Red Geranium

Words like Firecrackers

2012-02-17T11:42:00.000-07:00

I have a love affair with words. I always have.

I love what they can inspire in you, the places they take you to in your mind, in your spirit (heart), the connections forged between the two.

I love the inspiration that comes from pondering and mulling them over. I love a good story. I love messages, physically and spiritually. I love that feeling of my heart (and spirit) soaring over something I've read that is stunning -- something that carries me far away, reaches deep inside of me, teaches truth. It's like a firecracker in your mind, bringing brilliant light to replace uncertainty, darkness, or fear.

I love the scripture in Alma (see highlighted verse here) where it talks about words having a more powerful effect on the people than anything else.

I believe that.

For me, this week, words have given a blessed reminder, new purpose and direction, an entirely fresh perspective.

I've been blessed with lovely days this week with my family.

Days that I would like to just hit the repeat button again and again.

Days that end with quiet, tucked in snuggly reading -- where it didn't feel rushed or frenzied, where I wasn't at my end by the dusk of day.

Morning hours spent learning -- and seeing the progress in lengthening strides (and squealing with delight and excitement inside for me!).

Excursions.

Feeling gratitude.

Loving my role.

Making food and nourishing (another one of my loves).

I've always felt passionate about motherhood, since I was a little girl.

I can honestly say there's never been a time I wished I was doing something else.

But it's taxing, too. More than I ever would have imagined before I had children (and multiple young children), and I feel quite confident that revelation is going to continue to dawn on me as they grow and new challenges present themselves with each new stage.

And then there are friends of mine who work as well, trying to balance motherhood and working, and I admire the challenges of that as well.

Sometimes it's exhausting. I've talked with lots of friends who have these days sometimes, who feel inadequate, who are frustrated with their own imperfections and falling short, who are their own worst critics.

It's not that on the difficult days I don't still love being a mother. But I do feel like, on those days, I often lose my sense of purpose, the WHY and WONDER behind it all, letting my frustration take me adrift.

But this week I've been pondering a few things. When Pres. Hinckley gave this proclamation to the world, introducing it first to the women of the church, he began with a profound statement that I've been mulling over. He said to the women,

"You are the guardians of the hearth. You are the bearers of the children. You are they who nurture them and establish within them the habits of their lives. No other work reaches so close to divinity as does the nurturing of the sons and daughters of God."

I can't read that without it striking a deep, resonant chord within me.

I know this truth.

I've always known it, and it has been manifest to me, again and again, in a myriad of ways -- before my own motherhood, and in so many ways since conception and birth were part of my own experience.

There is nothing quite like being given the opportunity to carry a child, to feel that baby alive in your womb. Nothing that really compares with spiritual promptings about your children, knowing who they are, being allowed the tender, quiet moments where heaven whispers truth to you that becomes indelibly printed there. Those moments where the worth of another soul becomes so much tied to your own. It's a marvelous, humbling, astounding experience.

Pres. Hinckley's words empower and remind me.

And these other words have been floating around. I've thought about them in the morning and evening every day this week, literally looking at these words on a page. They come from here.

"Strong families require effort....Be cheerful, helpful, and considerate of family members...Seek to be a peacemaker rather than to tease, fight, and quarrel. Show love for your family members each day. Share your testimony with your family...Honor your parents...Strengthen your relationships with your [siblings]...fulfill your divine roles as a husband or wife and as a parent."

Cheerful

Helpful

Considerate

Peacemaker

Testimony

Strengthen

Divine

...and what I ended up translating to this word...

CHERISH

A powerful effect? A brilliant light?

Yep.

I feel it.

Yet Another Extolling of Butter

2012-02-16T08:43:00.002-07:00

Yesterday we finally did our liquid to solid discussion.

I've been so excited about this and thought we'd do it Monday and it didn't happen.

And Tuesday, well. It was busy.

Yesterday morning we got up. The boys did reading and writing.

I am so proud of them. They are really coming along!

We ate lunch and they got to benefit from their valentine gift from Mr. C. and I (a big bag of Sour Cream & Cheddar potato chips). These are a real treat around here. I rarely buy stuff like that, and they were so stoked!

Then we read this book. I wanted to find a book on making butter, specifically how they used to do it down home on the farm with a butter churn. (I think youtube might be my friend for this request.)

I told them that if I had my way, I'd love to have a cow and have fresh milk and fresh butter sans pasteurization. Oh, and chickens. And a lot of other things. I think that is the healthiest option available, really. One of my fave reads from last year was this book. I was so inspired and love all of the things she talks about. Growing your food. Being connected to the whole process. Eating local. Sans pesticides. Building a community. Love, love, love, love, LOVE. I really can't say enough good about it.

(One of my wishes? If we ever own more land to accommodate a cow and chickens etc, maybe I'll convince Mr. C. to jump on board.)

So.

We dumped cream into a jar and started the shake-uh shake-uh shake-uh.

We took turns, passing it around.

We talked about liquids and solids.

I was so surprised at how quickly it changes from what looks like a more dense form of whipping cream to butter, surrounded by whey.

My gosh!

It was literally one second to the next. Funky clump of something in there, frantic shaking, and then whey and a large clump of butter.

So fun!

We spread it on crackers.

It was yummy.

I mean, c'mon, all good things begin and end with butter.

My next endeavor is to go tour a dairy, and learn to make cheese from scratch.

AND get the kids in on the project.

And dream about my own Guernsey.

Oh, and ya know, a few cluck clucks for my backyard.

It's one of my dreams.

A Family Valentine

2012-02-15T11:53:00.000-07:00

Love Day

February 14, 2012 at our house

 We found these messages on the back door when we got out of bed.  A note for the whole family, and then a small message to each one of us individually from Mr. C. 

 For breakfast, we made cinnamon oat pancakes and then cut out either cupid or heart shapes. 

We made heart sugar cookies and delivered some valentines.  We went to pick up our balloons and a fancy BBQ sauce to go with Mr. C.'s gift.

When we got home, we played love songs from the iPod while getting the table set up.

(tulips Mr. C. gave me on February 13th)

I lit the mantle.  

The children were super anxious about the whole deal.  I had them bring the love boxes in and put them in front of the fireplace.

They were excited about making "Christmas juice" for special occasions (cran-raspberry juice mixed with Sprite or 7Up).

After dinner we dumped the contents of our boxes and read the children their notes.  They ripped open their candy necklaces.   

My favorite gift?  A print of this painting that I love.  He didn't know that this painting hung in my house growing up (it's upstairs where you don't see it much) and that it has special significance to me.

He just said it spoke to him as being something I would like.

I heart! poppies.  

Seriously.  LOVE them.

And he said it looked like something where that would be Mia and I walking in a field of flowers.

I'm so excited to put it in a frame and hang it up!

After dinner, we finished a chapter of Summer of the Monkeys.

Got the kids in bed.  Finished cleaning up.

Then Mr. C. and I talked for quite a while -- everything from parenting to politics to consumerism, obsolescence and advertising.

Then we watched a couple of episodes of this until it was beyond late.

We are so hooked! 

And the Love Has Begun

2012-02-14T09:05:00.002-07:00

Last night I went to the store to get our food for tonight's dinner.

I ordered balloons for our table to pick up this afternoon.

I listened to a new favorite love song over and over in the dark, driving in the rain.

This morning I awoke to the beginning of love day.

A note from my mom, half a world away, with individual notes to each of the children.

My eyes welled up as I read her letters.

I love you, Mom.

Happy Valentines Day.

On the back door were notes for the whole family from Mr. C.

I went out into the falling snow for a cool morning run.

And now it's off to start love day with a lovey breakfast.

I wanted to leave you with a couple poems by the late Leslie Norris to his wife, Kitty.

Roses and Snow

I cannot give you roses, Love,

The garden has grown cold.

Frost shivers in the winter air,

The year is thin and old.

Yet were the warmth of love enough

To make the garden grow

I'd set the whole world burgeoning,

Bring roses from the snow.

And, one more.

On Reading The Art of Growing Older

[An anthology selected by Wayne Booth]

This book I bring so and you and I

[Who'll not grow old although we die]

Will understand what happens when

Time's dart attacks all other men.

But we can see so clearly

[As I see you and you see me]

That changes vanish in our sight.

It's age that withers in love's light.

And a link to another love song I've been enjoying lately.

As I was walking around the block after my run, I found myself on the brink of choking up.  I thought of my mom's notes again.  And beyond that, I can't help but be reminded and so grateful for the many blessings and reasons and people and joys that bring love into my life.

I hope you feel that love today, too.

Things I'll Remember About This Weekend

2012-02-13T10:11:00.000-07:00

Scott was gone on Saturday.

By the end of the day I was tired and ready for the kids to go to bed.

But in the morning I took them for donuts since he was gone.

And then to Rock Canyon.

When we arrived it was windy and cold.

But we got busy hiking around and warmed up.

I just know I'll look at these pics down the road (shoot -- just give me a couple years and I'll be reflecting on how much younger they were and all of that), and remember what it was like to have them with me all the time.

Those reminders help me remember to cherish, to focus on the incredible opportunity that is mine to be a mother. I love them so much.

And another small nothing. This new song by Lady Antebellum made me choke up in the car the other day on the way home from dropping the boys off at school. My romance with Mr. C. blossomed when I was eighteen. And while we didn't lose touch, this song took me back to the magic of that time. Feeling always beautiful for him (compared to the feeling now where I don't always feel that and I notice the creases coming on my face and my hair starting to change colors -- gray and white hair, folks). That time when I thought about him like a bajillion times a day and couldn't wait til we met up again. The timelessness of youth. I remember a night drive up a canyon and getting out in the darkness and dancing in the dark to music from the truck. I remembered that, and all those emotions, and my heart got stuck in my throat.

And then, last night in the quiet before bed, I sat down to write more love notes. I thought I'd share one I wrote to each of my kids.

Dear Isaiah -- I can remember so many things about you, so many times we've spent together.  I love being with you, I love being your mom, and I think you are so wonderful and amazing and sweet and I want you to know that.  SMOOCH!  Love, Mom

Dear Benji -- I think when we were all in heaven together I saw you, and we were pals, and I said, "You know what? I want to be your mom on earth! You have to be the neatest person I know!!" And you know what? I got so blessed and so lucky--I got to be your mom. I'll always be grateful for this. I love you, Mom

Dear Mia -- I would have a thousand girls if they were all like YOU. You've been a joy more than I ever could have imagined. I love you. Mom

We save these notes. I hope when they're grown up, they have a full picture of motherhood. My imperfections are highlighted enough around here that they'll know that some days it's hard. But I hope it's peppered so much with all our lovely memories, and that these small notes tucked away will tell them something about how I've felt about them. I want them to know that being their mother has meant more to me than any other thing I'm proud of in my life. It has been a sheer privilege, beautiful and stunning. It's a journey that I would take again and again.

(Today's plans are reading, writing and experimenting in changing liquid to a solid, deciding what our valentines dinner will be and decorations for our dinner table. Love day dinner recap will come later this week.)

Because We're Girls

2012-02-10T09:50:00.000-07:00

Aunt Flow is in town for her monthly visit.

Awesome.

Not so awesome because the Mom Witch comes to visit too.

I get extra edgy and impatient and the hormonal rage is on.

I hate the mom I am on these days.

Downright mean and rude, sometimes.

In constant need of a patience-recharge button.  

(Seriously, that would be so genius!!  Days like these I'd be pushing it like 40 times...reset, reset, reset!) 

So, on our way to the bookstore yesterday for our weekly outing, I was apologizing to the boys.  I told them I needed to tell them something.  We've been quite frank around here about bodily matters.  They know about bleeding.  They can go get me a tampon if I ask for one.  They know what it's for.  They know it's part of a woman's reproductive system.  We're pretty open about all of this.

But today I explained that I have a bunch of hormones and when it's bleeding time, things go kind of crazy inside because of those hormones and I get edgy and cranky.

I apologized. 

I told them it isn't their fault, though they could try to listen a little bit better.  (Ahem.)

And then Isaiah says from the backseat, "When Mia gets older she will have those hormones and she will be not nice either."

Wow, that was awesome.

Makes me laugh thinking about it now, and made me smile to myself then.

I explained that not all women have this trouble, that I actually didn't used to have this trouble.

(Cruel joke...I swear it just was waiting its turn to come on full force!)

I was talking to them about being frustrated and Isaiah commented that it's just "because of those hormones."

Then, Benji asks from the backseat, "Why did Heavenly Father give us hormones?"

Oh boy.

Um....

Chemistry answer?

Biological answer?

Functions answer?

Sexuality answer (which kind of all entwine)?

5 year old answer or more in depth? 

That's a good question.

What We're Waiting For

2012-02-09T08:39:00.000-07:00

We hung this out a few weeks back. Last year when we put it out, we didn't have any visitors for such a long time. Just about the time I felt all hope was lost, they began to come. We watched them through breakfast, at lunch, in the afternoon. One at a time, two at a time, three and four...huddled around, pecking quickly, bumping each other. It was so fun and magical, really.

They got so used to us being on the other side of the glass that they'd go on feeding without flying off at the first movement from inside.

We're in the waiting game again.

It had only been up six days or so when the first visitor noticed it and my heart leaped.

I thought we'd have plenty of chaps coming from that moment onward, after the announcement was made to feathered friends far and wide in our neighborhood trees.

It has been sparse, though. I think they're still scared of us.

But we are oh so eager.

I am oh so eager.

It is one of the sweet joys of winter (mild though it has been) to watch them.

Different colors, bigger, smallish, brown or bright.

Chirping, gathering, watching wings in flight.

I hope they come soon.

And these.

My heart jumps at the thought that within a few weeks time, these beauties will stretch up through the dark, moistened soil, and brighten the world with their brilliance.

It shan't be long, friends, til the daffodils.

A History of Strolling

2012-02-08T11:50:00.001-07:00

Yesterday as I headed out to the stroller with my phone, keys, jacket for Benji, water bottle, and three bags of popcorn for their snacking pleasure, I grabbed my camera, too.   

I couldn't help but think about how this has been such a part of me and them. 

I wish I had a log of all the many miles I've done using a stroller.

One day, the children will hear how a significant chunk of their baby/toddler years was spent as we walked and ran, getting fresh air, admiring beauty, slowing the day down.

Honestly.  

I can't even begin to guess.

Last night I looked through photos, just to prove it.

And there are many not pictured here, too.

I can see these little people growing up, right in front of my eyes, mile after mile after mile.

Messages of Peace

2012-02-07T10:45:00.001-07:00

In the early afternoon, my house is bathed in light. It is a singular time of day for me as the brightness floods in, bringing out the honey grain in the wood, the rich colors. The brilliance of it seems to draw my attention, calling me at the same time to bask in it and reflect, commanding an immediate sense of quiet from somewhere inside.

Years ago, as a little girl, my family traveled to the cabin for a week in the summer. The cabin wasn't plumbed and when we had to go to the bathroom in the night, we depended on having each other and a flashlight. You could get to the outhouse just fine without the light, but who would want to face the dark woods alone? We were young, the woods were deep and dark and quiet, and it felt good to hold something that could pierce that and give you a direct, clear line of view.

I've thought about that as a metaphor for the Holy Ghost. We are, as it were, away from home for a time, in a world that while stunning and beautiful and full of remarkable blessings, is becoming increasingly darkened by unbelief, skepticism, injustice, and disregard for moral standards and behavior. In a discussion on Sunday this talk was referenced, comparing light to revelation. Sometimes it comes so pressingly, as though, in one step, you've walked from a dark room into a light one. Other times, the light seems to distill gradually, like a morning sunrise. Both are ways that the Holy Ghost communicates with us.

One of the roles of the Holy Ghost is to bring peace, REAL peace, the kind that money cannot buy, the kind that success and prestige of any kind cannot replicate.

I was asked on Sunday if I would share an experience where I had felt the influence of the Holy Ghost, and after doing so, I challenged myself and the women I was with to start looking more earnestly and try to recognize the Holy Ghost in the day-to-day-ness of life.

Last night I burrowed into my bed late, spooning up to Mr. C. to warm my body and my forever-and-always cold feet (thank you, I love this). I found myself thinking about the messages of peace I've recognized and felt lately, even just over the weekend.

I remembered Saturday morning, lazy, lazy, waking up late. Scott and the children were gone on their Saturday morning outing. I ate a bowl of cereal in the quiet and started into a book. Moving the couch into direct sunlight, I wrapped a cozy blanket around me and sat in that warmth, reading, for almost three hours. Quiet, peaceful, time to think and process and engage.

Later that evening, Mr. C. and I knelt in prayer to begin fasting together, discussing beforehand the things we were pondering in our hearts and minds, things we desperately feel we need direction on. As he was voice for our prayer, I felt the power of uniting in faith, trusting that this road is possible because we're on it together, and because God hears and answers prayers.

Sunday morning was beautiful and crisp out. Blue sky, morning rays of sun kissing lawn and curtains and carpet. Light like that is contagious.

All the children came into our bed, and we began our new book, reading the first chapter of Summer of the Monkeys. Peace, my friends. It was there.

In church I sat listening to a young man in our ward talking about faith amid the questions of science and those questioning belief in something greater. He finished and I was up on my feet, so touched and motivated by his remarks. I kept thinking I was going to be able to hold it together but his words touched me so deeply, my emotions literally spilled out, too. I was so proud of him for saying that choosing faith can be hard. I wanted him to know that we continue to have to choose that. Life, as I've contemplated so much in the past several months, is about choosing faith. I feel as though I've had to surrender, in so many aspects of my life, to choosing faith and forging ahead in trust. We are here to see if through all the battles, we will continue to choose what we chose before we came: the freedom to believe and exercise faith in Jesus Christ. That is the answer, and it is a lesson I continue to learn again and again.

Before going to bed on Sunday night I wrote love notes and tucked them into boxes, feeling love within my heart as I wrote to each of my children and my husband. It was so real and so calming and filled me with gratitude.

And last evening, the kids and I listened to Scott's lesson for us in our family home evening. He told the story of Enos, and had taken the time to draw pictures for the children. Every once in a great while it seems like there is a lot of extra quiet in family home evening, and we're dialed in more than other nights. That was last night. He had told the kids that he wanted them to think about things they could learn from this story before he began.

(Enos goes into the forest to hunt.)

(Scott realized, too late, that he should have drawn a bow and arrow instead of a rifle. Love it. He goes to hunt wild beasts, and while there, remembers the words his father often spoke about Jesus Christ.)

(Because of his reflections, he prays seeking a renewal of the Lord's spirit in his life and to receive forgiveness. That forgiveness comes and he wonders how that can possibly have happened, and is answered that it was because of his faith.)

I found myself pondering implications of that story for me. In the end, the Spirit whispered to me that choosing to exercise faith in Jesus Christ is also choosing to change, to repent, to want continual progress, not stagnant hope without any working on our part. It you truly pick up one end of that stick, you automatically pick up the other end, too. As Elder D. Todd Christofferson said,

"Repentance means striving to change. It would mock the Savior's suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross for us to expect that He should transform us into angelic beings with no real effort on our part. Rather, we seek His grace to complement and reward our most diligent efforts. Perhaps as much as praying for mercy, we should pray for time and opportunity to work and strive and overcome. Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength. Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving."

(for full talk, go here)

Sometimes it seems as though the version of myself that I hope to be and what I actually am are disparagingly far apart. But I am grateful for a God who, through the Holy Ghost, helps me recognize His beauty and power working, even for one as simple as me. I am grateful for the challenge and for the journey and for opportunities, great and small, to reflect and try to tune in. The Holy Ghost fills me with hope and joy, urges me forward, and calms, at times, my troubled heart. He helps me to see the holiness in striving, confirming the next step, that small flashlight beam penetrating the darkness and fear of the unknown, bringing clarity, insight, and peace in His wake.

(Go here for a video that touched me this weekend.)

Festive, with Gusto

2012-02-02T10:49:00.002-07:00

Do you know what has tickled me since Monday?

It makes me want to laugh, or I find that just the thought of it makes a shameless grin take residence on my lips.

Listening to our little people singing this.

The kids (especially the boys) are enamored with it.

I'll paint you a picture with words:

Monday night.

Dinner is done.

Scott is cleaning up and washing dishes like he always does (insert: thank you, i love this).

I told them I bet I could find Good King Wenceslas in the Readers Digest Christmas Songbook, at home on our piano bench.

I began to play and they flurried to get their "songbooks" and chairs and sang out, richly, "Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephen."

Then we proceeded through the next three lines of the first verse and all the other four verses, phrase by phrase.  I would stop, say the phrase loudly so they would know what to sing for the next line, and then play it with gusto.

And their little voices and lungs kept time and tune.

We sung it again.

And I think we've sung it every day since, including this morning.

Loud, with umph.

(I can't help but remember this.)

It is good medicine for my heart. 

Love Month

2012-02-01T09:44:00.000-07:00

It's February 1st.

Today we begin our Love Day celebrating and preparations.

Love will be in the air.

Over the next couple weeks we will be...

(love boxes, 2011)

Crafting valentines

Making heart-shaped sugar cookies

Writing love notes to each other

Anticipating, anticipating, and anticipating

our family love dinner on February 14th.

Today, the tradition begins.

We will make our love boxes this afternoon, one for every person in the family.

We stuff these with notes to each other for the next couple of weeks.

Fun treats.

Small I love yous.

Paper hearts in pinks and whites and reds.

Some long notes.

Some short.

Some silly or funny or just plain sweet.

I started this tradition last year and it was a huge hit and is here to stay.

Throughout this past year, the kids would still go to their love boxes, dump all the notes out, and ask me to read them again and again.

It makes February cheery in the air, and cheery in my heart.

Because He's a Boy

2012-01-31T10:41:00.002-07:00

When we were reading Where the Red Fern Grows and I was pondering childhood and being a little boy, I thought of my Benji.

He keeps treasures.

Under his pillow.

Under his bed.

His favorite underwear and shirts and pants, stowed away underneath so that he can wear them another day. Oh yes, it's true.

But it makes me smile, too.

Everything is valuable to him and he doesn't miss a single thing.

Last week I did a major sorting/cleaning frenzy and went through their rooms like I do every few months. And I cleaned out under his pillow when he wasn't around because then he wouldn't even notice.

This is what I found.

Oh, ya know. The wrapper for the M&M candies we had at Christmas time for Christmas cookies, a screwdriver, scissors, trains, a top, his flashlight, a football.

And peel back the top layer and you find this:

Coins, a favorite pair of underwear (yes), a jingle bell necklace, crackers, a wrapper from a fruit snack (wow...apparently we eat really well around here), a heart necklace, his helicopter, a bean bag.

And another layer and you find this:

His wind up crocodile, wheels from his IKEA building set, a favorite stamp, crayons, his plastic lion cup, a velvet pouch, a yellow construction car, rings.

It's really unbelievable, actually.

And it's kind of gross -- which is why I get after him about it and, much to my chagrin, clean it out myself every once in a while. But, but, BUT.

Then I think about this little person, how he hides away scraps and pieces and trinkets.

They become pieces he can use in his imagination and each thing has a place.

He can become a boy out in the fields or a swordsman looking for his next duel or Superman on a new mission.

He can be and do anything he wants, and it is fun to watch from the outside.

The M&M wrapper is precious because of what was in it.

He definitely needs his screw driver for those jobs that require tools.

Provisions are always a practical thing to have on hand, and quite necessary for all of your exploring expeditions.

Underwear is always a good idea.

I mean, it's a good habit. I'm just sayin.

Trains and other things that move are like gold for this guy.

You might need that flashlight in the dark.

Favorite scissors to cut with and things to write with are handy for sure.

No arguing about that.

And chocolate, ah now, I understand that one perfectly.

Not pictured here, but I think one of the best (or funniest) things I ever found was a dead cricket or grasshopper under there. Yep. Nothing like a good dead bug to admire.

He is imaginative and sometimes I think he has an extra shot of testosterone.

Sometimes it can make me bonkers.

But.

I LOVE his tender heart, the way he plays big and doesn't shy away from acting out whatever character he has become in his mind.

The way he holds things close that have significance to him.

Lazy Morning

2012-01-27T14:06:00.000-07:00

It was a perfect, beautiful morning.

We ate cereal together in the sunshine streaming through the windows.

I was feeling quiet inside.

I asked them if they wanted to read after breakfast.

It just felt right.

We forgot about writing and reading and other stuff I thought we were going to do for sure today.

I sat down, bathrobed with stockings on, wrapping the warm throw on the couch around me. Isaiah snuggled in next, pushing his feet under the blanket, burrowing in beneath my legs. Mia wanted my lap but she's getting a bit big for that sometimes now and it makes me sad. (I have to kind of move my head at an awkward angle when she sits on my lap these days so I can see the book.)

[Interjection: In church on Sunday I said something to Scott about how I swear my neck or spine is out of whack just because of how often I'm not sitting straight to accommodate this little body. And he whispered back something with beautiful perspective, conveying what a lovely thing that was, about what a lovely person was making that happen, about the wonderful blessing she is -- and he's right.]

I put her next to me on the couch, in a small niche perfect for her little bum.

Benji sat down next to Isaiah, Mr. Bear in hand.

We read the end of Where the Red Fern Grows.

I've never read it before until now.

I knew it was going to be sad, and I was a little anxious about how sad I knew the boys would be. The house was still, morning sunlight felt warm and beautiful and light and welcoming. It felt so peaceful -- there was nothing but us snuggling, the story and the words. Reflecting, for me, on the beauty of life and relationships, childhood and parenthood and family and what it means to be -- or have -- a little boy.

The boys and I cried. They had big tears streaming down their cheeks throughout the last several pages. Isaiah kept saying to me that he hoped they were going to come back to life. He kept telling me that Billy should say a prayer. I think he said that was the only thing that could make a difference. I don't think Mia got what was happening, but she would look up at me as I was trying to read through my tears.

Afterward I held both of them while they were crying.

We talked about how before we came to earth we knew there would be great joy and great sorrow, and about how death is a part of life. We didn't quite get to this part, but I wanted to talk to them about how sometimes God lets really sad or hard or unjust things happen. Sometimes saying a prayer isn't going to change what actually will BE. I think we barely skimmed this, but I didn't really get to thresh it out and talk with them about it. I want to come back to it, tho, because it's such a powerful and difficult concept. It then requires us to join in, to offer our faith, to ask questions, to brave hard roads and climb the boulders in each of our paths.

But we did talk about the beautiful part of the end of God's plan. That everything will be made right. That all the unfairness of life and difficulty and struggle and sorrow will be recompensed. It will be okay in the end. I so believe this.

Bonds don't end at death. There is great beauty and warmth and joy beyond.

I snuggled them and thought about their tenderness, those big huge eyes brimming with tears.

It melted me inside.

And my recommendation for the day?

I just read this article written by a woman I want to call friend but have, as yet, not met in real life. I LOVE what she shared and has to say and feel inspired to make some changes.

Being a Father

2012-01-26T09:43:00.001-07:00

The other night I was at the computer when the little gal woke up.

I was trying to finish a couple of posts and so I took her upstairs to her dad.

This is just another reason that I love him.

He was all snug in bed reading his book, one of a string of biographical stuff he's been reading lately.

We walked into the room.

Looking over and seeing her with me, his face broke into a big smile.

Bookmark went in the book.

Book went back on his night stand.

I said I wanted her to snuggle with him for a few minutes while I finished something.

(We kind of have this deal: he gets up with the boys and I get up with her. But it's not really a firm deal...we help each other, too.)

He pulled back his covers and made a spot for her.

I left the room, watching them both turn on their sides facing each other, smiling and giggling.

When I came up about 30 minutes later, I found them like this.

All was peaceful and quiet, and my heart felt warm inside.

This is no small thing.

I think fathers are of utmost importance, and their role cannot be undervalued.

Good fathers are so needed in today's world -- men who will truly be MEN and show their children the importance of integrity, honesty, love, service, hard work, compassion, and how to honor, love, and respect women.

I love this guy.

He is a fantastic father -- and I've said it before, but he literally lights up when he sees our kids. He is committed to, and takes time for, them. He takes them exploring and adventuring, lets them work with him, goofs, wrestles and is silly with them, reads them bedtime stories and sings them songs.

This weekend he is starting guitar lessons. The other night, while cleaning up dinner, we were listening to Keb Mo's Lullaby Baby Blue and he repeated the track after we'd listened to it. I said something like, "Hey, once you learn your basics, you'll be able to sing this to them at night." And he said something like, "That's what I intend to do." He teaches them respect and self confidence and is sensitive to their needs.

I'm grateful my children have this.

On Civil Rights

2012-01-25T08:34:00.001-07:00

On Monday during lunch, while the kids were having some trail mix post sandwiches (for Isaiah and Mia) and cereal (for Benji), we read this story and this story.

I think they correlated quite nicely -- treating others as you would like to be treated, not treating others as less than yourself.

The thing I love about the first book is that it shares the phrase of the golden rule in the way it is taught from various religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and the Shawnee Tribe. It also promotes thinking about applying the rule in different situations from a child's perspective, and was very thought-provoking for me as well.

Then we read about Martin Luther King's life in the other book, and I prefaced it with earlier conversations we've had on slavery and the poor treatment of black people, the whole ugly issue of racism and how wrong it is.

The story sketches Martin's life as a child and as an adult.

What he fought for, how he worked and prayed with people.

It shares the Rosa Parks incident.

We talked about how Martin knew it was right to fight for equal rights, even though it was scary.

He had courage and he knew he was doing God's work.

I love that famous phrase: "I have a dream." It moves me to the core.

We talked about how some white people wouldn't let black people in their stores, on the bus, use their toilets, share their common things. They viewed black people as LESS, as dirty or unclean.

I asked them throughout the discussion if they thought this was right, to which the answer was always no.

Benji didn't understand why Rosa Parks was arrested because she wouldn't give up her seat. He said, "The policemen did that, Mom?"

I spent time reinforcing.

We talked about how we are all God's children, and not one of us is any better than anyone else, regardless of skin color, eye shape, or any other discriminatory factor.

We are all equal and all beautiful.

Then, after this discussion, Isaiah came out with this:

"If the white people kept doing that to the black people, I would grow up to be the bishop and teach them all about Jesus Christ and that they can use the same potties and the same buses and the same plates and tables as the white people are."

Aside from it kind of cracking me up that he referred to being a bishop so he could teach people what was right (we had talked about how Martin was a minister), I thought it was very profound.

I found myself uttering a silent prayerful wish, right then, in my mind and heart:

Oh Isaiah, I hope you have the courage to fight the injustices in your time.

I hope you have the courage to speak up and out.

To teach truth by your words and example.

And God, please give me the courage to do the same.

Last Saturday and Sunday

2012-01-24T08:29:00.003-07:00

On Saturday morning I woke up and saw fog sitting low on the mountains.

I had a list to do and knew I needed to get out and run before it got nasty.

Turns out, in the time it took me to start getting dressed, the rain began.

I kind of ughed inside, but went anyway.

So glad I did.

Ran up the hoofer hill right by house and kept going for 40 minutes.

I was soaking wet.

But every time I work out after or in a beautiful snowstorm, or with rain falling all around (and on!) me, there is a great quiet inside.

Something about being in the element creates something still inside me.

I forget how much I love this until I do it again.

I pushed hard and came home.

It felt so good, and I was so glad I hadn't let the cold keep me inside.

Took this dorky picture of myself to try and show you guys how soaked I was. (I was trying to get my wet legs, not my face and upper body---clearly this didn't work. And my hand below almost looks like a black spider...what's up with that?)

This one is a bit better.

Notice how much lighter my spandex is towards my feet??

We bought a couch over the weekend.

We've wanted leather, something with classic lines, chocolate brown, simple.

Found it.

Love it.

We ate some yummy food.

Had a date night (I love being with him!).

Took the kids to their first official concert of baroque chamber music and then out to ice cream.

They did so awesome, and we're already trying to figure out what our next cultural outing will be with them.

Sunday was spent at church and in time together.

After dinner we read for an hour out of Where the Red Fern Grows.

We were gonna make cookie dough and bake some warm gooieness, but didn't get there yet.

That sounds like something yummy for my to-do list sometime this week.

Yes, please!

I love this time.

Letters

2012-01-23T09:16:00.000-07:00

(pics of my Mom with Mia)

My mom made a big move to the Middle East this past weekend for a new job.

I am so proud of her.

She's almost 61, and went to teach at a school that was founded with the express purpose of educating women to be leaders.
I think it's brave. She went without knowing anyone.
I love my mom.
From her example she teaches me to think for myself, to stand alone if that's what it means, to be honest in my feelings and how I express them, to be brave, to be okay in my own skin, to not stop learning, to be considerate of others, to never laugh at or mock something different from myself and to respect all peoples.

That's a tall order.

I'm trying to live up to them.

I love these legacies.
This is something to be proud of.
Thank you, Mom.

Each day we're doing schoolwork, we do something with reading and something with writing.
So, we wrote letters last week.
To my grandparents, who we were going to visit.

To give well wishes to my mother, beginning this new chapter and adventure.

We added scratch-n-sniff stickers.
And wrote these cards for my sister who is recovering from knee surgery AGAIN.

These are so cute I couldn't not share them.
I am proud of these boys.

Mia wanted to write letters, too, so I helped.

As I was getting ready to post these the other day, I thought about how much I love letters.

Super heart heart love them.
They are so romantic and timeless.
There is something about taking the time to put pen to paper, to personalize them with your own handwriting, something that calls back yesteryear in today's frenzy of gmail and text and everything quick quick quick. It's a beautiful thing to take the time for personal, quaint, charming touches that say I CARE.
I've written a few letters in my day.
I think about the role they've played in my life.
I have cards and letters saved in the hope chest at the foot of my bed, in scrapbooks, tucked in corners of desks and stacks to be organized into meaningful reminiscences.
Each a tangible reminder of someone significant in my small world, of a specific time, of how that person influenced and blessed my life.

I went to the letters that Scott and I exchanged on his mission.
We have four huge binders of letters.

I looked at the fun letterheads, at the cutouts of Calvin & Hobbes' comic strips, various pics that were part of this or that joke, nicknames, bunches of hand-drawn flowers.

I choked up as I read expression after expression at the beginning or ending of his letters to me -- about what an amazing woman he thought I was, about being such a lucky guy, about how beautiful I was, how special I was to him.
He was so focused as a missionary, so dedicated.
(In fact, later on, I wished he would say a few more of those cute things because he was so into the work. I knew he loved what he was doing, 100%. But it was lovely he was so dedicated to truth that I felt so passionately about, too.)

I knew he had me tucked away in a safe place, tho.
I was reminded of this the other day, and became pretty emotional.

I had forgotten.
One of my favorite parts that I read in those few minutes was a snippet where he remembered the night that he really kissed me for the first time. And he said something like, "Honestly, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from that night."
I'm more grateful today for his companionship than I was then.
We've been through a helluva lot more.
I feel more bound to him.
But I look back and I see these seeds that were planted.
I see things I've forgotten.
I felt gratitude again.
I felt like a little dry, parched piece of earth in my memory of time got some rain, and little flowers remembered how to grow over there.
A beautiful, shocking, outcropping of wildflowers abloom again.

I plan to order a copy of THIS book I read years ago, but want to read again.

I keep thinking about it.
I loved it.
This is a lovely, lovely compilation.
So romantic.
So sweet and genuine.
Charming and heartfelt.
Inspiring.

Maybe you wanna order it too and get into the valentine love?
And maybe you also wanna join my personal goal for the week and send out a few handwritten somethings?
A card, a letter, something genuine and with a personal touch?
I do, I do!

Tell Me What You Thought

2012-01-19T10:36:00.003-07:00

Do you know what I loved last night?

I came home from young women and was trying to get everyone to cooperate so we could read and they could go to bed.

I was feeling a bit cranky.

Kind of got my head back on and it ended all right, with a good chapter down and scriptures and prayer.

Then I went to facebook and read the article my friend had linked there.

I almost cried and laughed outloud, too.

I totally recommend it.

Love, love, love, love, LOVE.

My favorite line? The one she says she would say to the young mother down the road.

So great. I also love the idea of passing it forward and helping the young mother when you have the opportunity.  I have thought about doing that so many times when I have felt like my hands (and emotional patience) is about all tied up.  I've thought, "Remember this.  Down the road, when you're not in this stage anymore.  And when you see that strung out mom in the grocery store or somewhere else, HELP her!!"

It's awesome.

Go check it out HERE.

 And then, I'd love it if you came back and told me what you thought of it.

Just sayin.

Learning What It Means

2012-01-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

I got fidgety.

Never loved the wintery mantle.

Still haven't figured something out for January that I totally love up there.

So I went on to love month, and decided that from here on out, I'll probably just celebrate the love directly after Christmas. Why not?

As I got into it, I realized I wanted to celebrate the love we have for each other -- beginning as a couple, morphing into family.

And I wanted it simple.

Family photos.
I chose the candid sepia photo we used for our wedding announcement.

My current most fave picture of Mimi with her dad.

The pic of me laughing as the boys were trying to smooch my cheeks.

The mantle became an expression of something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

The other night Scott and I were talking about the progress we can both see and feel
that has been made in our relationship in the last year.

I've thought a lot lately about how the person you marry becomes such a significant choice.

You don't even realize how significant it is when you are doing it, even if you hear yourself saying, "This is a HUGE decision, a HUGE choice."

You don't know that yet.

But it's really starting to sink in for me.

When I come away from gatherings with folks that I love dearly, and feel that comfort in knowing that I don't have to explain myself to him. He understands me in some ways where I don't have to say a whole lot.

That he loves my kids the same way that I do, because they are his, too.

That we have such a collective history, becoming more and more intertwined.

That he has seen, and accepted, a lot of my weaknesses and still is there for me anyway.

That he has forgiven a lot.

We've walked through several trials together, some pushing us apart, and then have had to fight to come back together.

Sometimes that feels like a crazy uphill climb.

But more and more, I just realize how much we share.

It doesn't mean that he always gets me or I get him.

It doesn't mean that we have 100% crossover of our interests and what we understand.

It doesn't mean we always like the same stuff or share the same opinion.

It doesn't mean we respond to everything the same way.

It doesn't mean we always understand each other and never ever get in a fight because of miscommunication (insert: hahahaha).

What I'm learning though?

It DOES mean it's about letting someone enrich your life, being willing to open up and not be scared of the differences or the beauty you find there.

It's about having a companion, and being a companion to someone else.

It's knowing you have someone to go home to, knowing someone will be there.

It's about recognizing the dual journey,and learning to count the steps together and not the differences.

It's about learning how to make better choices and grow up.

It's about humbling yourself and making it not about YOU, but about US.
It's about thinking about the other person, and how they feel.

This can be hard stuff, folks.

Lately for me it has been thinking a lot about being loving.

Choosing to love.

Not expect.

Not define.

Not put within a certain bracket.

Not compare.

Rather, I am trying to appreciate and respect more.

The more I honestly practice this and focus, the more I find to appreciate and respect.

The more I AM a companion, the more I notice how he is that back brace for me, too.

It's a continual give-give.

We have a lot of love to celebrate, a lot of learning and growing and stretching.

Not to mention the 3 little people we have now that just further us.

And being a family doesn't mean you have it all figured out or that things are always pretty.

It's about having someone to share the journey with, someone who helps you learn and discover a lot about yourself.

It means trying and loving and working at it the best you can, and noticing the miracles that happen along the way.

Letter Into the Future

2012-01-16T13:23:00.001-07:00

The other day I pulled out the camera because I was admiring her outfit.

And loving the combinations of colors and patterns.

So cute.

And thinking about how lovely it is to be unconstrained by social norms or messages, how she can just be herself, how she wears stuff because she likes it.

Amen, sister.

Then, last night, I was tickling her while getting her in her jammies.

She was laughing so hard, and I was kneeling over her, snuggling my face into her neck.

Tickle, tickle, tickle under her chin.

We've had a bit of a breakthrough the past few days, beginning when Little Miss announced to me that she wanted to wear underwear to bed like the boys.

So, we tried it, and it's working.

(Insert: HALLELUJAH!!)

So -- amidst the tickling, and while thinking about her not wearing diapers at night now -- I asked, "Why are you such a big girl?"

(Prompting, of course, the response that she's not wearing diapers EVER now.)

(I should learn to stop prompting responses in my head. Remember the last time I did that?)

And she stopped my heart for just a second when she said,

"Because I'm growing up."

Yes, she is.

Dear Mimi:

I want to tell you about some of my wishes for you.

When you get big, please let yourself still be you.

Wear the bright colors if that is you.

Say what you know is right and let the chips fall.

Be okay with who you are, and appreciate the OTHERness of others.

There is great, deep beauty in all of us.

I believe this so strongly.

Disregard the loud messages that try to force and persuade you to believe that you need to be this or have that or look like this or reach that status to be worthwhile.

The irony is that none of those things bring happiness anyway.

I wish for you, a thousand times, the wisdom to perceive this, and to let it govern your heart.

One of the greatest blessings of motherhood is feeling deep down into your soul the worth of another.

I wish I could capture that for you, that truth,

and that you would never doubt it someday, down the road,

maybe when you're a teenager and start wondering

how you match up, how you compare.

(Blast that ugly word!)

Or when the dream that you want isn't what is popular or what will be viewed as socially acceptable or as something worthwhile.

The beauty inside of you is crazy strong, it's almost deafening when I'm with you.

And I love it so much.

And when you stopped my heart by saying you're growing up, it's only because I know it's true.

I love you.

Mom

Small Snapshots

2012-01-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

 Do you ever feel like you're in a spiral?

Or maybe a better analogy would be those crazy tracks they build for marbles, where the marble goes up and down and around and out at the bottom, or else in a circuitous loop?

I do.

Kind of tagging onto the post at the first of the week.

I had a cry via text with my husband this morning.

Telling him how I hate how I go up and down.

A couple weeks of feeling great, and then a couple weeks (or more) of kind of feeling like I am on and off PMSing.

Yuck.

I get in the track, caught trying to analyze what triggers it or if I can help it.

Is it just part of being female?

(Blast those hormones!)

I wonder where my focus needs tweeking.

Where my mothering definitely needs to improve.

How I can be a better wife.

If I am making any progress at all at times. 

And sometimes, when I feel I'm out at sea, I just want to send up a white flag and call it a day.

But there are just lovely moments that I savor too.

This week, for example, I've had several feel-good moments.

I loved going on our outing earlier in the week.

To the art museum, and the fine arts building at the local university.

We looked at art and talked about it.  Viewed it from far away and up close and compared.

We played in the museum's book store with cool toys, and I wanted to spend a bucket on educational stuff for the children.

I love sharing such beautiful things with them, and my heart jumps that they respond!

We got a valentine treat in the bookstore and went downstairs to the children's nook and spent an hour reading, whatever books they had picked out, and some I had picked, too.

We walked and talked.

We stopped and looked at the stuffed cougar, behind the glass.

They wanted to know if he was real.

We had a simple conversation on taxidermy.

I _LOVE_ spending time with them.

And sometimes getting away from home and out doing something reminds me just how much I love our conversations.  These are charming children we have.  And I feel blessed.

We're reading Where the Red Fern Grows at night.

Last night after cleaning up dinner, I lit the candles on the mantle, and the valentine luminaries I made.

(Yes, I'm a fidget butt and already put valentines up instead. I'll post that next week.)

We sat there in the quiet, reading the story.

They loved it.

So did I.

I love that quiet time with them.

I love the quiet in the night, when the lights go out, and I snuggle up next to Scott and he puts his arm around me.

I love his texts saying I love you.

I love knowing that he's there.

I appreciate conversations with him: his perspective is often enlightening or challenging to me, inspiring me to be better.

Or like last night, before reading.

I was cleaning up after dinner.

I had on this cd of my father and another artist.

I watched Benji start dancing with Mia.

 It was so cute.

Then Isaiah came up, pink dress and all, and they were all twirling around.

 I pulled out the camera and started snapping away.

They inspire me so much.

I understand more why the Savior likens our inner changing to becoming as children.

So quick to forgive.

So honest in their emotions.

Heartfelt.

Beautiful and simple.

Unconcerned by the world's messages.

Quick to believe and trust and forge ahead with faith.

I am so grateful to be surrounded by these beautiful little people.

They challenge me to be better.

They forgive me for my imperfections.

They love me anyway.

They are the ones doing much of the teaching here. 

I remember reading Graham Swift's Waterland in one of my senior English courses in college.

I was intrigued by it.

One of the things he says is that "...we are always stepping into the same river."

I think it's true.

All of these emotions and experiences.

Blessings, hard times, good times, understanding and depth.

We're in a collective pool, on a circuitous root, becoming what we are intended to become.

Following a path of those that have gone before.

We stop and breathe, take it in, look around, and try to make sense of it. 

Trying to live up to the best in us, and continue to what lays ahead.

I hope you have a great weekend.

We're going on a family date tonight to see an exhibit put on by our friends at the museum.

Having a girls day all day with  my mom and sisters tomorrow.

Church.

Yummy dinner.

Time with my kids and Scott.

I love the weekend.

(And, p.s., I was talked about HERE today.
I beg to differ. It's really the other way around.
I'm the one that's inspired by her. ;)
She is one of my top blogs to read.
I love her so much, too.
I guess it's one of those mutual feel-good, inspiring relationships, and I want to meet her in real life!)

January Sunshine

2012-01-11T14:07:00.001-07:00

I thought of a poem today after taking this picture around noon.

Bright beautiful sunshine and the loveliness of deep orange.

Beauty

Beauty is seen

In the sunlight,

The trees, the birds,

Corn growing and people working

Or dancing for their harvest.

Beauty is heard

In the night,

Wind sighing, rain falling,

Or a singer chanting,

Anything in earnest.

Beauty is in yourself.

Good deeds, happy thoughts,

That repeat themselves,

In your dreams,

In your work,

And even in your rest.

Rachel Laura Harmon, 3rd grade

Focus #1

2012-01-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

A few words have been floating around my head for the past couple of weeks.

I've decided they need to be one of my points of focus for the new year.

They come from this talk, given at the end of September last year.

The phrase is: Be happy NOW.

I had one of those weekends where everything seemed perfect,

mostly because I spent lots and lots of time with my husband.

We cooked together, watched a documentary together (we love documentaries),

talked til late, went out to dinner with some family, spent time with the kids,

did some spiritual reading/discussion, went to visit some elderly neighbors

across the street that we love, read in each of our respective books before sleep, legs all tangled up together -- just like every night when we read before turning off our lights.

Everything together.

It was so much fun.

One of those things that leaves you feeling re-charged, and anxious to be together again.

I thought about my blessings.

My husband.

His friendship.

His devotion to our family.

How good he is with the kids (much more patient than me half the time).

How invested he is with them.

His sensitivity to me.

Our warm house.

A community we feel so invested in.

Fantastic neighbors and friends.

Food to eat.

Family to share things with.

The hope of dreams and future plans we hope come to fruition.

The incredible, all-encompassing gift of faith, of a belief in a plan

for my life and for my family.

Knowing we have a loving Heavenly Father, that He's aware, and that He sent His Son for our sake.

The blessing of prophets, which I can't emphasize enough.

Exercise.

The beauties of nature (Benji looked up from his dinner last night and said, "Look at that pink sky...it is beautiful!")

Nuts and chews (from See's Candies -- these are under the "simply joys in life" category) and ice cream and, well, chocolate in general...

And three little people who continue to be the absolute joy of our lives.

I love sharing life with them, being taught by them, recognizing my strengths and weaknesses through their eyes, feeling the tug to be better, or the realization that I'm doing some things okay.

Be happy NOW.

It's pretty profound, don't you think?

Not wait for my life to look like the picture perfect image I had imagined for myself (which probably will never materialize in exactly that way anyway).

Not when finances are maybe what I wish they were.

Not when all my questions are figured out.

Or when this trial of faith or that one are explained to me.

Not when I look a certain way or only on the "perfect" days when everything goes right.

Or for any other golden ticket that holds me back, prevents me from recognizing and basking in the current joy.

Not waiting.

Not putting it off.

I don't want to miss what IS.

Some days it is so easy to do that. Other days I falter and fall into the trap of comparing or wishing for something else or giving in to stress or any number of doubts.

But it comes down to choosing faith and optimism and gratitude.

This has been swirling in my head and won't be quiet, so I know it's a directive.

Our times define us.

Create us.

Give moments of clarity in our marriage,

in our family life,

in who we are, fundamentally,

as individuals and as

participants in something so much bigger than ourselves.

Be happy now.

Right now.

Getting Fresh Air

2012-01-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

So...it has been unseasonably warm for late December and January around here.

It actually has been pretty lovely.

I saw a friend had posted on facebook: This is my kind of winter.

Agreed.

I would enjoy it 100% (which I am doing).

But I'm hoping we get some water at some point.

Anyway...there is nothing like a spring-feeling day around here in late December.

See those two kids out in the flowerbed (upper left)?

That's where they were.

They all came in for spoons to get busy with in the dirt.

Rode their bikes.

I had indoor solitude for quite some time.

I opened the windows and aired everything out.

Used my new vacuum and did a number on the house.

Bless that 50-something degrees.

Sharing Glad Tidings

2012-01-05T08:32:00.002-07:00

Right before church on Sunday, this little guy was walking around the house, telling us he was a missionary.

(Mia was his companion.)

They were "telling people about Jesus."

It was making me laugh inside.

He was carrying his stool around and, upon arriving at his destination, would open the stool, sit down, deliver a message, and then get up and go around to another "house" or person.

His message to me was this:

"You will see a star in the heavens that will mean there's a newborn son, born of the Jews."

And then he went in to Scott, who was finishing getting dressed for church.

And said this,

"And the shepherds saw the angels come and they were sore afraid. And they brought glad tidings of great joy."

Then I saw him perched in front of the Christmas tree, teaching some other imaginary folk there, saying, "There will be a newborn star in the east and it will lead you to Bethlehem."

You know...I chuckled, and I still do.

He's so cute.

It was so adorable, so charming.

He trusts implicitly in the stories and truth we are trying to share.

He has a bright belief and it touches me profoundly.

But it was all of that and more for me.

I feel the truth of his words deep down, into my core.

Maybe someday he'll go out in the world and open his mouth, sharing tidings of great joy, teaching people about Jesus, that Christ child born in Bethlehem over 2000 years ago.

The one Man who can ultimately effect a mighty change in their hearts.

That Star of Bethlehem, Star of stars, that will lead their way.

I hope he will choose to do that.

Resonating

2012-01-04T00:04:00.002-07:00

I have to post two things from last Sunday, January 1st.

One today.

The other tomorrow.

I was sitting in church on Sunday listening to a lesson.

Marcie, who was teaching, began to read this quote by President Hinckley. He is a man I deeply respect, both as a prophet and as a deeply insightful human being whose words moved me -- and continue to move me.

I choked up as I heard his words.

I thought of my Mimi.

"When you save a girl, you save generations. She will grow in strength and righteousness. She will marry in the house of the Lord. She will teach her children the ways of truth. ...I see this as the one bright shining hope in a world that is marching toward self-destruction."

I have no idea what decisions she will make in her life.

I don't know what's ahead for her.

I know she will face struggles and have to make decisions.

I know she will have times where her heart will break.

I hope she finds happiness beyond what she can fathom or imagine for herself.

Doesn't every mother want that?

I know she will have decisive moments.

But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her and her brothers, that I don't, even unconsciously, dream big in my heart for them.

I feel the truth and power of what he said as I look at her.

She is a potent force for good.

For truth.

For goodness.

For light.

Mostly I never want her to forget who she is.

Where she came from.

That she knows things that are significant and can guide her life, can land her back on the shore after stormy waters. Can be the compass she will need to make it through them.

I know she will need it.

I want her to know and believe she is a bright, shining hope.

That she has truth to carry amid the darkness.

New Beginnings in 2012

2012-01-03T12:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I began the take down/put up process: taking down Christmas, putting up Winter stuff.

I love the start fresh feeling that comes with the new year.

I wanted to capture that freshness and make it seem alive in my front room.

Something invigorating.

I'm still pondering resolutions.

Did you make any?

I want mine to be realistic, measurable, and based on character improvement.

Soul changing.

Person defining.

Love based.

I hope you rang in the new year with joy.

I was sad all of our family togetherness time with our families was over.

It was so much fun.

Today I am taking the tree down. I'm kind of sad to take it down because it was beautiful.

But I'm feeling invigorated by New Beginnings.

We're going to read, go to the grocery store for milk, and go HERE to restock our plugins to make the house smell yum. They are having their semi-annual sale and it is a crazy good sale.

I promised the kids fireworks before bed tonight if we have a good day.

Quiet Time

2011-12-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I sat right here, reading.

It had been a day full of...stuff.

Reading with the kids.

Riding bikes.

Reading stories.

Buying M&M candy at the store to make some chocolate Christmas cookies.

Chocolate with bright green and red Ms throughout. 

Spent the evening delivering plates of cookies to my neighbors all around and talking with people.

I love my neighborhood and I love the people here.

Mia went with me for the last few and it was so fun.

I feel so conscious of the fact that this little girl won't always want to go with me on every whim, that she'll have more important things to do, that these moments won't last.

Which is why I cherish them.

She was so cute on our deliveries and I could tell, at each house, that everyone else thought that, too.

I tucked her in when we got back and cleaned up my kitchen and swept the floor.

Put all my ribbon and the scissors away.

Restored order.

Later on, I nestled in for reading until Scott got home and we sat and talked for quite a while.

With Benji, who had woken up, and came and sat on his dad's lap.

Then, still later, I tucked him back in bed and giggled with him and his brother who had woken up.

It was a good respite from the past week.

The raunchy mom has been for a visit and I'm ready for her to leave, and for my gentle, patient, loving side to return.

But reading? Its roots go back to my own childhood, with my own mother.

If she had done nothing else, I'd still sing her praises because she gifted me with a love of reading, of words, of stories.  But she did more.

This is what my nightstand looks like.

Do you love to read too?

A quiet chair, winter chill outside, that time of peace before sleep.

It's a lovely, lovely thing.

Watch This

2011-12-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

It is a gray day outside.

Still no snow.

Cold, traces of rain on the sidewalk.

I'm thinking of my winter mantle and need to decide what I'm going to do.

Everything gets switched out next week.

I'm always sad to take it down, but feel weird if it's still up when it clearly isn't Christmas time anymore.

Part of what makes it special is that it's only up for a window of time.

Yesterday was my friend's son's birthday.

He would have been 29.

He died, both mercifully and tragically, a few years ago.

Last night I watched THIS video and was touched by its message.

Powerful, beautiful, sustaining, truth.

I thought about the fallibility of life.

How, in a single second, life as I know it could change.

I thought about wanting to change myself.

To be more gentle.

To look more outward.

To not be harsh in how I speak to others, especially to my children.

To build bridges of love.

To be willing to put myself out there.

That how we interact and treat each other matters.

I wondered, as I have before, what it would be like to lose a child.

I honestly can't imagine it.

But when I think of losing what I love, it inspires me to love better what I have.

It's Wednesday

2011-12-28T13:00:00.002-07:00

The frenzy of the holidays is almost over.

I've had a great time.

But I'm ready to sleep again.

Oh, and read.

And stop running around and spend time with my kids.

I am trying to remember that today.

Got out of bed.

After snuggling for a long while with Mia, again.

(She was there when I woke up.)

She proceeded to talk to me for a long while about things.

I do remember something about princesses.

(I was still a bit foggy.)

Yesterday morning she made me laugh because she was telling me that her new baby she got from Papa for Christmas, who she named Eliza, was in the United State.

And that she was teaching princesses to dance.

I love hearing snippets of our conversations come back out of Mia's mouth in such a way that says she absorbed the vocabulary, but is still trying it on for meaning and size.

We made pancakes and banana shake.

Did reading lessons and I worked hard on having patience as they are learning.

If I am flustered, it isn't positive for them and then it becomes this equation:

Reading = Not Fun.

We had success today.

Read stories.

Now we're headed out to try out their sweet new bikes.

Hope you have a great Wednesday.

Morning Snuggling and Holiday Cheer

2011-12-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a lot of businesses were closed due to observation of Christmas.

I declared it an observation-of-Christmas day here, too, and didn't blog.  

I awoke this morning from a dream where I was trying to nurse a baby boy. 

I had found him, realized that somehow he was like two weeks old, and I hadn't been nursing him.

I was waiting for that familiar feeling of a comfortable latch and the subsequent smooth tugging that follows.

I wondered if I could bring my milk back, starting so late.

And, just for the record, I'm not pregnant.

Then I woke up and Mia was lying in my bed, snuggling next to me, awake, waiting for me to wake up.

She snuggled in to me and put her arms around me.

I told her, because I was still thinking about my dream, about she and I and our nursing days.

Right after we moved in our house, I'd hear her awake in the morning.

It was one of my favorite times of the day.

I'd go and get her out of bed and return to mine.  We'd snuggle together and she'd nurse for a long while.  The boys would play elsewhere, so my room would be quiet and it was just she and I.

I think I thought those days would be gone once she quit nursing, but not with this gal.

I felt especially grateful for it today.

She still crawls in to snuggle and relax and be quiet.

I love it so much.

And I have so much I could blog about from the weekend.  It'll have to come in stages.

So, for the first installment.

On Christmas Eve we gathered round the table for a sumptuous spread and listened to The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols.  It was lovely, complete with admiring the Rudolph features on the Rudolph's car.  (Yes, their last name IS Rudolph...two of my favorite folks in this world.)

Then, off to the family cabin for time with family.

My very favorite part of the nite was when my father-in-law talked with everyone about the birth of the Christ child, and then asked all of the adults to bear testimony.  A sweet, powerful, palpable feeling filled the air.  I felt connected to my husband, to this family we're raising, to the spiritual experiences of the past few months, for all that we're going through, trying to understand, being incredibly blessed with, and watching the whole general thing unfold.

Then, we goofed around.  And it was a blast.

I love these ladies and these men.

December the 23rd

2011-12-23T15:19:00.002-07:00

This morning I could hear Benji at the bottom of the stairs singing,
"Bring me flesh and bring me wine!" and then humming the rest of that Good King Wenceslas line because he didn't know the words.

It was kind of cracking me up.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

I spent the morning running around doing the last of the shopping:

a bit for stockings, some for Christmas breakfast, tape for wrapping, etc.

Then picked up my kids and chatted with my good friends, and had some good laughs.

I love living in a neighborhood where I feel surrounded by family, and where there are people here that I know have my back.

It truly is a blessing beyond something I can express.

Tomorrow morning we will be up for a delish breakfast while tuning into THIS.

This is how we always begin our Christmas celebrating.

Love love love.

Then we'll head up the canyon to spend the rest of the day with Scott's family and I'm bringing the rolls.

Back home to stuff stockings and tuck in and revel in that magical expectancy that is Christmas Eve night.

Organ playing and I plan to bust my girdle with letting those pipes sing praises on Christmas morning at church.

Then, ya know. Stockings and presents and I'm gonna make quiche for our breakfast brunch.

Off to holiday dinner and lots of time with more family.

I so love this time of year.

This is my favorite holiday, by far.

But it's because I feel deeply in my heart the true meaning of the season.

My heart resonates with the message of the Christ child.

I am grateful He came.

I am more grateful that He did what He said He would do.

I am humbled it was for me. And for you, too.

I know this.

I rejoice, and then rejoice again.

Exuberantly and quietly, in profound awe and gratitude.

I'm wishing you...

and

for your Christmas.

May your festivities be merry and bright.

xoxo

This Morning...

2011-12-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

Do you think anyone's excited about Christmas around here?

We all are.

This morning...at breakfast.

So glad to have a camera to capture the Christmas excitement this weekend.

Are you ready...only 3 days away!!

On Sunday night, we were at a community Christmas program.

The readings were from Nikki Grimes' book Voices of Christmas.

I loved all the readings, but this one was last, and I love the introspection it prompts.

It is titled You.

"And who are you?

Not an angel, no.

Nor Herod.

But perhaps you are

a magi, mapping the miracle

on a chart of stars;

a shepherd

trading sheep

for a chance to seek

a golden child

in swaddling clothes;

a Simeon

who has hoped for a lifetime

to find the one called

Emmanuel, God with us.

Or are you like Mary,

prayerfully waiting

for the King of Kings

to be born in you?

Well, He is here!

Sing! Sing 'O, Holy Night.'

Run toward His Light!"

Let It Snow...Please!!

2011-12-21T11:03:00.001-07:00

One of my wishes today??? 

This is what it looked like last year at this time.

We are still waiting for the first decent snow storm here.

It's sad.

But this morning I woke up to flakes coming down.

I'm hoping hoping hoping that maybe we'll get a white Christmas.

Fingers crossed!

Ornaments

2011-12-20T10:54:00.004-07:00

This morning I've been cleaning up and organizing gifts to wrap: one pile for each person.

A couple dear friend gifts.

Gift for my sister.

Gift for our Mom and Dad on Scott's side.

Neighbor gift.

And still have a bunch more on top of that.

But it is fun.

The holiday spirit is in the air.

Tidying my house.

Doing laundry (I love the smell of bleach when I'm washing my whites, and my laundry room is warm with that clean smell permeating the air).

Loving the twinkle lights on my tree.

Which brings me to this.

Took the kids this year to each pick out their own ornament for the tree, calling back yesteryear.

Scott's family would go into San Francisco at the Christmas season and pick out a new ornament for the tree as a little boy.

This is what they chose.

It Goes So Fast

2011-12-19T11:18:00.000-07:00

Well, I was going to post dollhouse pics.

But my camera broke.

I'm beyond thrilled that we're going to fork out a chunk for a new camera when so much money is already being forked out.

Can you tell?

Anyway, we had a birthday.

Lately I've thought a lot about this sweet baby. 

I remember this

and this

and this

and this

 and this.

It's like a dream, almost as if it were yesterday.

She has been a joy since the moment she was born.

I've loved every minute.

Dollhousing

2011-12-15T08:41:00.004-07:00

Finishing this by this weekend.

Here are the finished walls and floors:

Coming Monday?  A post showing all the rooms, furnished, with an explanation on each room.

Doesn't it make you want to add a blast of color to your own house??

10 Glorious Words

2011-12-14T00:06:00.000-07:00

if

fin

rim

in

ram

ran

sin

math

sis

thin

Each of the boys, independently and on their own, read these 10 words yesterday during our reading lessons.

Praise the Lord!!

Feeling Christmas in Our Hearts

2011-12-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

Last night we ate spaghetti (Mia's request),

cut out sugar cookies (for fun),

read about the annunciation to Mary, the journey to Bethlehem and birth of Christ, the shepherds and the wise men from the scriptures,

and then watched this film.

As I was reading the verses in Luke 2 when the Savior is born, I choked up.

Benji asked something about what was happening to my voice, and I told him that sometimes something touches you. I told him it was that way for me because I love this story.

Afterward, we ate sugar cookies coated with buttery frosting, bedecked with the sprinkle color of choice.

This December has been refreshing.

Yes, I've felt exhausted at times.

I mean, it is December right? Sometimes the sheer flurry of activity seems to suck the focus away into things that don't feed the soul.

But I found myself thinking yesterday about how lovely it has been, how anxious I am to hold onto every second, how sad I will be to see it go.

It has been a great time of renewal.

There has been a lot of quiet pondering for me.

Beautiful, lovely, inspiring music that has taken my heart every day, all throughout the day, to the manger.

Every night, reading in low Christmas-tree light with the children about the Savior.

Lots of questions, really thoughtful ones, from the boys, that have lead to some incredible discussions.

I have felt testimony, so tangible in the air, and it has set me thriving again and again.

I feel it every night. It's my favorite time of day.

Our own advent. Lighting candles, reading sacred words. Reflecting on the story of all stories.

And the result?

Inside, to ponder what it means to me.

I have felt that envelop me, and I've been basking in it.

I tremble inside as the sheer beauty and astonishment of the message touch me.

I read this on another blog yesterday and it stopped me in my tracks. Don't you just love this quote by Madeleine L'Engle?

"Was there a moment, known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?"

I feel the anticipation, the miraculous wonder of the story of the Christ child, and rejoice again that it isn't just a sweet story.

It happened.

It's real.

I'm waiting and watching and trying to recognize Him every day.

Right now.

I'm trying to bathe in that joy, and let the truth soak in all the brittle places in my heart, in my life, in my mistakes, in my joys.

It's a lovely, warm, reassuring, glorious place.

Remembering Miracles

2011-12-12T10:34:00.000-07:00

Last week at lunchtime we were eating waffles.

Benji said something about how he was going to do one of Jesus' miracles.

And then proceeded to break up his waffle into pieces.

When I asked him which one, he made reference to the loaves and fishes.

But I think he may have had it slightly confused, because I think he also referred to Christ's miracle at Cana.

It has all been up for discussion the past couple weeks as we've been reading about the Savior's life.

I felt gratitude that these stories about Jesus are sticking.

Glad that it's coming up in his mind doing every-day things.

And grateful that he may be on the road to the symbolic.

My mind went there.

How Jesus multiplies for us.

How He can make something meager into something astonishing, beautiful, staggering.

How He feeds and nourishes, particularly emotionally, spiritually, and mentally.

His endless compassion.

How He can always make something more.

I think of one of my favorite scriptures where he said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

(!!!!)

I hope Benji will someday grasp all of this and more.

And not just grasp it, but believe.

Having a Girl

2011-12-09T10:07:00.001-07:00

Having a girl is like remembering pieces of yourself from the past, or recognizing them again.

One or the other, or maybe both.

Like watching this girl the other day.

I was reading with Benji when she came into the room like this.

Makeup on, bow in her hair, dress on.

She was dancing around.

Beauty. 

Simplicity. 

Simple Joy. 

Innocence.

Feeling beautiful.

Having a girl lets you witness the tenderness in her heart.

It means watching emotion as it's raw and new.

It's watching her pretend she's 30, and knowing inside, that one day she'll get there.

Will she remember this?

Will she know the loveliness inside her?

I hope so.

December the 8th

2011-12-08T10:40:00.001-07:00

I've been so exhausted.

Sound familiar to anyone else?

I mean...it is December and all.

It has kind of been a happy, busy exhausted, but it has been catching up to me.

I've been burning the midnight oil for several nights running.

I've felt like there's a cold waiting to tango with me, just on the brink of getting in the door.

Yesterday afternoon, with the kids around me, cutting their own fabric scraps, I was cutting out pieces for the duvets in the dollhouse.

I had every intention of working on it late last night.

But then, still late, I climbed into my bed with a new book from a friend, and just relaxed for a few minutes until I turned out my light because my eyes were burning.

So, I caved this morning.

I didn't take the boys to preschool.

The time came and went and they were happily playing, doing who knows what.

I let myself sleep.

When I woke up, I picked up the book I began last night, already totally sucked into the story.

I read.

Got the announcement, via text, of the birth of my friend's baby.

Awwh.

Heard the mail drop down into the slot and went to find another Christmas card (I anticipate the mail every day because I love love love them).

Crawled back into my bed and read some more.

Just barely got up and am going to go make a big, fat, delicious breakfast for us all.

But when I got up, this is what I found the children had been doing happily for some time.

And the best part?

Normally I would tell them no way, not in this room, you know we don't play on this couch or take all the pillows off.

You know what I'm talking about.

But nope, not this morning.

Sometimes you are blessed with a clear perspective -- the kind where you see the adventures and magic of childhood imagination and you can't possibly step in and ruin it.

I walked by, smiled when they told me what they were up to, and just let them continue right on.

A small success in letting something small go that I typically get my panties tied in a knot over, and focusing on the things that matter most.

I'm sure that made them happy, but it made me oh so happy.

I was little once.

They help me remember that.

Once A Month...

2011-12-07T11:16:00.001-07:00

Assorted treats (some not pictured).

Books.

Laughter.

Friends.

Talking, talking, talking.

Jokes about book content and preference.

White elephanting.

Lots of women.

Last night was book club.

So. Much. Fun.

Wanna Laugh?

2011-12-06T12:02:00.001-07:00

Wanna know what I laughed at this morning?

Dropped off a Christmas card and was chatting with my friend.

She showed me a clip of her husband that's gotten quite the few views on youTube.

Boy, can he shake it.

Check it out HERE.

Something Special To Me

2011-12-05T09:44:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite Christmas tree ornaments?

These.

I have them all over my tree.

When my Grams moved out of her apartment to move in with my aunt for the last few months of her life, I was looking through things that were left behind.

I found a box of Christmas ornaments, and lots of these were inside.

They were the prize.

They are pieces of a bedspread my great-grandmother made and presented to her daughter, my Grandma Vera, on her wedding day in 1940.

I think about them as I look at the tree.

I feel conscious of my mothers that have gone before.

I feel grateful for their talents and gifts.

I remember them.

It's All About Jesus

2011-12-02T00:35:00.001-07:00

Yesterday morning we were across the street delivering a Christmas card to an older couple we love.

I was in the kitchen talking with Deon, and Mia had walked into the front room to look at the purple balls on their Christmas tree with Ralph.

He came back in and was chuckling as he told us what Mia had said during their exchange.

They must have been looking at the baby Jesus in the manger scene, because Mia told Ralph,

"There was a real baby Jesus, actually."

Tonight as I was tucking her into bed, she was asking me questions about Jesus.

Where is He?

Was he resurrected?

We discussed who Mary was, and then she told me that Joseph was Jesus' dad.

It was December 1st.

I got to start something with the children that I've been anticipating for a couple weeks.

After dinner, we cleaned up.

I had them grab their blankies and pillows again.

Each picked a spot.

We turned out the lights (except for the twinkles of the tree and mantle).

I gave them each a piece from a candy cane.

We lit the pyramid and watched the design it made on the ceiling.

And I read them the first chapter of Charles Dickens' The Life of Our Lord.

Dickens wrote this book to his children, telling them all about the Savior and incidents that happened in his life.

The room was quiet while I read.

Benji asked for more after we finished.

I told them that we'd read a little bit every night, before bed. We'll light the pyramid while we read and snuggle up and listen.

One more way for us to think again about what this is all about.

Because, as Isaiah informed me while we were driving home looking at Christmas lights tonight, "Christmas is really all about Jesus, Mom."

We'll read more tonight.

I think this might be a new tradition for every December until the children are older.

I'm so excited.

Storytelling

2011-12-01T09:12:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, while the kids were napping, after I'd worked out and showered, I climbed into my bed with my wet hair in a towel turban on my head and read this book. (The same book I'm referring to in this post.)

I read what she wrote about taking time for storytelling with your children.

Not the kind that's in a book, but spinning tales from your imagination, and letting the children have that opportunity, too.

I was intrigued and decided to give it a shot.

After dinner, we had baths (including the boys giggling about their bare buns and me chasing them to the bathtub with my thumb and forefinger ready to pinch, saying, "I like to squeeze 'em, squeeze 'em!").

Insert: giggling from the boys.

We straightened up.

Boiled water in the kettle until it began whistling.

Took it off the stove and turned off all the lights except for the Christmas tree and the twinklies on the mantle.

I told the kids to each grab their pillows and blankies and pick a spot.

Isaiah was on the floor.

Mia and Benji were each in their own chair.

Benji went first, and told two stories that they have heard a few times over about my childhood/adolescence.

One about being burned by hot applesauce right off the stove at 4, leaving huge red welts on my neck and chest.

And one about skinny dipping with two of my sisters, in broad daylight in Southern Utah, on the 4th of July.

They love the skinny dipping one.

When Benji was done, Isaiah said he didn't have one to tell, so we came to Mia.

I wish I could capture this scene because it was so funny.

She began to tell the same stories that Benji had just told.

But when she got to the part about the applesauce spilling, she said that it spilled.

And then she said, "And it went down [and her hands were going from her neck to her chest while she was saying this] to her breath?" And she looked at me with that question tone in her voice.

The boys are at the stage where they think stuff is funny because they catch on to what she's trying to say now.

They start giggling, and I start laughing.

I say, "Breast?"

And she agreed.

I'm still not sure if she was trying to referring to breasts or chest.

The jury is out.

But it was hysterical.

Then she went on in her very detailed, descriptive, expressive way of talking.

Then I spun quite the imaginative tale of a elf named Twinkletoes that came to visit some children on Christmas Eve, who were waiting for the father to come home from purchasing candy canes to decorate on the Christmas tree for Santa.

Then we drank hot chocolate.

And I read them our second Christmas story, which was called The Popcorn Tree.

These kids are so fun.

I love coming to know them as people, not just as my children.

It is a privilege beyond measure.

It was one of those nights where I felt I'd done parenting right.

I love those nights.

Last Night

2011-11-30T12:27:00.001-07:00

Last night after dinner, we began a new tradition.  

Each night a different Christmas story.

I checked out a slew of them from library.

We read Rocking Horse Christmas and I loved it.  I thought it captured beautifully the magic of childhood, the fleeting nature of time, tucked into chronological Christmas bookends.

Then I tucked them all into bed and sat on the stair outside their bedrooms and sang them a new carol on my guitar.

And then was up into the wee hours addressing Christmas cards so I could send a bunch off today.

Hurray...they're gone!

If you want a lovely little folksy Christmas tune, go HERE and on the right side of the page you'll see the "Come Let Us Adore Him" album.  Click on the "Stars of Glory" track.  LOVE.  And "In The Bleak Midwinter."  And any others you might fancy...

Hope you are ready for December 1st. I can't believe it's here.

A Sunday Funny

2011-11-29T09:20:00.001-07:00

A week ago we were driving to my Mom's for Thanksgiving dinner.

I drove so Scott could read to the children (so we wouldn't end up with one of us carsick).  ;)

We were reading one of the Grimm Fairy Tales.

The children requested "Six Servants."

At the beginning of the tale, you read about a prince who has come from another land seeking the hand of a "dazzling" princess.  Her mother is a witch-queen who requires that any lad seeking her daughter has to accomplish three tasks.  The tasks are, of course, too difficult for any mortal to accomplish on their own.  So, of course, all previous gentlemen have failed.

When the prince arrives he says to the Witch Queen, "You have a beautiful Princess daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

At which point, Scott stopped reading and turning around to the kids, said, "That's what I said to Poppi about your mom."  Then, as if talking to my dad, he continued, "You have a beautiful daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

How gallant. 

Pretty sure that's not how it went down, but oh boy.

It was funny, nonetheless. 

I am glad, though, that he was willing to take a chance on me.

Social Cues

2011-11-28T09:53:00.001-07:00

If you're wondering about social graces, just ask Mia.

She'll tell ya.

A few weeks back, Scott was in the bathroom helping Mia wipe her bottom.

And she comes out with this:

"We DO NOT say butt.  Your bum is your butt, but we do not say butt.

We DO NOT say 'Shut your mouth.'

And we DO NOT call people fat."

The Day After Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T09:04:00.001-07:00

What are you doing today? 

Maybe you're out shopping among the throngs?

Or making something with all the Thanksgiving leftovers? 

I'm taking care of a sick baby.

We're going to take a nap.

Go Christmas tree shopping this afternoon. 

Put up the tree and deck the halls.

Read some stories.

I hope we start feeling better around here.

There is a carpet of leaves outside in my back and front yards.

But I've got to be inside with this little one.

I'm hoping she can fall asleep and her tummy will let her rest.

Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving.

And maybe you'll find this amusing, too.  It's so charming.

I love how the cows all line up and stay at attention, totally loving the music.

This weekend we have an extended family brunch, putting up more Christmas lights, raking the yard clean, and listening to Handel's Messiah with friends and eating yum dessert to ring in the season.

My Happiness IS...

2011-11-24T10:01:00.001-07:00

The past few months I have been thinking a lot.

About various, pains-of-the-heart and other stress-givers.

About recognizing blessings amidst struggle.

I've asked why.

I've felt blessed.

I've fallen into the trap of comparing.

Why is it that it can be so easy to look at your situation, and then look at another's, and stack things up? See how things measure up, or don't.

What once was bringing you joy suddenly can seem to pale in comparison to something else.

Suddenly, you go from thinking "my happiness is..." to "my happiness isn't...".

It's a muddy business.

When my perspective is clear, I feel so much love.

So much joy.

So much peace.

Content.

And actually, it is almost always accompanied with feeling as though my cup is literally overflowing.

I feel warm and gentle inside, easily moved, easily grateful.

Not calloused.

Generous.

I want to be that way all the time.

I want that feeling in my heart to be constant, my reaching to others always sincere, always heartfelt, always with genuine happiness.

You can always find something that you don't have (and I'm not referring to just monetary things) or that you feel you should have or that you wish was different, but I'm convinced that happiness isn't motivated by these things.

It comes from recognition.

From sharing, and recognizing, the love of God.

From recognizing the value in experience, and learning for yourself that He's there.

It doesn't happen when the lens is "my happiness isn't...".

My goal is to focus on MY HAPPINESS IS...

Like the simple joy in reading books with my children.

In running in the late afternoon fall chill, just before evening sets on. We are running, reciting the ABCs and their sounds, or talking about the Christmas decorations popping up in our hood.

It comes from seeing their industriousness (and simple delight) in some paper plates, paper cups, plastic spoons, and being let loose and at liberty to dig in the yard and make fall soup with leaves and mud and water. Or whatever else they want to do.
With having a furnace that works.

Children snuggled into their beds.

A library close by.

A husband who works hard and loves his family.

Good food on our table and in our bellies.

It comes from what we know.

From friendships that grace our lives.

Morning sunlight and warm covers.

Running -- exercise feels SO good.

Holding a child close in the night.

Beautiful music.

Gentle and powerful reminders of who we really are and what the focus really is -- or needs to be.

I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.