Boulders, Jungles, & the Paths of Life

Photo Credit

I'm in the jungle.
And I'm running from a giant boulder,
just like in the scene from Indiana Jones, and The Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Sometimes I'm alone and other times I'm with someone, but I don't know who.
Always - running away from the boulder, through the thick jungle.
Breathing so hard.
Sweating.
Adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I flee,
too busy concentrating on escaping to fully realize the fear.
And then, just as it seems I might outsmart or outrun the boulder, I come to a cliff - high above a raging river, a high gorge - too high to jump down and too wide to jump across.
I feel trapped.
And the fear sets in.
Sometimes I jump and sometimes I try to dodge the boulder so that it will fall into the gorge in my place.

And then I wake up.

I don't have this dream any more, but I used to have it regularly throughout my childhood and well into my early adult married life.  In fact, many of my dreams at that time period of my life were set in the jungle.  If it wasn't this dream, it was about swinging from vine to vine like Tarzan.  "ahhh, uh, ahhh, uuuuyyya, ahhhhh!" :)  (Yes, I love Tarzan films - even the black and white ones.  I'm a Tarzan nerd.)

Honestly, now, I don't know what I dream or if I dream.  I don't remember them very often or I just don't have them.  I'm not sure which.  This is something I miss very much.  My dreams were my escape.  I dreamed my way out of my problems.  If it were a scary dream, like my boulder in the jungle dream, I realized when I got to the cliff with the gorge and the raging river below that I had to either keep fighting to find a way out or I had to just go over the edge and let go.  I always woke up before I hit the bottom so as far as I believed, I would just fall forever, with that rocky river somewhere lower than me at all times.  But sometimes that was the solution I needed - to just let go and trust that it would all work itself out.  Sometimes I needed to not give up, but rather, keep looking for a way out or a better solution. 

Why has it taken me so long to see this? 

I think, right now, I need to let myself fall and see where I land and trust that it will all be okay.  I don't have any major challenges right now, but I have felt overwhelmed and like that boulder is constantly on my heels.  It isn't any one thing, any one person, any one anything.  We all know what that is.  It's called life.  And it isn't always what we expected it to be when we wrote our hopes and dreams down in our hearts in the past.  But we accept what we've been given or we don't. 

We only have two choices - accept it or medicate ourselves against it - drugs, alcohol, food, the internet, pornography, excessive dieting, abuse, or any and all other addicting or damaging behaviors.  The happiest people in this life are the ones who choose to accept the cards they've been dealt.  They don't blame others for the hard things in their life, they don't wallow around in the bog of self-pity, they don't look for the "easy" fix or way out all the time.  They accept the bad with the good and do their best to be happy in spite of the unpleasant stuff.  They seek to make life better for themselves as well as for those around them.  They see life as a gift, not a tragedy.  They take their heartaches, their trials, their discouragements and use them as a way to help - to use their life experiences to comfort and lift others walking the same path they have already been down.  They hold our hands, walk beside us so we don't feel so alone, and guide us down the path and help us see through the dark tunnels we find ourselves in.

This life is a map full of long and winding roads.  As we walk down our own path, we find others whose paths have merged with ours temporarily.  They walk with us a little ways and then they head down another path.  Sometimes our paths cross again at some point, and sometimes they don't.  My path and my husband's path merged almost 19 years ago.  He has walked hand in hand with me all that time and will walk with me through eternity - so, not just in this life, but in the next as well.  I'm grateful for that.  But I am also grateful for all the other paths that have crossed mine in these 37+ years.  I've been touched for good.  I've been guided and strengthened by those who were placed in my path for me by a loving God who knows me so well and knows what I need when I need it.  So thank you my friends.  Thank you for walking along my path with me at this time in my life.  You strengthen me, comfort me, and help me up when I fall.  You make my journey joyful and I appreciate you.  I just hope I can do the same for you.

Every Child Deserves...

Every child deserves -

a mom and a dad whom love them.
a safe place to lay their head at night.
food to fill their belly.
clothes upon their back.
a warm home to come home to.
someone who says, "Have a good day!", each morning as they part ways
and someone to ask, "How was your day?", each evening.
to have a kiss on their "ouie" when they get hurt.
to have a listening ear and a kind response when things don't go so well.
to be taught what is right and what is wrong.
not to be abused or neglected.
to be part of a family.
to be taught truth.
to know they are important.
to be taught the value of an honest days work for an honest days pay.
to have fair discipline.
to be taught to govern themselves.
to know God.

But most important of all.
Every. single. child. deserves -
L.O.V.E.  Love.

My heart breaks for all the innocent children who have no idea what most of these things are.  They do not understand what it means to be safe.  They hurt and no one sees their pain.  They cry and no one dries theirs tears.  They desire to be loved, but know not where to find it. 

Oh how my heart breaks.

I wish I could scoop each of them up and cradle them, comfort them, teach them, protect them - LOVE them.  I do not understand why people hurt children.  It isn't right.  IT. IS. WRONG. 

"As Tagore, the poet of India, once observed, “Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man” (Charles L. Wallis, ed., The Treasure Chest, New York: Harper and Row, 1965, p. 49). Children are the promise of the future. They are the future itself. The tragedy is that so many are born to lives of sorrow, of hunger, of fear and trouble and want. Children become the victims, in so many, many cases, of man’s inhumanity to man.

Why should they suffer so much in so many places? Surely God, our Eternal Father, must weep when he sees the abuse that is heaped upon his little ones, for I am satisfied they hold a special place in his grand design." (Gordon B. Hickley)

"But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matt. 18:6). 

Amen to that scripture!

I'm not a perfect parent.  I make mistakes.  I'm not always as kind, patient, and loving with my children as I should be.  I'm working on it.  It is a daily process that takes time and commitment.  I'm in it for the long haul.  I will continue to do the best that I can in raising them and I will continue to seek out those children who have been neglected, forgotten, or abused.  It is my duty.  It is all of our duty.  May we all strive to reach out to the children around us to protect them and love them.  It is an investment for our future if we desire, even in just some small way, for our world to be a better place.

The Avenue of Emotion

Music is the avenue of emotion.

It comes in many forms.

It can be:

angry
loud
chaotic
disturbing

sad
mournful
depressing

soft
soothing
spiritual
contemplative

joyful
energetic
inspiring
refreshing.

Can you imagine a world without music?
I can't. 
What a tragedy it would be indeed!

Can I Just Babble For a While?

I can't figure it out.
Writing has this calming effect on me like nothing else.
Why didn't I figure this out sooner?
(Okay, I confess. I figured it out a few months ago.)

I'm sitting here a bundle of nerves.
It's been such a long day.
I would like to whine,
but I won't.
My kids did enough of that today for all of us.
So I'll keep a lid on it.

You know -
bad attitudes are just that.
Bad.
I think I would like to give mine away,
but for some reason I hold onto it like a treasure.
Why is that anyways?
Pffft.

Why do I want to be something I'm not?
What's the deal with that?
I should be happy to be me.
Because...
You know...
There is - in fact - only one of me on this planet.
I should feel like royalty!
Because...
You know...
The last time I checked -
It is pretty amazing to be one of a kind.
Things that are one of a kind are priceless!
Hmmm.
I guess I'm priceless!
I think that means that every single person here is priceless too!
Hmmm.

Negative thinking is destructive.
To the mind, the body, and the soul.
It's absolutely useless.
As human beings, it is so harmful.
So why do we allow it?
Oh, that's right.
This life is a test.
In order to know good, there has to be evil.
In order to know sweet, there has to be bitter.
For every up there is a down.
For every right there is a wrong.
In order to understand positive, we need to understand negative.
It's that whole -
'everything has an equal and opposite reaction' bit we learn in science class.
How do we overcome it?
Trial and error, lots of patience, forgiveness,
and understanding that only comes line upon line, precept upon precept.
The negative ride is so much less fun than the positive one.
I think I'm ready to change rides.
The negative ride I've been on the last few hours has been a downer.
I think I'll go to bed and get some sleep,
so that when I wake up in the morning,
I can hitch a ride on the positive bus.
It is a choice - my choice - after all,
as to which ride I take.

Life, The Movie

It's an up, down, all-around, topsy, turvy, wonderful, crazy life.

Does it feel like time just zooms by?

It does.

Photo Credit: David W. Brown

The summer is too short.  Always too short.  Always. 

The fields of green have turned brown on top as they've burst forth the seeds to reproduce for the next season.  The nights are just a tad cooler and just a little longer.  The nip is just starting to be felt in the early morning air.  Slight emotions of mourning permeate the heart at the thought of autumn approaching and then winter coming right behind.  It won't be long now.  Just a few short weeks.  Snow could come in two short months.  Ah!  The dreaded snow and cold.  Please don't come yet!  This soul is not ready to be cooped up for eight long months again!  The winter prison is not so appealing and the anticipation is actually trepidation.

The lazy days of childhood have passed.  The busy days of parenthood are abundant.  Soon, ever so soon, those busy days will end and the twilight will come.  Why does it have to go SO fast? 

The gray hair comes in more and more each day.  The crows feet around the eyes.  The sagging on the neck.  Middle age is not yet for this tired mother, but it's knocking at the door.  Soon it will be opened and a new chapter begins.  The current chapter is so entertaining and ripe and comfortable.  What could the next chapter hold that would possibly compare?  Oh, that's right.  The cycle will begin once again and a new generation will be born and the beautiful sound of crying babies and laughing children will fill the air once more.  The next chapter has high expectations of being worth reading. 

A story is not told from the end, but from the beginning.  It only moves forward, not back.  There is no rewind or fast-forward for life, only play.  It can be frustrating, can't it?  It can be so hard to sit and watch the movie frame by frame.  It's easy to be distracted or to fall asleep and miss parts.  It's time to wake up!  It's time to pay attention to this movie as it plays out.  It cannot be replayed.  It's time to be alive.  This life is to be lived but only once.  Eternity will come, but it will not be the same.  This mortality is short.  It's time to grab hold.

Human Behavior 101

I'm linking up with Laura over at Living a Big Story today.
You should go over and check her out.
Seriously.
She's awesome. :)



I'm a student of human behavior - an observer by nature.  I'm always asking the typical questions - why, how, what, where, who?  Now don't get me wrong - I don't care for gossipy type stuff.  In fact, I really hate gossip, and I hate it when I do it.  Hate. It.  But, unfortunately, thanks to my human weakness, I have partaken of the gossip pie from time to time. {sigh}  I always feel like a low down heal of a woman when I do too... so I try REALLY hard not to do it.  But that isn't what this post is about...

I think I ask the question 'why?' more than any other.  Why did that person say, do, or write that?  What caused that person to act that way or be that way?  When I see a person who is well liked, admired, highly respected, or always happy, I automatically wonder, "How did that person get to be that way?"  When I see a person who is angry, destitute, homeless, unemployed, a bully, sad, upset, or alone, I ask myself, "I wonder what events have taken place in this person's life to cause them so much pain."  I worry about people.  It's in my nature.  I can't help it. 

It has been a great asset for me as a mother trying to raise children to be kind, understanding, and compassionate.  My job isn't finished in that department, but we are making progress.  *Disclaimer:  My kids aren't perfect.  I know that better than anyone.  They aren't always kind or nice or compassionate.  Sometimes they get in fights with their friends or each other. Sometimes they don't show adequate respect.  But this is what I have and am still trying to teach them.

When my kids come home from school in tears because another kid was mean or a bully, I try to use it as a teaching opportunity.  I console my wounded child and let him/her know that he/she is still the best kid in the world as far as I'm concerned.  I dry the tears and listen to the story.  Then, the teaching moment arrives and I ask why he/she thinks that kid did or said what he did.  It takes a few minutes for the anger from the hurt to wear off, but it doesn't take long after I take the spotlight off of them and place it on the kid who was mean.  It almost always revolves back to the fact that something unpleasant is going on in the 'mean' kid's life.  Sometimes they have parents going through a divorce, or someone close to them has died or is seriously ill.  Sometimes they are neglected or abused at home.  It's always something.  So then I remind my kids that they never know what another person is feeling or what hard things they are having to endure.  I remind them that kids who are bullies, mean, or angry are usually having a hard time and they don't know how to handle it.  So I ask them to be their friend instead - to try to understand what is wrong with that person and see if they can "be kind to them because maybe that's all they want is for you to be their friend.  Maybe they just need a little kindness in their life."

It almost always diffuses the situation and then my child feels empowered to deal with it the next day.  It doesn't always fix things right away, but usually over a short period of time the problem goes away and I don't hear anything else about it.  Occasionally, there are times when it boils down to the fact that there is just a simple personality clash.  In those instances, I usually advise my child to be kind to that person, but maybe just keep some distance.  "You don't have to be everybody's friend, but I expect you to be kind and respectful to everyone - even if you don't get along with them and don't agree with each other." 

I've been thinking about this because my Sunday School lesson this week was about the apostle Paul again.  He was such a great missionary and I love learning about him.  There was a part of the lesson that has me thinking about what kind of a person I am. 

He was on his second journey as a missionary and was very busy in Athens.  He was worried about the saints from his first journey - the people he taught and baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ.  He recognized that as new converts they still needed to be taught, but he was not in a position to visit them so he sent Timothy in his place with a letter that he wrote specifically for them - the Thessalonians.

In his letter, he taught them what attributes they should seek to have if they were truly to be numbered among the saints.  In 1 Thessalonians 4: 9-12 and 5: 11-22 he explained to them that this is truly how followers of Christ will be.

They should...

• have brotherly/sisterly love for all mankind.
• seek learning by study.
• give an honest days work.
• be dependable
• be honest in their dealings.
• not despair.
• be consoling.
• offer encouragement.
• be good leaders when they are in a leadership position and be good followers when someone else is in a leadership position over them.
• show common courtesy.
• show respect, comfort, compassion, and edify one another.
• care for the sick and the needy.
• be peacemakers.
• be patient.
• be happy and joyful.
• pray always.
• give thanks and show gratitude.
• not suppress the Spirit - always listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
• be believing.
• test all things - prove God in all that he asks of us.
• hold fast to good.
• abstain from evil.

Isn't that still true today?  All of that encompasses that one great commandment to love one another, doesn't it?  It just breaks it down into bite size pieces for us.  If we are doing those things and seek to be those kind of people, I think we are doing pretty good, don't you?  I realized there are some of those attributes that come to me very easily, but there are some that I struggle in.  I can work on those.  Now, if everyone would do the same, we would have a lot less trouble in the world.  I think it would be a pretty happy place to live. 

The Lesson I Learned From a Pastry Blender

My 14 year old pastry blender.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, otherwise commonly known as the 'Mormons'.  We have different organizations within the church.  One of those is the Young Women's organization for all girls from 12 to 18 years old.  Several women volunteer their time to be leaders (what we refer to as "callings") to teach the girls and mentor them to help prepare them for womanhood. 

I was called to be the Young Women's president when I was 23 years old.  I was young, naive, and easily intimidated.  I was terrified of being "in charge" of over 45 young girls.  Twenty of those girls were Laurels (16 - 18 years old).  That meant I was directly responsible for them. 

As is the case with any presidency calling, it came time for a stake leadership training meeting.  It was December so there was to be a white elephant gift exchange as a fun part of the meeting.  Everyone was instructed to bring a gift that cost $1.00 to $5.00.  I worried and I stressed.  I didn't know what to bring.  I hadn't been a part of very many white elephant gift exchanges by that stage in my life.  Gift giving is not one of my strong talents.  I'm a terrible gift giver and it is a major source of anxiety for me to find the right gift to give someone.

Rewind:  I was a young mother.  I had two small children (1 and 3 years old).  Money was very very tight.  I was still learning how to be a housewife.  Cooking and baking were becoming easier for me, but I still had so much more to learn.  Just a couple of weeks earlier, during the Thanksgiving holiday, I discovered something called a pastry blender.  I just happened to see one in the baking isle of the grocery store one day and realized what it was for.  I had no idea there was such a thing.  My mom always used a fork to mix her butter or shortening into her flour mixtures for pie crusts, biscuits, or tortillas.  I was very frustrated with using a fork because I couldn't ever get my butter or shortening into small enough pieces for those items to turn out well.  I just couldn't do it like mom.  So as I stood in that grocery store isle, a light bulb blinked ferociously in my mind, and I decided to go ahead and splurge the extra $1 and buy myself one.  It was just in time for Thanksgiving pies and that year my pies were pretty amazing.  I just have to say that because they really were.  My crusts were perfect!  And I was so excited.

Back to the leadership training meeting/Christmas party:  I was still quite excited about my new discovery.  I was sure no else knew what pastry blenders were either.  They just had to be a 'new' invention!  I was sure of it.  So much so, that I decided that would be the perfect white elephant gift.  I was pretty proud of myself for being so clever.  (Plus it was within my poorer than dirt budget.)  So I bought one and wrapped it up and off to the meeting I went - excited for the fun I was about to have.

The training went well, but I was feeling a little insecure since I was the youngest woman there.  I was feeling quite intimidated by all of the women who had raised kids and had served in the Young Women's organization for many years.  I didn't socialize much either because it was so hard to get out of the house with my little ones.  My social skills were pretty rusty at that point and I was quite positive that it showed all over me like a kid on her first day of high school. 

The white elephant gift exchange finally came at the end of the meeting.  It was getting exciting and there was lots of trading (stealing) and laughing going on.  There were some pretty cute gifts there - bags of candy wrapped up cute, cute little Christmas cookie cutters, homemade gift cards, cookie mixes in a jar, etc.  Just lots of 'cute' stuff that took some thought and creativity.  As soon as I saw a few of those kinds of gifts being opened up I knew I had made a mistake.  I was embarrassed and didn't want them to get to my pastry blender.  But it came.  There was no way out of it.  When it finally came to my gift, sure enough, there was silence.  Confused silence.  I could just hear the thoughts screaming out of people's heads saying things like, "Why would someone give a pastry blender?  Why would I want THAT?  That was a dumb gift!  I'm so glad I didn't get that one!"  Needless to say, nobody wanted to "steal" my pastry blender.  It was on the dud list of gifts that nobody wanted.

My insecurities were raging out of control at this point.  As soon as the last gift had been unwrapped, stolen, traded, and finalized I made a B-line for the exit.  I was out that door so fast, there was no way anyone could have spoken to me if they tried.  I was humiliated.  I made it to my car unnoticed and bawled.  I cried and cried.  I couldn't go home.  I was so embarrassed I didn't even want to tell my husband what had happened.  So I just drove around the block and parked my car at the park until I could regain my composure enough to go home. 

Now that some time has passed - almost 14 years - I realize that no one probably even thought anything of my pastry blender gift.  It was a white elephant gift exchange after all!  Isn't that the whole fun of them?  Sometimes the gifts are good and sometimes the gifts are gag gifts.  But it was a big deal to me.  And at that moment, the only thing I could think of, was - ME.  I just felt dumb.

It was a hard thing for me.  But I got over it, just as I had numerous times in the past.  It's tough to be so overly sensitive.  I appreciate those experiences in my life though.  As hard as they have been for me, I have learned so much about people from them.  These experiences help me to look beyond the surface of people I meet.  It helps me to stop and to ask myself why people do, act, or say the things that they do.  There is always a large part of the picture we don't see with people.  I've come to understand that most people only let us see those parts of them that they feel safest sharing with us.  That leaves so much left behind the curtain that we don't see.  So I allow myself to be vulnerable and I share these experiences because it helps me to know that other people have the same vulnerabilities or insecurities that I have.  It bridges a layer of trust and solidifies relationships. 

Every time I make biscuits or pie crust or even see my pastry blender as I dig through my utensil drawer I'm reminded of that experience.  And I stop and ask myself how I treated the people I came in contact with that day.  Sometimes I have to admit that I'm ashamed of myself because I judged someone harshly or lost my temper or just acted like a jerk.  And I wonder if I have made someone in a vulnerable, insecure spot feel that same way I felt so many years ago.  It causes me to do some serious self-reflection.  When I realize that I have done that, it makes me feel bad for my behavior.  And I always come back to the same conclusion - being kind is not so hard.  Helping someone to feel good instead of bad IS important.  It's not fun to be judged or labeled or belittled.  I can do better at this.  I can uplift those I see instead of tearing them down.  I become acutely aware of the things I do and say so I have an increased desire to work harder at being nice and trying not to judge.  And then I usually have to go into my bedroom and get down on my knees and ask my Heavenly Father for forgiveness as I realize that I didn't do so well that day.  Then I get back up and recommit to be better tomorrow.

And that's the lesson I learned from a pastry blender. 

And just so you know... I still think the pastry blender is pretty awesome and one of the greatest inventions - EVER.

Discouragement

I am preprogrammed to not handle stress well.  I have a classic type A personality.  I'm a perfectionist.  That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but when you add depression and anxiety into the mix, it's not such a great combination.  So when I lose it, I lose it.  Don't get me wrong - I'm not abusive, but I get a little loud and have a hard time controlling my emotions.  I tend to over react when I get this way.  I completely blew up and ranted about the new high school bell schedule and the 'reward' period that the kids get every Monday if they have good grades.  I ranted to 3 different people today.  {sigh}  Yes, now I'm embarrassed.  I totally over reacted.  As ususal.

The last few weeks have been rough, to say the least.  There are several times per year when I can almost guarantee a 'meltdown'. - The 'holiday' season: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and my kids' birthdays; - and then there is the school year end and the school year beginning.  This means increased responsibilities for the kids.  Increased responsibilities and commitments for kids mean increased responsibilities and commitments for mom.  Small changes in our routine are not such a big deal, but the big changes are enough to send me into a tailspin.  It doesn't help that one of my children has a personality almost identical to my own.  It's bad enough to live with one of me, but two of me is torture for the whole family. 

I'm not condoning my behavior or trying to excuse it.  That's not okay.  I'm just explaining what's been behind my crazy, depressed posts the last little while.

I thought (hoped) today would be better, but it wasn't any better.  I've been so discouraged lately.  I can't seem to overcome it, try as I may.  I think discouragement is one of my life's biggest trials.  It feels like I'm constantly tackling it, succumbing to it, tackling, succumbing... over and over again.  Satan knows this is my weakness and I keep letting him use it against me.  I continually pray for help that one day I'll be able to put discouragement behind me.  I know that with the Lord's help, eventually I'll be able to handle it better, but until then, I will try to figure out what I've got to learn from this trial of mine.

So when I came out the door and down the steps on my way out of the office this afternoon, this is what I found:

I hadn't noticed this beautiful rose earlier in the day, but it caught my eye just as I was leaving.  I felt that familiar tug of the Spirit prompting me to stop.  So I did.  I couldn't help but admire the beauty, the pureness of the white, and the almost seemingly perfect bloom.  Closer observation reveals evident imperfections, but it was still beautiful to me.  I felt as if Heavenly Father was blessing me with a tender mercy by whispering to my troubled heart and mind that He is aware of me.  That He knows that I'm not perfect and that I have flaws, but He knows me and He thinks that I am beautiful and important to Him.  It was as if He were saying to me, "I know you are struggling.  I know you are worried, tired, and discouraged.  I am aware of your burdens.  Hold on.  Your trial won't go on forever.  Life's beauties will find you again. Don't give in and don't give up." 

So I felt comforted.  And my discouragement abated for a little while.

And then I came home and my son directs me to the garden and this is what I found:

It seems as though our electric fence isn't working.  The raccoons have found my corn patch.  They've feasted on my beautiful corn cobs before we've even had the chance to sink our teeth into a single kernel.  It seems we've planted our whole garden for the pests.  My discouragement returned almost instantly.  All I could do was flop down on the lawn in a "snow angel" position and lay there feeling sorry for myself.  My pity party lasted several minutes until the moisture from the lawn began to penetrate my clothes. 

I got up and decided enough was enough.  I came in and fixed dinner for my family.  It helped.  Feeding my family is a form of service and it made me feel better.  I guess that is probably my lesson in all of this.  I obviously need to give more service so that my focus will be on someone else and not myself.  As I sit here writing this post, my men are playing Monopoly.  The giggles and contentment in my home are slowly diffusing my discouragement and I'm feeling peace again.  It's Monday night so that means Family Home Evening.  I'm so grateful it's Monday.  I needed it tonight. 

Some Days

Some days...
I just want to run away.  Today is one of those days.  I'm tired.  So very tired.  Exhausted, actually. 

Some days...
I love everything there is about being a mother:  the hugs, the 'I love you's, the fixing dinner, cleaning the house, providing for my family, being the one to sign the line on the permission slips that are marked, 'Parent Signature', the clean clothes sitting on the table waiting to be folded and tucked away in their given spots, the conversations where my kids confide in me and ask for my advice, and all the other 'stuff' that comes with being a mom.

But some days...
I wish I weren't the mom.  With no one to report to and no one to report to me.  No one else to worry about, but myself. 

Luckily there are more of the days I love being a mother than the ones where I don't. 

Some days...
I can feel the Spirit (the Holy Ghost) so strongly that it feels like he is sitting right beside me.  He is so close I know that if I were to speak directly to him, he would speak directly back to me.  I feel his presence so strongly, the only way I can express myself is through uninvited tears that well up and overflow as I choke out a single word. 

But some days...
He is so far away.  I can barely feel him.  I am numb to feeling.   I know He is there, but he is distant and ever so quiet.  I feel as though he has abandoned me.  But then I realize it is not He who has abandoned me, but it is I who have shut him out.  I have closed the door on him.  But He is there, right outside the door.  Waiting.  Ever so patiently.  Waiting for me to open the door and invite him back in.  And when I do invite him back in, he wraps his comforting warmth around me once again.  We are old friends and we pick up where we left off.  And I love him. 

Some days...
Life is hard.  So very hard.  Sometimes I wish to fast forward to my twilight days so that I don't have to go through any more hard things.  I secretly wish for the Second Coming to arrive so that I don't have to read any more bad things in the news or to know that people half way around the world are needlessly starving to death because wicked people in power won't allow food or aide to reach them.   I don't want anyone to suffer.   I want all children to be safe.  I want abuse to be nonexistent.  I don't want to get sick or be in pain anymore.  And I just want to cry until I feel better and hope that all of the hard things in my life will disappear and that all of the hard things in everyone else's life will too..  I wish for the Second Coming because I know that this telestial earth we live in now will be changed and upgraded to a terrestrial one.  It won't solve everything, but it will solve a lot.  Jesus Christ will personally reign upon the earth and He will not allow these injustices to occur.  People won't suffer the way they do now.  There will be peace... for a thousand years.  I wish for that now, but I know the time is not yet.  But it is coming and I'm anxious for its arrival. 

But until then...
on some days...
it's much simpler than all of that -
like today -
I just want to take a nap, in a clean house, with happy kids, and have a nice hot dinner to wake up to.
Is that too much to ask for?
Today?
Yes.  It's too much to ask for... because I didn't get it.
Maybe I'll get it tomorrow.

Dad's Garden



This photo was taken of my own garden this morning.


I have four sisters and no brothers, all pretty close in age. We played "house" a lot!  I didn't especially enjoy it, but my sister, who is 16 months older than me, always MADE me play with her.  I was an indoor kind of girl, she was an outdoor kind of girl.  But she was bigger,older, and had long fingernails, so I usually had to do what she told me. 

Every year after the corn was all picked, our dad would let us play in the corn field.  We played and played and played.  Our imaginations grew by leaps and bounds.  We played cops and robbers - the robbers had to hide out from the cops in the corn until the cops found them.  We played cowboys and indians.  We would pretend that we were lost in the jungle because our plain crashed and we had to try not to get eaten by the wild animals in the jungle, which always included tigers.  Tigers were part of our role plays quite often.  I'm not quite sure what our fascination was with them, but they were big and scary and we loved using them as our predator.  :)  Many times we just played good old fashioned hide-n-seek.  When the corn field was off limits or not tall enough, we used the orchard and the irrigation ditches.

The corn field wasn't just a place for play though.  We also used the corn field as a place of safety - from mom's wrath!  We would always hide there when we had pushed her buttons a few too many times and knew the fly swatter had our names on it!  I remember good times with my sisters amongst those tall protectors. 

My dad is the gardener of all gardeners.  He has a thumb as green as these corn stalks.  This meant we always had a garden.  And I don't mean just a little corner next the house kind of garden.  It was big.  We always had peas, beets, summer squash, hubbard squash (for pies), pumpkins, potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, carrots, corn, and occasionally other vegetables that he would experiment with.  He always rotated the garden to different areas of the yard to give the soil time to recover.  Harvest time meant hours and hours in the kitchen for mom, preserving all of our bounty for the winter.  We also had apple and pear trees in the orchard and the years they would produce meant even more work.  Sometimes mom would take us up on the mountain and we would pick wild raspberries and make jelly too.  I can still smell that wonderful sweet raspberry goodness when my mind drifts to those memories.  I think that's why I chose jelly for my first attempt at canning food as a young mother. 

My dad still grows a big garden every year.  My mom still bottles or freezes a lot of it.  They give a lot away.  It's hard for my dad to grow a garden now.  He has problems with his back and has rheumatoid arthritis.  He suffers from chronic pain on a daily basis so working in the garden is a difficult task for him most of the time, but he loves it.  That's why he keeps doing it.  "It's becoming a lost art," he tells me.  He knows how to preserve the seeds off his plants to use the next year. 

I've learned so much from my dad, the gardener.  He is a great resource.  My tomato plants haven't been producing any fruit this year.  I know they require fertilization, but I haven't had this happen before.  They just always produce fruit, but not this time.  I don't know where all the bees are at this year.  So I called Dad up and asked him what I should do.  He told me to use a paint brush or my finger and touch all of the flowers between the plants to spread the pollen.  I did.  This was about 10 days ago that I started doing it.  I stop and touch all of the flowers I see whenever I walk by my plants now.  I noticed yesterday that I now have two little tomatoes already.  Thanks Dad!

My childhood was very difficult in many ways, but I remember always feeling like everything would work out and be okay this time of the year when the garden was close to maturity.  It was a great comfort to me to know that no matter how hard things were for my parents financially, we would have food to eat.  I am grateful for the security our garden gave me as a child who had a high probability for worrying.  I am grateful for the good memories our garden gave me that endear my sisters to me.  I'm grateful for a Dad who taught me where my food comes from and to appreciate everything that comes across my plate.  I'm grateful to have been taught to respect the land and to be kind to it so that it would always provide for me and my needs.  I'm grateful to have been taught to be grateful to a kind, loving, and generous Heavenly Father because all of these things come from Him.  I find myself reflecting on how blessed I have been in my life - thanks to my dad's garden.

An Introduction

I never expected to love writing so much when I was younger.  Math was my subject.  I always took the Accelerated English classes in high school, but they were a bore to me.  I didn't LOVE English like my older sister did.  I expected her to become a writer, not me.  It was the furthest thing from my mind.

Now don't get me wrong.  I do not profess to be a "writer" per se.  I'm a person who loves to write, but I don't write for money or for any other reason than to give myself an outlet for my thoughts.  I do not profess to write well either.  So there is my disclaimer.  :)  Blogs are an excellent avenue for writing practice, aren't they?

I've kept a blog for 3 1/2 years now, but it is primarily a family blog.  I've discovered over the course of the last year that it is becoming more and more of a writing blog and less and less of a family blog.  It's time for me to separate the two.  I feel guilty writing long posts on my family blog so I keep them as short as possible.  Then I feel bottled up since I don't write until I feel like I want to quit.  Since this will be a blog dedicated to writing, I'm going to write as much as I feel the urge to write.  I'm going to write about anything and everything.  It's going to be a free space for me.  It's going to be like the free writing times I had to fill in those high school English classes from so long ago.  Mrs. Rider would be proud of me. 

So this journey officially begins today.  I will explore my abilities to convey the thoughts of my mind into the written word.