted a song to me that stated, “Lovely never never change, keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it cause I love you just the way you are tonight. I felt like you not only liked the way I looked but acted too. I’ve thought over the years just how important it really should be to take care of myself and also to watch the way I was behaving. Sometimes I know my behavior has not been so ideal but you have always stuck with me, like the glue that is holding this fancy heart together, and it is for you that I have tried to take care of myself and surroundings so that you would always think of me as lovely. I thank you for all the tender care and kind words of encouragements and compliments that you have given me. Jonny Lingo would be proud of you! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Words to the song Lovely;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some day, when I’m awfully low,When the world is cold,I will feel a glow just thinking of you...And the way you look tonight.Yes you’re lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft,There is nothing for me but to love you,And the way you look tonight.With each word your tenderness grows,Tearing my fear apart...And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,It touches my foolish heart.Lovely ... never, ever change.Keep that breathless charm.Wont you please arrange it ? cause I love you ... just the way you look tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6858439908852822551?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6858439908852822551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6858439908852822551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/lovely-heart-just-way-you-are-ftb.html' title='Lovely Heart just the way you are (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Suh3wbpkRhI/AAAAAAAAAhw/Z1urK8W5pFY/s72-c/lovely.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3466000565673587754</id><published>2009-10-26T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T20:17:34.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stained With Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuZkt8aU1mI/AAAAAAAAAho/o7hvc9SfixM/s1600-h/Susan+w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397111943923553890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuZkt8aU1mI/AAAAAAAAAho/o7hvc9SfixM/s400/Susan+w.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is my sweet little name sake, Susan. She was eating a strawberry the other day when her mother noticed that she had stained her dress in a heart shape. Quickly Chantal, or Mommy, got her camera to capture the image forever. This stain reminds me of the poem about hand prints that children leave behind and then quickly they are gone. This is one of my favorite versions;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;You always clean the fingerprints&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I leave upon the wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I seem to make a mess of things&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Because I am so small.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;The years will pass so quickly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I'll soon be grown like you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;And all my little fingerprints&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Will surely fade from view.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So here's a special hand print&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;A memory that is true&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So you'll recall the very day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I made this just for you!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well it's not a hand print but to me it is even better. I love that her mother thought of me, I love strawberries, I love hearts even when they are stains but most of all I love the sweet little girl in the heart print dress with a heart shaped stain on her previously clean white jacket. Life just doesn't get better then this!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397111944350143522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuZkt-ACFCI/AAAAAAAAAhg/xR-M6FkjSfc/s400/Susan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3466000565673587754?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3466000565673587754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3466000565673587754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/stained-with-love.html' title='Stained With Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuZkt8aU1mI/AAAAAAAAAho/o7hvc9SfixM/s72-c/Susan+w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7763999181828161710</id><published>2009-10-25T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T19:03:52.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wearing Your Heart On Your Sleeve</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuUA5AgaMpI/AAAAAAAAAg4/H4Qf2kJ55rQ/s1600-h/Dog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396720707861885586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuUA5AgaMpI/AAAAAAAAAg4/H4Qf2kJ55rQ/s400/Dog.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you heard the saying, "She wears her heart on her sleeve?" It originally referred to people who would wear an arm band showing their affiliation. Policemen, when a fellow officer dies, wear a black band on their arm. Ladies of the court in medieval times tied a piece of cloth around the arm of their favorite knight as a display of affection. When I think of the phrase I think of someone who shows their hurt feelings easily. Although I think it is important, at times, that others know if you are having a hard time so they can help or pray for you, I don't think it is wise to be too easily read. It seems to diminish the valid feelings of others. Everyone has trials in life, that is why we are here, to prove ourselves worthy to return to our perfect Father in Heaven, but we should not all advertise our trials. We cannot and should not wear our trials like badges of honor on our breast as does the military but we should all observe that everyone does have a trial that they too have endured. Like this cute puppy I recently came upon, he shares his heart naturally so be willing to share your heart everywhere you go just make sure it's natural.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7763999181828161710?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7763999181828161710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7763999181828161710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/wearing-your-heart-on-your-sleeve.html' title='Wearing Your Heart On Your Sleeve'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuUA5AgaMpI/AAAAAAAAAg4/H4Qf2kJ55rQ/s72-c/Dog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5600040418128721081</id><published>2009-10-23T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T09:23:17.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love among the Weeds (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuHYZKen4QI/AAAAAAAAAgs/Yi5YgOPEmKE/s1600-h/weeds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395831755387691266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 307px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuHYZKen4QI/AAAAAAAAAgs/Yi5YgOPEmKE/s400/weeds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is it even possible? Yes it is and it happens all the time. Sometimes when we are faced with adversity we find the place that our true loyalties really lay. I remember when I was so sick with kidney stones I thought that I was going to die. I said to my husband we need to get along better with each other. I felt like we just weren’t showing all the love we could and I wanted to do better. Whenever we are faced with adversity the things that are the most precious to us become even more precious. We guard them a little more closely, we hold them a little tighter, we watch a little more carefully, and we spend a little more time enjoying them. Even with the weeds sometimes a flower appears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5600040418128721081?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5600040418128721081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5600040418128721081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/love-among-weeds-ftb.html' title='Love among the Weeds (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuHYZKen4QI/AAAAAAAAAgs/Yi5YgOPEmKE/s72-c/weeds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6186467626672212727</id><published>2009-10-22T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T09:18:24.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloom Where You Are Planted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuCCMnVStZI/AAAAAAAAAgk/1QP-5bY6Q60/s1600-h/Yellow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395455506818184594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuCCMnVStZI/AAAAAAAAAgk/1QP-5bY6Q60/s400/Yellow.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This pretty little daisy bush is planted in an ideal place for blooming. It is enhancing the beauty of all the other flowers and even the rock in it's proximity. Sometimes we may be planted in a less than ideal place but we can enhance all around us by blooming where we are. It is up to us to bloom and grow no matter where we may find ourselves. We can brighten our surroundings by our presence and we can cheer all those around us by our attitude. Blooming in Love for the place we are in when we are in it is the ideal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6186467626672212727?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6186467626672212727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6186467626672212727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/bloom-where-you-are-planted.html' title='Bloom Where You Are Planted'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SuCCMnVStZI/AAAAAAAAAgk/1QP-5bY6Q60/s72-c/Yellow.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6598470878868659756</id><published>2009-10-21T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T21:23:36.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fancy Action</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6MdHacInI/AAAAAAAAAgc/yf5bKWBuGWc/s1600-h/fancy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903835470471794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6MdHacInI/AAAAAAAAAgc/yf5bKWBuGWc/s320/fancy.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6MW0zwQVI/AAAAAAAAAgU/WG0XrSGNQuo/s1600-h/Katieb.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394903727397159250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6MW0zwQVI/AAAAAAAAAgU/WG0XrSGNQuo/s400/Katieb.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughter Chantal sent me this picture of her daughter standing by a heart shaped stump. The first thing I thought was, "That is some fancy growing action on that heart sister." Can you just imagine what that tree must have gone through to grow into this amazing shape? It's scalloped edge is so fancy and the turns and splits coming off the center add to the intricate details. It is such a fun heart. I hope that tree had a good life. I am still enjoying the mark it left behind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6598470878868659756?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6598470878868659756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6598470878868659756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/fancy-action.html' title='Fancy Action'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St6MdHacInI/AAAAAAAAAgc/yf5bKWBuGWc/s72-c/fancy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-692930943614815557</id><published>2009-10-20T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T08:00:04.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Phoenix Metro Fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St1OueDcViI/AAAAAAAAAgE/DWON2NuYxUc/s1600-h/Grass.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394554488908174882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 356px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St1OueDcViI/AAAAAAAAAgE/DWON2NuYxUc/s400/Grass.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last week I posted a blog about why I love Ames Iowa on my &lt;a href="http://susansaysthis.blogspot.com/"&gt;personal blog&lt;/a&gt;. It was really mostly about the beautiful fall weather so I was thinking I should write the things I love about living in the Phoenix Metro Area and how I know that the season will be changing.  I was only going to post on my personal blog and then today as I was walking I spotted this heart shape in the freshly sprouted winter lawn of a neighbor yard. So this is it... In the Phx. area of Arizona you know it is fall when everyone scalps their lawn so they can plant winter rye. We know cooler weather is just around the corner when the sweet smell of freshly spread manure fills the air. And then of course it is also the time Halloween decorations make an appearance, don't mind the 102 degree temperature on October 18&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; it really will cool off.  It's a time to be careful of all things spooky but most of all be sure to spread your seeds evenly or you will end up with a heart shape brown patch right in the middle of your lawn. I could think of worse things!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394554473485648002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St1OtkmbQII/AAAAAAAAAf8/XwiV2BaQbo4/s400/Halloween.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-692930943614815557?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/692930943614815557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/692930943614815557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/phoenix-metro-fall.html' title='Phoenix Metro Fall'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/St1OueDcViI/AAAAAAAAAgE/DWON2NuYxUc/s72-c/Grass.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7252860987196481685</id><published>2009-10-19T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:00:04.352-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Just A Rubber Band</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stv1tAT4I2I/AAAAAAAAAfs/ixC7jR2Oo0g/s1600-h/Rubber+band.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394175132232590178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stv1tAT4I2I/AAAAAAAAAfs/ixC7jR2Oo0g/s400/Rubber+band.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So it's just a rubber band, but not just any rubber band. It's the rubber band that I put around my plastic box that holds my make-up when I am traveling. The rubber band acts as an extra measure of safety to keep the box from popping open and thus keeps my makeup from spilling. Rubber bands are so useful. They can do so many jobs. They stretch to accommodate things much bigger then they are. The can conform to just about any odd shape. They can be strong when needed or even just strong enough to break when too much pressure is applied. They are made to do many tasks not just one particular one and they do them all very well. I think I would do well to be like this rubber band and do my many jobs with a little added measure of love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7252860987196481685?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7252860987196481685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7252860987196481685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-just-rubber-band.html' title='It&apos;s Just A Rubber Band'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stv1tAT4I2I/AAAAAAAAAfs/ixC7jR2Oo0g/s72-c/Rubber+band.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3477678166016363133</id><published>2009-10-17T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T22:03:49.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love To Go To Church</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stqg7cZ5sMI/AAAAAAAAAfk/V7Wp8OoREco/s1600-h/Church.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393800446827147458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stqg7cZ5sMI/AAAAAAAAAfk/V7Wp8OoREco/s400/Church.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I found this tree with it's heart in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kanab&lt;/span&gt; Utah. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StqgrcgCwVI/AAAAAAAAAfc/IT9w0GX1r8U/s1600-h/church+heart.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393800171975000402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StqgrcgCwVI/AAAAAAAAAfc/IT9w0GX1r8U/s320/church+heart.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The tree was one of several that line the street in front of an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;LDS&lt;/span&gt; church. They had recently been trimmed and the result was a wonderful heart. When I saw it I thought, "Oh I love going to church." There is so much love at church. Sometimes we get miss directed and we either don't feel loved or we don't behave ourselves in a loving manner but regardless of what happens there is always love there. Churches of all religions should be sanctuaries where love can be felt and received.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3477678166016363133?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3477678166016363133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3477678166016363133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-love-to-go-to-church.html' title='I Love To Go To Church'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Stqg7cZ5sMI/AAAAAAAAAfk/V7Wp8OoREco/s72-c/Church.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2215701298121736291</id><published>2009-10-16T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T09:00:03.397-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Opposition We Can Grow Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StgBq_I7jWI/AAAAAAAAAfE/9vYHTgijX9w/s1600-h/Bush.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393062391791193442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StgBq_I7jWI/AAAAAAAAAfE/9vYHTgijX9w/s400/Bush.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love this little bush. It is in the middle of a very busy street getting whipped back and forth as the cars and trucks speed by but it has done an awesome job growing into a little showing of love. Can you imagine the constant opposition that it is bombarded with daily all day long and yet somehow it has managed to come out looking like a heart. That is what opposition is for, the more we endure the stronger we become and in those experiences comes our true character. We can grow stronger and rely more on our Heavenly Father or we can wither and die without him. WE choose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2215701298121736291?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2215701298121736291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2215701298121736291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-opposition-we-can-grow-love.html' title='In Opposition We Can Grow Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StgBq_I7jWI/AAAAAAAAAfE/9vYHTgijX9w/s72-c/Bush.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6930014442818123518</id><published>2009-10-15T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T07:01:00.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrctevGeC7I/AAAAAAAAAZc/LZ8c-JDr4lw/s1600-h/hands+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383821885607644082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrctevGeC7I/AAAAAAAAAZc/LZ8c-JDr4lw/s400/hands+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Today is the anniversary of my mother's birth and so I wanted to include a few unique pictures of my mother's hands and the hands of my father and sisters. Several years ago my niece wanted to take pictures of Mother's hands. She was doing a project for her Young Women in Excellence award. I can't remember if I took the pictures or if she did or maybe one of my girls took the pictures but they turned out beautiful. Mother's hands were truly worn out in service for everyone around her. It was common knowledge in our home that Mother could not make a meal without cutting or burning her hands. We always had a beautiful clean home and I watched my mother serve others religiously. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383821672660011570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrctSVzzCjI/AAAAAAAAAZU/oFKIsSQmBcg/s400/hands+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;As a young girl I would sit next to her in church and keep myself entertained for quite a while playing with her hands. The skin was loose and I could make it stand up and keep it's shape in peaks as I would pinch and pull it. Mother also had arthritis and her knuckles were swollen and painful but the area of her finger that wore her wedding band was still long and thin. I could tell that her hands had been beautiful in her youth. Mother never liked her hands but I loved them. I knew her hands were the way they were because she loved me too. Only a short time after taking the pictures of her hands my mother passed away very unexpectedly during a surgery. My sisters, father and myself were taken in to see her after her death. All I wanted to see were her hands. She didn't look like herself but her hands were unmistakable. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383822062700931394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 330px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrctpC0zKUI/AAAAAAAAAZk/So-FegSDE28/s400/hands+015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Before her surgery she had to take off her wedding ring. She really didn't want to remove it but she handed it to me and I placed it on my pinkie finger as it was the only place it fit. Just before we buried our mother my father lovingly place the ring back on her finger. I'm not sure when I took the rest of these pictures, I just know that I took them. The picture of my mother's hand was so precious to me that I also wanted pictures of my father's and sister's hands. I now have them framed with captions displayed in my home. I love my family and I am honored to be an eternal member of it. ( I had not noticed it before but my father's hands form an upside down heart.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6930014442818123518?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6930014442818123518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6930014442818123518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-mother.html' title='Happy Birthday Mother'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrctevGeC7I/AAAAAAAAAZc/LZ8c-JDr4lw/s72-c/hands+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1946501016446290793</id><published>2009-10-14T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T09:00:05.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StVz0jBo7jI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ELT8TPDicBk/s1600-h/donut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392343475438546482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StVz0jBo7jI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ELT8TPDicBk/s400/donut.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just think this is the funniest darn thing. Samuel and I had taken a trip two weeks ago to Oak Creek, Flagstaff and Kanab. I wrote a few time about that trip. Well anyway we found so many hearts on our journey. On the last day of our trip we were in Kanab and the inn where we stayed provided a complimentary breakfast.  They had a few donuts, fruit, and drinks in the lobby of their office for the guests to enjoy. Samuel went to the office by himself to get us something to eat and came back with a great big smile and this fantastic heart shaped donut. It cracked me up. I said, you are kidding me do they have a entire box of heart shaped donuts? Samuel said no, go look, so I took my camera to document the phenomena. Sure enough not one other heart shaped donut. And as you can see we were not the first ones there. I asked the clerk if there had been more heart shaped donuts to which he said no. You know sometimes Love just shows up in some fun places and is just there to get a smile out of us. What a Sweet Heart of Love. (You too Samuel!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1946501016446290793?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1946501016446290793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1946501016446290793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/sweet-love.html' title='Sweet Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StVz0jBo7jI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ELT8TPDicBk/s72-c/donut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-663440269758495034</id><published>2009-10-13T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T09:00:04.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Warms My Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJuDoagqYI/AAAAAAAAAeM/jfmoM6J3Lek/s1600-h/coco.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391492712583178626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 335px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJuDoagqYI/AAAAAAAAAeM/jfmoM6J3Lek/s400/coco.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mmmmm nothing is better on a cold fall morning then a nice hot drink that fills your chest and tummy with warmth. Just holding a hot cup in your hands and breathing in the vapors of the anticipated drink begins the experience. It makes my mind and body relax and I want to feel the warmth all around me. So it is with Love. Warming, enveloping, relaxing. (Thank you Clarissa Jo for the picture)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-663440269758495034?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/663440269758495034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/663440269758495034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/love-warms-my-heart.html' title='Love Warms My Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJuDoagqYI/AAAAAAAAAeM/jfmoM6J3Lek/s72-c/coco.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5846962153278984289</id><published>2009-10-12T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T09:09:00.685-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Turned Just A Little, It Looks Like Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJoAz-n5HI/AAAAAAAAAeE/5bClp_RJumk/s1600-h/potato.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391486067078063218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 310px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJoAz-n5HI/AAAAAAAAAeE/5bClp_RJumk/s400/potato.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know sometimes a hearts is obvious, sometimes they are obscure and sometimes it all about how you look at things to see the love. This potato chip just needed turned a little this way to see the love. There are times when we really have to look this way or that to see all the love around us. Sometimes we may even need to stand on our head if that's what it takes to see the love that is right in front of us. (Thank you Shay Lola for the picture.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5846962153278984289?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5846962153278984289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5846962153278984289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/turned-just-little-it-looks-like-love.html' title='Turned Just A Little, It Looks Like Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StJoAz-n5HI/AAAAAAAAAeE/5bClp_RJumk/s72-c/potato.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-4330565105588567761</id><published>2009-10-11T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T07:19:00.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Love Is So Obvious</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StEnZZ-e6yI/AAAAAAAAAd8/8mrvPpMVp6s/s1600-h/chip.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391133546362366754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StEnZZ-e6yI/AAAAAAAAAd8/8mrvPpMVp6s/s400/chip.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday night date. Samuel and I went to get cookies and ice cream. We were taking our time when a man and his little girl came up behind us. I suggested that they go ahead and order as it always take my husband a minimum of 20 questions to make up his mind. The man asked for a chocolate chip cookie and as the clerk took the cookie out of the case I noticed that it had a heart shaped chip in it. I squealed, "oh no not that one" the customer that I had been so considerate of just moments earlier looked at me then I said "no really it's OK-- can I just take a picture of it." He said yes and I asked him if he could see why I would want a picture he said, "it looks like a pretty good cookie." It does look like a pretty good cookie, I had a similar one it was great! Don't you think when someone brings you a plate of freshly baked cookies, WOW, they must love me, or appreciate me or want to cheer me up. And does it work? YES! That brand of kindness is so obvious and I love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-4330565105588567761?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4330565105588567761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4330565105588567761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/that-love-is-so-obvious.html' title='That Love Is So Obvious'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StEnZZ-e6yI/AAAAAAAAAd8/8mrvPpMVp6s/s72-c/chip.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7725420996689290856</id><published>2009-10-10T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T07:19:00.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Iowa Heart Center</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StALh-S8DZI/AAAAAAAAAd0/gbzYXNBby48/s1600-h/page.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390821432248503698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StALh-S8DZI/AAAAAAAAAd0/gbzYXNBby48/s400/page.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The Iowa Heart Center has this wonderful neon heart shining in the huge window at the front of their building. On the side of the building is a sign reading "Iowa Heart Center." For me Iowa's heart center&lt;em&gt; is&lt;/em&gt; in Ames but it's on Arthur Circle where my daughter Charmaine lives with her husband and 2 little boys. I love the memory of that big glowing heart in the cold Iowa night. It warms my heart. (by the way it is supposed to snow tonight)&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StAJdU8Qm2I/AAAAAAAAAdc/XiLqsykM_E8/s1600-h/center+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7725420996689290856?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7725420996689290856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7725420996689290856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/iowa-heart-center.html' title='Iowa Heart Center'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/StALh-S8DZI/AAAAAAAAAd0/gbzYXNBby48/s72-c/page.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3538110970480225953</id><published>2009-10-09T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T07:30:01.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss6isCw3HYI/AAAAAAAAAc8/qdWa7uwD4Yk/s1600-h/yellow+heart.JPG+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390424681548815746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 362px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss6isCw3HYI/AAAAAAAAAc8/qdWa7uwD4Yk/s400/yellow+heart.JPG+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love fall weather, maybe even more than spring. The colors of orange, red and yellow are so intense. The crisp fall weather is the perfect time for soups and homemade bread. And the best of all, you know when Halloween comes that Christmas is right around the corner. This little heart shaped leaf is just around the corner from the fulfilment of it's life. It will have fulfilled the measure of it's creation and as in nature, born witness of Gods existence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390424198448783298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss6iP7E1n8I/AAAAAAAAAc0/IhTogsJuS9U/s400/yellow+heart.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3538110970480225953?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3538110970480225953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3538110970480225953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/fall-of-love.html' title='Fall Of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss6isCw3HYI/AAAAAAAAAc8/qdWa7uwD4Yk/s72-c/yellow+heart.JPG+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1428202342201305471</id><published>2009-10-08T07:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T07:10:00.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Me Kind Of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss2Qr0uUsbI/AAAAAAAAAcs/q3NmCO1ynbw/s1600-h/Laura.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390123411594064306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss2Qr0uUsbI/AAAAAAAAAcs/q3NmCO1ynbw/s400/Laura.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't you just love it when you realize that someone is thinking of you fondly. I do. In this picture is my grandniece and her friend. They found this heart shaped rock, got together, took a picture, and send it to me. That was so sweet. They are sweeties for sure. I just love it that these two little girls were able to spy some love and then send it on. Good job! The girls are, Megan and my grandniece Laura. So cute. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1428202342201305471?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1428202342201305471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1428202342201305471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/remembering-me-kind-of-love.html' title='Remembering Me Kind Of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ss2Qr0uUsbI/AAAAAAAAAcs/q3NmCO1ynbw/s72-c/Laura.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6758604699833831052</id><published>2009-10-06T21:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T21:31:23.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Born under the symbol of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SswYU0KYUaI/AAAAAAAAAcU/K5P4TW7KISw/s1600-h/birthmark.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389709599934271906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SswYU0KYUaI/AAAAAAAAAcU/K5P4TW7KISw/s320/birthmark.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a birth mark on a young woman that I met today. I was in an anatomy lab observing. All the students were gloved so they could cleanly dissect a poor unfortunate animal. As usually happens each student found the grosser the hands the more the face itches. One particular young woman would raise her arm to rub her face with the back of her wrist and as she did this I noticed that she had a heart shaped spot on her arm. Others at the table asked her what had happe&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SswY_JBzdxI/AAAAAAAAAcc/ze6tTK65yec/s1600-h/birth.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389710327089952530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SswY_JBzdxI/AAAAAAAAAcc/ze6tTK65yec/s320/birth.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ned and she informed us that it was a birth mark. I said, "you were born under the symbol of love." "Children are an heritage of the Lord"* and have the right to be loved. This young woman is so lucky to carry this reminder with her throughout her life. I hope that she knows that she is love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Psalms 127:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6758604699833831052?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6758604699833831052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6758604699833831052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/born-under-symbol-of-love.html' title='Born under the symbol of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SswYU0KYUaI/AAAAAAAAAcU/K5P4TW7KISw/s72-c/birthmark.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1949544353259459606</id><published>2009-10-05T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T21:15:41.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Islands In The Stream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsrBhgVYUsI/AAAAAAAAAcM/2mWv-nKIt00/s1600-h/Island+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389332685461672642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsrBhgVYUsI/AAAAAAAAAcM/2mWv-nKIt00/s320/Island+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsrAWvOe-HI/AAAAAAAAAcE/k12rXR422Gc/s1600-h/island.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389331400969091186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsrAWvOe-HI/AAAAAAAAAcE/k12rXR422Gc/s320/island.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two Love Islands one stream. What more can I say?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aCawuhk4Re4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aCawuhk4Re4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1949544353259459606?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1949544353259459606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1949544353259459606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/love-islands-in-stream.html' title='Love Islands In The Stream'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsrBhgVYUsI/AAAAAAAAAcM/2mWv-nKIt00/s72-c/Island+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3416268862403711866</id><published>2009-10-05T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T20:25:57.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Biggest Love</title><content type='html'>Get ready for a slight lecture. Samuel and I were in Northern AZ and Southern UT Friday and Saturday of this last week. We had such a wonderful time, we really took our time and stopped several times to take pictures, relax and eat. One stop was at Navajo bridge on the way to Lee's Ferry. We got to the middle of the bridge and found that people were bungee jumping. As the jumper went off he didn't really seem that excited to go, but he went anyway. Then, well you know the rest. They pulled him back up and all was well. The fun lasted only a minute but cost hundreds and could have even cost more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I did enjoy watching the jumper and I am so glad that he was safely back on the bridge. When we left, Samuel said that he had a surprise for me but he didn't know if it would materialize. What? Materialize? Well I was intrigued. We turned down the road that goes to Lee's Ferry and came to an incredible field of huge boulders that had fallen from the cliffs above millennia ago I'm sure. Samuel's surprise was this huge heart shaped boulder that he had spied years ago while on a trip with the young men in our church. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388909621956247026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SslAv99i_fI/AAAAAAAAAbs/FGNguRgaSQs/s400/huge.JPG" border="0" /&gt;It is incredible and huge and so perfectly shaped and he remembered right where it was from seeing it 10 or 15 years ago. WOW I love it! Samuel and I were the only ones looking at this wonder. " Right around the corner is "Balancing Rock." Lots of people where there marveling at it. I began to think how often we are the same way. Jumping off of bridges, teetering on the edge when the great big love of our Savior is right there for everyone but everyone is distracted by thrills. The Savior's love is really all around us-- we just need to decide to look for it and recognize it. "I feel my Savior's Love in all the World around Me."*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388915778468392322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SslGWUwbLYI/AAAAAAAAAb0/Q6Hg9q5-qJg/s400/balancing.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*Words from LDS Children's song.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3416268862403711866?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3416268862403711866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3416268862403711866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/biggest-love.html' title='The Biggest Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SslAv99i_fI/AAAAAAAAAbs/FGNguRgaSQs/s72-c/huge.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3979299714110723231</id><published>2009-10-04T11:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T11:20:20.277-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conference Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssjm8KCL6II/AAAAAAAAAbk/5s6GWihcm-g/s1600-h/conference.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388810875308861570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssjm8KCL6II/AAAAAAAAAbk/5s6GWihcm-g/s400/conference.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love General Conference. As I was listening to President Monson speak of acts of love and service I ran to get my camera to capture the image of the heart shaped leaves on the plant behind him. It doesn't matter if you are a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints or not the messages of General Conference are wonderful. If you would like to hear President Monson's talk you can go &lt;a href="http://www.lds.org/broadcast/gc/0,5161,8870,00.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3979299714110723231?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3979299714110723231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3979299714110723231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/conference-love.html' title='Conference Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssjm8KCL6II/AAAAAAAAAbk/5s6GWihcm-g/s72-c/conference.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1073889983599800696</id><published>2009-10-03T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T07:00:05.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Acts of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssbiz_9JyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gBpp-MeVZ5U/s1600-h/rocks.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388243387164510210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssbiz_9JyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gBpp-MeVZ5U/s400/rocks.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little acts of love or 6 hearts and a chick! My husband has always been so kind to me. I have been walking lately and really want to keep up this good habit. Samuel does not like to walk, it hurts his back but he does go with me when we are on vacation mostly I think to keep me safe. So we walked last night when we got to Flagstaff. We took a nice 2 mile hike and all along the way Samuel stopped to pick up heart shaped rocks. Just like him always looking out for me whether it is heart shaped rocks or making sure I am safe in strange places he is always showing me little acts of love. I just threw in the chick for fun, because I am his fun chick! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1073889983599800696?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1073889983599800696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1073889983599800696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/little-acts-of-love.html' title='Little Acts of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Ssbiz_9JyAI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gBpp-MeVZ5U/s72-c/rocks.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7427295110675234546</id><published>2009-10-02T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T21:43:24.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Nuts For You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsbVn9BYh5I/AAAAAAAAAbU/B9gnYs9Klxs/s1600-h/nuts.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388228886567356306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsbVn9BYh5I/AAAAAAAAAbU/B9gnYs9Klxs/s400/nuts.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday Samuel and I were in Oak Creek Canyon at a cute little store and restaurant. We stopped to get out and stretch our legs and for a bite to eat. We got a cup of the yummiest corn chowder, a piece of carrot cake and a brownie. When I got my brownie it had a cute little heart shaped nut right on the top. I love nuts in my brownies, in fact I think everything is better with nuts. Even marriage is better with nuts. I am absolutely nuts for my nutty husband. Ask anyone he really is nutty. A little nutty is good for such a serious thing as marriage. Every now and then anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7427295110675234546?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7427295110675234546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7427295110675234546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-nuts-for-you.html' title='I&apos;m Nuts For You!'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsbVn9BYh5I/AAAAAAAAAbU/B9gnYs9Klxs/s72-c/nuts.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2596685122120621337</id><published>2009-10-01T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T07:00:03.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Mark</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsRNd8d46UI/AAAAAAAAAbM/OiyGf25rgAE/s1600-h/DSCF3007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387516231084992834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsRNd8d46UI/AAAAAAAAAbM/OiyGf25rgAE/s400/DSCF3007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a stain left on the side walk by water. I love water, I can't live without it. I especially love it when it rains and the air smells like rain. That's that best. I don't even care when my freshly washed car gets rained on, just let it rain. Water marks, rain drops, spotty dirt, it's all good as long as we have water available. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2596685122120621337?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2596685122120621337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2596685122120621337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/10/water-mark.html' title='Water Mark'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsRNd8d46UI/AAAAAAAAAbM/OiyGf25rgAE/s72-c/DSCF3007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5709154316937692720</id><published>2009-09-30T05:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T05:39:09.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Have to Grow Love Like That</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsNRBJoSjeI/AAAAAAAAAbE/n6xje5QVOxU/s1600-h/olive+tree.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387238659471871458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsNRBJoSjeI/AAAAAAAAAbE/n6xje5QVOxU/s400/olive+tree.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This heart is upside down but a heart none the less. When I saw it I thought, you have to grow love like that. Love doesn't just grow on trees usually but it does grow. As mothers when we have a baby it seems love just comes naturally. It is so easy to love a baby, but the love that comes so naturally begins to be challenged at times and maybe between siblings it isn't so natural. As parents we have to teach our children how to love and be loving. We have to cultivate our little sprouts so that they can grow into great big lovers and I mean that in the nicest way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5709154316937692720?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5709154316937692720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5709154316937692720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-have-to-grow-love-like-that.html' title='You Have to Grow Love Like That'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsNRBJoSjeI/AAAAAAAAAbE/n6xje5QVOxU/s72-c/olive+tree.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7190391394771444801</id><published>2009-09-29T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T08:49:55.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oil Stain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsIslE2WUfI/AAAAAAAAAa8/UwmeKonlOQU/s1600-h/oil+stain.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386917119757013490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsIslE2WUfI/AAAAAAAAAa8/UwmeKonlOQU/s400/oil+stain.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is just an oil stain that I found while in the Dominican Republic. Samuel and I were on a cruise with our Scuba Buddies, Dale and Shelly. Normally when we cruise we like to dive but we were unable to find a good dive at this stop. We decided to do some site seeing instead. We heard of a water fall that was supposed to be nice so we started walking thinking we could just walk to it. Trying to keep up with Dale and Shelly is really hard they walk at about 4.5 mph and Samuel and I walk at about 3.5mph and that is on a good day. As we were walking I spotted this heart shaped stain on the ground so we stopped to take a picture of it. Thank goodness we had an excuse for stopping. I noticed as we were taking a picture of the road that the locals were wondering what was so interesting. As we walked away I turned back to see that the people who had been watching us were now looking at the ground. They spoke in Spanish but I could understand that they saw the heart and were laughing and commenting on it. There right in front of their homes was a heart on the ground that they had never noticed. I don't know if they were laughing at me that I was taking a picture of the ground or laughing that they had a heart that they didn't notice before but either way I am glad that I could share a little love and laughter with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7190391394771444801?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7190391394771444801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7190391394771444801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/oil-stain_29.html' title='Oil Stain'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsIslE2WUfI/AAAAAAAAAa8/UwmeKonlOQU/s72-c/oil+stain.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-8872852399513594164</id><published>2009-09-28T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T07:00:03.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Garbage Heart, Trash?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsBPjP_C06I/AAAAAAAAAas/Q0m10kYSL0Q/s1600-h/Trash.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386392621340087202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 329px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsBPjP_C06I/AAAAAAAAAas/Q0m10kYSL0Q/s400/Trash.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is only a piece of trash that I found as I was walking one day. I didn't move it or adjust it in any way. It was laying on the sidewalk just like this. I do have to get to know my camera better though, the picture is quite out of focus. I have a friend that likes to walk also. Her name is Connie. When Connie walks she is focused on finding trash. Connie told me once that as she was walking one day and she wasn't finding any trash and she thought, "Where is my trash? Who has been picking it up? Don't they know that is my job?" She is making her little place on the planet a better cleaner place to live and she takes it seriously. Connie is a wonderful person that doesn't think twice about picking up and throwing away the trash that others leave behind. Thank you Connie for all your considerate work. (I couldn't throw the Garbage Heart away though it was just too sweet!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-8872852399513594164?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8872852399513594164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8872852399513594164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/garbage-heart-trash.html' title='Garbage Heart, Trash?'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SsBPjP_C06I/AAAAAAAAAas/Q0m10kYSL0Q/s72-c/Trash.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2359162627412006280</id><published>2009-09-27T01:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T01:20:08.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fenced in with Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386058897923904642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr8gB_YWFII/AAAAAAAAAak/pUOkxkgiiH0/s400/Lines.JPG" border="0" /&gt;This is actually a neighbor’s fence (Paul and Cindy) it however is perfect for the thoughts that I have about love. Sometimes we feel that we have to build a fence to protect a loved one or ourselves so my thought is, if it is necessary, build a fence of love. Build it to include the ones you love. Don’t fence them out. The commandments say to love your neighbor and the Lord answered the question, “who is my neighbor?” with the story of the Good Samaritan. So who do we fence out? Maybe no one maybe we just fence everyone in and surround all with our love. Wouldn’t that be nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2359162627412006280?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2359162627412006280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2359162627412006280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/fenced-in-with-love.html' title='Fenced in with Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr8gB_YWFII/AAAAAAAAAak/pUOkxkgiiH0/s72-c/Lines.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-7428836614318087673</id><published>2009-09-26T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T07:00:02.517-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How cute it this?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr0VB1SE6UI/AAAAAAAAAaE/NFQ9dE7Mucg/s1600-h/heart+tongue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385483850631932226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr0VB1SE6UI/AAAAAAAAAaE/NFQ9dE7Mucg/s400/heart+tongue.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I just took this picture this morning. It started out as a video and as I was watching it I saw that Herk's tongue made a heart as he panted. Nothing profound to say, just love that tongue. No wait...I feel the same way about the tongue that wags messages of encouragement to me, namely my dog Molly. I take her walking with me a few days a week. She is just a little Shitzu but she love to walk, mostly run and it never matters how far we go she is pulling me the entire way encouraging me to go faster, go further, keep going, keep going! She is a great little fitness coach and she even has a little heart shaped tuft on top of her head. Walking with a dog is good therapy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385486206650123842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 340px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr0XK-IlhkI/AAAAAAAAAac/HoG68nfk18w/s400/Molly.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-7428836614318087673?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7428836614318087673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/7428836614318087673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-cute-it-this.html' title='How cute it this?'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sr0VB1SE6UI/AAAAAAAAAaE/NFQ9dE7Mucg/s72-c/heart+tongue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6730046612974330985</id><published>2009-09-25T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T07:00:05.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Wings of Love</title><content type='html'>Last year I was flying to San Diego to see my daughter Chantal, I love sitting at a window seat and looking out at the world going by. I think the landscape is beautiful from Arizona to California. It's a patchwork of farms and desert and in general I just feel peace at the slow pace that appears to be being lived below. On that trip I spied a heart shaped piece of land in the desert. I didn't have my camera at the time and was so disappointed that I could not photograph it. Chantal lives in San Diego and so I knew I would be able to fly the route again and maybe get the picture at a later date. What really are the chances? Well two weeks ago I got a call from Chantal asking me to come to San Diego a little earlier then I had planned because she was ready to have her baby and didn't think she could wait another week. (I had planned to go the next week.) I caught the first flight that I could it was at 4pm and I thought, I love going to my daughters to help when they have their babies and so I need to find that heart shaped patch of land and get a picture so I can blog about it. I looked out the window the entire flight and didn't see it. I was heart broken. Then a week later Samuel came to San Diego to join me and to see the new baby. By the way Chantal had her baby that Sunday at 7am. We had a wonderful visit with the kids and after 2 more days it was time to go home. I thought about the heart again but this time it was more like, I won't find it there is just no way and so I didn't even look. In my mind I really hoped that I could but I really didn't think it possible. About 30 min or so into the flight I looked out and there it was! It had changed a little and now it looks to me like it has grown wings and a tail. I love it even more! I think about all the times I have taken flight because of love. So many. When Chantal was having baby number 1 I flew to Provo for the ultra sound to discover the baby's sex, then back on a moments notice when she thought he was coming. I did the same for Charmaine when she lived in Salt Lake and Ames and then two more time for Chantal in San Diego. I fly to Jenny's house when her baby needs an enema (really) or in any emergency or just for fun. I fly to Clarissa's mostly for dinner but I fly there too. It's not that I am such a great mother it's just that I love these people so much that I would do all I could for them. If I could literally fly to them and their aid I would but for sure my heart takes flight each time I get a call from one of them. They are the best people I know.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385297102003782674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrxrLobgRBI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/4XwPVUOFVQ4/s400/airplane.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6730046612974330985?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6730046612974330985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6730046612974330985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-wings-of-love.html' title='On the Wings of Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrxrLobgRBI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/4XwPVUOFVQ4/s72-c/airplane.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-8542005442898722669</id><published>2009-09-24T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T07:00:03.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spinning Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;When I first saw this little Spinning Heart I was so tickled by it. I had been walking and I thought, "I need to look up." I had been looking down for over a mile looking at the sidewalk and the ground. I think I must be afraid of falling or something because I find myself looking at the ground a lot. Anyway I looked up and I saw this 1 inch crystal heart hanging from the coner of a house. It is so tiny barely even noticable. As you will see in the video, it was kind of hard for me to even get a good shot of it. I try to take my camera when I walk and the first time I took pictures of this heart, it kept spinning and I just couldn't focus to get a good picture. Today I decided to take a video. This little heart hangs at the back of a house that is behind a fence that is a good 6 feet tall. I had to hold my camera at an angle that I couldn't even see the screen but I think it turned out ok anyway. My first thought when I saw it was, why would someone hang that tiny little heart from their roof. It is in such an out of the way place that you can hardley notice it. It is a beautiful heart anyway catching and reflecting light as it turns. It's small but it casts beams of light all around where it hangs. As I contemplated this little spinning heart I thougth, I want to be like that. Quietly going about my business, Not getting in anyones way, just being right where I need to be, reflecting the light of Christ that is in me and spreading that joy everywhere I can reach. Little Spinning Hearts can spread sunshine all along their way. They can "cheer and bless and brighten every pasing day."1&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 Quote from LDS hymn; Scatter the Sunshine&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ad7fcf18093b9c76" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dad7fcf18093b9c76%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330138867%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C270A8D0CD484862A62F1F107E1E54578391340.75F929D51FF835903B7187E40A94E99D8E61BB28%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dad7fcf18093b9c76%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DBGzZVdPl4k5y_JzhxSk8ALCKfsA&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dad7fcf18093b9c76%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330138867%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C270A8D0CD484862A62F1F107E1E54578391340.75F929D51FF835903B7187E40A94E99D8E61BB28%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dad7fcf18093b9c76%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DBGzZVdPl4k5y_JzhxSk8ALCKfsA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-8542005442898722669?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8542005442898722669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8542005442898722669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/spinning-heart.html' title='Spinning Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-8116201472191227791</id><published>2009-09-23T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T07:53:00.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's a Sticky One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrmP1sOnD0I/AAAAAAAAAZ0/dMQvnfcvGMI/s1600-h/gum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384492982066417474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 308px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrmP1sOnD0I/AAAAAAAAAZ0/dMQvnfcvGMI/s400/gum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shortly after I began this blog of my collection of hearts my daughter Charmaine sent me this picture of a piece of gum she found on her driveway in Peoria Arizona. Charmaine now lives in Ames Iowa and has not lived in Peoria for more then 2 years so I know the picture is at least that old. Charmaine had forgotten all about the picture until she started helping me set up my page. Soon she remembered she had it and somehow she found it and sent it to me. I love that she thought of me when she first saw the gum. I love that she thought enough to take the picture of it. I love that she remembered that she had it. I love that she thought to send it to me. I love that it is red. I love that it is such a perfect shape, but most of all I love knowing that my daughter and I are stuck together stronger then gum to a hot Arizona sidewalk in the summer. Thank you Charmaine, I love you! I send you sweet sticky kisses!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-8116201472191227791?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8116201472191227791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/8116201472191227791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/thats-sticky-one.html' title='That&apos;s a Sticky One'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrmP1sOnD0I/AAAAAAAAAZ0/dMQvnfcvGMI/s72-c/gum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2437692782986860381</id><published>2009-09-22T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T07:00:02.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love along my way</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrhlmoXO6NI/AAAAAAAAAZs/taAaI2sqGAY/s1600-h/IMG_0090.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384165068865726674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 341px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrhlmoXO6NI/AAAAAAAAAZs/taAaI2sqGAY/s400/IMG_0090.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have found many hearts left by an imperfection in the making of a sidewalk. I think maybe a stone or something gets into the mix and is so close to the surface of the concrete that as it is being leveled and smoothed the layer on the top is so thin that it eventually just give out and reveals what once was hidden. This is an especially good one but as you can see it has a little liter in it. A few twigs a leaf, some dirt and grass. All good things on their own and in the right place but in this heart they are just out of place. Sometimes we hide our love and it may take some leveling and smoothing to reveal it but when we do reveal it we need to keep it clean and free from anything that should not be there. Just like many components of love, they have their place and are good but it is our responsibility to know the right place and the right time and to maintain all things in good order.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2437692782986860381?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2437692782986860381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2437692782986860381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-along-my-way.html' title='Love along my way'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SrhlmoXO6NI/AAAAAAAAAZs/taAaI2sqGAY/s72-c/IMG_0090.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3018062788897491931</id><published>2009-09-21T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T07:50:00.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep Bleeding Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvvxcaveqI/AAAAAAAAAZE/ZBGwbsOx4Cc/s1600-h/blood.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380657812545174178" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 270px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvvxcaveqI/AAAAAAAAAZE/ZBGwbsOx4Cc/s400/blood.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I just love watching "So You Think You Can Dance." The interpretation of the music in many cases is just beautiful. This picture is actually a little drip of blood from some meat that I had thawing on the counter in my kitchen. The Heart was so perfect I just couldn't believe it but what it really reminded me of was the song and dance from the show. Sometimes love hurts so bad that it feels like your heart is being ripped right out of your chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HqAbm5og4kA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HqAbm5og4kA&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3018062788897491931?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3018062788897491931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3018062788897491931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/keep-bleeding-love.html' title='Keep Bleeding Love'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvvxcaveqI/AAAAAAAAAZE/ZBGwbsOx4Cc/s72-c/blood.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5345908407139578404</id><published>2009-09-20T07:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T07:14:00.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Laundry</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvonG7XF0I/AAAAAAAAAY0/RzlVWMwGMPk/s1600-h/soap.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380649938396321602" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 301px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvonG7XF0I/AAAAAAAAAY0/RzlVWMwGMPk/s400/soap.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This cute little lump of a Heart I found in the Oxi Clean while doing laundry . It reminded me of an experience I had while Visit Teaching my Bishop's wife years ago. I think the lesson might have been on love for family and how to cultivate it. Karen, my Bishop's wife, began to tell me just how she feels when she does the laundry. She said that as she is folding the clothes she thinks to herself, "I love the man that wears these clothes." What a blessing for her. Sometime after that I must have told my children of the experience and one of the kids, Clarissa, must have internalized it. Just recently she wrote on her blog, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;What is it about folded laundry that I love so much?&lt;br /&gt;I really enjoy folding laundry for my family. (Thank goodness because I have to do it every week!) Before Bou was born I loved to fold Logan's clothes and just think about how the man I loved worn them. (And of course I still love to do this!) It really was so much fun for me and it was something that I knew he appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;After a couple of baby showers the clothes started to add up and I just loved folding the tiny baby clothes and putting them away neatly. I tried to organize them by size the best I could but soon came to realized that it was a bit more difficult once they started to be worn. So I would be sorting through tons of tiny clothes trying to find the right size and they would all come unfolded. And after doing a couple of loads a week because of blowouts and spit-ups the clean clothes just got thrown in the drawer unfolded. It didn't bother me much because I knew that I was the only one that was going to be seeing them and that Bou wouldn't mind one bit!&lt;br /&gt;Well.. a few months ago when I was watching my sister Jenny's kids while she was in the hospital having their 3rd child, Jack, I was helping her oldest, Lacy get dressed when I realized that all of her clothes were neatly folded in her drawers. I thought it was a sweet, loving gesture because certainly a 4 year old doesn't care if her clothes are folded. It was obvious to me that my sister loved her children because she took the time to fold their tiny clothes, even though I am sure she does way more laundry that I do in one week.&lt;br /&gt;So it inspired me and reminded me of my love of folding laundry. So tonight when Bou was fast asleep I folded all of her clean clothes and added them to her drawers that I have kept neatly folded and organized since Jack was born. And with each tiny outfit I think about how much I love the tiny person that wears these clothes.&lt;br /&gt;So anywho.. thanks for the reminder sister, and happy folding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380651268145225746" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 311px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqvp0goNIBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/XZNp8Sef6GU/s400/Bou.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;(Bou and Mommy Clarissa)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, that after I got done writing this blog I remembered that when Samuel and I were first married his parents came to visit us.  One of the first things he did was take his parents to our bedroom and show them his underwear drawer and how neatly folded his underwear were.  I was so embarrassed and I even felt a little like the hired help but I soon came to realize that what he was doing was an act of love.  He was so proud of me and my laundering skills he just wanted to show me off a little.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="quickedit" title="Edit" onclick="'return" href="http://www.blogger.com/rearrange?blogID=1522573490469368309&amp;amp;widgetType=Followers&amp;amp;widgetId=Followers1&amp;amp;action=editWidget" target="configFollowers1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5345908407139578404?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5345908407139578404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5345908407139578404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-laundry.html' title='I Love Laundry'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvonG7XF0I/AAAAAAAAAY0/RzlVWMwGMPk/s72-c/soap.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2848673335711523509</id><published>2009-09-19T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T07:56:00.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Street Paved Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvkOhQU70I/AAAAAAAAAYs/Pd-OE5hWxaM/s1600-h/mexico.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380645117920341826" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 362px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvkOhQU70I/AAAAAAAAAYs/Pd-OE5hWxaM/s400/mexico.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I took this picture while in Mazatlan Mexico. The street was paved with stones, it was beautiful. My husband and I love traveling to Mexico. Neither Samuel or I speak Spanish. I can listen and understand quite a bit but it is very difficult to communicate when the two people speaking speak different languages. Luckily our friends Dale and Shelly do speak Spanish very well and that helps to keep us safe. Another reason we love traveling with them. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With love, sometimes the ones we are dealing with are speaking a language that one of us just may not understand. Sometimes we need an interpreter, someone who understands and can be helpful, a liaison of sorts a go between. This seems to be especially needed when it comes to children and parents. “Children have the right to be born in the bonds of matrimony to be reared by a father and a mother.” If one doesn’t understand, chances are the other will. (Another benefit.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2848673335711523509?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2848673335711523509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2848673335711523509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/street-paved-love-ftb.html' title='Street Paved Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvkOhQU70I/AAAAAAAAAYs/Pd-OE5hWxaM/s72-c/mexico.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6379765358853577068</id><published>2009-09-18T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T07:27:00.608-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prisoner of Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhkzIZfwFI/AAAAAAAAAXo/EH05b73XCfI/s1600-h/CIMG1507.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379660584484585554" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 300px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhkzIZfwFI/AAAAAAAAAXo/EH05b73XCfI/s400/CIMG1507.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took this picture years ago of Chantal at the Yuma AZ federal prison museum. We were on our way to the San Diego Temple open house. I thought it was the perfect picture for this frame. It has sat on my piano ever since.&lt;br /&gt;I am happy to be a prisoner of Love. I locked my heart up long ago and vowed to love only you. Then we had children together and they became prisoners with us. I have said, many times, that I love my family like a crazy woman. Some have described this love as fierce, and have said that I defend my family even when they may be wrong. Well I don’t know about that, but, I do know that if we are to be an Eternal family that our loyalties must lay with each other. We must guard and protect each other as if we were protecting Fort Knox. (My daughter Chantal in picture.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6379765358853577068?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6379765358853577068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6379765358853577068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/prisoner-of-love-ftb.html' title='Prisoner of Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhkzIZfwFI/AAAAAAAAAXo/EH05b73XCfI/s72-c/CIMG1507.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-2077511845845979402</id><published>2009-09-17T07:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T07:16:00.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hidden Hearts of Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvY9drZEHI/AAAAAAAAAYU/Hc8g2vKGmbo/s1600-h/leaf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380632730274435186" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 302px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvY9drZEHI/AAAAAAAAAYU/Hc8g2vKGmbo/s400/leaf.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All through out our lives we seek to find true acts of love and sometimes they are well hidden and we never find them. The scriptures teach us that if we give alms openly we have our reward but to do, “thine alms… in secret; and thy Father who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;seeth&lt;/span&gt; in secret, himself shall reward thee openly.” We can look for the kindness of others and we may see them and really we should take note of the kind acts of others but to be kind openly sincerely and in private is also required. Openly, because kindness cannot be masked by cruelty and privately because sometimes others need us without the act being of service but just of genuine kindness and friendship. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-2077511845845979402?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2077511845845979402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/2077511845845979402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/hidden-hearts-of-love-ftb.html' title='Hidden Hearts of Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvY9drZEHI/AAAAAAAAAYU/Hc8g2vKGmbo/s72-c/leaf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1796725728555086335</id><published>2009-09-16T07:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T07:08:00.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love on the Run! (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvXByrdYPI/AAAAAAAAAYM/K5_2ETmKebs/s1600-h/car.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380630605608083698" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 301px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvXByrdYPI/AAAAAAAAAYM/K5_2ETmKebs/s400/car.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running just as fast as we can&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Holdin' on to one anothers' hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tryin to get away into the night&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And then you put your arms around me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And we tumble to the ground&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And then you say &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we're alone now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There doesn't seem to be anyone around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think were alone now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The beating of our hearts is the only sound&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How fun would it be to run in this car, just as fast as you can?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1796725728555086335?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1796725728555086335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1796725728555086335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-on-run-ftb.html' title='Love on the Run! (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvXByrdYPI/AAAAAAAAAYM/K5_2ETmKebs/s72-c/car.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-701246012540756464</id><published>2009-09-15T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T21:14:01.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love is Spoken Here (ftb)</title><content type='html'>What comes out of your mouth? This little maneuver is really quite difficult, just like kind words sometimes can be. It is best to just live by the advise that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Thumper&lt;/span&gt;’s mommy gave, “if you can’t say &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;somethin&lt;/span&gt;’ nice, don’t say &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nothin&lt;/span&gt;’ at all.” I also say, speak as if the person you are speaking about is right there in the same room with you or imagine that your grandmother is there listening. I would have never said anything bad &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of my saintly grandmothers. Most of all be nice in word and deed. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379962940189638178" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sql3yjLE_iI/AAAAAAAAAYE/-Adtmq3bFSI/s400/Jenny.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case you can't find the hearts, Look at Jenny's teeth in the upper left picture and then I think the other one is obvious, right? (Pictured is my daughter &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;JennyLynn&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-701246012540756464?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/701246012540756464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/701246012540756464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-spoken-here-ftb.html' title='Love is Spoken Here (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sql3yjLE_iI/AAAAAAAAAYE/-Adtmq3bFSI/s72-c/Jenny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-471028518992847137</id><published>2009-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T07:00:06.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scuba Buddies (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqlpezcs1bI/AAAAAAAAAX8/EDvnCHBtkKQ/s1600-h/coral.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379947207798347186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 380px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 364px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqlpezcs1bI/AAAAAAAAAX8/EDvnCHBtkKQ/s400/coral.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is a picture of coral that friends of ours took while they were scuba diving. (Dale and Shelly) When they were showing us their pictures I spotted this heart among the corals. We have since gotten our scuba certification and love to dive when ever we can. There are some real love lessons when diving. You always have to dive with a buddy. You are always supposed to know where your buddy is and you are supposed to check you buddy before you let him enter the water. You need to know where all his releases are so you can help him escape danger, you must be able to share your air with him, you need to make sure his air is on before diving in, and most important of all, YOU NEVER LEAVE YOU BUDDY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-471028518992847137?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/471028518992847137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/471028518992847137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/scuba-buddies-ftb.html' title='Scuba Buddies (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqlpezcs1bI/AAAAAAAAAX8/EDvnCHBtkKQ/s72-c/coral.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5736214014113476027</id><published>2009-09-12T07:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T07:23:00.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love by Chance (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqhjrcz-nKI/AAAAAAAAAXg/l99hylaFmMQ/s1600-h/P1010040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379659353013787810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqhjrcz-nKI/AAAAAAAAAXg/l99hylaFmMQ/s400/P1010040.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have to look a little harder but it is there. The curl in Jenny’s hair and the door knob make a heart. And sometimes that is how love is. You have to look a little harder. Sometimes you have to try and make things work out. You always need to expect to give more then you receive and you have to hope that your love, loves you second only to the Lord. This picture was taken on Jenny’s wedding day as she was getting ready to go to the Temple. I have learned that a man that loves the Lord first is the best husband there is. Because of his love for the Lord he truly understands his role in your life. He is more attentive and cares for you as a daughter of God.  (My daughter Jenny in picture.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5736214014113476027?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5736214014113476027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5736214014113476027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-by-chance-ftb.html' title='Love by Chance (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sqhjrcz-nKI/AAAAAAAAAXg/l99hylaFmMQ/s72-c/P1010040.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6445286006965561043</id><published>2009-09-11T07:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T07:11:00.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Road to Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhiT19QbfI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Rp_pCi9eRLo/s1600-h/IMG_0217.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379657847935102450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhiT19QbfI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Rp_pCi9eRLo/s400/IMG_0217.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found this heart shaped crack in the asphalt in California while on our trip with Clarissa and Kristina. When I saw it, I thought, wow the road to love is paved with… and then a flood of different thoughts came. Heart ache, sorrow, happiness, sacrifice, service, compassion, patience, and so much more. Once again what do the scripture say Love is? “Charity is the pure love of Christ and it endures forever.” Moroni taught us this, ”…a man… must needs have charity; for if he have not charity he is nothing; wherefore he must needs have charity. &lt;a name="45"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And charity suffereth long, and is, kind and envieth not, and is not puffed up, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6445286006965561043?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6445286006965561043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6445286006965561043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/road-to-love-ftb.html' title='The Road to Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqhiT19QbfI/AAAAAAAAAXY/Rp_pCi9eRLo/s72-c/IMG_0217.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1901923147862176663</id><published>2009-09-11T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T22:42:20.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Road to Love (ftb) the rest of the story</title><content type='html'>...seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked , thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. &lt;a name="46"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail— &lt;a name="47"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This heart was found on the same trip in the pavement at Disney land. Is it truly the happiest place on earth? No, the Happiest place is where the Heart is. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380633984072172818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvaGccERRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/FiwAWAfg-LY/s400/Disney.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1901923147862176663?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1901923147862176663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1901923147862176663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/road-to-love-ftb-rest-of-story.html' title='The Road to Love (ftb) the rest of the story'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqvaGccERRI/AAAAAAAAAYc/FiwAWAfg-LY/s72-c/Disney.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-4814270227809191042</id><published>2009-09-10T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T07:00:02.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peirced Through The Heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVi4Var68I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/Uv92dOJLs7Q/s1600-h/fence.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378814049925196738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVi4Var68I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/Uv92dOJLs7Q/s400/fence.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sister Peggy sent me this picture with the inspiration &lt;em&gt;that sometimes our heart is pierced in pain from one of life's many tragedies. Sometimes when this happens you may throw up a fence in self defence. &lt;/em&gt;Isn't that true! I can't tell you how many times when I was young and dating, trying so hard to catch Mr. Right i.e. Samuel that I found myself throwing up a fence. I just wasn't sure who I was. I was sure about who I wanted to be but I was still just developing into that person. I find I still throw up a fence now and then. I'm not sure that it is either bad or good, but I think that we do have to be careful and be willing to take them down just as fast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-4814270227809191042?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4814270227809191042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/4814270227809191042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/peirced-through-heart.html' title='Peirced Through The Heart'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVi4Var68I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/Uv92dOJLs7Q/s72-c/fence.bmp' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-5583955945814691170</id><published>2009-09-09T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T07:00:03.747-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Rocks (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVev8fVBII/AAAAAAAAAXI/0-7jZgaFi_A/s1600-h/Copy+(1)+ofhearts2+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378809507748316290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVev8fVBII/AAAAAAAAAXI/0-7jZgaFi_A/s400/Copy+(1)+ofhearts2+009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I have definitely found more heart shaped rocks than any other form of medium. It all really started in St. Martin in the Virgin Isles. We were celebrating our 20th anniversary. We were just window shopping when I spotted a heart shaped diamond. It was so beautiful but not affordable for us. It was really very well priced but not something we had planned on so of course we passed it up. Ever since that experience when ever my husband or child finds a heart shaped rock they bring it home to me, if they can. Now I have a pretty good collection of heart shaped rocks.  (My daughter Clarissa in picture.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-5583955945814691170?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5583955945814691170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/5583955945814691170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-rocks-ftb.html' title='Love Rocks (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVev8fVBII/AAAAAAAAAXI/0-7jZgaFi_A/s72-c/Copy+(1)+ofhearts2+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-354492066545566669</id><published>2009-09-08T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T07:00:04.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chicken Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVdkYhRQxI/AAAAAAAAAXA/YpG5EDXEjbc/s1600-h/CIMG1482.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378808209602593554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVdkYhRQxI/AAAAAAAAAXA/YpG5EDXEjbc/s400/CIMG1482.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh yeah, I said “chicken love.” That’s right, that is when the most wonderful thing comes along and your just too chicken to “go for it.” But then you wait 2 or 3 years and the chance comes around again and sure enough you try going for it after all. How lucky do you have to be to get a second chance at true love? I don’t know but I do know that I am really blessed and lucky to be given all the chances that I have been, deserving or not I keep getting them, second chances that is. My one advise, if the heart is chicken, make sure you don’t burn any bridges, be kind, be open to asking for forgiveness and forgive, forgive, forgive. I guess that wasn’t technically one piece of advise. (When Samuel asked me to marry him he said, "Do you want to go for it?" I asked him, "Go for what?" I didn't want to say yes if it was just ice cream thinking it should be marriage. My daughter Charmaine in picture.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-354492066545566669?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/354492066545566669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/354492066545566669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/chicken-love-ftb.html' title='Chicken Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVdkYhRQxI/AAAAAAAAAXA/YpG5EDXEjbc/s72-c/CIMG1482.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6903582388479867008</id><published>2009-09-07T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T12:30:48.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Deep Fried Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVcWMwXcTI/AAAAAAAAAW4/behWuSgWdko/s1600-h/CIMG1191.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378806866414891314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVcWMwXcTI/AAAAAAAAAW4/behWuSgWdko/s400/CIMG1191.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This picture has so many messages. Do you remember in Shrek when he said that, “ogre’s are like onions, they have layers.” Well so does love have so many layers. I found this onion ring when I was at the hospital in San Diego while Chantal was in labor with Susan. It was fried crispy just this way and I did eat it.&lt;br /&gt;Layer 1, Infatuation. We have all been there. We find someone we think is so great and then after awhile we see the light.&lt;br /&gt;Layer 2, Lust. Yes that too. But that just doesn’t last, it may feel good for a minute but then you just feel sick. Lust is never worth anything&lt;br /&gt;Layer 3, True Love. Oh true love is the best and only one that lasts through it all. Of course we know that there are many more layers to love and to an onion but every once in awhile we find a real keeper and then we are set. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6903582388479867008?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6903582388479867008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6903582388479867008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/deep-fried-love-ftb.html' title='Deep Fried Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqVcWMwXcTI/AAAAAAAAAW4/behWuSgWdko/s72-c/CIMG1191.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-12623035119880141</id><published>2009-09-06T20:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T00:11:33.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Alaska</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR9l7yhW_I/AAAAAAAAAVo/Dxj0wD3-Gls/s1600-h/IMG_0469-2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378561945645439986" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR9l7yhW_I/AAAAAAAAAVo/Dxj0wD3-Gls/s200/IMG_0469-2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I finally got my I love Alaska Hearts. My friend Terry took the pictures as my camera battery was dead. While we were in Juneau we went on a Zip-Line. It was so much fun! After the zip we had lots of time waiting for the boat to come back and pick us up. So we played fetch with one of the dogs that were there. After a while we noticed that the tide had gone out quit a ways and that the boat was going to have to come to a different place to pick us up so we &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqPaBAClYWI/AAAAAAAAATs/nB0atMzf3qI/s1600-h/IMG_0461-2.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;went down to the beach to wait for the boat and to explore. The &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR91-JuFEI/AAAAAAAAAVw/0kw7Nt_x_-0/s1600-h/IMG_0461-2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378562221157520450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR91-JuFEI/AAAAAAAAAVw/0kw7Nt_x_-0/s320/IMG_0461-2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;beach, I use beach liberally, was all rock but we found some wonderful examples of Heart Shaped rocks. Then also someone had collected tons of glass and metal that was left from when the place had been a mining camp. As we were looking through the stuff I found this perfect little chip out of a milk glass jar of Mentholatum. I love using Mentholatum in the winter to sooth my nose when it gets sore or my lips or just to help me breath better. Looks like someone else must have felt the same way years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-12623035119880141?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/12623035119880141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/12623035119880141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-alaska.html' title='I Love Alaska'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR9l7yhW_I/AAAAAAAAAVo/Dxj0wD3-Gls/s72-c/IMG_0469-2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6477468892710857816</id><published>2009-09-06T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T00:13:47.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sister Loves Me Too</title><content type='html'>My sister Peggy found this tiny little heart shaped feta cheese. She said she was eating lunch at the hospital when she found it. Peggy said she was so excited when she found it that she whipped out here cell phone and started snapping away. People must have thought she was crazy! How funny, I can just imagine a crazy lady taking pictures of her empty salad bowl with the enthusiasm of finding gold! I think it is so sweet that she sent it to me and that she was thinking of me and remembers how I find hearts everywhere and how happy they make me. It made her especially happy to find one herself also. And what a perfect heart.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378560314493461170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR8G_RlYrI/AAAAAAAAAVg/0md0SsNC_eY/s400/cheese+heart.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6477468892710857816?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6477468892710857816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6477468892710857816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-sister-loves-me-too.html' title='My Sister Loves Me Too'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR8G_RlYrI/AAAAAAAAAVg/0md0SsNC_eY/s72-c/cheese+heart.bmp' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1370554533016750120</id><published>2009-09-06T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T00:13:07.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know there is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;possibility&lt;/span&gt; that this looks gross, I hope not. This is the skin of a tomato that I peeled for dinner. I love tomatoes, I like making dinner, I love my new &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cutco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; knife but mostly this picture portrays the love that I have for my father. Samuel and I don't care about tomato skins, we can eat them or not. But, my father really does not care for them. He never says a thing if I don't peel the tomatoes in our salads or on a sandwich but I know that he prefers no skins. My mother always peeled the tomatoes that she served and as I was fixing dinner preparing a tomato and broccoli salad I thought, "I should peel the tomatoes. Daddy would appreciate that." So I did. As I was cleaning up after dinner, the peels were still in the sink, and so I was pushing down the disposal and cleaning the sink. There it was this pretty perfect Dolly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Parton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; shaped heart. I really do love my father and I would do anything for him, even something as little as peeling a tomato has it's rewards.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378558799041572578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR6uxxsruI/AAAAAAAAAVY/82I_RfyopH8/s400/IMG_0277.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1370554533016750120?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1370554533016750120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1370554533016750120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-know-there-is-potability-that-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR6uxxsruI/AAAAAAAAAVY/82I_RfyopH8/s72-c/IMG_0277.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1434772877754871730</id><published>2009-09-06T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T00:16:49.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Muskrat Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>I know some of these are a bit far fetch, but, several years ago I was taking a walk and I saw these two gofer holes. They were in the perfect shape of a heart. I didn’t have my camera at that time later I went back with my camera and the holes had been disturbed and no longer looked like a heart. I have been looking ever since for a heart shaped gofer hole just so I could tell this story, and here it is. When Samuel and I started dating as teenagers there was a song at the time that played on the radio. The song was called Muskrat Love.” The two muskrats were named Susie and Sam. I always thought that song was so cute, and of course, that it meant this Susie had to marry her own Sam. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378554825068851186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR3HdkxL_I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/Xe7HXjDAxVo/s400/CIMG1524.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1434772877754871730?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1434772877754871730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1434772877754871730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/muskrat-love-ftb.html' title='Muskrat Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR3HdkxL_I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/Xe7HXjDAxVo/s72-c/CIMG1524.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6532419741486036284</id><published>2009-09-06T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:57:00.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love Japanese food and the wonderful sweet flavors that sometimes they have. My husband went to Japan on a mission for our church when he was 19 and he too learned to love the food but really especially the people. We have been so fortunate to have a few Japanese exchange students come to live with us from time to time. This heart happened as Samuel opened a brand new bottle of Yoshida's sauce. This was the result of him trying to get that crazy paper lid off. It really tore just like this with no extra help form him, or me. Really.  You may notice the scissors in the picture but they were not used.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378553479098929554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR15HciEZI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Fzz4QAcE8HQ/s400/CIMG6232.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6532419741486036284?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6532419741486036284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6532419741486036284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-japanese-food-and-wonderful.html' title=''/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqR15HciEZI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Fzz4QAcE8HQ/s72-c/CIMG6232.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-874465886726491844</id><published>2009-09-06T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:47:47.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven Sent Love (ftb)</title><content type='html'>This beautiful heart shaped cloud appeared just over our house one evening in September of 2006. I was feeling so blue and concerned for the heart of a loved one when I looked into the sky and spotted this wonderful reminder. If you look closely it looks like it has a small fork in the left side of it, so once again it could be that love hurts but at the time all I could think was that we are meant to be happy and to feel loved. Our Heavenly Father loves us, we can feel his love if we seek it. He wants to comfort us and He wants us to feel the overwhelming love that He has for us and really we can. Don’t ask me how yet but someday I may know.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378550951653539730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRzl_-l_5I/AAAAAAAAAVA/f-pWXnqPrlc/s400/CIMG0744.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-874465886726491844?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/874465886726491844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/874465886726491844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/heaven-sent-love.html' title='Heaven Sent Love (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRzl_-l_5I/AAAAAAAAAVA/f-pWXnqPrlc/s72-c/CIMG0744.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-6322275338048710812</id><published>2009-09-06T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:41:19.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Love Me Too</title><content type='html'>I know some hearts are really hard to see and sometimes they are a stretch but for me this one was supper obvious. Clarissa and Logan found it when we were making Indian fried bread at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Seiter's&lt;/span&gt; cabin. I love the Navajo tacos that we make and I love going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Seiter's&lt;/span&gt; cabin! And... I love the Logan and Clarissa were thinking of me when they found it. I think they love me too.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378549964858050210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRysj4NxqI/AAAAAAAAAU4/5T0-FSrSUCc/s400/CIMG1963.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-6322275338048710812?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6322275338048710812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/6322275338048710812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-love-me-too.html' title='You Love Me Too'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRysj4NxqI/AAAAAAAAAU4/5T0-FSrSUCc/s72-c/CIMG1963.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-3572991073973035458</id><published>2009-09-06T19:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:38:47.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Garbage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I love this random heart. It was just in the middle of a roll of garbage bags. I love to clean and throw away garbage so this little heart really fits my needs. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378549391920684914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRyLNhTX3I/AAAAAAAAAUw/9iqDZ3l4bcI/s400/CIMG6350.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-3572991073973035458?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3572991073973035458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/3572991073973035458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-garbage.html' title='I Love Garbage'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRyLNhTX3I/AAAAAAAAAUw/9iqDZ3l4bcI/s72-c/CIMG6350.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-339866029902363838</id><published>2009-09-06T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:36:01.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love to Walk</title><content type='html'>I have started this exercise program with my sisters. We are trying to "waist away." So far I have done pretty well. I get up each morning and walk about one and a half mile. It isn't much but I am hoping to build up to more. I have also been much better about what I eat, not eating after dinner and so forth. Yesterday on my walk I noticed all kinds of birds and some of their habits. Today I found five different heart shaped things. I had walked only a short &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRwjo3VrLI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/4zC3deQDmHc/s1600-h/IMG_0090.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378547612554472626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRwjo3VrLI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/4zC3deQDmHc/s200/IMG_0090.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;distance when I&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sp_4Dxe3ULI/AAAAAAAAATE/dYxmnLXwBvc/s1600-h/IMG_0090.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; saw this the first one in the sidewalk and at that time I thought, "when I am done I'll go home and get my camera and come back and take a picture." So I kept walking. I got about another half mile and I saw another heart but it was in the cut off limb of an olive tree, I thought, "OK I'll get on my bike and come back&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sp_2GoMNJCI/AAAAAAAAASk/1IzbL9yaOyw/s1600-h/IMG_0089.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for this one and the first one." I kept walking &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRw1_nFOlI/AAAAAAAAAUY/aVVlKJvtHXA/s1600-h/IMG_0089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378547927897946706" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRw1_nFOlI/AAAAAAAAAUY/aVVlKJvtHXA/s200/IMG_0089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and another mile more I found yet another heart in a oil stain on the side walk. By this time it was too far to go back and get all the pictures so I decided to just get the closest pictures today and then go back and get the others tomorrow. So I went home, got my camera and asked Samuel if he wanted to go for a short walk with me to which he said yes. I told him what I was looking for and so he had his eyes on the sidewalk. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sp_23iSrnhI/AAAAAAAAASs/t4OqCXGyJAQ/s1600-h/IMG_0091.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He found a spot and said, "is this it?" Oh my goodness, no but great eye! He found a totally different heart then &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRxG1N_QHI/AAAAAAAAAUg/_CelfVyullU/s1600-h/IMG_0091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378548217166119026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRxG1N_QHI/AAAAAAAAAUg/_CelfVyullU/s200/IMG_0091.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I had. So we took that picture and started back home. On the walk back home I have my eyes peeled out for something else that is interesting and fun and then I found this cute little frog. He isn't a heart&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sp_3k-CbcVI/AAAAAAAAAS0/3I_qbqaXbrQ/s1600-h/IMG_0093.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; but he was hard to spot down there in the grass. I dropped Samuel off at home and kept on walking but decided to take my camera so I could get all the images that I see when I see them and sure enough I found one more. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRxZwUVzlI/AAAAAAAAAUo/GI8WAgFyXzg/s1600-h/IMG_0093.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378548542268100178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRxZwUVzlI/AAAAAAAAAUo/GI8WAgFyXzg/s200/IMG_0093.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The first time I saw a heart shaped prickly pear cactus I thought it would be the last one I would ever see and then here it is one more. I had a great walk and it was fun finding so much love. I love my walks and look forward to what I will find tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-339866029902363838?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/339866029902363838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/339866029902363838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-love-to-walk.html' title='I Love to Walk'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRwjo3VrLI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/4zC3deQDmHc/s72-c/IMG_0090.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-139541119103658724</id><published>2009-09-06T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:48:13.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Hurts! (ftb)</title><content type='html'>Oh yeah you know that quite often love hurts. Truly I have been amazed at how surprisingly painful it has been at times. When a loved one leaves, when a child’s heart is broken, when disappointment strikes, wow, it can really turn my heart to a painful mess of mush. Thankfully though, I have had those experiences. They help me realize just how sweet love is when it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doesn&lt;/span&gt;’t hurt. They keep me knowing that love is fragile and needs to be guarded and watched over. I have been caught by surprise by loves bitter sting only a few times, but they have been enough to keep me knowing that I need to be more careful with the ones I love. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378545315429333826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRud7aBu0I/AAAAAAAAAUI/FT_uV5KclQ8/s400/CIMG0347.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-139541119103658724?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/139541119103658724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/139541119103658724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-hurts.html' title='Love Hurts! (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRud7aBu0I/AAAAAAAAAUI/FT_uV5KclQ8/s72-c/CIMG0347.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-894269440635223532</id><published>2009-09-06T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T19:48:37.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love in the Morning (ftb)</title><content type='html'>Waking up to my one true love next to me is one of life’s precious moments. But then to find a heart shaped strawberry in my favorite breakfast cereal is even better. Just Kidding! I have been so lucky to see love and symbols of love in so many places. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378543843038039874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRtIOUlj0I/AAAAAAAAAUA/dm81i43n9OQ/s400/CIMG1049.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-894269440635223532?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/894269440635223532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/894269440635223532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-in-hte-morning.html' title='Love in the Morning (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRtIOUlj0I/AAAAAAAAAUA/dm81i43n9OQ/s72-c/CIMG1049.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417366486243329563.post-1448930641857834760</id><published>2009-09-06T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T12:31:38.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"I Hold Your Heart, For My Love Is Rock Solid" (ftb)</title><content type='html'>When we hold each other’s hearts, we should hold them dear. We carry each other even when the weight is great at times. We do what is asked and doable because our love is Rock Solid. True love can be broken but it is hard to do so. Even true love needs to be cradled with care and kindness. Rock Solid love is a gift to behold and an obligation to tenderly care for.  (My son Samuel Jr. in picture.)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378527020634929346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRd1B_I-MI/AAAAAAAAAT4/p1-Kho8JMuA/s400/CIMG1499.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5417366486243329563-1448930641857834760?l=heartstoliveby.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1448930641857834760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5417366486243329563/posts/default/1448930641857834760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartstoliveby.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-all-hearts.html' title='&quot;I Hold Your Heart, For My Love Is Rock Solid&quot; (ftb)'/><author><name>Susan Jo Ollerton Fuller</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08079386733363757156</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/Sn75BrsXGEI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WS6hJoGiNwc/S220/CIMG0139.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1RpJhKLKOEA/SqRd1B_I-MI/AAAAAAAAAT4/p1-Kho8JMuA/s72-c/CIMG1499.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
