oh simple things

for the rest of the week (and in no particular order)
snow
more snow
music
antibiotics
play
having the TV more off than on
...the kids more home than not
...more playing than fighting
(if you know what a rarity the above is around my house you might understand the depth of my gratitude)
having (some) cheerful help with the decorating, decorating cookies, cleaning up wrapping up
home
family
ambience
the baby Jesus Melody made for me
scent of Christmas
lights
flannel
warmth
the promise of deep bubble baths in the days to come
God
hugs
cold water
slippers
love
L~ deliberately slowing down her prayer so it's not pronounced as one superspeedybiglongword
Luke reading Luke 2
being humbled by a new calling (not it's not a big calling, just a hard one--for me--and no, so I didn't really enjoy that part, but I'm thankful nonetheless)
soothing lotion
cute neighbor kids
lavender
tall lanky teenagers
friends
seeing some of my kids really think about what their sibling might like to receive
generosity
having my great grandma's recipe for steamed pudding
did I mention music?
watching my kids pool their hard-earned cash for a friend in need
getting paid for not being at work this week
cream
not getting more stuff for Christmas
being able to take a big load of stuff to DI
contentment

Friday--is it getting a little old that I have to say Puffs with Lotion again?!

Oh but there is more: As I left work just after noon today I knew I was not coming back until a week from next Monday. Wahoo!!!!! Now if I can just get feeling well I could get my house clean. Or something.

Thursday--music, more snow, chicken soup, slippers, lavender, sleep

Wednesday:

A sweet single mom of seven who noticing how my face had fallen as I arrived late for my youngest son's Christmas singing told me it was all OK. I'd done my best and my best was good enough. She even gave me a hug. I'd really been OK about it until that point and then I wanted to cry.

My sweet husband who let said son show me the pictures and video.

Said sweet son who was forgiving and totally cool about it and even gave me solo renditions of most of his repertoire.

Dear friend Melody who gave me lavender and silk and made me feel like a queen.

Dear sav-ed daughter who just now apologized for having told me stories about not having YW tonight so she could go play night games with a friend but who did come mostly willingly when I caught on and sent her dad to fetch her. Although she told me she didn't want to go sing to old people she went anyway. As she entered the house and walked up the stairs I motioned for her to come toward me so I could give her a hug and she thought it was for the apology. I got both the hug and the apology and then I got to see photos of the ever elusive LeRoy Brown boy she likes.

Staying in tonight. Still trying to fight off this cough and headache.

Slippers.

And did I mention the silk lavender eye pillow?

Heaven!!!





Tuesday:

Did I mention the funny bad smell I came home to last night?

Well this morning I got the rest of the story.

And so I am thankful for angels watching over my darling and only daughter.

Here's what happened:

In a blatant display of unsupporting siblingness my two middle children did not come up with their dad to hear the concert in SLC last night.

Which meant that after babysitting, L~ was home alone.

She got a little hungry and decided to make herself some cream of chicken soup.

And then she got distracted by the computer (hmmm...where did she get that from?) and completely forgot about it.

Fortunately my husband called her while on his way home to see if she was hungry.

At the thought of food she remembered the soup and ran into the kitchen in just enough time to take it off the burner before it caught on fire. But the entire contents of the soup can is burnt black and hard onto the bottom of the pan.

I'm pretty sure if my husband hadn't called when he did you'd be reading about us in the paper tonight.

And it would have been very sad.

Thank you angels.

Monday -- enjoying a slice of this for breakfast this morning.

Sunday -- when the sacrament meeting speaker lends truth to the words I had uttered only moments ago to my sixteen-year-old who told me he didn't want to go to church (and yes, by that time, said child was present--by his own choice--and, hopefully, listening).

Saturday -- breaking "bread" and a piñata surrounded by good, good friends.

I guess since we laughed out loud and lingered well past midnight I can add the love of a good book group to today's list. I laughed so hard my cheeks hurt and I had tears running down my face. I may have scared a few people when the topic became politics and a few sweet young things learned that hell hath no fury like a voter betrayed. (My bark is worse than my bite...I promise hope.)

Stimulating conversation with good friends over a plate of Kneader's raspberry bread pudding. Does it get any better than that?

And I don't even know which day this should belong to, but I must tell you I don't need to watch any tear-jerking Christmas flicks this year to be reminded to believe in miracles. A good friend of mine almost--and by all counts should have--died a few weeks ago. At best he should have been hospitalized through the holidays and then come home on oxygen for a long recovery. The doctors are all shocked and disbelieving, but he was released from ICU into a long-term rehabilitation facility a week ago. He was expected to remain there a week to ten days. Due to a beautiful and powerful blessing and countless prayers of faith he was able to come home Monday, breathing completely on his own. I finally got to see him yesterday and he's doing amazingly well.

You can have your Tuesdays with Morrie. But I'm really starting to love my Fridays with Brenda. Today we started at RC Willey and ToysRUs, worked our way up to Borders, crossed over to University Mall and then headed back up the street to TJ Maxx.

Not bad for a day's work.

Melody

b.

Lo

Sarah K.

Each one of you brightened my day today.

Thank you.

Love,

Compulsive

20 good things for 20 years

1. Waking up this morning trying to muster up enough umph to tackle the negelected dishes only to find one of Santa's elves had done them after he got home late from playing basketball.

2. If you have to be memory-challenged like me it's nice to have someone make up the difference for you, especially when it comes to remembering names. He never forgets a name. This is something for a school teacher who gets 25-30 new students each year in his class, but also knows the names of the rest of the third graders at his school, too. And remembers them (and their birthdays) 17 years later.

3. Sometimes when life comes at you fast and hard you don't know whether to laugh or cry. Lucky for me my other half has a good sense of humor. On most days anyway. This is essential when one has a houseful of teenagers. Especially of the female variety.

4. He's a good man with a good heart. He took the most excellent care of my grandparents lawn and other needs for years, while also being at the beck and call of his aunt and uncle. And now he is the number one landscape consultant for my mother. As well as all the widows in the ward.

5. While his aunt was at the intermediate care unit of the hospital and again recently while his uncle was doing time at the Trinity Mission Shane was such a frequent visitor that he soon learned the names and the stories of their roommates and their neighbors in their respective units. He's nice and friendly like that.

6. Now that my grandmother and his uncle are neighbors at the Jamestown he is a regular there as well. He is now starting to get to know the names of the neighbors. And the help.

7. He's a good dad. We kind of take turns at who's going to diffuse which situation and whose turn it is to play good cop or bad cop. That's nice.

8. The other night we were at dinner with my BIL and SIL and their tiny baby. They had invited my oldest son to come, too. The baby needed a diaper change and it was funny to watch my son's reaction--"We'll I'll never..." Lucky for me his dad (and I know he'll come around when it comes to his own kids) is not adverse to tackling the dirty work when needed.

9. He takes out the trash.

10. Another handy thing to have around when your memory is unreliable is a dedicated journaler. When I need to know when or where or with whom something happened way back in '92 (or even earlier) he knows exactly where to find the information. Amazing, really.

11. He's not addicted to Warcraft or Halo 1, 2 or 3.

12. Best buns in 501s two years in a row back int he 80s. And he's still got it. Way to go!

13. In a world where materialism is all the rage its refreshing to know and love someone who's just not into that. It makes it a little hard to shop for him at Christmas and birthdays, but it's still so much nicer to not have the pressure of keeping up with the Joneses. (Although if someone were passing out iPhones this holiday season I think he might be interested.)

14. Not only does he keep a good record of our lives through his journal, he could also put together a pretty extensive and complete photo documentary. He has a way with candids as well as scenic and wildlife photos. Someday when we have time to organize them it's going to make quite a scrapbook. (tee hee)

15. Did I mention he is a good man? He likes to surround himself with good people and learn at the side of other good men. He tries to look for the best in people and be positive even about those people who try really hard to get on one's bad side.

16. He's a good provider. The road of a school teacher is not an easy one, but he always worked nights and weekends at a second job until he worked so hard to earn excellent grades in his master's program in order to bring in a little more from his first job. He puts in way over 40 hours at school even though its not compensated. And he never made me feel like I needed to work outside the home. When I went back to work after the kids were in school it was my choice.

17. One of the first things that attracted me to him was his love of the simple beauties found in nature. He helped me become more aware and appreciative of a brilliant sunset, the gorgeous red and yellow of the fall leaves and even a perfect rose. Just last night he phoned home to make sure we ran out to look at the sliver moon.

18. I will never forget how it made me feel one day (and many more since) when I was with him in the halls at the local high school and I witnessed big tall boys totally let go of their "cool factor" to run down the hall yelling "Mr. Rowley!" and run up to him to give him a hug. I cannot even tell you how many kids he has loved and served all through their youths. They get it that he really cares about him. You can't measure that kind of value in a teacher with a letter grade or a test score. One of my friends put it best when she said his area of emphasis as an educator is self-esteem. As a parent I know that kind of boost for a child is priceless.

19. Sometimes he completely makes my day with the tiniest of gestures. One day a few years back I came home to find a vase full of pussy willows after simply having mentioned a few weeks earlier that I wished I had some. Yesterday morning I went out to find the ice scraper tucked into the handle of my car. Little things mean a lot.

20. He's put up with being married to me for a whole 20 years. Sometimes I can't help but wonder if he knew what he was getting into (strong, opinionated, independent...but I try really hard not to be nag) or if he wishes he would've chosen one of the other half dozen girls who were trying to butt in line in front of me when I returned from my mission. But he doesn't complain.

Getting lost in a good book.

Winter.

Experiencing cold so I can appreciate warmth again.

Slowly working through things on my yuck pile (read: bills-to-pay, unpleasant-issues-to-resolve).

Dinner out with family. Their treat.

Finally purchasing our Christmas tree. I'm always worried they're a little dry this late in the season, but we'll see.

Family.

Branches laden with boughs of snow.

The kind of start choir practice gives to my Sabbath.

The warmth and light that electricity brings, noticed more for its return after hours-long absence.

Being brave enough to defend myself when I was being treated unfairly.

Having friends who validate me:
--Thanks Mel for understanding my need to not be just another burden and stress and for never making me feel I am merely that.
--Thanks Brenda for lifting me up when I was being too hard on my mother-self.

Bright Primary kids.

Staying in most of the day after yesterday's seemingly endless marathon of obligations (which all, thankfully, ended up being more fun in the attending than they were in the overwhelmed anticipation).

Relishing the silence of early morning. (Yes, even an early Saturday morning.)

Witnessing the break of dawn from the comfort of my cushy sofa and wrapped in a cozy quilt.

Being mesmerized by the steady fall of snow.

Rain.

And more rain.

With the promise of snow.

And more snow.




Ambiance, warmth and curry with two of my very favorite people.

Spontaneity on a Friday afternoon.

Visiting my grandmother and my uncle-in-law at the posh retirement home. I need to go more often, but at least for today I did right by them.

Today the flooring manager at R.C. Willey came to my home in a business suit and got down on his hands and knees and cleaned the black tar marks off my new hardwood floor. That pretty much made up for all the non-returned phone calls. And then when I gathered my energy to discuss the bill he told me it was taken care of and that there would be no charges for the moldings and trim.

Huge blessing--to the tune of more than a couple hundred dollars.

I am thankful for resolution and for saving big bucks right before Christmas.




I love jazz! Tonight I attended a fabulous concert featuring Wayne Bergeron, PHS Jazz Band and the UVSC (UVU) Jazz Ensemble. (So essentially my son got to accompany a big band trumpet player.) There were some amazing solos and the sound was fine and I had a great time! I'm half tempted to take up the piano again just so I can pound my heart out. That sounds like a good New Year's resolution, don't you think?

For yesterday:

The blessings of doing initiatory work.

A philharmonic orchestra, wind ensemble band and choirs of angels.




For today:

A new day. I believe we often underestimate the power of a brand new day.

Oops--I missed a day. Here's for yesterday:

I was grateful I didn't have to go to Costco by myself. Stores like Costco and Lowes and Home Depot (no, I have not yet been to IKEA) completely overwhelm me by their magnitude and the sheer amount of stuff. Lately I am overwhelmed by stuff.

Additionally, I'm happy that my home is a place in which at my kids' friends are comfortable just to hang out. They know they are welcome to join us for dinner, family prayer or whatever. They know they are loved. (It's a bit sad that not all of my kids want their friends at our home--I think some are allergic to younger siblings--but it makes me feel good that at least some know they are welcome.)

I am spiritually fed this day. I wish I could write more about it, but it's almost too much. Today I am thankful for the love of good leadership as well as humility, testimony and revelation.

I'm thankful that I know a big secret. The Saturday session of stake conference is often the best and I try not to ever miss it. I was inspired and encouraged to be a better wife and mother and to help make my family stronger. I needed that.

I'm thankful that today I got to watch and hear two of my boys sing in the tabernacle with a choir of young men and their leaders. And that I noticed as twice Elder Richard G. Scott got out of his seat and walked up the stairs and stood during the songs so he could look into their faces.

I'm also thankful to have been humbled by the daughters of one of my friends as they were spontaneously called up to the stand to be "interviewed" by Elder Scott in such a loving and touching manner. (I know one of these girls well and love her to pieces. After the meeting I went up to her and told her I wanted to be just like her when I grow up. And I mean that with all my heart.) After they so beautifully and candidly answered his questions and then sat down Elder Scott noted that he could've gone on about how parents can teach their children and what they can do in their homes to raise children who are confident in truth and who know who they are as children of God, but it wouldn't have been nearly as effective as what we heard from these two delightful young women. He was correct.

And it was a pleasure to watch Elder Scott shake the hands of all three of my sons and encourage them to not let anything stand in their way of serving the Lord as missionaries. (I'm sure he could have said the same thing to my daughter, but she lit out of there so fast afterwards she was practically halfway home before we even got out the door.) He told my youngest what fine missionary he will be. I'd guess that message will stick with him for the rest of his life.

I am grateful for an apostolic blessing.

I heart snow!

Whew. Glad that's over.

Today was a good day. I left work at noon and resisted the temptation to go back. Yay! for me. (Scratch that. I did go back later.)

I met a friend for lunch over at Zupas. As we were walking in we met another friend who was just coming in for take out. We invited her to join us and she did. Whilst the three of us were sitting there visiting yet another friend came in for take out and we invited her to join us. She didn't stay long, but she did stop and visit for a few and it was a good thing.

Thinking about it later I realized I needed to be reminded there is always room at my table for another friend.

When I got home it got a little crazy as I had two places to be and too much to do in about 20 minutes. I was frantically trying to whip up a quadruple batch of pie crust and at the same time clear a path for the floor installer (yes, we are still trying to get the install completed on our dining room floor) who was not supposed to come until after 4:00 but was now arriving at 2:30.

And then the power went out.

But then there was light because my dear friend b. dropped by for a minute. She was bearing Puffs with lotion and big hugs. That warmed my heart.

I was still a little crazy and thought the power outage was a bad thing, but then it was OK because without any power the installer couldn't do the install (and he didn't have all the parts he needed anyway), so I was able to get back to activity days at which I was supposed to be teaching the girls how to make pies.

Only because the power was out we couldn't actually bake the pies, so that meant we got to make pies by candlelight and then activity days got over early. Which was also a good thing.

So then I came home to a cold dark house and the fun began.

I lit up a whole mess of candles, made a few more pies by candlelight, watched my two oldest boys spend the afternoon sitting right next to each other on the sofa playing a video game they used to play when they were little. By candlelight.

They have never beaten it.

Still haven't.

After the pies were made I cozied up on my blue leather recliner and learned to play snood (I'm not very good at it).

The kids' friends started arriving because with the power out they had nothing to do.

Eventually the power came back on and Z~ (who is jealous of his little sister because her school just rented out to her a brand new Cannonball Saxophone) and his friend played the sax for a bit. (I like hearing the sax.)

And now it's Friday night and I've got nothing fun to do but I may (or may not) tackle the laundry. Or I may watch a movie. Or I might just go to bed.

All in all it's been a good day.

Dogged determination.

(Hey--it was come up with something like that or indulge in a bit of whining. And I hate whining. So I'm going with determination.)

No matter how badly things are falling apart around me I am determined to hold myself together and at least attempt to hold everything else together as best I can. It's not easy. Sometimes it's both overwhelming and frustratingly lonely. And I don't think I'm really all that good at it.

But if nothing else I remain determined. (Oh, am I channeling Scarlett O'Hara? If only on a bad day I could channel this Scarlett.)

My dad always used to tell me "The sun will come up tomorrow."

On most days I can bring myself to believe that's a good thing.

Determination.

Christmas carols.

The return of the snow caps on my favorite mountains. When I saw them tonight set against the cold blue sky I thought to myself, "It doesn't get any better than this."

My new super soft black, white and olive plaid scarf. Not only was it 50% off, it's quite toasty!

The aroma of homemade turkey soup simmering on the stove (not to mention a good thyme and a generous amount of garlic).

Seeing my oldest son jump at the chance to go with the missionaries tonight to teach one of my activity day girls who might be baptized on Saturday.

Hoping the other two older kids got in to see Savior of the World tonight with the rest of the ward youth.

The new Pomegranate 7-UP. I now have a barely controllable urge to run back out to the store for a quart of vanilla ice cream. I want to try a Pomegranate 7-UP float. (But it's warm and cozy inside so I'm stayin' put.)

Quiet.

The hint of snow.
(prayforrain/snowprayforrain/snowprayforrain/snow)

My coat.

My socks.

My Birkenstocks.

My gloves.

My black and white striped scarf (which I need to find, but which I know is somewhere).

Quilts. They are in all stages of completion (ideas, fabric, pieces, blocks, tops...but tonight I'm especially thankful for the ones that are done).

Puffs plus with lotion

that today my husband subbed for me in the primary class I've been subbing all month

my best batch of gravy ever

the post-dishes aftermath of a turkey dinner: slippers, the sofa and the Sunday paper

being appreciated by my dear sweet grandmother

the aroma of turkey stock simmering on the stove

slippers

central heat

discretionary time

having little son keep me company whilst I bake a half dozen pies this morning

being able to wear sweats and jammies days on end because I have some time off (my paid work)

paid holidays

having at least two clean rooms in the house

four tickets to the BYU U of U game (I let my kids go with their dad)

did I mention time off work?

This just in: BYU 17 - UTAH 10 WAHOO--what a game!!!

optimism

Just now I was packing my kids' things as we are returning home today. I noticed snowpants in my eight-year-old's backpack. He has had his snowpants out for weeks now. He wore them most of Tuesday--just sure the weatherman would finally deliver.

He didn't.

But Little Son remains determined and prepared for when the weather starts acting its age and brings us a good November storm.

optimism

(This will have to count for both Wednesday and Thursday.)

Today we are at my in-laws house where I am particularly thankful for the following:

a fiery furnace (no not that one. my FIL likes to keep it stoked up to about 80 degrees in the hogan--yes, my in-laws' family room is a real hogan). it can be a little too much with a crowd, but when it's below freezing outside the fire is sooooo very warm and cozy

aside from some meal preparation and dishes, having absolutely nothing to do. I cannot tell you the last time I enjoyed a few moments of doing nothing

lots of cousins the same ages as my kids, which are not so abundant on my side of the family

a moon dog (if you'll excuse me, I must go look at it right this very minute) wow! it's the biggest one I've ever seen!

the new bed and new blinds on the window in the room I have slept in ever since I started coming to visit this house--clear back in '83 (if you knew how mushy and broken the old bed was you would appreciate this luxury right along with me, I know you would)

the loaves and the fishes phenomenon. this probably deserves its very own post, but you just have to understand that my family and my husband's family are almost polar opposite in many ways. I can't describe either without appearing critical of both and that is not my intention here, but let's just say I will not cease to be amazed at how at any given meal one dish with a serving size of 8-10 people will miraculously feed 25-30 or more. it happens every time. I think it must have something to do with the praying, and all I can say is I hope these same people are praying over me and mine very single day

that no one shot out their eyes or anyone else's--or any other body parts today--when they went out shooting (see, they must be praying over us already)

that even when my kids get seemingly mixed messages from either family or from their mother and their father they are learning wisdom in making up their own minds (their choices may not always be what I would have them choose, but I respect them for trying to choose wisely)

the words "I'm sorry." I have worked hard to tell my kids this when I am wrong or out of line and it is a blessing to hear those words sincerely said back to me (occasionally not even under duress)

that my MIL had me pass around three kernels of corn before dinner so everyone could say three things for which they are thankful. some of the responses included deodorant, gravy, vehicles and a bed. my husband did add me to his list after I reminded him to and my three were faith family and laughter

faith

family

laughter

(and now I would add friends)

Amen.

I love to see hard work being rewarded--especially when the hard work is on the part of one of my kids. Congratulations Luke for being named PHS's Alternate Sterling Scholar in the field of science. Way to go! I can't wait to see what great things you will do with your love of science.

A short work week.

The signs I see that my daughter is growing up and beginning to take repsonsibility for herself. She's made it a goal to be in bed on school nights before 9:00. That really is a perfect goal for a tween. On most days she's very good about it. I'll find myself in the middle of the usual crazy stuff and all of sudden wonder where she is (and why it's significantly quieter--unless, of course she's hollering at us to be more quiet). Then I'll peek in her room and find her fast asleep--usually with all the lights still on. I'm proud of her for recognizing her need for adequate sleep and her ability to make herself get what she needs. It really makes a difference.

Jane Stewart's homemade jam. It is a bad thing my family has downed an entire pint in less than 24-hours? They say man cannot live by bread alone, but if the bread is from Great Harvest Bread Co. and I had an endless supply of Jane's jam I bet I could make it.

A record warm November (pray for snow pray for snow pray for snow). I'm enjoying every glorious second of it.

Giving thanks.

That the red I chose with which to paint the inside of my front door was not a mistake. Definitely not a mistake.

Hung curtains. Even though it took forever and we completely forgot how we had them before and they're not really quite right yet at least they are hung and it looks like we actually live here.

My foot bath.

Sunday: A day of rest. (Rest? Ha!. But you know what I mean.)

Did anyone see the sunrise this morning? Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

There is something blessed about being the first one up in the morning. The world is dark, quiet and still. I love to sit on my sofa and gaze out my big picture window and watch as the silhouettes of the trees define themselves against the appearing sky. There are rarely any other lights on on my street and only seldom does an occasional car disturb my reverie.

As an almost religious observance I cannot bring myself to do anything really productive. I feel an obligation to protect and appreciate the calm absence of activity. The hustle and bustle and rush that has become our day-to-day existence will beset me all too soon.

It is the time I am most likely to follow the admonition found in Psalms 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God.

Earlier: Raking leaves in the warm November sun with the Activity Day girls. It really is the best calling! (Of course I make up for the way it sort of lacks any challenge by subbing in Primary practically every week.)

Later: Quiet.

Now: New light fixtures on (some of) our newly repaired, textured and painted ceilings.

Lazy afternoons.

Sure there is plenty to do. But I'm taking a break and this afternoon just feels lazy.

p.s. That my son and his buddies returned from their latest adventure practicing their favorite new sport (I see it kind of like skateboarding only without the skateboard or the ground) with only minor injuries.

a quiet pre-dawn morning

comraderie

lunch at El Azteca with a friend

blue sky

an afternoon nap (OK so that part never really happened, but I would love it if it would)

Seeing my husband in the Magleby's apron trying out new ingredients in the latest batch of deer jerky marinade and noticing that someone has been using my iron to iron their own clothes for a change. (As opposed to years past when my iron was used by hands other than mine only to wax the occasional snowboard.)

The crunch of fall-dried leaves under my feet and the rustle of golden yellow aspen leaves shimmering in the breeze.

The song of the heart is a prayer unto God.

Prayer is not something I at which I excel. But I am thankful to be able to raise my voice and sing a prayer unto God through someone else's well-turned lyrics and carefully created melody and harmony.

Today I am thankful for my good friend b., who took me to lunch even though it was supposed to be my treat and who didn't judge me when I went back for the second sample of the completely delicious Almond Roca Butter Crunch Cookie Bars at Costco. (Oh my heavenly goodness were they that divine!) And who then let me beat her on a few rounds of NERTZ before she cleaned my clock. She's a good friend and I am blessed to know her.

I'm taking the lead from Cari who has decided to make November a month of Thanksgiving. Today I will list nine to catch up, then try to list one a day for the rest of the month. Maybe even the rest of the year.

Despite a rocky start, it has been a beyond-beautiful fall. The word beautiful doesn't do it justice. I have seen skyscapes that are so perfect they seem to pierce my soul with a longing for an eternal kind of beauty that my mind must not remember but my heart does.

The other day my lovely L~ was playing with my cell phone. She changed the name of my setting for when I'm not at work to this: the best mom. Given our relationship can be a bit rocky, something little like that goes a long way with me.

One of the things I love about my husband is the sneaky way he surprises me. Often it's just little things, but those are the things that keep me going. I had loaned out an important kitchen tool to a friend clear last spring. Then I forgot who had it. I tried desperately to get it back to no avail. The other night I'd worked hard all day putting the house back together. When I finally went to bed--well after midnight--there was the lost item, sitting in the middle of my pillow. He still won't tell me where he got it--and he knows it's driving me crazy--but that's part of the fun of it.

Z~ had an assignment to write a poem for his honors English class. He wanted me to read it. The subject was what he has learned from nature. It was a great poem, but the best part was the line comparing mother nature to one's own mother who loves her child even before birth. (I didn't do it justice, but it was beautiful).

I've been concerned about the youngest two kids, who seem to not be as invested in their own educations as I know is necessary. I was relieved to see L~ get all As and Bs except for the C+ in math and to hear her admit out loud that doing well in math will help her get into a good college and get a better-paying job someday. And today we learned that the youngest is smarter than he thinks he is and is doing great in school. Even better is the high marks he gets for citizenship. The way I see it that is one of the most important parts of his education. I'm also grateful that two years of having a challenging and positive experience at school is starting to make up for the year he did not.

Lately I've notice I am finally feeling better. In spite of the stress and disappointments of my job I feel better than I have in a very long time. Well, I still hurt from arthritis and carpal tunnel, but my knees are stronger and I think the treatment for sleep apnea is making a difference. When I get up in the morning I have energy I haven't known for some time and I am better able to keep on top of things at home. It's not perfect, but the improvement is significant and it impacts my life for the better.

Good friends are another bounteous blessing. Today at work one of my favorite co-workers told me I have "executive charisma." Wish I had a paycheck to go along with that, but it made me feel good nonetheless. Several times in the past months friends have shown up at my house with paint brushes in hand to help, taken in my neglected youngest children while we were occupied with the remodel and lifted my spirits when I was down. And those willing to hear me out about my struggles and feel my pain help make my road a little easier. I know I'm not alone and it means the world to me.

I have loved watching my oldest son get so much out of music--both choir and piano. I remember sitting at the piano at his age and pounding out my feelings to the soundtrack from Jonathon Livingston Seagull. His favorite is Aaron Waite's arrangement of "If You Could Hie to Kolob." It's beautiful and although I haven't played for years it makes me want to sit down at the piano again.

I am also thankful for the impact that my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ has on my life. I do know I need to kick it up a notch, but the recent experience of helping a friend through some rough spots gave me some time to reflect on how deeply I know what I know. I am grateful for the truth and for having had an opportunity to share it with someone who needed to hear it from me. I need to do that more often I guess.

After a few too many times in recent days being called a "horrible mother," these other two conversations made me smile:

Me: "You owe me an apology.

Darling Daughter: "I know. I'm just not ready yet."

(note: the apology did eventually come)






The next day the phone rings at about 4:30 p.m. I pick up.

Me: "Hello?"

DD: "What's for dinner?"

Me: "I don't know. Why?"

DD: "I'm hungry. I'm sick of candy."

Me:: "I know. Me too."

DD: "But I still want more candy, too."

Me:: "I know. Me too."

Oldest son being able to consistently get up early in the morning without my-um-annoying reminders. Watching him grow into a man. A good one at that.

How great second son looks in oldest son's tux. (Even with his uber long and uber surfer-boy hair.) Also how great it is I didn't have to buy two tuxes.

The way my daughter calls me "Mommy" when she needs something. Or when she wakes up scared in the middle of the night. There is still just a titch of the little girl who used to climb up on my lap and cuddle me left in the way she says it.

How my youngest, who needed a ride home after school to help him haul his big boxes of fundraiser wrapping paper, let it roll off his back when his lame mom stayed too long at the office today. It melted my heart when I drove up only to see him half-way down the street, pushing our beat-up red dolly piled high with boxes. I was greeted with a big smile and not a trace of disappointment. Thank heavens for mercy and for the resilience of a youngest child.

Having the very best friends part deux:

Other people who've recently made my days a little brigher:

My sister Melody who loves me the way I am, isn't afraid of hearing my pain on those days when I need to let a little out and who willingly came over to paint one night even though as a former apartment manager she's painted enough for one lifetime.

Dear Regan D. with whom I have this wonderful understanding so our two sets of kids who like to hang out together are equally welcome at one another's home at the drop of the hat. She spontaneously took Z~ across state lines and to Disneyland last year while we were in Finland last fall. A while ago we were a safe place to land when her son got his heart broken by a stupid girl. The last couple of weeks her house has been a less-crazy place for my youngest son to land while we're all torn up around here.

Sweet Sue-donym who brought over a loaf of pumpking-chocolate chip bread when the rabbit died. (I'm sorry, I know it's not funny; it's really sad, but I still like saying that.) She got excited about our remodel just when I was deciding it was a bad idea and thinking about quitting.

Good friend Julie who was all cleaned up and sooooo excited to go to her first book group discussion for a book she actually read and reread and then it came into her head, "You've forgot Dalene." So she donned her work clothes and came over for the very unglamourous job of sanding baseboards. Over tack strips no less. This is a woman, among many other of my single-mom friends for whom I have immeasurable admiration. The DIY every day, for every thing and in every way.

Also-like-family Mel and Lynda who show up with a box full of supplies Thursday night and also get down on their hands and knees amidst the dust to tackle the knuckle-tearing job of baseboards. With a little trim on the side. Lynda is a perfectionist with a great eye for excellence and I was worried the thought of my carpet-crusted baseboards might be a little too much. But the entire crew that night was amazing and I should be done with most of that kind of grunt work today.

Wahoo!

I have some of the best friends ever. My kitchen is wrapped in plastic because the sky (ceiling) is falling and my kids have been living off of cold cereal, Nutella and an occasional bowl of dusty pasta.

Which is why I especially appreciated it when my dear friend Jane called just now, "I'm a Costco and I'm going to bring you a couple of their chickens for dinner tonight for your family."

Bless you friend Jane!

I'm a lucky girl.

Oh and talk about Cheers! It's been a long and hard week and I was having a particularly long and bad day at work yesterday. I ran home for a minute and happened to pick up the mail. There amongst the bills and junk mail was a bright and cheery card from Queen Scarlett with a happy "Cheers!" scrawled across the back and a giftcard to Starbucks. That simple gesture undid a whole week's worth of uncheer!

Thanks for the thoughtfulness and the impeccable timing, Queen!

...a daughter who practices the piano without being asked and is s-l-o-w-l-y becoming more motivated to get her homework done at a reasonable hour and try to get good grades.

...a son who shoots straight with me even when he knows what he is telling me is not what I want to hear.

...another son whose heart is pure and innocent in spite of the fact he is awfully hard on himself.

...a big boy who is no longer a baby (but who will always be my baby) but who still likes to snuggle himself to sleep and hold me closely if he gets scared in the night. (Yeah, I know. I said as much in the last post, but when all the rest of your kids start growing taller than you and becoming too cool for you you really learn to appreciate simple things such as a good snuggle.)

...the joys of spackle, texturing mud, primer and new paint. What was old can seem new again. (And we haven't even got to the flooring yet.) If only something as simple as a new coat of paint could rejuvenate my aging mortal body as easily as does this old house!

Ask me how much I love...

...that it wasn't until day four of middle school and a substantial amount of time spent together at the mall that I finally learned how L~ was doing in her new school. And then only because the lovely phread asked her. Then and only then I learned she had been a little nervous about it all but that fortunately it was turning out better than she expected.

Maybe it is about time.

...that my tall lanky 16-year-old still needs me. To kill big spiders for him.

...that all on his own my oldest registered himself and spent every evening during the entire week of his senior year of high school over at Education Week..

...that even as my older kids are (mostly) growing up, my "baby" still loves to cuddle.

...that big brother took little sister with him on his date. His date has a little sister too. So all four of them have been gone all afternoon and evening seeing movies (and I do hope eating some dinner somewhere). Isn't that sweet?

After a week of having all my little birdies scattered across the state, it was quite the pleasure to see them all find their ways home yesterday.

I'm savoring it even more because I know within the year one of my birdies will fly. After that the time will not be so soon nor the effort so easy to gather them back.

Sigh.

big smattering of raindrops on the pavement and on my face.


the teeniest baby quailbirds ever waddling after their mother.


i don't even need three things today. just those two are enough.

It's almost August and it occurs to me that with a couple of exceptions I've neglected to have a summer. Again.

Here are the exceptions:

I sat at the top of the green at the Golf Course in Midway and ate breakfast next to a Koi pond while watching ducks splash in the water and breathing in rain scent.

I've indulged in at least a couple of batches of berry good homemade ice cream. OK, so I didn't eat the entire batch, but at least I've made a few to share with family and friends.

I've picked more than a few juicy apricots (it was a good year for apricots) fresh off the tree. Only some of them made them all the way home.


Here's what I've missed.

Not a single BLT made with fresh-off-the vine tomatoes.

No local cherries fresh off the tree.

Not nearly enough (only one) times eating hot buttered and generously salted corn-on-the-cob. (You know, the kind in which the butter drips off your chin.)

Not a single breakfast, lunch or supper from out on my deck.

No South Fork Park.


I've got about three weeks. I'll have to see what I can do about that.

And stay tuned. I think it's time I took up canning again.

I'm running just a bit late, but as I enter the second-floor Wymount apartment I'm struck by how tiny it is. Like a small box, really. I sit on the living room sofa and realize I can see more than half of their home and it's smaller than my bedroom. The truth is there are much closer piano teachers than this first-time instructor. More convenient piano teachers. But I look into her eager eyes, remember keenly what it's like to start out in humble circumstances, and realize that for now I need to drive my kids across town instead of let them walk across the street. I don't resent that; I just know that's what I need to do. And why.

It's 6:45 a.m. and I notice as a van pulls into the driveway at my next door neighbor's house. Is that who I think it is? Yes. You may remember her story. I notice her pained and awkward stride as she walks up to the door. I know without looking that she is carrying a package. A gift bag sith some trinket from the dollar store. Is it my neighbor's birthday, I wonder? Maybe. Maybe not. M~ will drop by her special gifts of love just about any time, in addition to remembering everyone's birthdays. Things are difficult for her right now as she, even in her impaired state, has the almost constant care of her three energetic grandchildren. Her daughter has left yet another troubled relationship and moved back in, but is busy with both school and work. Does she complain? Not so much. "I'm going to turn it over to the Lord," is her constant refrain. God bless the generous, resliient, humble, thoughtful, courageous, enduring M~.

This week I have had a little anxiety as family has started to gather for a family reunion. I don't know why I do this to myself, but I do. I'm anxious because I don't have enough time to be everything for everybody. My house isn't clean. We are a little bit dysfunctional and I never know who's going to go off or be offended over something completely silly. And it was my family's turn to plan the extended family reunion of some 200 people, all with strong personalities as well as strong opinions as to how things should be done.

Yeah, you're right. Reading this I'm starting to understand why there was a little anxiety.

So the immediate family thing went OK. There were a few little digs of the not-so-subtle why aren't you spending more time with me? kind from the very people with whom it is hardest to spend a lot of time. And there were just good laid back moments with the ones who take you as you are and with whom you do the same.

And the extended family thing was OK, too. There were disappointments. The campsite wasn't all it was cracked up to be (no water, no plumbing, and the grass I'm sure everyone assumed when they looked at it last winter would be actual grass, instead of yellow dried up neglected pokey nothingness). And it was hot. And people didn't bring what they said they were going to bring so cooking dinner for 150 people was a bit of a trick. But no one starved. No one had heatstroke. There were only a few thinly veiled complaints. And we all got along.

Which is saying something.

But here's the cool thing. My immediate family kicked out for much of early Saturday for a family baptism--my youngest son's baptism. We tried to keep it low-key and didn't expect anyone else to show. We were all seated and it had started when my dad's brother and his wife walked in. And I completely lost it. Usually I try to be happy with what's right there in front of me. Grateful for who and what I have. Instead of missing those who've moved on and left us behind. But all of a sudden I was overcome with the realization that my Dad was missing. And that he's always missing from these signficant events. And that I have missed knowing him and watching him know my kids. Teasing them, tickling them, holding them up on his knee. And being really proud of them.

I later told my aunt and uncle both how much it meant to me that they would come. That they are always there for me. My aunt replied, "Well, you are our kids." And I realized that without my knowing it they had taken us into their family and loved us even more deeply than I had understood. Partly because they loved my Dad and staying close to us was a way to not lose him so completely. But mostly because they didn't want us to lose him so completely.

I'm still humbled and touched by their love for us. I want to be like that when I grow up.

Just when I was starting to feel just the teensiest bit sad that not one of my close friends had come over to support the fundraiser car wash my son was doingthis morning for his eagle project I saw it. The flash of red as my dear friend Lynda drove up in her brand spankin' new red Toyota Prius. Not only did she let a bunch a kids wash the already spotless car, she let my newly licensed son get in it, press the "Start" button (it's keyless) and drive it back to her house to pick up her husband's Bronco. And then drive that back in order to pick up their Toyota MR2. She paid double the suggested donation for the first two cars and then threw in another fiver for the third.

Because that's what friends do...


I just happen to be browsing through the Semi-Annual Sale products on the Bath & Body Works website when I see something I just have to have. I start to load my cart, but have second thoughts about the shipping. Then I remember Melody told me she was headed to the mall to take her daughter some lunch. On a hunch I dial her cell. "Are you anywhere near Bath & Body Works by chance? "I'm in Bath & Body Works right now." (Of course she is.) "Will you see if they have any..."

Because that's what friends do...


After a long and hot morning and a tiresome and hot day I was starting think about what I could throw together for dinner tonight. Something easy, I thought. I've already got two load of dishes to do today and I don't want to make more of a mess.

Knock Knock! One of my husband's former students (6th grade class in `91) is at the door. "We're having a Luau tonight for my brother's family that just got sealed and we'd like you to come and bring your whole family."

Because that's what friends do...

Storm

Grey skies

Wind

Cool breeze

Rain

Fresh scent of precipitation falling on hot dry pavement.


Rain, rain come and stay. Come and wash my cares away.

First cricket.
Singing solo.
Bids me goodnight.

Five a.m. euphony of crickets and birds.
One winding down, at the end of its nightsong.
The other awakening, to greet the new day.

That time in the morning when life is abundant
but man woman and child still slumber silently.
Not stillness, but peace in nature's sweet symphony.

The other day I was trying to express words of comfort to a friend whose friend had lost two children in a tragic accident. Usually words fail at a time like that. But for some reason my pen flowed freely and I wanted to remember what came out, because even as the ink was drying I knew the words were true.

What I wanted to express was that the simple but seemingly menial things one can do for a friend during any time of great loss--a warm meal, caring for other children, giving a ride here or there, making a few phone calls, running errands, whatever--do make a difference. They might not all be known or remembered. But they are the essential elements that encircle the heartbroken friend in love and carry him or her through such an impossible trial. I know this because I have have been that friend. I witnessed an entire neighborhood be those friends. And I witnessed the difference those friends made in one family's life. And I will never forget it.

"The little things you do are the tiniest rays of hope on a mother's darkest days."

Sleep. (After a week of insomnia, most especially sleep.)

That life is green again.

Spring.

Warm sun on my back as I sit on the green grass and watch fields full of boys and girls run and kick and laugh and, sometimes, cry.

Family.

Lovely lilacs. Lilac blooms are heaven-scent.

Friends.

Watching my kids grow into who they are supposed to be.

Being a witness to acts of generosity and kindness.


Another day.

Watching my daughter devour a novel just like I did as a kid. And still do. Seeing her face light up with animation and excitement as she tells me about what is happening to the characters as if they are her friends. Which they are. The protagonists of a well-written book are always your friends.

Being able to take time out of a busy day to render some small service to a friend. It helps ground me and reminds me of what is really relevant and important.

Sitting in the Provo Tabernacle a couple of nights ago (the acoustics in that building are marvelous!) and listening to my son play with the Utah Youth Symphony. A couple of months ago I sat in the same place and listened to my other son sing with the PHS Chamber Choir and Concert Choir. I feel blessed my kids have opportunities I never had. Even more so that they are wise enough to avail themselves of such opportunities. I am especially thankful that my boys have discovered a love of good music and are developing their talents. They are setting a good precedent for my younger kids whom I hope will follow in their footsteps. I was amused to watch my seven-year-old--who didn't want to come--perk up his head now and then and listen with interest. Seeds are being planted. The harvest will enrich his life.

Dear Elder Holland,

Thank you and Amen!

Prelude to a Sabbath.

I spent three months AWOL from ward choir. Because going to practice at 9:00am is just as stressful for my family as starting church at 9:00am.

But something was missing so I went back.


And now here is how it plays out for me:

A verse, a line, a turn of phrase. A message meant just for me. Last week it was "I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead Thou me on!...Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!" The words find a home in my heart and I know without a doubt it is just what I need.

But it never ends there. If I am still. If I listen just right, the message will be repeated. In a talk. A prayer. A lesson. Sacrament Meeting. Sunday School or Relief Society. Sometimes in all three. Constant reminders of what will soon fade as I slip past the church-house doors and return to the mad, mad world.

Just enough to get me through another day. Another week. Bearing me up. Buoying me. Carrying me through till the next Sabbath morning.

This week it is "For I am called by Thy name." Over and over and over I need to hear the words. I need to feel the words. To want on the very deepest level to be called by His name.


I know how to look now. To listen for its repeated refrain.

Let me just say that I wasn't kidding about having a midlife crisis.

This week has been particularly difficult for me. I have found myself distracted by a part of me who is not who I want to be. I have doubted myself like never before. And I have dwelt on a deep ache inside that I generally try to ignore. Which more or less means I've been miserable.

But even so it's amazing how God sends you vital little messages just when you need them the most. They may at first appear to be coincidental. But I know most certainly they are not accidental.

Wednesday I was particularly sad. But I managed to keep that hidden as I went about my daily routine. So it was quite a suprise when just before he left for school my 17 1/2 year old son uncharacteristically came over to give me a big hug. As he left, I knew who had sent him over to hug me. And it was just what I needed to get through that day.


Tonight I've been in search of something my son requested of me. I failed to find it and thus failed him. But in the search I came across a bunch of memorabilia from my childhood. And a special folder I keep regarding my father's death. Somehow in the midst of a big pile of papers a certain letter tumbled out. I knew the handwriting immediately, although I hadn't seen it for over 25 years. It was a letter from my father, written to me during my Freshman year at BYU. In it he listed several traits he admired about me and told me how proud he was of me. And what a good person I was. He ended with his standard sign-off: "Remember who you are."

Thanks, Dad. I needed that.


My struggles are not over. But at least I know I won't endure them alone.


God does know your name.

Courtney's kind words to me today. Georgia's constant friendship and sincere concern. Good food and great friends.

That my 15-year-old son wanted to take a picture of a rogue crocus growing up through the lawn so I could put it on my blog.

When my workaholic co-supervisor responded to my self-deprecating comment about my aspiring to be an underachiever and keep under the radar with this, "There's nothing about you that is underachieving."

Spring! The sound of the birds singing every morning makes my heart sing. I have never before needed so badly for Spring to arrive. It's in the air. It's coming!

Watching my daughter carry one of her best friends through the frozen and ice-topped waters of Utah Lake today. Photos to come soon, I hope!

The other day I let my daughter out the door knowing full well she was dressed inappropriately.

Not immodestly but definitely inappropriately.

It was the day of the school music fest and she should've worn something other than her usual attire--boys' gym shorts and a printed tee. It wasn't even one of her nicer printed tees. I quickly realized my reasoning with her was in vain and in my "choose-your-battle" kind of way sent her out the door with my usual, "Bye. Love you. Have a great day!"



Later that morning, as I made my way into the crowded auditorium I spotted her on the front row. She sings in the school choir. She stood there, quite tall for her age, among the tiny princesses in their ball gowns and their updos and even in make-up (we're talking K-6 here, people).

My initial thought was, "There! That will teach her a lesson!" A lesson that had gone unheeded when I tried to teach it to her this morning before she left for school.

But then reason worked it's way through my clouded head and I had second thoughts. Maybe this is the lesson I'd prefer her to learn. That it doesn't matter what is going on around her. How the world or the school or the other princesses tell her she should look.

She stood there boldly. Sending out the message, "This is me. This is who I am. And I'm OK with that."


Later that night she dressed herself for the evening performance she appropriately donned a skirt. A nicer tee. And she curled her hair. The next night she left for the performance in distress because she ran out of time and couldn't get her hair just quite right.


I believe the second lesson may be the greater lesson of the two. It's the lesson with which I continue to struggle. Evidently as does she. But I will always remember watching her stand there a sum greater than that of her parts or her wardrobe choices or her hairstyle. Unphased and unfettered. Free to be.

These make me feel so happy inside!" Aren't they the best peeps ever?!

Well, besides my real peeps, that is. Friends new and old who choose to find me and leave a comment or two on this my blog less traveled by. Geo, who takes the time to not only read, but also to comment on my archived posts.


Other thoughts: Here is something I love about my difficult but darling daughter. Babies and puppies LOVE her! Both will squeal with delight, run into her arms and love her, as well as receive her love, without inhibition. And sometimes follow her home.

The black lab hung around for three days. I can only hope she has returned home and not been sent to the pound by a neighbor. (Note to self: remember to check in with the pound before too long, because the thought of something that has loved my daughter so freely and brought her so much joy being euthanized breaks my heart.)


After an FHA (Family Home Argument) that started out very much like an argument, mingled with scripture, feeling the love and harmony--however fleeting--return. Hearing the three oldest join in song, even if it was "Electric Avenue." And sharing peeps--two each of green chicks and yellow bunnies--my 15-year-old son (who also gave the monotone lesson) picked out for treats.

Returning from my trip with a few realizations about myself:

The good news is that I am out of my winter funk. I was on the edge of that place where you either know you can pull yourself out with some focused effort or you know you're going to go under and lose control. But the combination of sunshine and warmth and stimulating conversation and just having some fun seems to be just what I needed.

I have hope for spring and for a new day. I feel like me again. I can do this!


The other news, and I don't know if it's good or if it's bad, is that I realize now how much I need that kind of stimulation in my life. And how much I'm not getting it my current state of affairs. I need to talk to people. I need to listen to new ideas. I need to have some fun. I need to people to laugh at my jokes. Not all the time, but sometimes. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with that revelation. But I guess becoming more self-aware is still a good thing.


Amazing moment of the week: Returning home and going to visit a favorite aunt. Who is dying. She held me tight and hugged and kissed me. And I her. She said, "I was waiting for you to come." I had a time trying to hold back the tears--and I still am. The power of pure and unfettered love undoes me every time.


Why do most of us have to wait for the proximity of death to let ourselves feel and express such love?

Reading the comics section at bedtime every night with my youngest son.

Receiving roses from my husband and my two sons even on the day when gifts of flowers are the most expensive to buy. Appreciating even more the implied thought that I am worth the cost and the effort even though I only have one day to enjoy them (I am going out of town early Friday morning).

When one of the recipients of the homemade heart-shaped sugar cookies I made and delivered today told me how she had just been thinking that all she wanted right then was a sugar cookie and a glass of milk.

An elderly couple standing in a long line of teenagers, in the pouring rain, just to go on a date at the dollar theater.

A family room full of teenagers laughing out loud at an old Tim Conway and Don Knotts comedy that is not crude or vile, but simply hysterical.

Somehow mustering just barely enough composure to withstand the cruel and angry outburts of a hormonal pre-teen who loathes me and truly believes I am the worst mother in the world. Please, God. Help me endure the next five years without saying something I will regret forever and without turning my back and running out the door. I don't know if I can do this.

This week I am thankful for PUFFS!


Guess which kind.

A.
B.
C.
D.

Two family size boxes and counting. Is there no end?

Spending the evening playing Club Penguin with littlest son.

Second son cooking soup and baking cornbread muffins for dinner last night.

Daughter calling me back on my cell phone to tell me she was sorry.

Husband, son and daughter taking turns with the dishes while I am sick.

Kids who can't wait to tell me what I missed at church on Sunday.

I:

Saturday I went to the temple and I found myself sitting behind a beautiful African American woman. To my surprise, my eyes started brimming with tears. I suddenly recalled a local historian telling me that my great great grandmother, in her day, had written a number of letters to the first presidency pleading with them to allow her friend, one of the first African Americans to be baptised, to take out her endowments. Her pleas were unsuccessful, but I admired my grandmother's wisdom and courage to recognize and fight for equality for all.

It struck me how blessed I felt, just four generations later, to sit and worship in the temple where all worthy members are welcome, without any regard for race or gender.


II:

I'd been thinking.

Recently a friend made a comment about how she had never been able to understand racisim. As I contemplated her statement, I came to the conclusion that racism occurs when children fail to question the ignorance of their parents, leaders, teachers and peers. The state of the society in which they are raised.

Racisim stems from ignorance. Ignorance about one's own identity and worth and about that of others. If the nonenlightened messages of intolerance or even hate from one generation go unquestioned by the next generation, ignorance will continue to breed ignorance.

The cycle is only broken when someone has the courage to question the status quo. Someone starts to believe that things are different and that the status should be, can be and will be better.


I recall a couple of instances in recent years when certain family members of previous generations made ignorant comments that completely shocked me. I was horrified. (I still am.) Eventually I realized they were merely repeating the teachings of their parents and that their ideas, while completely unacceptable to me and totally inexcuseable, were nonetheless quite consistent with the social construct of the times in which they had lived. It was like they didn't know any better.

Still, I found myself disillusioned by the realization of their bigotry.

Yet just as I look forward to a better future, trying earnestly to bring up my children to be more enlightened and tolerant environment than the one in which I was raised, I also look back now to see evidence of baby steps of progress in the past generations. When I consider where things began, those baby steps seem like giant leaps. It came about like this:

My brother and his wife were blessed to adopt a beautiful African American baby a couple of years ago. I still remember the day when I opened the door and saw them all standing there--new baby in hand. It was such a wonderful surprise! I fell in love with Sadie immediately, but to be honest I also found myself gearing up and preparing myself to be on the defensive if necessary should intolerance raise its ugly head via any of our extended family.

Yet I ended up being most encouraged by the acceptance and love universally bestowed. What touched me most was to see one of those whose comments had so shocked me attend the temple sealing and embrace her new great granddaughter with open arms. Behind those open arms were a newly opened heart and mind.


There is hope for progress--for a better future--not just at the hands of our children, but also from the hearts of our predecessors.


III:

I guessed she must have been about 60. Which would've made her about eight years old or so when Rosa Parks courageously stood up and said, "We're not going to take this anymore." Even so young, she must have felt the sting of the injustices of her time on some level. I'm sure as she got older the hurt must have wounded more deeply. It's even possible she still suffers ignorance and intolerance.

I found myself wanting to go to her and embrace her. To thank her for being there. And to somehow apologize for any pain she has suffered for the ignorance of man. It would've been inappropriate and not at all understood. It would also have been completely inadequate. But those were the desires in my heart.



I still remember the beautiful experience of witnessing the sealing of Sadie to my brother and his family. To us.

Looking back, I see how far we have come.

Looking forward, I know we have not yet arrived.

Being able to drive five miles from my home and see world class art. From the masters. Of the Savior.

Watching a bunch of 10 and 11-year-old girls discuss symbols they noticed in the paintings and sculptures and talk about what they represent and how the art makes them feel.

Vibrant red and piercing blue on Mary's robes.

A beautiful and powerful piece depicting women attending Mary at Jesus' birth.

The face of Rembrant's Jesus.

The huge ball of fire that was the sun as it set in the haze tonight.

My 15-year-old son, who went to see the same exhibit a couple of hours later, saying, "I never realized how much I love art."


In unrelated news--that somehow now seems shallow juxtaposed with the significance of the exhibit I have just witnessed:

Having a senior account manager from New York ask me how long I've been with my company and tell me how impressed she is with my ability to capture what our clients want. (When I come home each day and have to face all the ways in which I am inadequate, something like that feels HUGELY satisfying.)

Sunday, January 14--I was not in the best of spirits as I arrived at church this morning. I had a headache from staying up too late the night before. The morning had been stressfull and we still had managed to be late for church even with the long-awaited 11:00 a.m. schedule that was somehow supposed to miraculously make everything better. Then someone had had the nerve to sit in our bench, the same back bench my family has sat in nearly every Sunday for the past 15 years.

The speaker announced her topic and the first thing I thought was, we have heard this conference talk three times in Sacrament Meeting and at least once in Relief Society already. I looked at the young beautiful, perfectly dressed and coifed--and very pregnant--mother beginning a talk about being heavy laden and prepared myself to have another "Groundhog Day" moment for the next 20 minutes or so. (I really must have been in a mood, because normally hearing one so pregnant mention the words "heavy laden" would've sent me giggling.)

She was new to the area, preparing to move in what will probably be one of the most beautiful and perfect homes in our neighborhood. I'd met her a few times and liked her. She was very sweet, and I had been hoping to get to know her better. (Not to mention, I really wanted to not be jealous of her.) But I looked at what I assumed to be her perfect life and wondered what she could possibly add to the repetitive messages about being heavy laden.

I couldn't have been more wrong. At one point in her talk she apologized for all the stories and I just wanted to say aloud, "No. Please. Keep them coming." Her stories were hard. Her experiences were real. Her talk was moving. She spoke with a depth, wisdom and maturity that belied her years.

She has substance, I thought, because she has suffered.

She told of the difficulties in forgiving oneself of an errant past. She recounted vividly the pain of an intense cancer treatment that nearly killed her but finally saved her. She was only in her mid-twenties. Her mere presence reminded us of the miracle that one who was told she may never have children now stood before us with her second child on the way. She reminded us that we can choose for the devil to have no power over us and also for the Savior to lighten the most heavy of burdens. (And yet in the same breath she admitted that she loved to watch "Labyrinth" because she liked to watch David Bowie.)

I like this girl! Her husband spoke of patience and his stories were good enough to keep my 15-year-old awake and attentive, so you know that was amazing, too. It was the best meeting!

Capped with a Relief Society lesson in which we talked of death, gave one another hand massages and bawled our eyes out over this amazing story, and I thought, going to church doesn't get any better than this!

Thought for the day: "No pang that is suffered by man or woman upon the earth will be without its compensating effect...if it be met with patience."~James E. Talmage

Geo telling me I look liked a writer today and that I didn't have to be morose to be a writer. Now if I could only write like a writer!

Lucky picking up the tab for lunch.

B. for having a birthday so we could have an excuse for lunch.

Carina for dropping by to visit even though she's allergic to CPK.

My son for starting a blog.

My friends for commenting on my son's blog.

Holding my husband's hand.

Introducing myself everywhere I went tonight as "Mr. Rowley's wife."

Clear skies.

The shade of blue in yesterday's sky.

Tonight's sunset.

The opportunity to do a good deed this morning on my way to work while I was in the process of beating myself up for being a bad person.

Hugs.