A Thankful Heart

Last Sunday afternoon and Monday I was in bed feeling sorry for myself.  It turns out pneumonia recovery takes longer than I thought...

And the air quality in the otherwise beautiful Salt Lake valley was the worst in the world this past week (even worse than in China, according to Jeran).

And everyone else was getting sick too.

Ever heard of the January blahs?  We had them (or at least I did).

Then Monday afternoon the phone rang.  It was someone from the Relief Society presidency (women's group in church) wondering if I'd teach the lesson on Sunday.  I almost started to say I couldn't do it, but something in my said, "This is the answer to the prayer that has been in your heart all week."  

The lesson?  Consider The Blessings, by Thomas S. Monson.  I read it, and thought about blessings, but still didn't feel very blessed.

 I read it again.  This time I thought I should try to pray for ways I could help people, even though I wasn't feeling well.

Through the week opportunities came.  One day a girl on Megan's basketball team needed a ride home.  My first thought was that I was too busy to take a few extra minutes to take her home, but then I remembered my prayer and knew it was one of those little things I could do.  As we drove her home and she talked about her family and her mom's work schedule, I was glad I'd listened...and glad Megan had such good friends.  I ended up telling her we could give her a ride any time, and I was the one who was blessed that day.  In just those few minutes my day turned around.

A few days later, Megan's team needed a meal after their games.  The team mom asked if I could help buy pizza for the girls.  I said I could, and as I was helping drop off pizza at the school, I started talking to the team mom and eventually we were talking about soccer.  We've been looking for a new team for Megan and Gabby, and the team her daughters play for (same ages as Megan and Gabby) sounded like what we were looking for.  Again, I served, but I was blessed.

And so it went, all week.  Me trying to be aware of blessings, and trying to be aware of opportunities to serve, even in small ways.  Then about mid-week, Nate (who has been out of wrestling since mid-January because of a torn ACL) came home with news that the entire wrestling team had to take the week off and couldn't go to tournaments because they had skin staph infections they had all contacted from wrestling mats somewhere.  I just looked at him, stunned, as the tears formed in my eyes.

"Nate," I said.  "Do you know what that means?"  

(Confused teenager expression in response...  I'm sure he was thinking, "It's just a week...  It's just staph...  Why are you crying?")

But in an instant, I was insanely grateful for his horrible wrestling season...the torn ACL, the disappointment about not wrestling, the trips to the doctor, the knee brace, the PT, the uncertainty about surgery...all of it.  Because all of that meant he didn't have staph.  And staph, or anything remotely connected to strep, is horrible for Nate.  A few years ago, after a long list of horrible health problems and complications, Nate was diagnosed with PANDAS, which, in a nutshell, means strep antibodies that are supposed to attack strep bacteria attack his neurological system (think rheumatic fever but brain instead of heart).  It was a long road to recovery, and one I'm sure could be shorter if he had to travel it again, but I don't want to find out, and I'm sure, neither does he.  (See here for long recovery story...not much of an explanation, but a little.)

All week since then, I've thought about how, when he was first injured, I hoped that something good could come out of this, but at the same time, I thought a lot more about how it seemed like Nate couldn't catch a break when it comes to good health, and (sadly) I was also a little put out at the inconvenience of all the doctor's appointments on my schedule.  All along God was steering, just like I'd first hoped, but it took a while to see His direction.

Then as the week wore on, I realized all that driving and carpooling Nate had been doing for me while I was in bed with pneumonia wouldn't have happened if he had still been in wrestling.

And we've loved the relationship we have with him again because he's home more, and getting to enjoy his humor and random insights...

And after the doctor thinking Nate would need surgery, we are finding out that he might not, which is great news.

It's all been a blessing...

So (note to self) keep calm and be thankful.

I'm feeling better and better every day.  I'm actually now only a little out of breath when I climb stairs.  Mostly I have enough energy for a day, and I've just finished four consecutive days of work, which is a record since January 1st when I first came down with the flu.

And even though it's dumping snow outside right now, it was almost 40 degrees today, and the wind before this storm blew all of the gunk out of the air and we woke up being able to see sky and mountains for the first time in almost a month...and cleaner air is in the forecast for this week.  I can already feel my lungs expanding.

Pondering Christmas

It's 9:45 p.m. on December 25th.  We've enjoyed presents, love, food, and companionship, and as this day ends, my heart is full of love for this season and this day.

I love my Savior--our Savior.  The Savior of the World.  It means so much to say, "He lives," because he does, and is a part of our lives every day.

Where would I be without His love?  I can take anything to Him.

Anything.  My joys, my tears, my love, my mistakes, my worries, my fears...  All of it.  When I'm hurting, or worried, I feel peace.  When my heart is filled with joy and love, I feel His rejoicing with me.

And I am always amazed he does the same for all of us, where ever we are, and whatever we are doing.  His love for us is personal, and reaches every person where they are in deeply meaningful ways that only we individually understand because He knows us that well.

His birth--the gift of God's love to the earth--is meaningful beyond measure.  Last year I started a personal tradition of reading the Four Gospels by December 25th.  It's difficult to do, for sure, and there was more than one occasion when I was cooking dinner or goodies or food for a gathering that I'd listen to chapters on my computer while I was cooking, and other times when I would listen on my iPhone as I drove...  And I finished.  And how amazing it was, once again.  It strengthens me and lifts me and helps me focus on the incredible meaning of this season.

Without Christ's birth, there could not have been the gifts of the Atonement and Resurrection.  Without His birth, my pain would remain pain, and I wouldn't know the gift of complete peace in the midst of worry.  And most definitely, I wouldn't know the hope of once again seeing and living forever with loved ones who have died before me.

(Told you my heart was full.)

At the end of the book of John, Christ is once again with the apostles, and was teaching them after his resurrection.  He lovingly counseled with Peter to feed his sheep, and then in John 21:18 Jesus tells Peter, "...When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not."

At various times in my life I read that verse, and it has had different meanings to me, but mostly a personal meaning to gain the maturity it takes to set aside my own will and live according to His will.  That is such a difficult thing.  But through my life, as I've walked those paths where the Savior has taken me wither I wouldest not, I've always known His peace, and it is because of that peace that my heart is full.

I know it is because of the Savior that on all these journeys where I don't want to go, He can somehow turn that journey into a journey of growth and love and peace that knits my heart to His.

And so it is that His birth means so much--to me, and to the world, that each of us personally can know eternal love and peace, not just after we die, but right now in this life as we walk with Him on our life's path.

Amazing.

Merry Christmas to friends and family (cards are still coming...  I ordered New Year's card's this year, knowing we wouldn't get them out in time).  My love and best wishes to all of you this season and in the New Year.

Memories and Meaning Making

I don't know where to begin.  My heart if full of gratitude that helped us pay it forward today.  For all those who participated in Random Acts of Kindness:  Celebrating 5 years of Kindness, thank you, thank you, thank you.  Sometimes those words don't seem like enough, but it's all I have.

Thank you.

I've said before that we've always tried to make this day meaningful.  

I've explained before where the idea for Random Acts of Kindness came, and as always, it was a blessing to reach out--probably more of a blessing to us than to those who received Random Acts of Kindness (at least that's how I usually end up feeling).  I've asked people to share experiences, which I  have a hard time doing, because the anonymity of what happened is important to me.  I also encouraged the kids to just listen to their hearts through the day and act on feelings of kindness and helping others.  Isn't it an amazing feeling when you act on a impression, and it ends up being exactly what was needed?  It's the incredible nature of kindness. There is no end.

I'm not sure where the idea came from for watching the sunrise today.  Watching a sunrise with my kids was on my summer bucket list this year, and today seemed like a good day.  

The location?  Cedar Fort, home and burial place of Joie's family...about a 45 minute drive from our house.

I told the kids last night they could go if they wanted to go, but they didn't have to (and of course I added that we'd be stopping to get donuts for breakfast).  

By 5:00 a.m. we were all heading out the door.  

The Chevron by our house sells Krispy Kreme donuts...  What were they thinking not opening at 5:00 a.m. for us???  

Next stop, grocery store that sells fresh donuts...  Also not open.

We decided on donuts after the sunrise.  (Then saw a sign at another gas station on the way...  Donuts!  And chocolate milk.)

We made it to Cedar Fort before the sun.  Joie climbed out of the Durango first thing, and made herself comfy.  What a picture...more tears.

And everyone else did their best to get comfy too...

Megan and her BFF, Satori

I think he was having second thoughts...

Satori, Megan, and Jeran

Seriously...do you know any other family who is this comfortable at a cemetery?

Eventually Joie and Gabby decided on a better view...

Sitting on top of the Durango

All of Utah is smoky this year.  We haven't had many clear days because of all the wildfires.  The smoke made the sunrise bright red.

There is so much meaning in a sunrise, don't you think?  I thought of how we don't know what the day will bring, and how none of us know five years ago what that day would bring.

Mostly when I think of sunrises, I think of new beginnings.  New days are a gift--a chance to move forward.  

This afternoon we met family in Brigham City for the  Brigham City temple open house.  Brigham City is also close to where the accident took place.  It was the UHP office in Brigham City that got the call, and was on the scene taking care of all the details...  And with the  meaning of temples, families, and all, it just seemed like a good place to be today.

Becky, Larry & family; our family; my parents

And it was good to see this face again today...

Megan must have thought so too, because there are more pictures of Nate than anyone else on the camera.  (Nate has been back on the farm again for the past few weeks, and is finally home for the school year...and I only embarrassed him a little by hugging him in the parking lot when I saw him.)

Temple then fun (no pictures, but swimming and cousins are always a good combination).  And Jaci and her girls were kind enough to stop by when we were swimming.  Wish we lived closer!  It was so good to see them again for a few minutes.

And our day ended with a sunset...  Sunsets can be just as meaningful.

Yesterday Tim took the kids to lunch.  This was Joie's fortune in her cookie...  I love it when they're right.  

Support...  That's a good way to describe what we feel.  There's no way to ever pay forward all the kindness that comes our way, but it sure is good to try.  

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you.  

Sunday Sharing

Sometimes I start thinking of God in His majesty and forget He's the same God who says, "But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered."  (Luke 12: 7)  I love that He loves us that much.

Today we drove to Juniper to see Nate.  (By "we" I mean me, Megan, and Gabby...  Just for the record, Nate, you know who loves you!)  Nate has been on the farm since the beginning of July, and I have missed my boy!

Today before we left to visit him I asked, "Do you miss us?"  

He said, "Yeah."  (Awwwwww......)

I said, "Are you homesick?"

He said, "No."

He loves it there.

I asked him how long he would stay if he could.

He said, "Until school starts."

I love that he loves it there, but I really, really wanted to see him, and in case you all missed it, there is a hint of him also missing us in the above conversation, enough that I knew I wanted to make the drive.

So we drove 2.5 hours north and 2.5 hours back home on a Sunday afternoon to spend 2 hours with Nate.  He drove us around Juniper, and told me stories of the things he's doing there.  He was also proud to show me his log book.  I took a few pictures, but this is my favorite entry:

He told me last week how one of the cats had died under Grandma's bush.  Grandma asked him to move it, so he did.  He's talked about it several times.  I loved that he noted those 5 minutes in his log.  

For some reason, when I drive to Juniper, my brain thinks in metaphors.  For the past several weeks I've been calling Nate, and checking in.  I talk to him.  I ask him if he needs anything.  I even sent him something he needed.  

Then when he was missing us just a little bit, and I was missing him, the mom in me couldn't not go.  Over the past several days as I've talked to him, he's asked about us coming.  Partly, he just wanted us to see him there and to show us what he's doing.  He wanted us close to see things we couldn't see in phone conversations.  He showed me a hill he drove down and told me the story of how quickly he had to discover how the brake and clutch work together to stop a heavy truck, and a few other unknowns of the farm.  When we left, Nate drove us from my parents house to the freeway, then jogged back to their house.  As he left to jog home, he let me hug him--not the stiff hug I got when he left a few weeks ago.  (Nate is my kiddo who is not a hugger...thank goodness a few others are!)  

Metaphor:  God from a distance is majesty.  He's love.  He's our anchor.  I talk to Him, and I travel through my days seeing Him only from a distance.  He asks if I need anything and sometimes He sends things I need.  But I love that amazing feeling that comes when He recognizes that I miss Him just a little more some days than I do others, and for just that little bit of time, He moves into my heart and lets me show Him around.  He shares with me in all the things I've been doing, and lets me show Him not just my joys, but my fears and hurt.  Then somehow by the time he leaves, I'm left with only warmth from His short stay.  I love that He loves and knows me and I know He longs to be close to me, as a parent does with a child.

And in another week we're bringing Nate home so we can have some family vacation time!

Dear Ruth

Dear Ruth--You would have been 35 yesterday.  When I told Joie, she said, "No offense, Mom, but you're old."  


I am old...at least older than you.  I'm old enough that I remember your dark brown eyes, and cute dark brown curls as a baby, and that your hair didn't fall out.  And I'm old enough to remember your huge smile, and how much I adored you when you were born.  I was eight years old when you were born, and I carried you around and called you, "Dolly" because I thought it was horrible that my parents would name such a cute baby, "Ruth."  (I thought Ruth was an old lady name.)

Ruth, it was too soon for you to leave us.  I wish almost every day I could see you again, and hear your voice again--to hear you talk about your girls.  I know they were your world, and I loved the way you told stories about them.  So many times since you died, I've wished I could sit down and talk to you about Joie.

Better yet, I wish you could just be here, being Joie's mom.  When I see her do and say things I tell myself that you're watching, and you know, but it's just not the same not having you here--not seeing your face light up as you watch your beautiful daughter grow.  Sometimes (especially in the beginning) I feel you near, whispering to me what to do.  I feel like I'm raising her with you, even though you're not here, but I wish we could just sit down and talk...and at the same time I know if you were here, we wouldn't be raising Joie.

When Joie was little, I remember you telling me you loved the song, "In My Daughter's Eyes," by Martina McBride.  Now every time I hear that song, I cry because every day I get to look into your daughter's eyes is a gift, but it's a gift I wish was yours.  The song ends with:

When I'm gone I hope you see,
How happy she made me,
For I'll be there,
In my daughter's eyes.


It's almost like you knew, and you were telling me.

I do know how happy she made you, because I could see it in your eyes every time you talked about her, and I do see you (and Nick) in her eyes.  I also hear it in her voice.  She talks like you.  Sometimes it's just the sound of her voice, but it's also in her mannerisms and in the phrases she uses, and in the way she thinks.  It cracks me up sometimes.  As I watch her grow, I know you'd be so proud of her.

Ruth, your life touched so many people.  Yours was a heart of friendship--something I know was a gift to everyone who knew you in the short 30 years you lived on this earth.  After you were gone, that was one thing I heard over and over again about you, and I know it's true.  You had the heart of a true friend.  I might have taken care of you when you were a baby, but when you grew up, you took care of me, through your love, through listening, and through your heart.  I wish I could still talk to you.  I miss our conversations (and my kids miss all the stories you used to tell on me).  Can't you just come back down and talk?  Just once?

I love you, Ruth, and I can't wait to see you again, and to really, really feel one of your hugs again.  Keep watching over us, because I know you do.

Love,
Mary

Lonely But Not Alone

I teach a class of 8-10 year old girls in primary.  I told them today they are never alone, and even when they think they're all alone, there will always be someone there, and we talked about how that is true in our lives.

Earlier today I was feeling lonely.  We were leaving to take some things to Ruth, Nick and Audrey's graves.

Tim was at work.

Extended family may as well have been a thousand miles away.

Teens and pre-teens (including Joie) were busy.  When I pushed Joie to get ready to go with me I was told...

"It's too cold..."

"I don't want to change..."

"I need to finish my report..."

Then finally, "In just a few more minutes, Mom!"

And of course once we were on our way, we were fine...me in my loneliness, and Joie seizing the opportunity for alone time...

She needs a white t-shirt for school on Tuesday.

Her class play is on Wednesday.

"And Mom, do people ever marry someone they knew in high school?  ...Or junior high?"  (Like that's not a loaded question!  Of course I wanted to jump in asking what his name was, but I didn't...at least not right away, but when we got around to it she wasn't shy to say...)

And before we knew it we were in Cedar Fort, and found that we really weren't alone.  My parents had already been to the graves a few days earlier on their way to Richfield and left flowers.  We added the flags and the frogs.  (Totally random on the frogs, I know.  Just go with it.)

Then there was this annoyingly cute beagle (emphasis on annoying) that bugs us whenever we're there, and wants to personally sniff inspect every thing we ever take to the cemetery...  There's a joke now that if we believed in reincarnation, the beagle would be Audrey.

Beagle...not looking so annoying here, but trust me!

Little by little, I wasn't feeling so lonely.  It was a good day for looking up, so I did...

Then I looked around me at the cemetery and saw all the other people who were there doing the same thing we were doing--paying tribute, and probably also doing their own share of looking up...

Then there was that song on the radio--a song from their funeral.  What are the chances that would happen right then?

Then that evening my parents stopped by on their way home from Richfield and we talked forever and ever about families, and love, and life.

Which probably made us all a little lonely.  (What we wouldn't give for a Ruth hug on days like today.)  But it felt a little good to remember and think about where we are now, and to think about what we do have.  We are blessed.

And not forgotten or far from our thoughts are those who give all so we can enjoy what we do enjoy.

Families Are Like Quilts

My mom cross-stitched an awesome quote for all her children one year for their birthdays (and in case you lost count, that's 12 of us).

It says, "Families are like quilts, pieces cut from lives, sewn by hand in good times and bad, designs quilted by memories and promises and bound with never ending love."


I love quilts.  If I were to ever get a home-making bug it me, it might just be quilting...for sure it wouldn't be laundry.  (Don't hold your breath for either one.)

But quilts are amazing.  I love how little pieces of fabric can form patterns, or not.  I love the folk-artsy nature of quilts--that out of necessity, pieces of old, worn fabric could be turned into something useful and whole.

So in that way, families really are like quilts, where all our imperfect pieces make up one giant tapestry that is beautiful simply because it is.  It takes all the colors (personalities) and all the pieces (individuals, memories, challenges, promises...) to make it whole and beautiful.

I also love looking at old quilts, before machines could make them with perfection.  You can see every stitch, even the imperfect ones.  So much of what binds us together as families is imperfect, but it is that imperfection that is beautiful.

...And imagine the gaping holes of a quilt falling apart if the imperfect stitches were removed.  Those imperfect stitches represent connection.  Every stitch connects the old, worn, otherwise useless pieces of fabric, and even in their imperfect unity, they become something whole and useful, and even more beautiful and meaningful with age.

I guess I'm feeling thankful today for the imperfect tapestry that is my family--thankful that I could bind my life together with the lives of my siblings, parents, children, spouse, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents...the whole shebang...

There isn't a more perfect way to live!

Easter

I can't let Easter get too far behind us without saying something about my own feelings about the gifts of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

There is nothing more amazing in the entire history of humanity than the birth, life, atonement and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Sometimes I think it seems so amazing that we forget it is not only a gift to human kind, it is also a very loving, personal gift.  

Last year Joie made a sign to put at her parents' graves:

The message is so simple:  Because of Easter, I can see you again.

What a beautiful message about resurrection and eternal life, and I love knowing that we will all be united again one day.  I don't know what my life would be like without that peace.

At the same time, I know the very human, very imperfect side of me struggles to always love, forgive, understand, follow commandments, let go of my own will and turn it over to Him...  And so many other things that would make it impossible for me to enjoy the gift of eternal life because I'd be living forever as a resurrected being in my imperfect state.

In God's perfect wisdom, He sent His son, Jesus Christ, to atone for our sins, so that through the process of repentance, we could live with Him, and with each other in a perfect state of eternal happiness.  

Every time I step out of my self to love...

Every time I forgive and feel my own heart lightened...

Every time I allow my will to bend to His...

Every time I, in my imperfection, need Him to make me perfect and whole, I'm blessed beyond what I can describe.  The joy of having my burdens lifted comes from our Savior's love for us.  It is real.  The peace of life in His love and light is real, and thanks to the miracle of resurrection, that light and love can last forever.

The beauty of this message is that we don't have to wait until then to enjoy peace and happiness.  With Christ's gospel on the earth today, we can enjoy that peace during our lifetime.  What a gift that He would not leave us comfortless and without direction in this life.  The LDS church has put out a series of Bible videos this year depicting the life of Christ.  If you haven't had a chance to watch these amazing videos, you can find them here.  

I am happy to say every day that I believe in Jesus Christ.

This year we were in Idaho on Easter and didn't get a chance to decorate Ruth's, Nick's and Audrey's graves.  I tried to get Joie excited about making a sign again to put next to a memorial my mom has in her garden, but the excitement and the pull of cousins and the holiday had her feeling not so interested.  Instead everyone helped out by writing messages we left in the memorial garden.  

...Because we can't think of Easter without thinking of the amazing day when we will embrace loved ones again!  The thought of it is overwhelming, and it is with joy we say we know that day will come.

(For last year's Easter post, see here.)

Inspired

Inspired (in-spahy-rd) aroused, animated, or imbued with the spirit to do something, by or as if by supernatural or divine influence. 

It seems like I come across things a lot that inspire me, everything from the ordinary to the spectacular...

Sometimes they're a part of our every day lives and sometimes they're just little things that are inspiring that get noticed, but not mentioned.  I've been trying to be more aware of the little things lately, and to pay attention to living in the moment...not thinking about what needs to be done or stuck in the stress of something that happened 5 minutes ago...

But to live in the present, in the moment...right here, right now.

And in the moment, I was inspired by something seemingly small this week, but it wasn't small to me, or to Gabby, and it didn't go unnoticed.

This week I got to go with my girls to a church program for moms and daughters where Janice Kapp Perry spoke.  Girls and women from age 8 on up had been invited to participate in a choir singing music of Janice Kapp Perry.  We had other things going on during the practices, so we didn't even try to participate in the choir, but as we arrived and Gabby saw some of her friends in the choir and wanted to go sing with them.  I told her they practiced the songs and we wouldn't know the words, so we'd just listen.  She was disappointed, but settled in ready to just listen.

Not even a few minutes later one of the primary leaders came up to Gabby and asked her if she wanted to sing with the other kids.  It turned out Gabby knew some of the songs, and on the ones she didn't know, the leader gave her music so she could sing.  Also, that same woman sat behind her the entire program and as I watched, I saw Gabby turn around and ask her questions, and saw the woman help her out with music when she didn't know the words.  This woman went out of her way to make sure Gabby was included.

I was inspired by this woman's kindness and attentiveness.  It was just one woman, and one girl, but the attentiveness of that one woman made a huge difference to that little girl.  I was inspired.

I was also incredibly inspired as I listed to Janice Kapp Perry talk about her life and experiences with writing music.  I had pictured in my mind that she was always a composer, and was surprised to learn that it wasn't until she was in her 40's that she started writing music (that's my age, folks).  I thought of how often I just picture myself doing the same thing for the rest of my life, and don't try new things, either because I'm afraid, or because it's too much work.  I thought of how so many of her songs have influenced my life and the lives of my children...


I Walk By Faith, a song I learned when I was in the Young Women's program, years ago.  Words that inspired me as a youth to follow in my heart the things I knew, but couldn't see or prove.

A Child's Prayer...How often have I heard that song, even as an adult, and been reassured by the words, "Pray, He is there.  Speak, He is listening..."


And words can't express the gratitude of the healing we've felt as the reassuring words of Families Can Be Together Forever have spoken peace to Joie's heart and to our hearts as we sing, "I always want to be with my own family, and the Lord has shown me how I can..."


...And so many, many other songs, all because one woman in her 40's wasn't afraid to try writing music, and made a choice to combine simple gospel teachings with music.  Thankfully she wasn't content to not try, or to give up.

Inspired.

I'm pretty sure I won't be writing music, but I'll certainly be aware of the times I push away the idea of doing or trying something new, or taking the time for the little things like paying attention to a child.

What inspires you?

Brain Dump

Brain dump...  Ready, set, go!

(Dad, did you notice it's a Caterpillar?)

So here are a few things I've been thinking about A LOT lately...in no particular order:  Parenting, work (the idea of work, not my job), trials and challenges, families, love in families, friends, humility, pride...  And the ultimate question:  Am I doing enough of what really matters?

Parenting:  Always a challenge for sure...  Some of my greatest challenges and greatest blessings come from being a parent.  Lately, I'm in an observing mode...observing me, observing them, observing them interacting with us as parents, observing the joy that comes to us as parents through those interactions.  Also, for some reason every time I look at Nate lately I remember those 2+ years when it was just him and me.  I remember how in love I was with his smile and dimples, and curls...and everything about him.  Now he's 15 and towers over me...and he's bald (long story).  His voice is deep and he is turning into his own person.  I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except that I've been thinking about it all lately...

• How fast it goes.
• How amazing they are as they grow.
• How it is sometimes difficult to watch them grow.
• How difficult it is to be a parent.
• How amazing it is to be a parent.
• How thankful I am to be able to share parenting with a guy who loves his kiddos so much he often cries when he talks about them.  

Work:  Again, it's not really my job I'm thinking of as much as the idea of work, and the importance of work in our lives.  I grew up on a farm.  Now I work at a job where I can set my own hours and come and go as I please.  I love the freedom it gives me with my family (which is also work...let's face it).  But I also think of how I use my freedom and my time, and I think about the farm, and all the work that doesn't stop, even if it's time to go home to your family, because the work doesn't stop until the job is finished.  I'm just trying to remember that and it makes me more conscientious of how I spend my time.  

• I  think we're meant to work.  
• I think we feel accomplished as human beings when we work.
• I think what we work at is also important.
• I think of God's directive to Adam and Eve that by the sweat of their brows they would eat...  I've sometimes thought of that as a curse of mortality, but I'm starting to wonder if it's one of God's greatest gifts to us because of the satisfaction He knew we'd feel if we worked.

Trials and Challenges:  Can we all just agree challenges are part of life?  Maybe challenges are a little like work...and we try to escape them if we can, but looking back, would we really give up the growth that comes from challenges?  Again, another area where the wisdom of God shines through.  As my kids play sports or work at homework assignments, I think of the comparisons of our lives to those tasks and efforts.  

• I hate challenges.
• I love the joy that I feel when God embraces me in challenges.
• I love the growth that comes from challenges.
• I'm thankful to have wonderful people to share challenges with...friends, family, even sometimes strangers...all fellow travelers on this mortal journey.
• I hurt when other people face challenges.  I hurt for them and with them.
• No matter how long I live, and much much I know challenges are a part of life, I'll always, always want to make it better.

Families and Love in Families:  I've already been musing blogging about this one before (see here).  But it's still on my mind.  I think we're always trying to build kindness in our home and family.  Who isn't?  It's always easy when we're thinking about it, but when we're under pressure, or don't have enough time, or feel emotionally spent, it's more difficult.  I'm noticing this more and more among our teen crowd as they grow older and more teen-agish.  One of my children was telling me the other day about something very compassionate they did for a peer who it seemed didn't have a lot of friends.  Not five minutes later, this same altruistic child was verbally tearing a sibling to shreds so we had another little chat.  I asked this child what the difference was between the compassion shown to a friend and lack of compassion to a sibling.  The honest answer:  Friends don't hurt you.  

• Yes, in families we sometimes get hurt...
• And mad...
• And resentful...
• Which makes families the perfect place for growth...
• And real love that comes from compassion that motivates us to forgiveness. 

Friends:  Mostly I wonder if I'm a good friend...  Really, really a good, true friend.  I'm working on that.

• Not just when I have time
• Not just when it's fun
• Not tomorrow.
• Today.

Humility and Pride:  I'm trying to remember that pride is selfishness, and that we can't grow when we think only of ourselves.  How many times a day do I have to check my pride?  Constantly.  

• I try to remember the humility of Jesus Christ in coming to earth as a mortal being to subject himself to death.  
• I'm learning that to love others because they love me is prideful, but to love others because I have compassion is humility.
• I'm not above anything, and when I think I am, I miss out on some of the really amazing acts of humanity around me all the time.

Told you it was a brain dump.  I'm sure everyone but me is bored, but I feel better!

Long Overdue Visit

We aren't as good about visiting Joie's family's graves as we used to be.  Partly because we used to go a lot for Joie, but she doesn't feel the need anymore.  Her dad's birthday passed this year without going.  Her baby sister's birthday passed without going.  As Christmas approached, we thought we'd go, but she kept saying she didn't need to, and wasn't really interested.  Tim and I talked about just taking her, but wanted to  respect where she was at.

This week we started talking about going again.  Tim said, "Let's just go."   We both wanted to, and realizing that as Joie disappears into the "me-ness" of her teen brain for the next several years, the habits of remembering and connecting can't be set aside.

So today I told her dad and I were going to the graves after church and asked if she wanted to come.  "That depends," she said.  "Can we make cookies?"  I've said before that I'm not sure where this habit of leaving treats and gifts for her family came from, but it lives on...

Out of curiosity I asked Joie, "Would you still go if we didn't make cookies?"  


"Hmmmm...maybe," she said, "But I want to make cookies."


So late this afternoon, Tim and I, along with Joie and a plate of three cookies for Mom, Dad, and Audrey, made the trip to Cedar Fort to the graves.

Some trips out there are emotional for me, and some aren't.  Today was an emotional day, which caught me completely off guard because I wasn't expecting it.  As we started driving, and turned off the exit toward Cedar Fort, I was suddenly back there 5 years, going to visit my sister, and wanted so much right then just to drive to her house and talk...and talk and talk and talk and never say good-bye.

Then right there in the middle of my emotions, Tim decided to go all dad-of-the-year on me, and said, "I remember the first time I met your mom..." and started telling Joie about his first memory of Ruth sitting on a couch in my parents' house going over a drama monologue with my brother Joe, and listening to them talk about their drama competition.

As we drove to Cedar Fort, I was an emotional fly on the wall in their conversation about memories.  At the graves, I walked around to the back of the headstones to read the familiar inscription:  "...Therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ."  (Mosiah 16:8)  Then beneath the inscription, the words:

Our girls:  

Diana Jo

Audrey Esther

And I knew once again, like I'd known so many times before that this little family would be together again.  These graves would not be the end.

On the way home we stopped at the familiar Cedar Fort store for a bottle of Cream Soda, Joie's tradition with her dad that has also somehow carried over...

And Joie asked questions about tires and what makes them pop...hard questions to answer.

Then, just when I thought I was safe from tears, Tim says to Joie, "I want you to know I love you, Joie."

(Little pause...then I could hear in his voice that he was crying too.)

"I know you've had a lot of hard challenges, but you're coming through like shining stars," he said.

As he said it, I'm not sure why, but my mind went right to what it must feel like in that moment to be Joie, hearing those words, that she was loved and that her other dad was proud of her.  I'm pretty sure she must have been beaming on the inside.  

What an honor it is to be her parents, and to share her life.  As difficult as the journey sometimes is, who can't help but love being connected to a beautiful life.  It's one of those joyful parenting days, for sure.

Here We Go...

Nate has been wrestling this year.  Ok moms--help me out.  Anyone out there love to see their kid go mano a mano with anyone?  Me either.  Not even in organized sports.

But the understanding of how athletics can grow great kids has me suppressing the mommy instinct to keep my kiddos under the safety of my own roof, and allow them opportunities to grow as people.

Nate wrestles for a small school, which means they have to frequently travel great distances for matches...which also means I don't get to go offer my support.  (To say I want to go watch would be a lie...it's that maternal instinct kicking in again.)

A few months ago, there was a meet a little closer to home.  The distance was manageable, and I could see myself going.  (Again, that would be for support...not to watch.)

But as I started talking to Nate about going he stopped me abruptly.  He said, "No, mom.  Don't go."  I was kind of surprised.  (After all, what kid doesn't want their parents to cheer from the sidelines?)

Of course I asked why.

"You're not ready," he said.

"Ready for what?"  I asked (imagining some kind of mommy boot camp to prepare before witnessing the brutal sport of wrestling).

"Well, most moms don't like wrestling," he said.  "They don't like to see their kids get beat up."  (Does he know me, or what?)

...So before you go thinking that's just another mommy moment story, I'll jump right in and say it isn't.  It's a metaphor that fits my personality.

I don't like pain...mine or anyone else's.  Any wonder my choice of a healing profession?

And, as with wrestling, I'll give all my support, but sometimes I think I just can't watch.  When there's any red flag in my life that indicates there might be a problem coming, I sometimes feel like that annoying kid with their eyes squeezed shut and hands over their ears singing, "La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la....I can't hear you!"  (So mature.  I know.)

But usually after a while I stop screaming, and open my eyes, and take a peek, and figure out that the only way around is through...and I start to realize that the only pain you can't endure is the pain you can't to take to God.

I can't be more specific than that.  Sorry.  Just can't.  Like I said, I was the observer in this pain, so it isn't mine to share.  But I can say that families seem to be the perfect laboratory for learning...

And for forgiving, repenting, growing, and healing.

And at the end of the day I love my imperfect laboratory, and wouldn't trade it for any sterile, white, perfect laboratory in the world.

Never, ever.

Because I love what we become when we grow together as mortal beings engaged in this portion of our eternal experience.

And when I need a reminder, I look at this:

And this:

And when I look closely, I see a family that has formed and grown out of love, and a family that experiences joy...

And also experiences pain and imperfection...

And has grown together through roads that often feel like the end...

But are really new beginnings.

And when I look at it that way, I'd have to say that we're not very much unlike most other families we know.  

It's a beautiful (and sometimes really bumpy) ride.

Welcome to 2012

I just checked my work schedule for tomorrow morning and I am scheduled to see a client at 8:00 a.m.  After a looooonnnnnng holiday break with very few appointments, this is how I'm feeling about tomorrow morning...

(The feeling of jumping into ice cold water)

Come to think about it, that's kind of how I'm feeling about 2012...a little apprehensive, a little uncertain...

But 2012 is here.  

And I'm jumping...

Ready or not...

(Note to self:  You are not the penguin standing up on the iceberg.)

And tomorrow morning I'll show up on time, with a fully functioning brain, and a smile on my face...because anything less is so not 2012.

One...two...three...  JUMP!

Merry Christmas!

Once in a while, quite by accident, I take pictures I end up loving, probably not because they're great photos, but because of the memories and emotions behind them.

Last night was one of those nights.  It's our Christmas Eve tradition to wear our family pajamas and have an indoor picnic.  These pictures came from last night.

Like I said...probably not the pictures, but the memories.  I love those smiles and every one of those little not-so-little toes.  I love the minutes and hours and days we spend together.  We are blessed.

This Christmas season I challenged myself to read all the gospels (the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) in the month leading up to Christmas.  I've heard of doing this before, to really draw near to Jesus Christ during the season of his birth, but for whatever reason, this year it was in my heart to actually do it, and what a blessing that has been.  I needed an extra dose of Christmas in my heart this year.  (And for the record, I finished last night, and even went back today to re-read some chapters in Luke I slept through while trying to listen instead of read.)

This experience has made this Christmas remarkable.  Reading in detail about the Savior's life and his mission in such a short period of time has made it all seem more real to me.  I love the feeling of the Savior's love in my life, and even when life gets challenging (especially when it's challenging), that love carries me.   

Earlier this month I gave a Christmas message at Tim's family's Christmas party.  I talked about "joy" because I love that word.  To me it means living in lasting happiness, even when things aren't what we wanted them to be.  Not even a few days later, life got challenging again.  As much as I don't like challenges, I do love the feelings of peace and joy that are always ours when we seek it.  Over the past several weeks, I continue to be amazed at "joy" as a possibility, even during difficult days.  

Today in church, one of the speakers said, "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall; Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.  All the kings horses, and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again. But the King can, and the King will."

I love the Savior.  I love what He has done for us.  I love how the Son of God could find it in His heart to come down from heaven, to walk the earth, to teach, to heal, and to love, then to give up His own life for all of us, and to give eternal life to all who seek Him. 

Amazing if you think about it.

God bless us, everyone!

Building a Palace

Last blog post:  November 30th.  I think I'm slacking.

I just don't have blogging in me these days...

But I've been thinking a lot about this quote lately:

“Imagine yourself a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps you understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing, so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of; throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage, but He is building a palace.” — C. S. Lewis

I've said before that I'm not the world's most patient person, so construction projects that hurt a little aren't usually on my to-do list.  In fact, I'm fairly certain that I'd be content in a cottage.  Really.

I think of all those times I say, "I want to be more like the Savior," or "I know God's love is real."  I really do mean that.  I think...at least until the construction isn't going the way I imagined it would.  To be honest, I'm the type that imagines God standing by with his magic wand, gently waving it over me and transforming me into a Christ-like, compassionate, whole, perfect being.  You'd think I'd get by now it's not that way, but I still kind of stomp my foot and whine and say, "But this isn't what I had planned..."  

But I am thankful to He who knows better than I what I am becoming, even though I hate that familiar ache that comes with construction.

As far as not blogging a lot lately, I am going to use the "under construction" excuse.

But if I was blogging more, I would have shared how much joy has been in this Christmas just sharing it with Gabby (and I love how there can be joy in life, even when souls are under construction...God's gifts are good.)

This year we let Gabby choose decorations and she chose purple...all purple. 

(Dark pink is so 2010...see here.)

It actually turned out nice.

And it was a fun, incredible first to be with Gabby at a local festival when she sat on Santa's lap for the first time ever.

And the Nativity she set up this year was priceless...

She said everyone wanted to be as close to Baby Jesus as they could be.  

Love that girl.

And two days ago we celebrated one year with Gabby.  I posted this on facebook:  "A year ago today we walked into Prairie Winds Elementary School in Omaha, Nebraska as a family of 6 and walked out a few minutes later with Gabby as a family of 7. I'll never forget that feeling of looking at all of us together after those months of waiting, and knowing the rest of our lives together started right then! Happy Gotcha Day to Gabby!"

And of course there was a celebration at a buffet-style restaurant where the only thing on Gabby's plate was french fries and Ranch dressing.  She did also eat some pizza and ice cream.  (And Gabby's favorite quote of the day, "I don't have to do chores today because it's my special day.")

So there you have it...  Life marching on, which apparently is possible, even when we're under construction.

Sunday Sharing

I wish I knew the source of this, but I don't.  I saw it on facebook this week and liked it.  

In Luke 11: 11-13, Jesus Christ tells us:  

"If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?

 Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?"

Today Gabby asked me to make an Indian dish for her that I'd never made before.  I had already planned potato soup and cornbread for the family.  By the time dinner was over, I was tired and wanted to tell her to heat up one of the pseudo pre-packaged Indian meals she could just heat in the microwave.  I didn't want to cook again, but I knew it meant a lot to her, so I did.

Parenthood can give us a little bit of a view into the love our Heavenly Father has for us, and insight into the lengths he will go to help us...and insight into the times when the answer is, "no."  

Yesterday was a family work day.  We were prepping the yard for fall/winter, and cleaning around the house...not an easy task to sell to a house of tweens and teens.  They asked to hang out with friends.  They asked to "just finish this one part and do the rest later."  I knew that the work was hard.  I knew they'd rather be doing something else.  There was a part of me that wanted to just do the work myself so they could go hang out with friends.  But the wiser parent in me knew they were learning to work, and learning to work together.  They were also learning that family work is part of being in a family.  They were even learning that they could work and have fun at the same time.  My answers weren't the answers they wanted, but they were the best answers I could give from the perspective of a parent who knew what their lives would be like if they grew up without family work days.  

Today I was thinking about all of this and asked Gabby if her prayers are answered.  She's been a little freaked out by the whole idea of Halloween, and said she had a nightmare the other night.  Then she said, "I just prayed and He helped my nightmares go away, and now I sleep like a baby."

Funny, because I've been worried lately because Gabby has seemed a little off.  She hasn't been dealing so well with the whole idea of Halloween.  To us Halloween has always been a fun holiday.  To someone who isn't so familiar with Halloween, it's more than a little weird.  At first I didn't think much of it because I know she had Halloween and trick-or-treating last year, but at least every other day she says, "I'm just going as myself," or "Halloween is a dumb idea."

I prayed earlier this week to know how to help her, but as is often true with prayers, they are answered by others.

We ended up having a busy night on the night of a Halloween party Gabby was invited to earlier this week, so a friend's mom invited her to get ready with her friend.  

Two of the cutest witches on the planet!

The other mom took a lot of time helping them with make-up and hair.  That extra time and attention made all the difference to Gabby.  Then today when Gabby told me about her own prayer for Heavenly Father to help her, I knew that in a very personal way, her prayers had been answered too.  He didn't take away the fear, He just helped her handle it.

Amazing if you think about it.  We kneel.  We give thanks.  We ask.  We pour out our hearts.  We don't see the being to whom we pray, but for thousands and thousands of years, human beings have felt of His love and know, individually and personally that He is there.  

That's prayer.