finding the joy in motherhood

NO TIME FOR POETRY

2011-11-21T09:46:00.000-08:00

In college I was an English major. It took me eight years to graduate from BYU with my BA (and a music minor) as we moved 6 times and had three children during that same time period. I did Independent Study, night school and online courses to be able to finish up while trying to be a mom too. I got quite efficient at writing entire essays during two-hour nap times.

My favorite online class was a 400 level Christian Science Fiction/Fantasy course focusing on the works of Tolkein and CS Lewis where I first read The Lord of the Rings. I never could have pulled it off without the support of my sweet mother who babysat for a couple of on-campus classes my last semester. After a long time and lots of struggle, graduation day was truly one of the most meaningful and happiest days of my life.

As you can imagine, I have quite a few poetry books laying around the house. These vestiges linger on dusty bookshelves and haunt me. I NEVER read them. I merely move them several times a year (see earlier post about my chronic furniture moving habits). But that is not to say that I don't love poetry. I do! It's just low on my priority list these days. Which is sad, because I used to really love poetry. But that was back when I had the luxury of being forlorn and winsome (I'm fairly certain Emily Dickinson never stayed up all night nursing twins followed by a full day of laundry and dishes).

Back then I preferred epic poetry. But these days, I think I'd be into Cowboy Poetry, "Everyman" Poetry, Poetry for the Masses. Think Anne of Green Gables turns Unsinkable Molly Brown (it's purely coincidental that they're both redheads).

Recently, my 17-year-old daughter needed a poem to memorize for her AP Literature class. I began fumbling through random books to help her. Clearly we were not on the same "page." She was going for deep meaning, hidden agendas, or at the very least, humor. I, on the other hand, kept stopping for simple, short, unpretentious.

She finally chose a great one that was just right for her. I wan't much help as I sat in the corner, devouring poetry for the first time in epochs.

One little gem unexpectedly stirred my heart. You know that feeling you feel when you can't describe in words how you feel? I felt that.

Here is the back story: We have nine children and we have no spare money. Ever. The End. However, sadly, I really love beautiful things. I'm not that crafty and I'm NOT a good shopper so I can't find things at DI and turn them into shabby chic perfection like my sisters. I hate savvy shopping and give up early if I'm ever forced to go.

However, for the last several years we have lived very frugally. We bought an older, smaller home and have adhered to a strict budget. This has been tough for me. Although we've been amazingly blessed in any time of need, it has felt sparse and uncomfortable. Life has been a little dismal, a little gray. Another reason for gloom is that my wonderful husband has been at work both night and day for the last two years trying to finish up his dissertation. We've been doing "tag team" parenting as we've run to and fro chasing everyone and every event and filling every responsibility we have. It's been exhausting, hard and lonely.

You should also know that I love music. Next to God and family, music is my life. Certainly it is my greatest passion and brings the most joy and color into my world. I especially love hearing my children or husband play piano while I work in various spots around the house. Even the bleakest day is made better when I hear that piano.

Not long ago, something in me kind of "snapped." I guess I officially got tired of all the drabness and chaos in my life. I decided to do SOMETHING about it, despite my lack of resources.

I admit that I went outside our budget and purchased some items that just make me happy. Like a trampoline and sheet music and coat hooks and storage bins and pretty baskets and matching kitchen rags and new bath towels and house paint and..... you get the picture. I suddenly feel very happy around the house! Things are brighter, cheerier, more organized, more musical! And my sweet husband hung up all the pretty coat hooks and I love him even more.

BUT, I was feeling kind of guilty about spending that money. They weren't exactly "necessary" purchases. Just little somethings to make life less miserable. Still, it wasn't as if we had suddenly come into inheritance money!

But then, that morning, I read the following poem by Robert Frost:

The Investment

Over back where they speak of life as "staying"

("You couldn't call it living, for it ain't")

There was an old, old house renewed with paint,

And in it a piano loudly playing.

Out in the ploughed ground in the cold a digger,

Among the unearthed potatoes standing still,

Was counting winter dinners, one a hill,

With half an ear to the piano's vigor.

All that piano and new paint back there,

Was it some money suddenly come into?

Or some extravagance young love had been to?

Or old love on an impulse not to care --

Not to sink under being man and wife,

But to get some color and music out of life?

Perhaps, even with my historical background, it is impossible to make you understand how I felt reading this sweet little verse. It was as if I were truly understood by the universe. And if not by the ENTIRE universe, then at least by one man (Frost). And even though he's dead, somehow I felt as if he were a kindred spirit. It seemed that everything was suddenly put into perspective for me. I knew that he knew why I bought those things. And that, when you're in your 40's, and you're the parents of nine children, it is vitally important "not to sink under being man and wife, but get some color and music out of life."

Truly the best "investment" we can make is in our relationships. All of my frivolous purchases were for the joy and betterment of my family. I am happier, the kids are happier, and my marriage is sweeter as we've enjoyed some color and music together.

Oh, while reading poetry, I burned the waffles I was making for breakfast! I added the picture so you could get the idea. :) No time for poetry? Make some time! And bring a little color and music into your life!

"Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart."

D&C 59:18

P.S. John recently mailed off his completed dissertation! Only the final revisions remain! :)

None to Spare

2011-11-15T21:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I heard the sad news that a sweet family friend had lost her unborn baby. Not long ago she had heard his heartbeat. This Friday they were going to have the special ultrasound to find out the gender. This was her second pregnancy, the first having ended in miscarriage.

Although her precious baby was deceased, she still had to endure labor and delivery. Afterwords she was allowed, with her husband, to spend some sacred, quiet moments with her little son.

I can't even imagine her pain, her anguish. I won't even try. All I can offer is the emptiness I felt after a miscarriage of my own.

In addition to whispering silent prayers for them yesterday, I couldn't help also reflecting on the miracle of conception and birth.

There is a sign I see in neighborhoods sometimes and its message often comes to my mind when in the "throes of parenthood." It's meant to remind drivers to be cautious and states: "WE HAVE MANY CHILDREN, BUT NONE TO SPARE."

Even though I have been blessed with nine healthy, beautiful children, I still have none to spare. I couldn't imagine my life without them. Each one has shaped my life. Each one brings such joy, such heartache, such love to our family. It is truly overwhelming to see them becoming people. To witness that process and to have a hand in it is sacred, divine.

I am feeling so grateful today to be a parent. I don't know why I was blessed so abundantly, but since I believe in a loving, deliberate Heavenly Father, I imagine it has something to do with what I needed to learn here on earth. Apparently I needed to learn a lot!

It seems to me, just anecdotally, that all the finest people/parents I know seem to have trouble bringing children into this world. To me they seem to already have such wisdom, such grace. They seem to be lightyears ahead of me in the general "cosmic understanding" that comes with a lifetime of parenting. Not that this softens the blow of such loss, but I do feel that they are immensely trusted and that their unspeakable suffering is understood by an all knowing Savior.

This experience has reminded me that on my tough days, when it seems too hard or too unfair to be the mother of nine independent, creative, intelligent, passionate souls, I need to remember the suffering of my friends. I will try to savor the trials of parenting. I will try to glean what I am to learn and vow to be better for it. And after the 20th load of laundry each week, I will remember that even with a cornucopia of children, I still have "none to spare."

My children know about my miscarriage, even though it happened before any of them were born. I wasn't very far into the pregnancy, but it still felt like the loss of a soul to me. We have talked about it as a family. The children consider that little lost one a part of us somehow. I don't really know how it will all work out in the eternal scheme of things, but I do believe that my friend will see her precious little boy someday in a place where physical death can never separate them again.

Are not two ^asparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.

But the very ^ahairs of your head are all numbered.

Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more ^avalue than many^bsparrows.

Matthew 10:29-31

"Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of the Lord."

D & C 18:10

Red Light, Green Light

2011-10-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

Anyone with kids and a minivan knows how torturous red lights can be. Generally speaking, if you are in your van during the hours of 8 am to 7 pm (sometimes later!) you are likely the "taxi driver" and likely late for something.

I have been known to pray for lights to change when particularly strapped for time. My children even get into to action by chanting "green, green, green, green!" as we approach each intersection.

This is not to say that I speed, exactly. Although I have "pushed the limit" in the past, I try not to do so anymore. Still, I often wish I could drive with no pesky pauses!

My tendency to despise interruption has been tested repeatedly as a parent. Any mother knows that it is nearly impossible to do anything from reading to visiting the restroom without a little friend or helper appearing. Forget trying to paint something.

Recently, however, I have begun to appreciate the "red lights" in my life. Let me explain.

I first pondered this while nursing a baby. I am ashamed to say that in the beginning, I was frustrated at having to sit down and do nothing else but feed the baby. Some women are blessed to be able to read, etc. while nursing, but I am not physically capable of doing so. Let's just say that my situation requires two hands and total attention. At first I felt annoyed. However, I gradually learned to love and then to anticipate my alone time with each child. We shared quiet moments of gazing at one another. It was if the whole world stopped spinning for just that sweet time. Of course, it never lasted long as the toddlers always found just the right contraband activity while mom was occupied. But I wouldn't trade that time. I learned the value of a "red light."

Generally speaking, moms are multi-taskers (I help with homework while cooking, I mediate fights while scrubbing toilets). However, when it comes to really meaningful stuff, I have to be focused.

So, last week my oldest daughter, a thoughtful, poetic girl, told me she needed a monologue for her advanced drama class audition. I threw out some ideas that I thought would fit her personality, she googled them. When she found one she liked, she asked me to come watch it with her. I was running around, making dinner, driving people here and there, putting out fires, as is my daily routine. I avoided watching it for a long time, but finally, with rag in hand, STOPPED and watched it (I didn't even sit down, but at least I stood still).

The one she chose was "Emily" from Our Town by Thornton Wilder. Those of you who are familiar are likely nodding just now. I had forgotten the full message, I just remembered that my daughter reminded me of Emily in some way. As I took the time to really watch it ( a great performance by Penelope Ann Miller from 1989), I felt haunted. As if Emily could see right through me. A busy fake. But even more, I felt exposed to my beautiful daughter. She knows me better than anyone I think. One of her spiritual gifts is discernment. She can read people, people like me.

There I was, standing with dripping rag in hand, my eyes unwittingly filled with tears. I felt frozen as if I couldn't go back to where I had been before the "red light." I couldn't just "get back to work" because it suddenly seemed so hypocritical or even pointless.

Still, someone had to make dinner. Eleven people ain't gonna feed themselves every day. But I learned something. I realized that sometimes, gazing into each other's eyes really is important. Sometimes those pesky red lights are very, very special. Maybe one day, we'll come to realize that the "red light" moments in our life are actually the ONLY thing that really matters. It is during those pauses in our general pursuit that we find ourselves really "living," perhaps because when we pause, we are actually "loving."

About four years ago I had just had baby number eight. I was still in the newborn stage (baby was 4 weeks old) and I had no desire to go out anywhere much. My wonderful, spontaneous husband came home from work one day and announced that we were going camping. All of us. Even me and the newborn. Hmmm. Talk about a "red light." I couldn't imagine anything more time consuming, difficult and crazy with a baby. However, he had been to southern Utah with his work and wanted to share the beauty of that place with us. I really really really didn't want to go. Camping in tents, outside with a nursing newborn did not sound appealing. In any any way. He assured me that he would take care of all the food. This was the ONLY reason I agreed.

I watched as he single-handedly bought, prepared and packed all the gear and food. We loaded everyone up and headed south.

I don't need to go into any more detail, but let me just say that that experience has proven to be the single most memorable/successful family trip we've ever had. For years afterwords it was all the little children talked about. They loved it, they adored it. They drew pictures of us in the "desert" and shared it with teachers, friends, strangers. When asked about favorite destinations, they never say "Disneyland, New York, Washington D. C., Mexico" (the other places we've been), instead they always answer, "camping in the desert!"

As I pondered this lesson this week, I was reminded that so often in the gospel there are ironies. When we "lose" ourself, we "find" ourself, the "greatest" is the "least," etc. I have realized that often what I perceive to be "red lights" are actually "green lights."

Instead of waiting impatiently for the lights in my life to turn ("We got the loan!,""I graduated!,""I've lost 20 pounds!"), I have realized that I am missing it. I am missing all the beauty and joy of life, tapping my foot, engine revving in the fast lane.

I resolve this week to do some gazing. I want to ponder. I want to appreciate. I want to enjoy. I want to savor. I want to stop, sit, listen. I am grateful once again to my priceless children who teach me everyday to be a better person.

As I have been driving this week, whenever I come to a red light, it is an opportunity. I turn, I look at them, we smile, we giggle, we sing, I tickle toes. I tell stories. I ask questions. I listen. I love. I live.

Our Town
written by Thornton Wilder

Emily: Oh, Mama, look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama! Wally's dead, too. His appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's really look at one another!...I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye , Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners....Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking....and Mama's sunflowers. And food... And new ironed dresses and hot baths....and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every, every minute?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLWewZO6z1w (part one)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnPx22NLWe4 (part two)

38 ¶ Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named ^aMartha received him into her house.

39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.

40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.

41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art ^acareful and troubled about many things:

42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath ^achosen that goodpart, which shall not be taken away from her.

ST LUKE

CHAPTER 10

"The Bottom Line on Happiness: Using Business Models to Understand and Plan for your Future Happiness

2011-08-09T16:08:00.000-07:00

I recently read a really great article about Happiness in the Reader's Digest. By the end of the article, I was convinced the author must be LDS, so I looked it up and was glad to discover that he is LDS.

I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did. Remember that being an "intentional" parent means planning ahead for stuff such as successful family dinner each night, or helping your children become musicians, or making sure your family cultivates habits of charity and compassion for others. These things don't just "happen" most of the time, but momentum counts for A LOT, so start while they're young and keep at it! It takes 20 years or more to build great kids.

"The Bottom Line on Happiness"

By Clayton M Christensen

My class at Harvard Business School helps students understand what good management theory is and how it is built. In each session, we look at one company through the lenses of different theories, using them to explain how the company got into its situation and to examine what action will yield the needed results. On the last day of class, I asked my class to turn those theoretical lenses on themselves to find answers to those three questions: First, How can I be sure I’ll be happy in my career? Second, How can I be sure my relationships with my spouse and my family will become an enduring source of happiness? Third, How can I be sure I’ll stay out of jail? Though the last question sounds lighthearted, it’s not. Two of the 32 people in my Rhodes scholar class spent time in prison. Jeff Skillin of Enron fame was my classmate at Harvard Business School.

I graduated HBS in 1979, and over the years, I’ve seen more and more of my classmates come to reunions unhappy, divorced, and alienated from their children. I can guarantee you that not a single one of them graduated with the deliberate strategy of getting divorced and raising children who would become estranged from them. And yet a shocking number unwittingly implemented that strategy. The reason? They didn’t keep the purpose of their lives front and center.

Having a clear purpose has been essential to me. But it was something I had to thing long and hard about before I understood it. When I was a Rhode Scholar, I was in a very demand academic program, trying to cram an extra year’s worth of work into my time at Oxford. I decided to spend an hour every night reading, thinking and praying about why God put me on this earth. It was a very challenging commitment because every hour I spent doing that, I wasn’t studying applied econometrics. I was conflicted about whether I could really afford to take time away from my studies, but I stuck with it and ultimately figured out the purpose of my life.

My purpose grew out of my religious faith, but faith isn’t the only thing that gives people direction. For example, one of my former students decided that his purpose was bring honestly and economic prosperity to his country and to raise children who were as capably committed to his cause, and to each other, as he was. His purpose is focused on family and others, as is mine.

Here are some management tools that can be used to help you lead a purposeful life.

1. Use Your Resources Wisely - Your decisions about allocating your personal time, energy, and talent shape your life’s strategy. I have a bunch of “businesses” that compete for these resources: I’m trying to have a rewarding relationship with my wife, raise great kids, contribute to my community, succeed in my career, and contribute to my church. And I have exactly the same problem that a corporation does. I have a limited amount of time, energy and talent. How much do I devote to each of these pursuits?

Allocation choices can make your life turn out to very different from what you intended. Sometimes that’s good: opportunities that you have never planned for emerge. But if you don’t invest your resources wisely, the outcome can be bad. As I think about my former classmates who inadvertently invested in lives of hollow unhappiness, I can’t help believing that their troubles related right back to a short-term perspective.

When people with a high need for achievement have an extra half hour of time or an extra ounce of energy, they’ll unconsciously allocate it to activities that yield the most tangible accomplishments. Our careers provide the most concrete evidence that we’re moving forward. You ship a product, finish a design, complete a presentation, close a sale teach a class, publish a paper, get paid, get promoted. In contrast, investing time and energy in your relationships with your spouse and children typically doesn’t offer the same immediate sense of achievement. Kids misbehave every day. It’s really not until 20 years down the road that you can say, “I raised a good son or a good daughter.” You can neglect your relationship with your spouse and on a daily basis it doesn’t seem as if thing are deteriorating. People who are driven to excel have this unconscious propensity to under invest in their families and overinvest in their careers, even though intimate and loving family relationships are the most powerful and enduring source of happiness.

If you study the root causes of business disasters, over and over you’ll find this predisposition toward endeavors that offer immediate gratification. If you look at personal lives through that lens, you’ll see that same stunning and sobering pattern: people allocating fewer and fewer resources to the things they would have once said mattered most.

2. Create A Family Culture - It’s one thing to see into the foggy future with a acuity and chart the course corrections a company must make. But it’s quite another to persuade employees to line up and work cooperatively to take the company in that new direction.

When there is little agreement, you have to use “power tools” – coercion, threats, punishments and so on, to secure cooperation. But if employee’s ways of working together succeed over and over, consensus begins to form. Ultimately, people don’t even think about whether their way yields success. They embrace priorities and follow procedures by instinct and assumption rather than by explicit decision, which means that they’ve created a culture. Culture, in compelling but unspoken ways, dictates the proven, acceptable methods by which member s of a group address recurrent problems. And culture defines the priority given to different types of problems. It can be a powerful management tool.

I use this model to address the question, How can I be my family becomes an enduring source of happiness? My students quickly see that the simplest way parents can elicit cooperation from children is to wield power tools. But there comes a point during the teen years when power tools no longer work. At that point, parents start wishing they had begun working with their children at a very young age to build a culture in which children instinctively behave respectfully toward one another, obey their parents, and choose the right thing to do. Families have cultures, just a companies do. Those culture can be built consciously or evolve inadvertently.

If you want your kids to have strong self-esteem and the confidence that they can solve hard problems, those qualities won’t magically materialize in high school. You have to design them into family’s culture and you have think about this very early on. Like employees, children build self-esteem by doing things that are hard and learning what works.

3. Avoid “Just this Once” - We’re taught in finance and economics that in choosing investments, we should ignore sunk and fixed cost and instead base decisions on the marginal costs – that is, the price of each individual new step or purchase. But I teach that this practice biases companies toward using what they’ve already put in place – what helped them succeed in the past – instead of guiding them to create the capabilities they’ll need in the future. If we knew the future would be exactly the same as the past, this would be fine. But if the future’s different, and it almost always is, then it’s the wrong thing to do.

The marginal cost doctrine addresses the third question I discuss with my students: how to live a life of integrity. Often when we need to choose between right and wrong, a voice in our head says, “Look, I know that as a general rule, most people shouldn’t do this. But in this particular extenuating circumstance, just this once, it’s okay.” The marginal coast of doing something wrong “just this once” always seems to alluringly low. It suckers you in, and you don’t look at where that path is ultimately headed and at the full coast that the choice entails. Justification for infidelity and dishonesty in all their manifestations lies in the marginal cost economics of “just this once.”

I’d like to share a story about how I came to understand the potential damage of “just this once” in my own life. I played on the Oxford University varsity basketball team. We worked our tails off and finished the season undefeated. The guys on the team were the best friends I’ve ever had in my life. We got to the British equivalent of the NCAA tournament and made it to the final four. It turned out that the championship game was scheduled for a Sunday. I had made a personal commitment to God at age 16 that I would never play ball on Sunday. So I went to the coach and explained my problem. He was incredulous. My teammates were, too, because I was the starting center. Every one of the guys on the team came to and said, “You’ve got to pay. Can’t you break the rule just this one time?” I’m a deeply religious man, so I went way and prayed about what I should do. I got a very clear feeling that I shouldn’t break my commitment, so I didn’t play in the championship game.

In many ways, that was a small decision, involving one of several thousand Sundays in my life. In theory, I could have crossed over the line just that one time and then never done it again. But looking back, I can see that resisting the temptation of “just this one” was one of the most important decisions I have ever made. My life has been an unending stream of extenuating circumstances. Had I crossed the line that one time, I would have done it over and over in the years that followed.

The lesson I learn is that it’s easier to hold to your principles 100 percent of the time than it is to hold to them 98 percent of the time. If you give in to “just this once.” Based on a marginal cost analysis, as some of my former classmates did, you’ll regret where you end up. You’ve got to define for yourself what you stand for and draw the line in a safe place.

4. Remember to be Humble – It’s crucial to take a sense of humility in to the world. If you attitude is that only smarter people have to teach you, your learning opportunities will be very limited. But if you have a humble eagerness to learn something from everybody, your learning opportunities will be unlimited. Generally you can be humble only if you feel really good about yourself and want to help those around you feel really good about themselves too. When we see people acting in an abusive, arrogant, or demeaning manner toward others, their behavior almost always is a symptom of their lack of self-esteem. They need to put someone else down to feel good about themselves.

5. Choose the Right Yardstick – Don’t worry about the level of individual prominence you have achieved; worry about the individuals you have helped become better people. This is my final recommendation: Think about the metric by which your life will be judged, and make a resolution to live every day so that in the end, your life will be judged a success.

"Choose you this day whom you will serve..but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD."

Joshua 24:15

On My Father's Wings

2011-07-03T10:20:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was Jacob's Eagle Court of Honor (he completed his Eagle in December 2010, but we have been so busy, we hadn't yet gotten to the ceremony).

It was such a sweet experience. His dad made a wonderful video tribute to Jacob's life growing up and his Eagle project. It was all I could do to sew on his patches and get the food prepared. (Oh, and John asked me to give a short talk which I titled, "Be Prepared"). But my favorite part of the evening was when Jacob spoke. He was truly humble. He was overwhelmed by the support (most of my family were in town for our family performance at the City Center Park the next day so there were a lot of them there. My dad and brothers sang, "Brightly Beams Our Father's Mercy" with Jacob, it was wonderful). He expressed gratitude to everyone, but he said, "Especially to my mom. She is always there. She gives 110% support."

I can't really explain how that felt. I guess it's a normal thing for a kid to say, but Jacob being the oldest, I haven't really heard too many such things yet. Maybe at some point these phrases will begin to sound trite to me, but on that day, it was the dearest, most genuine gift I can remember receiving as a mother. I guess for lack of a better phrase, I could call it a parental "pay day." But that falls short. No, I think I would say that in that moment, I felt, joy.

I remember when I graduated from high school. I thought, "No one can really prepare you for this. This is strange, unique, difficult..." But in the same way, I don't think anyone can really prepare you for your oldest child graduating either. It is bittersweet, for sure. But mostly, I think it's sweet. It is so fulfilling to see your life's work thus far progress to the next level. It is indeed a joy to observe your child emerge from your care as a confident, caring, obedient, intelligent person whom you know will make a positive difference in the world.

I know I am not adequately expressing the full depth of my feelings, but I know that parents understand. I hope you'll be able to close your eyes for a moment and sense how it felt or will feel when you too experience such a time. It is the closest thing to understanding God that I can imagine. Surely He loves us in the same way. I decided in that moment to be a more grateful child, because I know now how very much it must mean to my hard working, perfect Father in Heaven to hear "thank you."

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles..."

Isaiah 40:31

Christmas 2010: Not "Sew" Bad!

2011-05-03T20:34:00.001-07:00

I don't have anything much to say; I have just missed writing. So much has happened in the last four months, it seems like it's actually been an entire life time some how. I wish I could expound, but my brain hasn't caught up with all my feelings yet. I don't know how to articulate my experiences, so I won't try now. Sometime soon I hope to have a quiet moment when I can pull it together and make sense out of these months. I deeply hope there will be a meaningful nugget of truth to share. But if not, I still desire to share my experiences if only to be understood. That post will have to come later. For now, I'll catch up on a few things:

Last December we had a very tight budget as we are trying hard to get out of debt 100%. For a family our size and and only one income, this will likely take us about ten more years. (I'm hoping that miracles take place and shorten this time!) Anyway, we have been quite serious about stickingtoour designated budget, but realized that this would mean NO extra money for Christmas presents. So, I decided to make each child one special gift using inexpensive materials. This took a lot of work for me over the weeks leading up to Christmas, but it was actually a joy beyond my expectations. I was surprised to find snippets of time here and there where I could work uninterrupted. I was surprised also at how fast and easily I worked. Truly I was watched over and helped. My one son wanted a "Santa robe" and cap and slippers. I miraculously found some cute Santa slippers for $5 at Walmart, but had to make the robe from scratch with no pattern. I finally resorted to "copying" a robe we had at home that was several sizes too small. I laid the robe on the ground and studied every aspect. Then I carefully used my scissors to just "guesstimate" what shape and what size each piece should be. I was marveled at the result. Again, I felt heavenly help.

During one particular moment at the sewing machine, I suddenly remembered my Grandma Cora Sheffield (mom's mom). She passed away years ago. I hadn't known her very well, as we lived far apart, etc. but I remembered that one Christmas she made beautiful silk pajamas for all the granddaughters and printed flannel PJs for all the grandsons (this was no small group! More than 20 pair). Then I remembered more, like how my own mother had sewn Christmas ornaments one year with me (I still have one of those), and how mom had also spoken of making all her own clothes in college. I knew I was part of alegacy. I was creating. I was in tune with something divine, some God-given talent that had been dormant in me for many years. I have never felt a connection with this Grandmother, but suddenly, it was if we two were one; like she was guiding my efforts, my hands. I didn't waste one piece of material, no "unpicking" (a miracle for me). The whole experience was just blessed.

In the end, I made two blankets, a wall hanging, crocheted 3 scarves, embroidered a book, made the robe, made a flannel scarf with a secret pocket for an iPod, and cut out pieces for a play fort (still yet to be constructed!).

In my opinion, it was the sweetest, happiest Christmas I can recall. We spent Christmas Eve studying our different nativity sets (around 15 I think), reading "The Living Christ" (which we are currently memorizing as a family), and sharing our testimonies about the Savior. The next morning the children had literally only one homemade gift from us, and one store bought gift (we miraculously found some extra money right before Christmas!). It took very little time to open gifts, but we savored each one. The children were exquisitely grateful. It almost seemed like a scene from "Christmas Carol." I shed tears of joy all morning. Truly when we live within our means, Christmas "means" so much more. Our giving was from our hearts. It was the best of what we had to give. It represented much thought, care and sacrifice.

My daughters Hannah and Michaelah made gifts as well. Hannah created the tiniest clay nativity. It is so precious and beautiful to me. Truly she is an artist. What a wonderful day.

The Lord knew I needed that moment of peace, that snatch of heaven, before the ensuing months.

Then, after a crazy couple of months, I was able to dust off my sewing machine again. This time to create a Junior Prom dress. It was designed in my daughter's beautiful head. However, she has not sewn much and didn't know how to construct it. I begged her to choose a pattern we could simply alter. She did, and together we kept at it until we ran out of time (her date literally waiting in the front entry!). It wasn't quite as she had envisioned, but she did look lovely. And for me, another miracle was felt. Due to my stressful month, we were only able to start sewing at about 8 pm the night before. Around 4 am she finally drifted to sleep (she had a 7:30 am choir competition!). I stayed up throughout the night and completed as much as I could. There were many elements I had never encountered, such as a full lining and netting and adding non existent sleeves to the pattern. (Thanks Aunt Becky, for doing the sleeves!). It was a challenge in every way. But again, I felt the divine help as before. I only "unpicked" once on just a small portion. What a miracle (with satin especially!).

So, what is the moral of the story today? I don't know that there is one. Frankly, I am tired of being clever. I just wanted to share these feelings and experiences and joys that I have felt from being a mother. That is all. I am humbled, grateful, tired and peaceful. I have really good kids. Really good. I thank my God for that.

Bring ye all the ^atithes into the storehouse, that there may be^bmeat in mine house, and ^cprove me now herewith, saith the Lordof hosts, if I will not ^dopen you the ^ewindows of heaven, and pour you out a ^fblessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

Malachi 3:10

Family, Inc.

2010-11-28T14:19:00.000-08:00

I love this time of year. In fact, I think Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love that it hasn't yet become overly commercial and that the focus is still simply on giving thanks.

I was dismayed to learn that some stores are now opening on Thanksgiving Day to attract early holiday shoppers. I sincerely hope this does not become widespread. There seems to be such a true "Peace on Earth" on Thanksgiving. Folks seem content to be at home. The holiday frenzy that runs from "BlackFriday" until after New Years has not yet begun and world just seems "still."

This year we joined with our extended families for Thanksgiving and therefore I did not prepare an entire meal, but I did get to contribute one of my favorite items: pie. Making pie from scratch always reminds me of one special person, my paternal Grandmother, Sarah Aldora Alder Keller.

Grandma Keller, as we called her, was an extraordinary woman. Not only did she graduate from college in the 1930's, but she raised four children and even took more college courses. She was an expert teacher and had a gift for preparing then sharing in just the right way. She used her gifts to serve others. She taught for many years at the Intermountain Indian school in Brigham City miles away from her home in Logan, Utah where she continually built confidence and character in many struggling youngsters. Also, while my Grandpa Keller served in the Department of Agriculture under Ezra Taft Benson, Grandma taught Sunday School in College Park, Maryland. People of all faiths would attend her class and would come from miles sometimes to do so. It was there at the University of Maryland that she took a course in Philosophy as well.

You would think that such an intelligent woman would not be very domestic. You might imagine that such a person wouldn't know her way around the kitchen, but this was not the case! On the contrary, Grandma Keller was the very epitome of grandmotherly cooks. As a child, I didn't know anything about Indian schools, philosophy classes, federal departments and such. I only knew one thing: my Grandma Keller was the best cook in the world.

Grandma would spend most of her time in the kitchen. I was fascinated by her cooking and baking skills. I followed her around in the kitchen, wanting to be a part of it all. She never shooed me away or acted as if it were an imposition at all, though now I can see that my constant "helping" was most likely more work for her. During these countless hours together in the kitchen (in the days before video games or even VCRs!), she taught me so many things. I remember the lessons on fractions. I could double and triple recipes in seconds! We went over the Articles of Faith, the state capitals, we talked about family history and other family issues, and of course, we cooked. I stirred, mixed, kneaded, prepared wax paper or pans, etc.

I knew when it was time to be silent too, like when the caramel was just about to form, or when the nougat was at the boiling point. I watched silently in awe during those moments when she would work her magic; my eyes mesmerized by her hardworking, skilled, beautiful hands. Her hands were as "doughy" as her rolls. Sometimes while she kneaded, her grandma hands would disappear as she became one with her creation for a moment.

Grandpa and Grandma Keller have been gone for a while now. I am grateful that they are together, but I sure do miss them. Grandma Keller was a "kindred spirit" to me. She was patient, soft spoken and wise. She treated me with respect and as if I were much older, always trusting me to understand and to be a positive force in my family.

So, the other day while I was busily making pies (Grandma would be happy!), I suddenly tried to remember a particular word that she would use to describe a certain cooking process. Grandma was raised in Cache county and her dialect reflected that. I loved how she said "lard" for example, which came out more like "lord." There was a special word she used to describe the process of mixing ingredients together until they were just right. As I worked the shortening into the dry ingredients, trying to make a coarse meal, I labored through mental gymnastics trying to remember that word! It was on the tip of my brain, though I'm sure I had not heard Grandma say it for more than 25 years. Finally it came to me! A tear came to my eye just as a smile came to my lips. "INCORPORATE!" that was the word! She would always say, "stir this until the flavors incorporate," "mix that until the wet and dry ingredients incorporate," etc. I was cutting in the "lard" until it was "incorporated" into the dry ingredients. I paused to reflect how this word applied to more than baking.

For Grandma, family was everything. She was unafraid to teach essential life lessons even when it meant great sacrifices for herself or her children. She built character and confidence in each member of her family whenever she could. Although she was qualified to work in any setting, her greatest desire was for the betterment of her family. One example was how she insisted that they have cows mainly to provide honest labor for her children. Her "business" was family. This realization has helped me see with more clarity than before, what my daily business should be. As I use my gifts and talents to benefit people outside my home, I am trying my best to still "incorporate" the needs of my family. For example, drama and music are two things I love. I therefore enjoy conducting musicals, but I do so where my children will be involved with me. This is a joy, to use my non-domestic talents, but still involve my family.

I know that Grandma Keller left a legacy more far-reaching than just my life. She affected many people, including strangers, but especially all my cousins, and now our children, as the next generation learns of her and reaps the benefit of her education.

I will ever be grateful for her friendship, her example and her lessons to me. I see now that during all those hours in the kitchen, she was "incorporating" me. I am thankful at this Thanksgiving season for her ability to incorporate family with her many talents. I am thankful for her good son, my father, who passed down many of her strong character building ideals and her baking traditions from homemade bread to candy. I am thankful for my mother who knew my needs and allowed me to spend so many uninterrupted hours in the kitchen and elsewhere with Grandma.

Most of all I am thankful for my Heavenly Father who is the wisest of all parents. Who organized this earth experience and organized our families with such care. I am thankful He allows and even expects us to use our God-given talents to build the kingdom in every way, including building joy for all involved.

I hope someday I will have a child or a grandchild who remembers my "hands in the dough" of life and knows how very much I love and live for "Family, Incorporated."

Happy Thanksgiving!

PS: I made apple and pumpkin pie, yum! (photos taken by my amazing daughter Michaelah)

"The Family is ordained of God...the Family is central to the Creator's plan for the eternal destiny of His children."

The Proclamation on the Family,

First Presidency 1995

Sharing Mascara with my Teenage Son and Loving It

2010-11-18T22:16:00.000-08:00

The summers of my youth were spent under the stars performing at our local outdoor amphitheater. How I loved it! The smell of grass, the cool balmy evenings; folks stretched out on the sprawling lawn with their blankets all cuddled up and enjoying "Music Man," "South Pacific," or "Oklahoma!" as only Jerry Elison could direct.

Two summers ago realized my children were growing up at an alarming rate. My oldest was already 16! None of them had ever been in a Scera Summer production. I was completely ripping them off! And, they would never understand this one place in my heart, this one love of soul without having that experience. ("What about your husband?" you say? no worries, I made him be in a play with me there while I was 5 months pregnant with our oldest. I wisely realized it would be our last chance! He got a bigger part than me, the stinker!).

Anyhoo, I decided to persuade my eldest son to try out for "West Side Story" to be performed in June of that summer. He finally agreed. He made it! Yes, he was ok talented at that time, but let's just face it, he's also a guy. and they always need guys. Or so I thought. Wow! He was amazing! He was one of the Jets (can't think of his really hilarious name at this moment, but hopefully he can remind me!). Anyway, I couldn't believe how much dancing he learned and he was really quite good!

Well, it has gone on from there. He has had several lead roles at the high school, just recently appearing as Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls this last week. He was fantastic! To top it all off, he was named the Orem High School Sterling Scholar for Speech and Drama just yesterday!

That summer in West Side Story he came to me on opening night and said, "Um, mom, do you have any mascara I can borrow? They said I'm supposed to bring it." I handed him some and smiled. "Hmm" I thought for a moment, "is this a good thing?" but then I thought about many of his peers. It seems to me that the average american teenager spends hours in front of the computer or TV each day. Many are overweight and unhealthy in many ways. I thought, "This IS a good thing! He's out there, exercising, learning, growing, sharing his talent, telling an important story, making people remember things, feel things; and best of all, smelling the grass and seeing those stars."

He's such a wonderful kid. Just turned 18. Wow. I'm having a hard time with that. But he's grown up so great that I can hardly grumble. In less than one year he'll be out of my home. You always hope you've done enough. I have faith that the Lord will make up the difference. So, this is my little belated birthday tribute to him. Love you sweetheart!

Jacob: Drama Sterling Scholar, 4.0, Senior Class President, Choir student director, obedient, loving son and brother. Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

"Every son and every daughter of God has received some talent, and each will be held to strict account for the use or misuse to which it is put."

Joseph F. Smith

(Check out video clips from Guys and Dolls on my Facebook page!)

2010-09-22T06:07:00.001-07:00

On the Right Track

Don’t Chuck Your Banjo in the Fire

(written 1/2009)

Recently I have started running at the BYU track in the early morning hours with my neighbors. To say that I run with them is not entirely accurate. Actually, they kindly pick me up and drive me there and then leave me to my own fate while they glide around the track for forty-five minutes like gazelles.

While they run, I attempt my own routine of running, then walking, then running again for about 30 minutes, after which I have to stop and start “stretching out.”

I suppose I could feel self-conscious that I am not as fast as they are. I could feel really badly about my lack of physical fitness. I could wallow as I watch them and many others lap me time and again. But instead, I just keep on moving around and around, knowing, that even if I am not the fastest, strongest, leanest person there, still, because I am there, at least I am on the right track!

The other day while there I ran into two old friends. One I had known in Berkeley, CA sixteen years ago. The other I had known in Philadelphia twelve years ago. Now it seems they live across the street from each other in Provo! Neither one knew that the other knew me. It was fun to walk a lap or two with them and catch up. What a great place to meet people! Later that same morning I saw Sister Susan Tanner (recently released General Young Women’s President) on the track. I’ve never met her personally, but just seeing her there gave me a thrill. I caught her eye and we exchanged warm smiles. I felt a beautiful spirit in her presence. Talk about the place to be! Wow! Wonderful people are on the BYU track at 6 am on winter mornings. This is good to know. And even better to experience.

There are lots of other folks there too. Some remind me of my grandparents. They don’t move too fast, but there they are, plodding around every corner. Some are hunched and stooped, but they keep on going with smiles on their wrinkled, well-worn faces. Others are younger. Two couples actually had strollers on the track! One gal even walked with her baby in a Snugli (only in Provo?). Some are in groups chatting away. Others are very alone, tuned in to their own music. Each of these people is someone I would want to know, though each of their stories is unique.

I thought that this track was much like the church. All of us come to the church from a different place. Some of us are recent converts, maybe we’re just starting out and can‘t go very fast. Others of us have pioneer ancestors who paved the way so we could sprint for miles! But wherever we are on this “track,” we are each at our own pace and yet, all in it together. We may walk for a time with a certain group of friends, then, we grow and change. Perhaps we reconnect with special friends at a later time. Perhaps right now we are single and just “going it alone,” marching to the beat of our own “drum.” But surely, if we stay on track, surely we will eventually become faster and stronger! Not tomorrow, but perhaps in the next generation, our children and theirs will be sprinting with the leaders on this track.

It does not matter where we are on the track. It only matters that we are there! If we are on the right track, Elder Bruce R. McKonkie lets us know that we cannot fall off of it!

“. . .You don't have to be perfect to be saved. If you did, no one would be saved. The way it operates is this: you get on the path that’s named the “straight and narrow.” You do it by entering the gates of repentance and baptism. The straight and narrow path leads from the gate of repentance and baptism, a very great distance, to a reward that’s called eternal life. If you’re on that path and pressing forward, and you die, you’ll never get off the path. There is no such thing as falling off the straight and narrow path in the life to come, and the reason is that this life is the time that is given to men to prepare for eternity. Now is the time and the day of your salvation, so if you’re working seriously in this life—though you haven’t fully overcome the world and you haven’t done all you hoped you might do—you’re still going to be saved. You don’t have to live a life that’s truer than true. You don’t have to have excessive zeal that becomes fanatical and becomes unbalancing, what you have to do is stay in the mainstream of the Church and live as upright and descent people live in the Church—keeping the commandments, paying your tithing, serving in the organizations of the Church, loving the Lord, staying on the straight and narrow path. If you’re on that path when death comes—because this is the time and day appointed, this is the probationary estate—you’ll never fall off from it, and, for all practical purposes, your calling and election is made sure.” (Bruce R. McConkie, “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” address given at the University of Utah, Jan. 10, 1982.)

My brother Nate plays the banjo. With this wonderful skill, he has toured all over the world, spread much joy and had many missionary moments. He is so good, in fact, that one could possibly call him the second best banjo player in Utah. The best banjo player in Utah is a natural-born wonder named Craig Miner. Craig plays the banjo as if it were a classical guitar: effortlessly.

Recently, Nate began teaching my 11 year-old son how to play the banjo that he just got for Christmas. Thinking that he is no good, my son has decided, after three lessons, to quit banjo forever. My son reasons that compared to Nate, and compared to his cousin (another beginning student), he is not very good. Nate explained to my son that Craig Miner is better than he is. He then said, “Should I therefore just throw my banjo into the fire? Just because I am not as good as Craig, should I just give up and be nothing?”

I thought about that a lot. Nate has done so much good all over the world because he plays the banjo so well! It would be unthinkable that he should quit just because there exists some other person who happens to be better than he is!

I have this nagging habit of constantly comparing myself to other women in the church. I don’t do it with any malice. I just know and recognize that I am not as good as so and so at ____________. Therefore, I should not have this calling, these children, this house, this car, this body, etc. etc. I talk myself out of a whole lot of good because I am not the “best.”

I think the “right track principle” can be applied here. If we are all in this together, and yet, each on his own journey, then it doesn’t matter how good I am at something! I’m still on the right track! I am in the right place at the right time and I am doing my personal best. As I endure to the end, I will gain speed, accuracy, strength and skill. But no matter where I am now, or later, I am still doing good, just by being there! And who knows? I might just be providing the example that someone else on the track needs to keep going! Or maybe I am an example to some outside the track who see me go in each morning and see me come out with a smile! Maybe they are wondering, “Hey, what am I missing in there?”

So, whenever you are tempted to compare yourself to someone else or if ever you decide that your current level of skills and gifts are not “good enough” to share or to build the kingdom, remember! Don’t chuck your banjo in the fire! Just keep on going! You’re on the right track!

P.S. For anyone who has already read this, forgive me. It's been on my mind lately and I thought I'd share it with the new readers too. Thanks!

Back to School!

2010-08-30T09:10:00.000-07:00

This year was the best back to school shopping ever. The kids had earned and saved up their own money to pay for their supplies/clothes. After the shopping trip, one daughter said, "I feel proud of myself!" It's a good thing they paid for themselves, because the school "fees" just about broke us! (over $1200 for seven kids in public school!). We'll have to start budgeting for school fees year round.

This song from Tarzan ("You'll be in My Heart") is "my" song with my kids. Every time I hear it, I think of each one of them and my heart smiles. I wanted to dedicate this song to each of them now as they start the school year. No matter where they are, they are still in my heart always.

The Supposed Inefficiency of Manual Sprinklers

2010-07-16T07:37:00.000-07:00

There is a little house in our neighborhood which has been for sale for a very long time. I finally got up the courage to call the realtor to ask if I could "stage" the house to help attract a buyer. He kindly allowed me to do that (sad that I have so much extra furniture in my garage that I actually COULD do that). ANYWAY, as time has gone on, there has been some interest, and even an offer, but nothing the seller could agree to.

Meanwhile, the summer heat has taken a toll on the yard. It completely turned yellow. So, we jumped into action again. Now we are watering by hand every day and mowing the yard, etc. The owner called and was grateful for the help, said he'd pay my boys to do it. Often, however, its been just me out there moving the little sprinkler around the yard during the day.

At first I was trying to set the sprinkler (the kind that produces a "rainbow" of water that rotates from one side to the other) right in the middle of each yellow patch. The yard is smallish and I didn't want to "waste" water by having the "rainbow" arch of water land on any of the cement or the house itself or the gravel driveway, etc.

After many days I have noticed, however, that there are some dry patches that literally can NEVER be reached when I use this method. I have realized that sometimes, I HAVE to run the sprinkler in a place where much of the water lands on cement in order to actually hit certain dry patches. (I realize that if I had a different sprinkler head, this might not be true, but as I don't, this is the case).

It got me thinking about people. Sometimes I think that as parents and friends and extended family members, when we attempt to "love" someone, we try to be "efficient." Meaning, we try to give them what they need without wasting too much of our precious time or energy doing something that we really don't want to do. Perhaps sometimes we feel our efforts are wasted and that our words of love are perhaps falling on "deaf ears" or onto cement.

However, as I have watched these little patches of grass grow, I have realized that "showering" someone with the love and affection THEY need, in the ways and places and times that THEY need it, is perhaps the ONLY way to help certain relationships and love "grow."

We may feel that we are expending too much time or energy (do I really need to SIT DOWN and watch cartoons with my kids?) or that our efforts are misdirected and mostly miss the mark (is it really worth the all the money to go on a family vacation? can't we just stay home and hang out with each other? Does my extended family really care if I show up to their baseball games or piano recitals?), but I am starting to feel that any and all our efforts to love those around us, especially our children, are never wasted, no matter the cost.

In other words, love cannot be inefficient, love cannot be quantified. And next time I'm tempted to opt out of some seemingly silly bonding time, I will remember those little dry patches and just what it takes to reach them.

Closed For Inventory

2010-07-10T09:20:00.000-07:00

All moms understand how hard it is to get to the store. You plan around naps and extra curricular activities. As you have more children, you might even plan so that you can go alone, perhaps in the evenings. But then you run the risk of certain stores being closed, etc. There never seems to be a really convenient time to go shopping. And of course, if you finally get out the door at a decent time, someone will need a diaper change or a change of clothes or a snack, etc., etc!

There is one store in particular that I have been meaning to get to for weeks. I pass it often while on the way to my regular shopping destinations. However, this store is full of breakable trinkets so I know I can't bring too many children at once. Finally last week, there was a perfect window of opportunity. The planets were aligned just right! I excitedly pulled up, parked and bounded to the door, only to find this sign: "Closed for Inventory: Jul 5-9." Wow. Really? Does anyone really "close for inventory" anymore? And for a whole week? I was shocked. And frustrated. Do they know how hard it is for me to get to their store?

But then I thought about it. As I slowly made my way back to the van, I realized that the trip had not been totally wasted. I had, in fact, been reminded of a very powerful message. I too need to take time out of my busy, regular schedule to take stock of my life. I imagined me posting a similar sign on my bedroom door. I should be making time, perhaps each day, to really ponder my mission, to determine my priorities, to discover where I lack and where I have an abundance that I can share.

All too often I feel I am "spinning my wheels," forever journeying and never "arriving" at my destination. Of course, being a parent is a constant journey. And truly, there is no destination other than the daily joy as we witness the growing of our children. Still, I have such better days and nights when I have taken some time to commune with my God, to ponder the things of eternal value before getting back on the race track.

This sign, "Closed for Inventory," has become an important reminder and an invitation to me to MAKE time (it won't happen otherwise!) to search, ponder and pray each day. And maybe every once in awhile, to spend even more time ( a week?) really deeply searching and assessing.

Hopefully, my family will be happier and better off as I really try to create this balance in my life.

Take Time to Be Holy

Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word.

Make friends of God’s children, help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing His blessing to seek.

Take time to be holy, the world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret, with Jesus alone.

By looking to Jesus, like Him thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.

Take time to be holy, let Him be thy Guide;

And run not before Him, whatever betide.

In joy or in sorrow, still follow the Lord,

And, looking to Jesus, still trust in His Word.

Take time to be holy, be calm in thy soul,

Each thought and each motive beneath His control.

Thus led by His Spirit to fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted for service above.

(by William D. Longstaff)

Flowers

2010-06-24T19:45:00.000-07:00

I have a black thumb. Anything I plant dies. Luckily my husband takes charge of the garden each year.

Still, I have a love of vibrant flowers. I enjoy having pots of flowers in spring and summer, but I have to keep replacing them because I keep killing them. I just don't seem to comprehend the delicate balance of water, sun and fertilizer needed to keep them alive.

This is not due to lack of attention. I check on them several times each day. In fact, I think I might be over watering and over feeding them. Basically, I hover, paranoid that they will die right before my eyes if I don't DO SOMETHING.

As the years have gone by I have learned a thing or two. Now the flowers last at least a week before dying. This is what I have learned: Don't water or feed too much! Basically, "don't hover." It seems they grow and flourish on their own most of the time. They don't need a lot of anxious attention from well-meaning me.

So, you can guess my metaphor. I have also come to know that children are like flowers. To flourish and grow, they need the right balance of water, food, sleep and sunshine. They need parents. But, they also need to be left alone to make their own decisions. They need to find their own light. They need to struggle and roam and find their own water and nourishment. Whenever I "hover" they shrink and become petty, angry, selfish, bored. Basically, they die.

This is why, whenever I leave the children in my husband's care, they have a marvelous time. He does his thing and isn't too worried as long as there is no blood on the carpet. They learn and grow and "duke it out" as they find their own way. Whenever I return from a long absence, everyone is perfectly calm and happy.

So, as I struggle each year to keep my flowers alive, I realize how very much my garden of children need me to love them, but also at times, leave them to their own experience.

"A gardener is what I am,

a simple and honest man,

I reap and sow,

I make things grow,

and do the best I can."

-the Gardner (Christ) from "The Garden" by Michael McLean

Child of God

2010-05-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

Eighteen years ago my husband and I drove our dusty, old car to pick up my mother-in-law from the airport. Her visit was not unusual, though they lived 1500 miles away, as my father-in-law is a pilot and they enjoy flying privileges.

This trip, however, was special indeed. This time she carried a most precious bundle: a beautiful baby boy. She was bringing him to be placed with his new adoptive family. The LDS family services building was on the way home. We soon stopped and entered the building. There we came to the room where an anxious family waited. Our eyes met theirs and we all began to weep. It was one of those sacred moments where words fail.

The father, a musician, gently accepted the boy into his arms. He gazed deeply into the child's eyes, then began to sing a song he had written for the occasion. This wonderful family had girls of their own, but now added their first boy. His was a tender lullaby expressing heartfelt joy.

What made it all the more meaningful for me was the fact that a few months earlier I had been visiting my parents-in-law and had met the sweet birth mother of this child. She was staying there in their home where many others had likewise been sheltered and loved. This young mother and I shared conversations about the gospel, our lives, how we were different, how we were the same. She was a very deep thinker with the most brilliant smile. I instantly loved her. Some unhappy experiences had led to her situation, but she had made brave, wise and loving decisions, including a plan for adoption. It was a privilege to meet her and I knew I'd never forget her grace and deep soul.

Over the years, I was able to keep in touch with her since she had formed such a close relationship with my husband's parents. They considered her a daughter, so we often saw pictures and letters from her.

In time she married a wonderful man in the temple and had a beautiful family.

Years went by. My husband and I lived away for a long time. When we finally moved back west, we ironically ended up in the neighborhood where this young man and his wonderful family now live. Hence, I have been able to see him grow up and become a most amazing individual.

Not only does he act and sing and dance (and has been featured in a church wide video production), but he was also elected Student Body President of his high school, and was voted Homecoming King by his peers. He is humble, loving, and inclusive; an extraordinary person.

Each time I see him, on stage or in the community, I see his unconquerable smile. That same brilliant smile. I think of his birth mom and wonder if she knows, somewhere in her heart, how amazing he has become. She had faithfully placed him with another family in a happy, supportive community where he grew and achieved and shared the great love he was given.

Why do I tell this story? Because this week, he is graduating from high school. He is officially "welcoming" the audience to the graduation. And so, through third parties and letters, he has invited his birth mother to come meet him, and to attend. His unbelievably fantastic family encourages his decision.

I have a son just about his age and have been at the high school often for many occasions. Also, since we live near his family we see them many times a week around town. It has been interesting over the years to visit the birth mom, or to see pictures of her and her family, and then, sometimes even the next day, to see this young man (though they live states apart). I have had a unique perspective, following both of their lives and knowing the connection, but not being able to share information or feelings.

I have thought how he must often have wondered who she is, what she looks like, what her life is like and so on. He has maybe wondered, "Who am I? Where did I come from?" I live so close to him and I know the answers to many of these questions, yet have not be able to tell him. He has had to live by faith, seeking his Heavenly Father's comfort and guidance.

Now the time has come for them to meet. It will take place in the home of my husband's parents this week. Now his faith will be realized. He will be able to see, embrace and talk to her himself!

As I thought about this happy meeting, I imagined my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I can't see Him or receive any tangible communication at this time, yet, I know He is real. I know that ever since I left His presence, He has had my best interests at heart. I'm sure He has worried about me far away on Earth. I'm sure He has wanted to swoop down and intervene and show Himself to me, especially in my darkest times. I'm sure He has wished to show me exactly who I really am. Yet, this is not been allowed now. Instead, I have had to walk by faith.

Luckily I was placed in a wonderful "adoptive" family who loves me and reared me in righteousness.

I wonder, however, how it will feel to someday look my Heavenly Parents in the eye, to embrace them and know without a doubt who I am and from whence I came. It will be such a stirring moment to finally realize my faith that truly "I am A child of God."

I Am A Child of God,

And He has sent me here,

Has given me an earthly home,

with parents kind and dear,

Lead Me, Guide Me,

Walk beside me,

Help me find the way,

Teach me all that I must do,

to live with Him someday

P.S. I got to escort this young man to my in-laws house for his special reunion with his birth mom. That too was a treat for all of us. It was natural and beautiful. We all felt the full circle of life. They spent hours catching up while I spent time with my parent's-in-law, but I could hear lots of joy and laughter from the other room! Truly God is good, and Faith proceeds the miracle.

Nineteen

2010-04-25T11:58:00.000-07:00

Today is a special day. Nineteen years ago today my husband and I knelt across an altar and pledged an eternal commitment: to each other, and to God. How old was I? Nineteen! So that's the number of the day!

Although imperfect, it has been a journey of joy. I can say without reservation that marrying John, even at the age of nineteen (almost 20!), was truly the best decision and the foundation of my life. He is the happiest part of my world, the light and love of my life. Of all people on earth, it is he that most reminds me of our Savior. When he embraces me, I feel embraced by the love of the Lord. And, by this time next year, I will have been married for longer than I was single. Truly our lives have intertwined. We are one.

To commemorate this special day, and Mother's Day soon coming up, I will share a talk that I gave in Stake Conference last December. It tells a bit about my journey into marriage and motherhood. I hope one thing will be clear: my testimony is that no marriage is perfect, no parents are perfect, no children are perfect, hence no family is perfect. However, we are all "perfected" in Christ. As we are repenting every day and trying our level best to prioritize Him through service in our families and otherwise, we are perfected daily through the Atonement.

When John and I were first married, 19 years ago, we didn't yet know how to communicate well. We had only known each other 5 months the day we were married! We didn't have all the answers, but we had the gospel of Jesus Christ. Coupled with our covenant to stay together, come what may, we have forged an eternal bond forged in a refiner's fire. If we can come this far, I honestly believe that any marriage can. As has been said, Christ is the great "healer." When He lays His hands on something, it lives. When He lays His hands on a marriage, it lives.

I want to publicly thank my tireless husband for being so Christ-like in all his dealings with me. He is a perfect gentleman as he endures my . He is slowly helping me become "more perfected" in Christ as he sets an example of temperance, kindness, respect and mercy.

For my part, I have never given up. Even when times have seemed bleak, I drew a line and never crossed it. This complete fidelity of heart, mind, body and conversation has allowed me to focus on the positive and realize the potential in both of us, separately, but most of all, together. My sister has a plaque in her house that sums this up. It states, "Choose thy love, Love thy choice."

I am confident that the next 19 years will bring more challenges. As our children mature and make life altering decisions, we are bound to experience deeper levels of sorrow and joy. Still, through it all, I have faith that with John at my side and Jesus as our guide, we can weather the storm and build a home wherein love may dwell. Happy Anniversary sweetheart!

The Joy of Motherhood

Stacey Thompson

Sharon Stake Conference December 5, 2009

And Eve, his wife, heard all these things and was glad, saying: Were it not for our

transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and

evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the

obedient. (Moses 5:11)

Brothers and Sisters, today I will speak on the Joy of Motherhood.

I was born the oldest of 10 children and consequently began changing diapers while

some of my peers were still wearing them. After a chaotic childhood, I looked forward to the solace and self awareness that college life could bring. Therefore I was not prepared to meet my eternal companion at the tender age of 19. I had dreamt of

serving a mission for as long as I could remember. Getting married would forever take away my chance to serve as a young, single sister. This thought caused a hole in my soul.

When we knew our relationship was serious, I asked my future husband if he would wait for me to return from a mission. With integrity that he has carried throughout our marriage he said, "the prophet told me to come home from my mission and not delay getting married. I will be anxiously engaged in finding a wife while you are gone, should you choose to go. However, if I am still single when you come back I will gladly marry you the day you arrive home." I didn't like my odds. Although I questioned the timing, the Holy Ghost whispered just enough to let me know my path. I knew I'd never met a finer, more Christ-like man, and I knew he loved the Lord more than he loved me. I also knew he'd be married to some other lucky girl if I put off our marriage for 2-3 years.

Thus I experienced my first sacrifice for the sake of motherhood. I chose eternal marriage and put behind me forever the mission dream. Years later, with four little babies, I recalled that decision and experienced again the pangs of sadness. I had felt so close to my potential investigators! Like they were waiting for me to come. But my husband taught me, "cheer up! You already have four converts!" He was of course referring to our children. I had never thought of that before. It was years before I realized that my most important convert was myself. Brothers and Sisters, I am a convert to the Joy of Motherhood.

I admit that growing up I was not much interested in domestic things. I loved school and devoured any chance to learn. I took summer school for several years just for the fun of it. I also loved music and acting. Bro. Jerry Elison, now of the 8th ward, and othersgave me opportunities to live out my theatrical dreams. I also learned choral conducting by watching Margaret Brown and Preston Woolf in the 3rd ward. Through sacred music I found great joy and peace. I also took many dance classes. I was an English major and I also fiddled in the folk band. These were righteous endeavors and I excelled. Guess what I didn't know how to do? Cook, clean, organize, bottle food, manage, make decisions, budget, beautify, or discipline children. I was terrified to start our own family. All I could remember from eighteen years at home was a blur. The endless monotony of changing babies, piles of laundry, vats of food, always feeling too cold, or too sweaty, never enough room on the couch, never enough time alone in the bathroom, and the constant fatigue of waking in the night to newborns' cries. Nope it didn't sound too appealing. I wanted some vacation from the "Joy of Motherhood."

Now my lack of homemaking skills was not my parent's fault. They made us work very hard and I'm sure they assumed that all of it was "sticking" in my brain, but mostly I was part of an assembly line at home. There was always another person

helping with this and that such that I did one part, but not the whole. We did have daily early morning scripture study without fail, family dinner every night, kneeling family prayer twice a day, and FHE faithfully. Still, being the oldest, I experienced mostly the fertilizer of these experiences and not much of the fruit (which came years later). I am ashamed to say that I did not begin to value these experiences or the habits they instilled in me until many years into my own parenting journey. My noble parents were tireless in their efforts to raise 10 righteous children. I never imagined how their example would influence my life and subconciously shape my decisions. Their sacrifice is beyond compare and the pattern of their lives is the lamp that now lights my feet. Because of them I can have faith and hope on a daily basis that, as Pres. Hinckley was fond of saying, "everything will turn out alright." Because I have witnessed first hand how my siblings grew out of their childish ways and became marvelous people, I have hope. I could not thank them enough for the greatest gift they have given me, namely my siblings, each one a cherished friend, confidante and counselor.

But as a naive almost 20 year old, my youngest sister, now on a mission, was but three years old. She repeatedly jumped down the stairs at our elegant wedding reception and apparently destroyed some antique candles by biting them. My conversion to the "joy of motherhood" was a long way off.

But my sweet companion shared his vision of how it could be. He was the second of two, four years apart, and the only son. His longing for more siblings matched that of his parent's for more children, but it was not to be. Instead he was left with a yearning and a feeling that there were in fact many spirits waiting to come to his home. AHH!!!!! Out of the frying pan and into the fire! Gently, but with conviction, he shared his testimony of family and parenthood. He share the following with me: "After marriage,young wives should be occupied in bearing and rearing children. I know of no scriptures or authorities which authorize young wives to delay their families or to go to work to put their husbands through college. Young married couples can make their way and reach their educational heights, if they are determined." (Kimball, 328) It took me eight years to finish my undergraduate degree. I had three children and was expecting the fourth when I finally finished my undergraduate degree. I testify that this promise is true! My husband is still going to school. He hopes to finish his PhD later this year. It's only been 18 years.

At many times in our marriage I thought that I would be better off in the work place. I was so much better suited for it. I knew I could make a nice income. Maybe he could stay home and be mister mom. There were many ideas, but we continued to follow prophetic counsel: "Come home, wives, to your children, born and unborn. Wrap the motherly cloak about you and, unembarrassed, help in a major role to create bodies for the immortal souls who await." (Kimball, 327). Elder Scott says this: "Of course, as a woman you can do exceptionally well in the workplace, but is that the best use of your divinely appointed talents and feminine traits? As a husband, don’t encourage your wife to go to work to help in your divinely appointed responsibility of providing resources for the family, if you can possibly avoid it. As the prophets have counseled, to the extent possible with the help of the Lord, as parents, work together to keep Mother in the home. Your presence there will strengthen the self-confidence of your children and decrease the chance of emotional challenges. Moreover, as you teach truth by word and example, those children will come to understand who they are and what they can obtain as divine children of Father in Heaven." (1994) Still I worried about our meager income and remembered hardships when I was young. I wanted better things for my children, but then I read this: "Of course, it will be harder to get your college degrees or your financial starts with a family, but strength like yours will be undaunted in the face of difficult obstacles. Have your family as the Lord intended. Of course it is expensive, but you will find a way, and besides, it is often those children who grow up with responsibility and hardships who carry on the world's work." (Kimball, 324).

We tried to do what we could to make it when times were tight. At one point we actually moved into a one bedroom apartment with three little kids. We had a marvelous time. We were in the first ward then. We loved it! The children slept in the one bedroom and my husband and I slept on an

old, uncomfortable pull-out couch in the front room. We lived there for a year.

We just did whatever we had to do to make it work for me to stay home. I have learned much from this. We know that sacrifice is what produces faith. “A religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power proficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation; for, from the first existence of man, the faith necessary unto the enjoyment of life and salvation never could be obtained without the sacrifice of all earthly things. It was through this sacrifice, and this only, that God has ordained that men should enjoy eternal life.” Joseph Smith, Lectures on Faith #6 . I can testify that as we have constantly tried to obey this counsel, we have been blessed beyond reason financially. Also, our children have grown up working hard. They amaze us with their goodness and strength.

"Yes, men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace. Whoever will lose his life in the service of God will find eternal life." (Ezra Taft Benson)

Is it hard? Yes, but I have learned that with the Lord, I can do hard things.

And I believe that it is joyous precisely because it is so hard. I have learned to embrace the sorrow because I know it is bringing great things, great joy. We can only know joy because we know sorrow.

Over the years, my skills have improved and I have had many moments of great joy with my precious family. I actually love to cook now and it is a joy to me to have my children join me. I love to hear, "Wow, how'd you get to be such a good cook mom? When I get married, I'm going to make this stew for my husband!" I love how my girls talk to me about boys.

And I also love my boys. When they were younger, we knew that family home evening was working because one day, while we were living in Philadelphia, the neighbor boy came over. When he began to be unkind to my little daughter, her four year old "big" brother came to the rescue. He immediately pounced on the boy and started choking him and said, "you have to be like Jesus!"

There has been humor and the tears over the years, I want you to know that whatever I didn't know how to do the Spirit taught me how to do. (As we lived away from family for many years in both California and Philadelphia). I could share countless stories and scriptures that have shaped my life and guided my efforts as a mother, but we just don't have time here today. I will say that I learned to "feast upon the words of Christ, for the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do." (2 Nephi 32:3)

One very sacred experience I would like to share came when we were living in Philadelphia. My husband was the bishop of a very busy ward. This was aninner city ward with 26 different nationalities represented. He was also working full time and going to school full time. We had six children under seven at the time, including one year old twins. I had been teaching seminary in the ward and was also doing cub scouts and the primary music.

I was due with the seventh child in just a few weeks and I had been home schooling the oldest three children. I was very worried about the new baby coming because I just didn't think I could handle a newborn and the other six as well as home school at the same time. However, I was very frightened by the "environment" at the public schools. I was worried about the language they might hear or other worse things they could be exposed to. This problem weighed heavily on my mind one evening just after Christmas. My husband had taken the children for a drive while I was trying to carefully put away the Christmas ornaments. I was listening to Handel's Messiah while doing this. Suddenly I felt a prompting, "turn the music off." I thought, "It's the Messiah, why should I turn off the music?" I kept working, but then I felt it again, "Turn the music off, I want to talk to you." This time I obeyed.

I turned off the music and went to a secluded room. I knelt down said, "I am here Lord.'' Nothing happened. I began to pour out my heart concerning the school situation. I expressed my fears for my children and my dilema about the new baby. I told the Lord that I wanted to protect my children. How could I send them to school if I couldn't be there with them at all times to watch over them? The answer was quick and clear. He said, "They were mine before they were yours. You will not be with them at all times, but I will be." I knew then that they needed to go back to school. I knew that no matter what they would experience there, it would be for their own good. I also knew that the heavy burden of parenting was lifted off my shoulders that night. I learned that I was not alone in this task. I was yoked with Him. He would always be there and He would swoop down and intervene as needed for my children just as he had done for me at critical moments in my life. I realized that in a very literal way, He was their Father. It took a great deal of trust, but I knew in whom I trusted.

I sent them back to school, the spirit returned to our home in greater abundance as I was better able to focus on eternal things and creating the environment at home with better balance.

All throughout our marriage, the Spirit has been my tutor. Now the joys are

overflowing. I wish I could share more, but the time is gone. I am very grateful for this assignment. I am very grateful for Sharon Stake. I love you all. I love my Savior, my exemplar, Jesus Christ. I say these things in His name, Amen.

*As a side note: The whole reason I started this blog was because I had such a divine experience preparing for this talk. In the end I realized that many mothers and even I do not realize that the greatest joy possible on earth comes through our marriages and our children. We hear that, but it does not always penetrate to our hearts. After researching and working on this talk for weeks, I was given an undeniable witness of the joy and magnitude associated with the sacred role of Mother. I want to share this message of joy, hope and faith to as many women/mothers as I can in the whole world. I hope you'll help me share the joy! Thanks so much for reading.

Tender Mercies

2010-03-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

Nothing really profound to say today, but I just wanted to share some recent "tender mercies."

We've been trying hard to "live within our means," so we've been carefully tracking our budget. Last week we ran out of gas, milk and just about everything edible in the house a couple days before pay day. To make things stretch, we walked to more places and we ate weird food storage-y items. We scrounged for change in the couch, etc. to find seven dollars to put gas in the van for the last day.

We were down to the last 2 diapers. I ransacked the car, all diaper bags, my purse, etc. but turned up nothing. With one more day to go, I was wondering if I should go door to door asking for diaper donations. That night we put the last two diapers on the two babies for bed. It was late, like 9:00 and we were ready for family prayer. Suddenly there came a knock at the door.

It was the ward clerk! For some odd reason he came over at that hour to bring us a reimbursement check for some Scout stuff my husband had bought. Weird. Usually they would just want until Sunday to give that to us. The check was for over $100. As we knelt for family prayer, I told the children that it was a miracle. The Lord had seen our obedience, our sacrifice. Although we weren't going to make it another day with no money, He saw our need and swooped in to fill the gaps. What a tender mercy!

Despite the lateness of the hour, John looked at me and said, "go get milk and diapers and put gas in the car!" I did so happily, grateful for the love I felt and for the lesson we all had learned.

Similarly, I recently started worrying that I needed to be signing our soon -to- be four year old up for preschool somewhere. He is very intelligent. He already knows most of his letters and I can see that he needs the extra challenge. However, as I researched, I discovered that such a thing would not be in our budget.

The very next day I got a strange call. My other children's elementary school called and said that a certain woman (the mother of another child there) wanted to speak to me and left her number with the school (since we had recently moved and switched phone numbers, she didn't know how else to reach me). Although I know this woman well and admire her, I have never spent much time with her, other than casual conversations at school functions. I was curious to know why she wanted to speak with me.

I called her back, but left a message. She called me, but I couldn't talk just then. As a busy mother herself, the two of us played phone tag for days. Finally I saw her at a school event. I apologized for not getting through to her, but she said it was fine and then explained her reason for calling me.

This sweet woman has a large family too. Last year, the unthinkable occurred. Her bright-eyed, toe-headed toddler, about four at the time, had been accidentally run over and killed by an extended family member in their own driveway.

Of course the whole family was devastated. But they were also enfolded in the arms of the Savior's love as they bravely soldiered on. As part of the healing process for them, they decided to generously set up a "scholarship" at the preschool their son had attended and loved. She was calling to offer that scholarship to me.

I was flabbergasted to say the least. I hadn't told anyone that I was investigating preschools, not even my husband. Furthermore, since we had moved, I had not been around the elementary school much and had not seen this woman for months! Why she thought of me I'll never know. But she explained that she had awakened in the night on more than one occasion with my name coming to her. I humbly and gratefully accepted her unbelievable offer.

I don't always understand the Lord's will or His timing, but I do know that He keeps His promises. And for us, at this time as we struggle to raise nine children on a budget, we know that He has truly multiplied our meager efforts and showered us with tender mercies.

I, the Lord, am ^abound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no ^bpromise.

D&C 82:10

Bring ye all the ^atithes into the storehouse, that there may be ^bmeat in mine house, and ^cprove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not ^dopen you the ^ewindows of heaven, and pour you out a ^fblessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

Malachi 3:10

Lost and Found

2010-03-13T07:25:00.000-08:00

I am not a jewelry person. I can't even wear my wedding ring at night. Having grown up a tom boy, it just feels foreign to put on rings, earrings or especially necklaces.

My sweet husband, however, comes from a family of jewelry wearing women: they are Southern, they are beautiful, and they accessorize brilliantly. Consequently, I really tried for a few years, but just couldn't get the hang of it.

On one occasion, my sweetheart bought me a beautiful pearl ring (pearls are the one gem I do love). Still, the three different "golds" and the leaf design just didn't seem quite like "me." You can imagine his dismay at my complete feminine dysfunction.

Finally, after years of frustrating gift giving attempts, my patient husband lovingly presented to me the most perfect piece of sterling silver, ever. It was an anniversary gift, purchased on the streets of Philadelphia during a day trip of sight-seeing with our out-of-town family. I had stayed behind with my nursing newborn, allowing John the freedom to shop all day without me (with the added benefit of my sister's discerning eye!)

I still remember exactly where we were, out on the back porch of our 1905 Dutch Colonial there on Shadeland Ave. in Drexel Hill, when he pulled it out of his pocket. The night was perfect. Clear, balmy. The stars were twinkling. The children were in bed. All was calm. Our extended family happily chatting inside. He held a black velvet pouch. I started to panic. My thoughts were: "Oh no! not jewelry! What will I say? How will I respond? Can I fake it? Will I hurt his feelings?" But then, I saw it.

The most perfect ring every crafted; for me, that is. A simple sterling silver masterpiece. It actually consisted of three rings: One larger in the middle, two smaller bands above and below. And best of all, they were held together with another small band going vertically in the back (making them comfortable and keeping the three bands together as one). I couldn't believe it. I think I cried. I couldn't hug him enough. It was so thoughtful, so loving AND so perfect all at once.

It sounds silly I guess, to be so happy about a piece of jewelry; something so flat and empty. But to me, it symbolized a love so kind, so pure, so patient and long-suffering. A love that had endured countless rejections, yet kept trying to find that perfect little something. And now he had found it. Wow, what a guy.

As you might imagine, I am simple when it comes to clothes also. I have a few "staples" and I wear these items over and over again. Well, this perfect ring became my jewelry staple. It was so comfortable, I wore it every day, sometimes I even slept with it on!! It went with everything. I could dress it up or down. But I always knew that no matter what I was wearing, no matter what my mood, it would always just "fit."

As I pondered this, I realized how this circular little ring symbolized our marriage. Our temple ceremony had been simple, chaste, eternal. We are not a flashy "power" couple, but we are sturdy, comfortable, and bound together forever as one. Since I wore the ring so often, people assumed it was my wedding ring; and I guess for all intents and purposes, it was.

Seven years later we moved to Utah. We lived with John's wonderful parents for six months while waiting for our new home to be built.

We were excited about our new house, but were nervous about the price tag. We had spent years getting totally out of debt, except for a modest mortgage. Going to a bigger, new home would put us back into a hefty debt situation. It seemed worth it, but we couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it just wasn't right.

We decided to move in anyway. We loved the neighbors, the location, the 3 laundries, the 7 bathrooms, the mud room, the stage, the 3 car garage, the view and so on. There was nothing NOT to love. It was perfect! except for one thing.

Slowly, our once idyllic marriage began to change. There was a lot more stress. Little disagreements about paint color, tile, how much to spend on the yard, etc. crept into our conversations. The stress could be felt more and more, even by the children.

About this time, something else happened. Since I often remove earrings wherever I sit to read and always set rings on the kitchen window sill to wash dishes, I often lose track of them. This practice isn't too dangerous because most of my "jewelry" is from Walmart and I don't mind losing it for a few days now and then. However, the one perfect ring was different. I always kept track of that. I made a distinct effort to make sure I knew where it was at all times, even when I took it off.

Over time, however, I became so completely overwhelmed with maintaining our huge home and huge family that I did lose track of that ring. One day when I wanted it, it just couldn't be found in any of my usual spots. At first I didn't really panic because I assumed that it would just show up in the normal course of life, but after four years of looking, I had to concede that it truly must be lost.

I tired not to reveal my feelings. I wanted to hide how profoundly sad I was, how responsible I felt for the loss. I didn't want my husband to even know I'd lost such a special thing. When he finally found out, I tried to downplay the loss and told him I'd replace it. I hunted all over to find one like it. I was sure they had been mass produced and were probably everywhere, but I was wrong. I couldn't find anything like it at all. Not in Utah, not anywhere else we traveled either, not even back East.

In desperation, I went to a popular silver store in the mall. I found three separate rings which somewhat resembled the one, but I had to wear them all together and they were not all uniform sizes. This was uncomfortable and annoying. Often one would just fall right off my finger. I could never keep them altogether when not being worn. I had to go searching every time I wanted to wear them. In the end, my baby took one off during church and flung it. Weeks of looking turned up nothing.

Again the metaphor was clear. I had allowed our marriage, once simple and "just right" to become "lost." It had become a victim of our new and improved lifestyle. Where was the love? The long-suffering? The benefit of the doubt? It was lost, somewhere in the never-ending piles of sample paint cards from Home Depot.

Although we were "happy" and getting by, the deeper joy and peace that comes from truly "living within your means" was missing from our life.

Something had to change, we both knew it. We felt compelled to get out of debt as quickly as possible. We knew this meant selling our dream home (during a recession!) and finding a simpler place to live where we could afford some real joy.

It was not an easy or fast process. It took over a year to find buyers and another suitable place to live. However, with the Lord's help, we were able to do both after much difficulty and sacrifice.

We moved into our "new" home seven months ago. It has been an adjustment to go back to fewer bathrooms and only one laundry, but a happy adjustment. What we have lost is nothing compared to what we have found. The peace, love, and mutual respect has returned to our lives. The crazy "busy-ness" has tempered. The stress has all but melted away. And although we miss our sweet neighborhood friends terribly, still, we have greater peace.

We live in closer quarters now, but rejoice to do so. I can hear my teenage girls giggling just down the hall (ALL NIGHT LONG!). Our single story family room is "just right" for cozy snuggling in front of the real wood burning fireplace. Our mature yard is a jungle for toddler explorers and mud pie makers. Our shrunken square footage has required me to purge much of our over-sized furniture, leaving only the most essential pieces.

And our marriage? Wow. It's just like the old days, only better. Not only do we share love and peace again, but we appreciate it too. We know what was lost, and has been found.

The other day, I was cleaning out some dresser drawers that hadn't been packed up for our move. They had been taken from one house to the next with all the contents completely intact. I discovered many outdated clothing items and was making quite a pile for DI when I came across a small box. Hmm. I'd never seen it before, it looked like trash. I impulsively began to to toss it toward the garbage. But suddenly, I hesitated. What if there were something inside? I decided to check. As I opened the smashed little box, tears sprang to my eyes. There it was, the perfect ring. I couldn't believe it. It had been with me all the time, perhaps squirreled away by a child at play. All the sad, hard years, it had been with me, just hidden away, buried deep inside; waiting to be found again, when I was less preoccupied and ready to appreciate it's sturdy, simple, eternal beauty once again.

I kneeled down in thanks and poured out my simple prayer to God. I thanked Him for giving us the experience of feeling lost, of allowing us to be found, of healing our hearts, healing our family. But mostly I thanked Him for teaching me so profoundly that He, like my perfect ring, has really been with us all the time. When I was ready to turn my life back over to Him, I "found" Him ready and waiting.

And the ring? I wear it almost everyday. The perfect reminder of my perfect husband and my perfect Father in Heaven who's perfect love has found me once again.

Luke 15: 8-10

8 ¶ Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one ^apiece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?

9 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.

10 Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the ^aangels of God over one ^bsinner that repenteth.

Red Light, Green Light

2010-03-02T10:00:00.000-08:00

I have been known to pray for lights to change when particularly strapped for time. My children even get into to action by chanting "green, green, green, green!" as we approach each intersection.

This is not to say that I speed, exactly. Although I have "pushed the limit" in the past, I try not to do so anymore. Still, I often wish I could drive with no pesky pauses!

Recently, however, I have begun to appreciate the "red lights" in my life. Let me explain.

Generally speaking, moms are multi-taskers (I help with homework while cooking, I mediate fights while scrubbing toilets). However, when it comes to really meaningful stuff, I have to be focused.

I watched as he single-handedly bought, prepared and packed all the gear and food. We loaded everyone up and headed south.

Our Town
written by Thornton Wilder

Emily: Oh, Mama, look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama! Wally's dead, too. His appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's really look at one another!...I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye , Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners....Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking....and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths....and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every, every minute?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLWewZO6z1w (part one)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnPx22NLWe4 (part two)

38 ¶ Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named ^aMartha received him into her house.

39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.

40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.

41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art ^acareful and troubled about many things:

42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath ^achosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

ST LUKE

CHAPTER 10

Distracted

2010-02-17T12:59:00.000-08:00

Funny how ten seconds can change your life. One minute you're cruising through your regular routine; then, you blink, and suddenly you realize that you just caused a three car pile-up at rush hour.

I can't believe it even happened. It was so sudden! And yet, in slow motion at the same time.

I had taken John some dinner around 5 pm (he planned to stay late at BYU to work on his dissertation). We met at the usual spot. He hopped in, I handed him food, we proceeded towards the temple where we often talk while he eats. Preston beamed and giggled from his car seat when he saw his dad (his favorite person in the world!). Heading north on 9th East, I turned to ask John if we were still going out for Valentine's the next evening. That was it. A very short, innocent question. As I turned to face front again, I saw, too late, that although the light was green, the car in front of me had suddenly stopped. Apparently they had stopped to accommodate the car in front of them, who had stopped for a pedestrian.

As if under water, my huge E350 (15 passenger) van slowly slammed into a helpless, tin foil Subaru. The smaller car gingerly smashed accordian-style; the back window exploding at the end for dramatic affect. Pebbles of shattered glass flew. Preston wailed. John's food was everywhere. It seemed fake, like we were watching a movie. Was everyone alright? Yes, we were all belted and it wasn't high speed. But of course, in that ten seconds, I caused thousands of dollars of damage. Not a happy thought.

I hopped out, checked on the other parties, the police came, we did the paperwork. I've never caused an accident before, so I was somewhat unfamiliar, but luckily for us, the passenger in the smashed Subaru had a lawyer father who specializes in car accidents. Great :). So she walked us through it.

We've spent years building up a good driving history and we had great rates! But, now, because of my brief lack of attention, our premium will raise and our precious record is sullied. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm sure it will be years before we earn back our "good driving" status and privileges.

I was infinitely grateful that no one was really hurt. Still, I couldn't help feeling remorse for all the damage I had caused. It was so unintentional and so split-second. But that is no excuse. The truth is, if my eyes had been on the road, it probably would have been avoided.

All this caused me to think. It is so easy for us to get distracted! Even when on the "right path," when cruising at a good pace, when all the lights are "green." Yet, anytime we let our eyes wander from the path, we are at risk. We may cause unintentional damage to ourselves, our loved ones, or perfect strangers.

I made a new resolve to "keep my eyes on the road" of life. That doesn't mean we can't have fun! It just means, we keep our desires and attention inside the lines the Lord has mapped out.

Learning to avoid distraction is a vital part of life. I believe that when Satan fails to tempt us in other more obvious ways, he resorts to distraction. Filling our life with lots of good stuff, while we forget or neglect the essential. This adds up to us becoming weaker spiritually and possibly physically. Therefore, when those temptations come around again, we are less able to withstand. Our reaction time is shortened because we are not paying full attention. We slam unavoidably into messes that require untold amounts of time to repair. Sometimes, it may be a total loss if there is no insurance and no strength left to "fix" the problem. This is truly a tragedy.

Elder Richard G. Scott shares the following:

"Are there so many fascinating, exciting things to do or so many challenges pressing down upon you that it is hard to keep focused on that which is essential? When things of the world crowd in, all too often the wrong things take highest priority. Then it is easy to forget the fundamental purpose of life. Satan has a powerful tool to use against good people. It is distraction. He would have good people fill life with “good things” so there is no room for the essential ones. Have you unconsciously been caught in that trap?

“Men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, … for [the devil] seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself” (2 Ne. 2:27).

Some places are sacred and holy where it seems easier to discern the direction of the Holy Spirit. The temple is such a place. Find a retreat of peace and quiet where periodically you can ponder and let the Lord establish the direction of your life. Each of us needs to periodically check our bearings and confirm that we are on course. Sometime soon you may benefit from taking this personal inventory:

What are my highest priorities to be accomplished while on earth?

How do I use my discretionary time? Is some of it consistently applied to my highest priorities?

Is there anything I know I should not be doing? If so, I will repent and stop it now.

In a quiet moment write down your responses. Analyze them. Make any necessary adjustments.

Put first things first. Do the best you can while on earth to have an ideal family. To help you do that, ponder and apply the principles in the proclamation on the family. I testify that the Lord lives. He loves you. As you live worthily and honestly seek His help, He will guide and strengthen you to know His will and to be able to do it." (First Things First, 2001)

I am grateful that I had this experience, as unsettling as it was. I realize that I am in need of a tune-up. Time to refocus, time to discern that which is truly essential in my life and make sure that those things are prioritized every day. I don't want to become distracted by seemingly small things which, in the end, wind up taking me totally off the path I envision for myself and my family. Not to mention that next time I take my eyes off the road, I might not be so lucky.

“If you have not chosen the kingdom of God first, it will in the end make no difference what you have chosen instead.”

Bruce R. McKonkie

2010-02-10T13:18:00.000-08:00

Something Else

(3/19/2009)

Have you ever backed yourself into a corner? Literally? One of my hobbies is to frequently rearrange the furniture in our home. I am constantly seeking the very best set up to ensure efficiency, beauty, and balance. Of course, such perfection always alludes me, so mostly I am left with something that is “OK” at best. Thus, whenever opportunity allows, I quickly move this piece or that piece, “just to see” how it will look or function in another, BETTER, location. (I have 12 of those little “moving men” things to assist me when no husband or teenagers are around and I'm pretty good and heaving dressers up and down the stairs, even when pregnant).

As you might imagine, this is very annoying to my family. But, as my optimistic husband says, life with me is never “boring.” (That's code for “you're nuts!) Well, the other day, I was innocently sliding a small sideboard (more of a dresser really) from its normal location in the front foyer, into a small alcove in the office where I was sure it would look nicer and provide some needed storage. Much to my dismay, the piece barely fit into the alcove, and in fact, quite pinned me into the corner as I tried to maneuver it. The space was small and unforgiving. For the first time in over sixteen years of furniture moving, I was absolutely backed into a corner. I considered calling for help, but Spencer is only two and Preston (ten months) was napping. There I sat, stewing, trying to figure out just how I got into that mess, and just how, without damaging walls or furniture, I was going to get out again. Anyone who knows me can guess that the metaphors started flying through my head. Why can't I leave well enough alone? Who really cares if there is perfect flow around here?

All this caused me to reflect upon Spencer"s recent favorite phrase. As two year olds are wont to do, Spencer has begun exerting his own will when it comes to choices. No longer is he content to silently accept whatever I offer him. But instead of wailing for what he does want , ala “I want a cookie! I want that truck! I want his shirt! I want to sit in that seat!” his typical response is one that I have never heard before, but one that haunts me. Whenever he is offered anything, he stares at me and says, “I want something else.” Hmm, then the games begin. I start picking up objects, “Do you want this bread?” “No, I want something else,” “Do you want this apple,” “No, I want something else.” Sometimes, he seems to have a vague idea of what he sort of wants and therefore, if you are not getting close with the “guessing” he escalates each request until he is screaming or bursts into tears because, clearly, you are not “getting it.” Other times he seems not to know what he wants at all, and continues to stare blankly while you parade past him all possible choices, only for him to royally dismiss them all.

Well, as I sat there, trapped by my own habitual discontent, I pondered. How very much like Spencer I am and how very annoying that must be to our loving and wise Heavenly Father. He offers us so much. He gives us so many opportunities for a beautiful life, but perhaps, in our ignorance, indecision or “spoiledness” we, like a two year old, want “something else.” Nothing is ever quite good enough for us. We are never quite satisfied, never content to “bloom where we're planted,” or to “make lemonade” out of lemons. As the parent of such an one, I realized how exhausting this must be to our Father in Heaven and how much more He would like to give and share with us, if we could only sit still and be content with what we've already received.

I determined that I was going to stop moving the furniture around so often. I decided that I was going to stop wishing that I were naturally thinner, etc., etc. I decided to go play with the Spencer. Maybe then he'll actually want ME to be his mommy and stop wishing for “something else.” (P.S. Once I made this determination, I magically slipped right out from behind the dresser. Perhaps Heavenly Father just wanted me “cornered” long enough to teach me a lesson!)

“For godliness with contentment is great gain.”

(1 Timothy 6:8)

2010-02-01T21:24:00.000-08:00

My Best Shot

Last week, my ninth and youngest child received his "eighteen-months-old" round of immunization shots. That used to be a really big day for each of my children because it meant NO MORE SHOTS until they turned 5 and entered school (yipee!). This time, however, I actually forgot about it. So much so, that I didn't even make the appointment. I remembered 2 months late, so he was actually 20 months old.

This absent-mindedness took me by surprise. For a minute, I felt like a really bad mommy. What if he had contracted a fatal childhood disease during those two months? It would have been all my fault. I shuttered. It was only later that day that I realized on a deeper level what this experience actually signified for me.

While there in the doctor's office, waiting for the nurse to enter with her fateful needle, my mind raced back in time to my eldest son's immunizations. The first time there at the clinic in Berkeley, I was so terrified, I couldn't speak. I was immobile. Fear clutched my heart. My heart raced, my hands were clammy. I wondered if I were really doing the right thing. I knew he'd never understand the sudden, unprovoked pain. I knew he'd see my face in that painful moment. I knew he'd blame me and I couldn't explain how it was all done in love for his sake. I wanted to scoop my son out of the clutches of nurse Dakia (she had super long fingernails that curved around themselves, I'm not sure how she even wielded that needle, but she was very good at it), and run from the building screaming, "Mommy will save you!"

Everything happened in slow motion. I tried to look away and still brace him. I tried to prepare him for the inevitable, but I knew I could not. He had no idea what it would feel like until it happened, and then, he would never understand why it had happened. It broke my naive mommy heart.

When the deed was done, I was crying along with my son. I held him, we rocked and shook with tears, together. It seemed as if he cried for days afterwords. Anytime I looked at him, he seemed to communicate, "Traitor! Why???" (I was perhaps reading into this a little, since he was only two months old). I could not find peace.

After that, I made my husband take him to the clinic. I just didn't have the fortitude to watch my precious, blameless son be pricked and poked unwittingly. I cried at home just thinking about it. I felt so close to my Heavenly Father as I pondered His feelings for His Only Begotten Son, the spotless Lamb who was bruised, broken, torn for us.

My irrationality continued. Take choking for example. As a new mother, I freaked out whenever I perceived that the baby was choking. I would panic, kinda scream for John, then I'd overreact and grab the baby and start whacking him for dear life. Finally I'd throw the poor thing over my knees and do "baby heimlich" as I had been instructed in CPR certification class.

As time has gone on, however, I have learned many things (parenthood is a great classroom!).

For one thing, I have learned that most of the time, babies are not actually choking. If I give them 30 seconds, they can usually swallow or spit out the questionable food/item. It works itself out. Sometimes, mild effort on my part is needed, but I can do this quite calmly now. In fact, when children yell that there has been an emergency somewhere in my house, I usually ask, "Is there blood?" instead of moving obstacles with herculean strength and hurtling tall buildings to get there. Believe it or not, this attitude shift is progress for me.

I see that I have now gained perspective. I have learned that children need to be left alone sometimes to work out their own problems. They become stronger and wiser as they do. And I am less crazy (but only slightly).

Also I have learned that pain is sometimes necessary for growth. Sometimes even undeserved pain is necessary.

Recently I tuned into an NPR piece speaking of faith and science. The guests were two self-proclaimed atheists. They were married to each other, each were also scientists. They were highly intelligent, kindly people. When asked why they were atheists, the woman said something that I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. She said that when she was seventeen, her mother died of cancer. She decided then that there must not be a God. She decided that no loving parent type being could ever do that to their child. She reasoned, quite naturally, that no Father would take a sweet mother away from her three young children. This experience was too painful. Because of something so painful, something so beyond her understanding or control had happened in her life, her faith in God died too.

In that moment, I didn't hear an intelligent, reasonable scientist. I heard a scared, scarred little girl. I wanted to scoop her up and say "I'll heal you!" I wanted to share with her the amazing plan of salvation. I wanted to explain and testify of the all powerful Atonement. I wanted to hold her and let her cry on my shoulder. I wanted to tell her that God is real, that he is really her Father and that He knows and loves her. I wanted to tell her that her mother's suffering and death were of great meaning. I wanted to tell her that as her Father, God was always watching out for her and was sending her experiences and opportunities for great joy, peace and happiness if she would just trust Him and learn to ride the tidal wives that sometimes come into our lives. I then understood why I had forgotten to make the appointment. It was because, over these last eighteen years, I have learned this lesson. Shots have become not such a big deal to me anymore, because I understand why they are necessary and I understand that, like mortality, the pain is only temporary. Children emerge from the doctor's office a little stronger and a little more prepared (immune) against future attempts by the destroying angel. Instead of dreading that appointment, I hadn't even thought of it.

I further realized that day how much influence we have on our young children. They look to us to know how to respond to the world around them. Perhaps my other children have reacted so badly to shots, because I reacted so badly!! Now that I am so changed, my 20 month old hardly even flinched! I still had to hold him down and look reassuringly into his confused eyes. But this time, I smiled a real smile. He cried, but I hopped him up to standing, gave him a hug and kiss, told him it was over and it was all good! He looked at me, cocked his head, as if he really believed me! That was it. No more crying, nothing. We smiled together. I have never left the doctor's office without the shot-ee screaming. Not until that day last week. Wow. We've all changed a lot.

Now I realize, when the Lord sends trials my way, He is really saying, "I love you!" "I'm doing this for your growth and strength, for your good, even if you don't understand now." I trust Him, Who is mighty to save. Now, instead of fighting and flinching, I try more often to see it from my Father's perspective. I hope that when this life is over, I can honestly say, "I gave it my best shot!"

D&C 121: 7-9:

My son, ^apeace be unto thy soul; thine ^badversity and thine afflictions shall be but a ^csmall moment;

And then, if thou ^aendure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy ^bfoes.

2010-01-25T22:31:00.000-08:00

Bittersweet Sixteen

(10/2008)

I feel sorry for my oldest son who will forever have the role of official mommy heartbreaker. For better or for worse, he grows up first and therefore, causes me to stumble upon his every milestone.

This weekend he will turn sweet 16. Every kid looks forward to this momentous birthday, at least here in Utah, as they can finally date and drive. Being a first time 16 year-old's mom, however, I was not on the ball enough to get him to summer Driver's Ed (What? time for that already? Didn't you just go off to Jr. High yesterday, that was a hard day too!) Soo, it worked out well to tell him that he needed to earn his Eagle before getting his license. And, he tells me, that aside from his first date with his grandmother, he has no immediate plans for dating (I'm sure the young ladies in his class have other plans, however).

Still, the ball is now rolling. Our little (actually not so “little”) intact family is about to blossom (that's a euphemism for all my kids growing up, leaving home and ripping my heart out). I thought the hard part was keeping them alive for this long. Turns out that it's even harder to watch them naturally shift from loving to hang out and watch Disney movies with you on Friday nights to actually preferring their friends, or at least their friends' houses where there aren't eight younger siblings clamoring for attention.

To be fair, my eldest has far exceeded my expectations in this regard for many years. He truly has been the quintessential “big brother,” always babysitting without complaint, or being the guy to set up family movie night complete with the “nest” of blankets and pillows for popcorn and snuggling. But the times, they are a-changin'.

No longer will it just be dad and mom in the front seat of the van going cross country with everyone in tow, now we'll have a third driver. Someone new to talk to at 2 am on those lonely, dark all-nighters. This is definitely a good thing and I am actually happy and excited about it! (Can't you tell? I'm smiling, really, I am). It's just that I know that I must also mourn the loss of my children's babyhood.

Yes, there are many more still under my watchful care (trapped because they have no drivers license), but this moment in time represents the beginning of the end of my reign as Queen of Hyper Control. I now officially have to “let go and let God.”

I know the Lord will watch over and protect my firstborn son, as He does all of us. But I hope his first date for a girl's choice dance will understand, if, after taking too many pictures, I recite through my tears, as they get into the car: “I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be!”

After all, she'll be a mother too someday (but not until WAY after his mission!!!!).

2010-01-08T22:31:00.000-08:00

MANY THANKS TO MANDY LYON(my cousin!) (LYONSAYSROAR.BLOGSPOT.COM) for sharing the following:

tuesday, june 2, 2009

the family business

It's the end of the school year. These days, the schools celebrate this special event with lots and lots of awards... I'm talkin' LOTS. (At least our school does.) Kaia's Kindergarten class held a fabulous event, filled with cheering and screaming for top achievement in things like never being tardy and generally completing the school year. Very exciting stuff.

Actually there was part of the program that made the whole thing worth it for me. Her teacher had each child write down what they want to be when they grow up and then draw a picture of themselves doing their chosen profession. And these kids had BIG ambition. (I mean, once you've received so much praise for being punctual- you feel like the sky's the limit, right?) There were football players and soccer players; firefighters and soldiers;pool cleaners and grass cutters. (Seriously! I wish I were kidding... ok, maybe I don't.) I'm slightly embarrassed to admit it, but Kaia's chosen profession just about had me teary-eyed. As we stood outside her classroom, I looked at all the drawings these kids had made of things they wanted to be. And there in the middle, was my little girl's drawing of a smiling woman, wearing a flowery dress, and the caption: "Mom".

She was the only girl in her class that said she wanted to be a mom when she grew up. When her teacher read it out loud in front of all the kids and parents, the kids erupted in laughter and a few of the parents snickered. But she didn't even flinch. She just glanced to the side and flashed me one of those sweet Kaia grins. I don't know why, but it just made my heart happy that that's what she would want. I guess I felt like maybe I've done a few things right if she would want to follow in my footsteps- take over the family business. ;) I think in this world, where the aspiration of being a stay-at-home mom is so often scoffed at, it's amazing that there are still little girls (and some not-so-little girls) that just want to do what they do best... nurture and care for others. That part, to me, was better than any run-of-the-mill award that she received. Her teacher presented her with many of them, but all I could think about was how proud I was of what she wanted to be.

2010-01-05T07:40:00.000-08:00

Inner Cheerleader

(this is a repost written 3/2009)

Recently, I began exercising again (since the birth of our ninth child, gravity has hit me pretty hard). I try to do this in the early morning so as not to bother the family, and to get through it without any little ʻhelpersʼ who like to climb onto my aerobic step and watch the show.

A few days ago, however, the four youngest (minus the baby) all came down to the basement before I was finished with my video. They were quite astonished to see me exercising (it has not occurred much in their life times)! Then they began to copy and do it with me (on the step, of course). As the video proceeded, the instructor began to make positive comments, such as, “Great job!” “Iʼm proud of you!” “Youʼre doing it!” “Keep it up, youʼre almost through!” “Just do your best.” Suddenly my 7 year-old looked perplexed. “Mommy,” she asked, “Can they see you?”

Up until that point, I had not thought about how odd such comments are. Of course the instructors on video tapes cannot see me! And yet, I was soaking in all those positive comments and really needing and believing them. “Yes!” I would think to myself, “I CAN do this, I AM making progress!” Funny thing, those positive comments really keep me going during a workout. I need to hear them!

I started to think about my children. More often than not, I am making not-so- positive comments. This I do to fulfill my role as the teacher, trainer and molder of these young ones. Many times I say, “Pick up your back pack and put it away!” “Do your homework,” “Why didnʼt you practice already?” and so on. These phrases may seem somewhat necessary, but they certainly are not very motivating.

What if my video instructor was saying, “Your abs need work!” “Why arenʼt you keeping up with me?” “Have you drunk 8-10 cups of water today?” I donʼt think those kinds of comments would motivate me at all. I am going to try harder to use positive talk with my children. We all need that.

Iʼm sure it works on husbands too! Joseph Smith said, ”When a man is borne down with trouble, when he is perplexed with care and difficulty, if he can meet with a smile instead of an argument or a murmur - if he can meet with mildness, it will calm down his soul and soothe his feelings. . .never give a cross or unkind word to your husbands, but let kindness, charity and love crown your works. . .“

Finally, the great “Instructor” from on High, our Savior, surely CAN see us, though we CANNOT see Him. This is for a wise purpose. However, we can be sure that from His vantage point He is cheering us on. He has gone before us and showed us the way. As we stumble along, trying to keep up with his faultless example, we only have to listen and then we can hear,” Great Job! Iʼm proud of you! Keep it up, youʼre doing youʼre best!”

I alway wanted to be a cheerleader in high school. Now is my chance! We should all tap into our “inner cheerleader” and make sure that truthful, positive comments are the majority of what we say to others. After all, weʼre all just doing our best to get back into “heavenly” shape.

New Year's Resolution

2010-01-04T11:27:00.001-08:00

As I was taking down the Christmas tree this week, I realized how much I had rearranged the furniture to accommodate it. Not only had I rearranged, but in fact I had actually also removed a desk, added a chair and hung a new picture to balance where the desk had been. That was just in one room. All kinds of other things were affected to accommodate my Christmas decor, and this was a pretty scanty decorating year!

I wondered, why is it so easy to "make room" for my Christmas decorations? Even though it is work and takes time to get the balance just right every year, it is also a joy and so rewarding when finished. I realized that I needed to apply this lesson to my life.

There is a sign on my wall which reads, "Each of us is an Innkeeper who decides if there is room enough for Jesus" (Neal A. Maxwell). I have had it for many years and I place it on the wall each Christmas and yet it was just this year that I really felt penetrated by that message.

By my own admission, I am a workaholic. I love to clean, etc. This is generally a good thing, especially with so many children, but as with all things, can get out of balance. It is so easy to overwork and so easy to justify. Often, I don't even attend movies with my family because it is too easy to put the baby down for a nap and stay home to clean! Instead, I should take the time to get a sitter if needed and just "make room" in my day to be with my husband and children. It is deceptive, because there is always work to be done! If we are not careful, we can talk ourselves out of any other experience because the laundry, dishes, yardwork, scrapbooking, is not all caught up.

As I sat winding up strings of lights, I pondered this. I realized that it was the last day to go see "Savior of the World" (a live musical drama of the Savior's miraculous birth and resurrection) up in Salt Lake. I knew I had promised a friend I would try to see her in it. I also knew that it would be a powerful and sweet experience for my children. Still, I wavered. There was so much work to be done! This was also my last work day before school, etc. started again. How would I ever catch up if I took 5 hours off to do the whole Salt Lake thing? Then I remembered, "make room." In my mind, I actually visualized answering the door and letting in the Savior. Then, I did something VERY uncharacteristic of me (just ask my husband!). I announced that we were going to Salt Lake, without any tickets, to go stand in a stand by line for the sold out show. I called my mom who graciously agreed to babysit the two toddlers. I rearranged some teenager conflicts, I made a fast lunch, I dressed everyone in sunday clothes (and boots of course) and then we dashed out the door before I had time to talk myself out of it!

Would we even get it? I wasn't sure, but I knew that if I made room for the Lord, He would probably make room for us. Sure enough we got there with just minutes to spare. We waited in the stand by line. Miraculously just before the start, we were handed 9 tickets for seats all together. I couldn't believe it, but actually, I could. From start to finish, I was entranced. I loved the beautiful show which so gently, yet deeply portrayed the miracle of Jesus Christ. I left with a more profound witness than I had ever felt before that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. I was so grateful to experience this with my beautiful children.

I was so excited that I called family members on the way home, "Please come and see the evening show! It's the last show until next year, you'll be so glad you did!" Lovingly they expressed how they wished they could, then finished by saying, "There's just too much work to do tonight." I felt numb. I realized how close I had come to missing it too. How close I had come to just "working" through another day without taking the time to "let Him in." I resolved to never let another day in my life go by without taking the time to commune with the Lord.

One of my favorite choral pieces is "Take Time to Be Holy." It reminds me to do just that each day. As we set our New Year's Resolutions, this is one I'll be writing down! As President Ezra T. Benson said, "If you're too busy for the Lord, you're too busy."

Incidentally, whenever I "take time to be holy," inevitably I have a better day as a mother. I had the best time with my children and John in Salt Lake. We even had a quick tour of the Lion House and got some yummy dinner together. Not something I will soon forget. Most likely, had I stayed home to clean, I would have had to clean again next Saturday anyway. I think the kids will remember our outing more than my cleaning!

Likewise, when I take the time to spend a few quiet moments in the scriptures before the kids get up, somehow it gives me what I need to be more patient and loving .

It is tempting to think that we will be happier if we wait until all the work is done before we make time for the Savior or our family, but this is not true. In fact, when we prioritize the Lord, the best things happen! So, this year I pledge to open my door, my heart, my schedule to Him. Thanks to all of you for your great examples! Happy New Year!

"Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace." (E.T. Benson)

2009-12-31T22:27:00.000-08:00

What Mom Is Worth: Dollars and Sense

(First written for the podcast Babies and Moms: Birth and Beyond 2007 available on iTunes)

Every mother has had a day where she throws up her hands and says, “It’s just not worth it!” Well, she probably isn’t talking about the monetary compensation plan, but today we actually are going to address just what a mom is worth in dollars and cents. And we ask the question: Does it make sense (CENTS) to be a mom? We believe the answer is “YES!” but you don’t have to take our word for it. Let’s talk about it.

There are many aspects of motherhood, and of course we could never cover all the ways in which a mom is valuable or figure out just how much a mother is really worth in a person’s life. But today we do want to focus on the financial worth of MOM. Perhaps there are working mothers who may not realize all the double duty they are doing, or how much they are paying to replace themselves. Or there might be at home moms who may not know just how much the work they do is worth! And maybe there are some dads and kids who need to know this information too so they can better understand and appreciate, or even help the overworked and underpaid mothers in their lives!

The idea for this segment first came to me as I looked around my dirty house one day. Since I have eight children under fourteen, including 5 boys (two of them twins!), and since my husband is still in school (after 16 years of marriage) and works full time, and we just got a puppy, there is an endless array of laundry, dishes and just dirt in general. I was tired that day, and even worse, I just didn’t care anymore. I used to love the smell of clean laundry, clean floors, clean beds. On that dismal day, I just sat there and stared blankly waiting for some force of nature to push me over.

Running away didn’t seem like the most mature option, although it did occur to me. Instead, I did something I had never done before. I called a cleaning service. Oh yes, they assured me on the phone. This is not a luxury; this is a necessity in today’s lifestyle. Oh yes, they can come today for an estimate, yes, yes, women should never feel guilty, they can’t believe I haven’t called sooner, they’ll be right over. The gal on the phone should have been a bartender. She was so soothing; I knew I had done the right thing. I floated through the rest of the morning, anxiously awaiting my liberation. We can afford this, I told myself. We only need them to come once a month I rationalized. Little did I realize just what it would cost in dollars and cents.

To summarize the rest of the experience, let me say this: they came, they saw, they billed. I couldn’t believe it! The estimate was very explicit. They only “deep clean” 2 rooms each time they come. They don’t do windows, they don’t wash walls, they don’t do closets or pantries or bedrooms. What DO they do I was wondering, but not for too long, because then they handed me the estimate: it was a little more than 400 dollars. That was for just the downstairs! Which they estimated would take three girls about 2-3 hours. Well, I decided against using their services, but it was not a wasted experience because I learned something very important. My work as a “housewife” is very valuable! Suddenly I had a second wind about doing all my mundane chores. As I analyzed each piece of my house the way that the cleaning service did, I could see just how difficult, time consuming and expensive my housework really is! That got me thinking about all the other jobs moms do on a regular basis. We are doctors, chauffeurs, cooks, maids, laundry service, child care, tutors, decorators, psychologists, music teachers, soccer coaches, not to mention companions for husbands, PTA presidents, etc., etc. Each mom’s list is a mile long. In fact, RedBookMag.com March 2007 claims that a mom today is worth “$ 761,650.00/year . . . if they were paid for all the work they do.” There is no time off, no holidays or sick days. There is no pay, no over-time pay, no bonuses, not even gift baskets! (Unless you count the ones made out of Popsicle sticks that you get from your 1^st grader!). “Good thing motherhood is its own reward!” touts Redbook.

So we just want to take a minute and say to moms everywhere, “Good Job! Well done! You’re priceless!” Just take some time to realize all you do and just what you contribute to your family and neighborhood. Not just emotionally, but very realistically, financially!

Now, for those that do work for a pay check, realize that you have double duty. Chances are you do most of what other moms do, plus your outside job. And realize that you may be paying someone else to replace you. Does that make sense? All moms everywhere should analyze what they are paying for childcare, housekeeping, wardrobe, commuting, eating out, etc. and decide if it is all really worth it. Perhaps your pay check is not as valuable as you think. If you are working mostly for the money and wishing you could be home instead, maybe this is your chance. Now that you know just what it is costing, think about your options.

When we had three children under three, my husband had just landed his first real job. We excitedly bought a house. Well, the mortgage was a bigger chunk than we realized it would be each month. Slowly over the first year we were going into debt. We had to make a choice. Should I go to work? I pondered the question a long time. In the end, I decided that childhood is too short and that I wanted to be home with my children fulltime. So, we came up with a creative plan. We moved into a one-bedroom apartment. The children shared the bedroom with a bunk bed and crib. My husband and I slept on a fold out couch bed in the “living room.” Meanwhile, we rented out our house to cover the mortgage, which consequently reduced our monthly housing costs by about 75%. The children were young and they didn’t mind a smaller place. I spent the days with friends, at the park, etc. to keep them busy. After a year of this, we were out of debt and were able to purchase a video camera and a piano! Two items we desperately wanted. Our house appreciated that year and then we were able to sell it and buy our next house with that money. The whole thing was an adventure, perhaps not right for everyone, but I was able to stay home with the children, make lots of new friends, get out of debt, buy stuff we wanted and make money for our next down payment – all in one year because we did some creative thinking instead of just automatically putting mom right into the job market.

I had a friend when we lived in Philadelphia. She was from Austria and worked as an Au Pair for our neighbors. As the children played, we would talk and one day she asked me how much I got paid to stay home with my kids (four at the time). What? I had never heard of such a thing! She explained that in Austria women are paid to stay home with their children! I recently heard that Russia is thinking about adopting that model also (That sounds great, let’s move there!).

In conclusion, we hope this week that we were able to brighten your day a little. Does it make sense to be a mom? You better believe it! As a mom, whether you work outside the home or not, we KNOW you work INSIDE your home and girl! Your work is priceless! You deserve a pat on the back and you also deserve a fat paycheck! But instead you will probably get some peanut butter kisses and some, “love ya mom”s, and that too is worth a million.

2009-12-30T16:39:00.000-08:00

On the Right Track

Don’t Chuck Your Banjo in the Fire

(written 1/2009)

While they run, I attempt my own routine of running, then walking, then running again for about 30 minutes, after which I have to stop and start “stretching out.”

It does not matter where we are on the track. It only matters that we are there! If we are on the right track, Elder Bruce R. McKonkie lets us know that we cannot fall off of it!