The January Effect

Every year we all line up, make those goals/resolutions/decisions and march bravely forward for a week or two or four until we lose focus or get sick or life happens and then hang our heads and resolve to do better next year. All of this may even take place before we’re even finished cleaning up after or paying for Christmas.
  What if we looked at it from the other end? What if we put our action in the proper focus? What if we put the process in a better order? What if we asked better questions?
Why did I gain weight?
What damages my relationships with family and friends?
What has prevented me from seeing what’s happening?
  So many times we trot out our same solutions for what we think is wrong in our lives only to see them fail year by year. Perhaps we might consider doing some of these things. The following are a list of possibilities in no particular order.
1. Write down changes we want to see in our circumstances and then intentionally watch our actions to see how they play into the creation of the dynamic we desire to change.
Ex. I have too much stuff- I buy things when I’m down to create excitement and fun.
2. What action have I committed that I regret and have never resolved?  How much of my energy is it sucking. What opportunities is it blocking?
3. What trauma or hurt have I stored but never processed? Phobias, abuse, accidents, injuries all impact our health and choices.
4. Begin journaling our emotions and watching for patterns.
So many times our stress, our struggles or our difficulties cycle around until we decide to be honest with ourselves. When we look at ourselves with honesty and compassion, lasting change is available. May our 2019 be a season of growth and learning for us all!!

Be Like Bill

 

Once upon a time there was a family of musicians. That’s right, a whole family of them. Some of them liked guitar, some liked piano and some like harmonica. Though every member of this family started with a favorite instrument, all soon chose more instruments to learn because it was so much fun to play.
  Over time they all took lessons or watched YouTube videos on how to play and recitals came and went and more babies came and thankfully stuck around and sometimes the practicing was patchy and sometimes the practice was really noisy and sometimes the mommy musician (Henceforth referred to as MM) thought she would lose her mind.
  Through all of this the mommy musician watched and hoped and prayed and practiced. Sometimes she played at night after the kids were in bed and sometimes she practiced instead of cleaning or taking a shower or other things that needed done but all the time she wanted to someday play well.
    But mostly she wanted to have her kids play well. She knew she had heard many people talk about how they had few regrets but no one had ever said “I sure wish my mother hadn’t made me take lessons and learn piano.” (or whichever instrument) she had remembered how much she hated to play songs she didn’t like,  so she vowed to purchase music her kids wanted to play, instruments they wanted to play and a good teacher for them.
   As time went on, she continued to practice because you shouldn’t ask your children to do things you don’t do and leading by example is always best. An accordion, a baritone Ukulele, a violin all came to hang on the walls because she liked them, loved to play them and looked forward to practice time. As her children grew, the piano and then violin lessons began and when a beautiful and fabulous musical Goddess presented herself to teach anything your heart desired, other instruments became a possibility and the cello, ukulele and banjo appeared in the music room.
  Though the beautiful music played at home was much enjoyed and spontaneous jam sessions with multiple siblings was cause for celebrating, the best practice always happened when preparing for a recital or other event. Performance lends a certain urgency but performing is a strange animal.
   The music so carefully prepared may look like a foreign language when moved from the music stand at home to a new stage or venue and the musician may suddenly develop strange tremors, spasms, vision issues, amnesia, and even nausea. Some are affected more than others and this Mommy musician had a terrible case of performancitis. Now matter how well prepared she may have been, it seemed that some musical calamity was likely to strike if she felt any hint of criticism from anyone present, real or imagined. It could be that the grouchy looking lady on the third row just has fierce eyebrows and isn’t really a former postal worker/piano teacher with anger management issues but the MM would suddenly develop a great case of glued fingers that play very stickily indeed.
   Her children didn’t appear to have this strange malady because they inherited some very serious calm- under- pressure genes from their father but nevertheless performances were nerve racking for the MM.
    Near the home of this musical family there is a tourist attraction and each year the volunteers who staff the festival that takes place there would ask this musical family to play for about forty minutes on the first day of the Festival at 9 am. After the first two years of playing folk music there, the    family realized that the only audience that showed up that early was their grandparents and a few friends and as they were there on a volunteer basis it became a perfect opportunity to allow the smaller children to take a turn on the stage performing.
  After asking permission to include the inexperienced performers, the family prepared and played songs together and just enjoyed the time. Every year for the first few years the performers scheduled afterward failed to appear and the family was asked to continue playing for another hour and sometimes two. With some fun fiddle songs, some old favorites, some western movie classics and some instrumental pieces, the time passed and the pressure of performing eased.
  Until one day, after five years of supportive encouragement from the sound techs ( also volunteers) there was a new program. The staff changed and a new person was put in charge. This gentleman was new and had been a member of a famous choir. When the family arrived to play, as invited, there was a new and very disapproving face.
  The same audience of grandparents and Aunt and cousins had been joined by some of the people who had heard the family play in previous years and come back. There was a few new faces and though it was quiet as the early morning warranted and there were a few hiccups as any performance with small children can be expected to have the MM thought it went very well.
  The Choir Man did not. He rose and made an announcement over the mic, He said “Well, now that that’s finished ...Ladies and Gentlemen, come and hear some real musicians.”  The MM was  surprised and dismayed. Perhaps he felt that fiddle music was not cultured enough. Perhaps he felt that small children playing their pieces with some stumbling as five year olds may do was not acceptable in public, or an embarrassment to his carefully planned program. The MM was too stunned to even say a word. 
   The family quickly packed up their instruments and cleared the stage, very much missing the friendly sound tech who had told them every year that their best efforts was his favorite part of the entertainment for the weekend. As the family walked away, the hours of practice ran through the MM’s mind only to be interrupted by the very quiet and subdued voice of her  little boy, one of his first performances just behind him.”Mom, what did he mean,’real’ musicians? I felt kind of bad when he said that. Does that mean that we aren’t real musicians?” She struggled with words for a moment and then finally said, “ Perhaps our music isn’t what he’s used to and not what he expected. Do you play the fiddle? Did you practice hard?” The little boy nodded. “Then you ARE a musician!” The MM really just wanted to walk over and punch the man in the face for his tactlessness and poor manners but that’s bad for the hands and certainly bad for the children to see so she sheparded the children home. The joy in playing music had been dampened for that little boy. His excitement, so necessary for the beginning stages of any new endeavor,  took a hit and his desire to practice was greatly limited by his doubts. 
  Which brings us to Bill. Bill comes on the scene a few years later. Bill invited the family to his garage to Jam. Bill’s garage is decorated with old time Rock N’Roll and vintage cars. Bill might not be a member of a famous choir, he might enjoy a cold beer when barbequing in the back yard. Bill might be an old guy with great taste in music but that’s not what MM  loves most about Bill. On this particular night, when the musical family hesitantly unloaded their violins, ukes, guitars and harmonicas (well, okay, you don’t unload a harmonica. That’s the beauty of them!) and walked back to Bill’s garage for the first time they didn’t know what to expect. What they got  was a warm welcome, a personal interest in their names, where they were from and what they liked to play. What they learned is that Bill and friends of Bill are the funnest group of musicians to play with. They can pick up any melody line, sort the chords and jump in with any favorite song you throw at them and go for hours. They can draw out a shy musician who only came to watch, but goes home excited to practice, and with a determination to learn Bill’s favorite song. They love young people and want to pass on the joy of music and performing to the next generation. They pause in the middle of the song to nod and give a compliment when a  part sounds really good and a chorus of appreciation goes  up when you really nail something. 
   In this group  you sit in a circle and each person takes a turn to choose the song they want and play. If anyone else knows it they jump in and sing harmony or play along. Anything and everything you like, people of all ages and tastes and a whole lot of fun is what you get. The family couldn’t believe how the time flew and didn’t want to go even after four hours, though an hours drive was ahead of them. The whole musical family practiced and played and laughed together with a whole new energy and interest for months. 
  So I beg you wise persons: 
1. Clap loudly for the beautiful pieces played flawlessly and advanced talent but clap even louder for the struggling musician, the beginner, the self doubting and especially for the severe case of performancitis.
2. Remember that it takes guts to stand in front of you, hours of practice happened before that moment and even if you can play better, they need your encouragement. And if you don’t play at all you may have no idea how difficult that piece is, how hard to get that tone and no idea how to produce it by yourself.
3. You have no idea what unkind things have been said to them before and how insecure they may be about their role as a musician. 
4. Everyone needs a Bill.
BE LIKE BILL 

*Note - The iPad has a personality disorder today and I can’t get italics to give up so thank you for your patience.
**I realize that we learn as much from our critics as from our friends and we have much room for improvement, so there’s that. 
***I am writing about a personal experience here but writing in the third person was just fun today. 
UPDATE -I met Bill at a Christmas party this weekend and he greeted me with a big smile, gently insisted that I come up and sing a few numbers with his band that was providing the entertainment. My daughter and I sang and had a blast. I love Bill!

Secret? Or Private?

I have fielded some questions on HomeSchool that I would like to address. Is there anything secret about homeschool?
In an age where the details of our private lives are on FaceBook and Twitter and InstaGram, why not more transparency in homeschool? Why not share the details of children’s education with all the world?

Let me ‘splain- no there is too much, let me sum up.

I have many children, more than a few and not as many as many of you but I think we can say many without being incorrect. These children happen to be schooled at home. It didn’t actually just “happen “ that way but for all intents and purposes and my literary license I’m going with it.
  We live twenty five miles from the nearest town and forty from the town where I went to school and where my kids would be bussed should we have decided to send them to that school. We have some property and the blessing of having livestock, pets, four wheelers and plenty of chores. We grow a garden and attempt to spend some time outdoors instead of glued to our electronic devices. There are days where we are attentive to book work and online school programs, such as Khan ( love Khan). And there are also days when the vet comes and we all have school outside while the dog gets fixed and the colts are gelded and sometimes the weather is too gorgeous to do anything but run around like crazy people. At least that’s what the kids do and I can’t complain because they’re such cute crazy people.
   This method of learning is new to some and there have been times that it makes people uncomfortable to see a kid at home during the day when he isn’t sick or hasn’t been to the dentist. That’s okay, it isn’t something that everyone is familiar with - like me trying to operate an android phone or eyelash curler thingies. Yes, this “thingies” word is an all purpose word that is used in my homeschool and derided by some ( like my husband, who would use the more appropriate word “tool” until he realized what I was talking about and then he would likely just leave the room. It doesn’t do to look too deeply into the ways of women, you know.)
    When you undertake to do something differently you may encounter those who assume that because you choose to do something different than they that you are demeaning their choice, that you find them inferior in some way. And they do have a smallish point. You did find that you do value something about your choice over theirs, otherwise you would have made the same choice as they, right?  Be it breastfeeding versus formula, disposable versus cloth, trade school versus college, jeans versus leggings, crunchy versus ...uh, not crunchy ? Or any other choice that we as parents get to make, there is room to make someone else uncomfortable.  Perhaps your reasons for making your choice have more to do with circumstances and changing dynamics and less to do with fundamentals but perhaps not. This decision on schooling can make people uncomfortable and seeking to ease their discomfort. Sometimes the cure for the discomfort is to demean your choice back at ya. Citing studies of.....something negative, socialization (or the lack thereof) perhaps in an effort to prove something.
   Seeking to remove discomfort is natural and expected, we all do it. Identifying the cause of the discomfort can prove very helpful in a way that avoiding it or denying it’s existence cannot. I find that when someone calls my good judgement into question, I hear an echo of my own doubts and fears as a parent. I am reminded of my shortcomings as a teacher and parent and become defensive, so it is easy for me to imagine that other parents may feel the same way.
   Some parents may feel that you think they are inferior because they aren’t as committed to their children’s education as you (supposedly) are. Perhaps they think you feel “too good” for what they consider to be just fine for their kids. Whatever the case may be, our decisions as parents are a great trigger as other parents measure against our yardstick and we against theirs and everyone winds up feeling like they are found wanting.
   So here are some things to know about homeschool from my personal perspective. This is, alas, merely a personal perspective as I am just one and am not really interested in chasing the funding to conduct studies to see if I’m normal.
1- By nature, homeschool is a private affair. This is not because we are trying to hide some juicy tidbit about how we are trapping the kids in the basement and only slipping them food on days that begin with “T” or any other horrible and despicable secret. It is simply that we are not used to sharing every detail of our kids’ growth with a lot of outside persons. There are no parent teacher conferences ( just parent-parent ones) and actually, there aren’t usually grades to groan over several times a year. There may well be subjects that collect their fair share of groans but this is not a group think session outside of the family. There are not staff meetings about behavior issues and the schooling is not funded by a public tax which deserves a public accounting for performance. Simply put, there are no middle men. If the materials are insufficient, the CFO makes adjustments to the grocery budget and the Christmas budget and shops the curriculum sales to remedy the deficiency. Much like our counterparts whose children attend public or private schools, homeschool parents do not release private information about grades, performance, behavioral issues or any other personal information that would interfere with our children’s progress. It may be tempting at times for an outside party to see if a child is learning ( especially if you have your doubts about the chosen method of schooling)  by quizzing them about their progress, but I can tell you that, for any child to be quizzed about what they are learning is intrusive. They may well feel more like a Science Fair project or a social abnormality than was intended. Like their parents, they are not used to perfect strangers or even acquaintances asking them personal questions, having never having been trained that it’s normal for other children.  If you aren’t a parent, you have no reason to do anything except express friendly interest in what the child enjoys and let them lead in what they want to talk about. Though homeschooling is legal in all fifty states with varying requirements, there was a time when it was not and parents were threatened with removal of their children. Perhaps this history has affected the entire movement with a determined independent attitude as does the harassment that goes on in some school districts. Perhaps parents are too sensitive to criticism because of the past criticism they have experienced from family and friends who dislike their educational choices. Whatever the case may be, for those who school at home, their schooling is merely an extension of their private life. It cannot really be separated from the private details and is therefore a difficult topic to appropriately address unless the person asking  feels like a safe person that you want to know the personal intricacies of your life. Or they simply have the time and genuine interest to hear an hour long discussion of how you choose to homeschool and why its different than the common expectation and why it’s not a national emergency that your eight year old boy is just learning to read. If you have questions on that one and you have an hour, I’d be happy to discuss it with you! I have been on the receiving end of some very harsh language about homeschool, spewed by people who don’t know me, my kids and anything about our circumstances. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and I’m entitled to ignore it if it is ill-informed and impertinent. Well, actually, I’m entitled to ignore it regardless, I hope I’m wise enough to listen if it is otherwise.
2- That kid honestly has no idea what to tell you when you ask what grade he is in.
  This does not mean that he is behind. This does not mean that he never learns anything. This does not mean that he is afraid to talk to you. This does not mean that he doesn’t know his age.
What it does mean is that he is learning all the time. Learning is not a separate event that takes place in a specific location and is measured by seasons and calendars. He does not graduate from one class, one teacher, one room, one building when he has made progress. He merely keeps breathing, living, experiencing and tucking away knowledge as he goes. He may hide his current “school” book under the covers and read with a flashlight because he is too excited to wait until tomorrow.  He continues gaining responsibility and opportunity as his skills improve and he may rarely take a test. In my  home, we do not have a “school year” per say, but rather a daily requirement for living that includes reading, being read to, visiting the library, completing some math and language programs on the computer, watching science videos and reading books about science, experiencing different types of art, sometimes with a teacher and sometimes on our own and Wednesday music lessons. We take days “off” when we go to the dentist but I have had to find a dentist that can listen and answer kids (and my) questions about everything he is doing and why. We love hygienists-they are a wealth of information. And quite often, I find the kids hauling along a backpack full of books to read while we are at  the dentist and insisting that we get home early because they have homework for their online writing class to finish and they don’t want to push their deadlines. Our days are for learning and that’s a lesson you don’t teach by force, you teach
by example.
3-  I am not more patient than any other semi patient parent. I have not been gifted by the magic homeschool patience God with an ability beyond what any normal parent could bear. I pray daily for patience and by the Grace of God I am making progress. Slow progress. I am certainly a product of much practice in living with the small humans to whom I gave birth. This does not mean that it is easy for me to not have time in which to catch up on cleaning and laundry, get a part (or full) time job and make some money, use the restroom alone or any other thing that a parent may do if their children leave in the morning and some other responsible adult assumes charge of them for a few or a lot of hours during the day. I have an advantage over some moms who are left home in the mornings with all the small children as the older ones take off for school. My little kids are used to playing quietly in sister’s room with her special horses while she works on her math homework and when that one gets tired of sitting quietly, he might go find me making lunch and help me for awhile or go outside with big brother for awhile as he works on the fence. If there is an emergency, we are blessed with family close by and a great supply of “Leapfrog Letter Factory”, “Signing Time” and a great driving instruction video or “Great Architecture”. It amazes me how interesting my kids seem to find anything and everything. They spent an afternoon watching the driving instruction video over and over. I personally thought it would be rather dry but apparently not so! When I hear other parents say,”I would like to homeschool but I could never do that, I’m not patient enough and my kids wouldn’t learn anything.” I want to give them a gift certificate for a full body massage and then when they’ve finished and are walking out of the building I would whisper in their ear, “It doesn’t require perfect parents, just crazy ones.”  The massage has nothing to do with the message- it’s just everyone needs a massage.
4- There is no one right way to raise a kid. There just isn’t. Their personality and interests are so different. There will be holes in their education, just like their friends. The purpose of schooling is to learn to think and problem solve. The ability to find the answers in life is a great thing and more desirable than getting perfect grades in every class- which is unlikely unless the student is very committed to a life time of extra credit and blessed enough to not get any really rotten teachers, and good tutors. There will be areas where kids struggle a bit more, regardless of where they do their learning.
5- I am deeply committed to doing the best I can for my children. I am certain that every parent feels the same. My best happens at home, if your best happens differently, good for you. There are times that I want to run away from home and eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream on a beach somewhere that has no math lessons, phonics lessons and no crying or whining or fighting. Maybe sometimes you do too.

As a mom and a human, I have a great number of interests and would love to discuss anything you know, any questions you have and anything I know/do that you might be interested in. I have a great amount of respect for the privacy of our homes and families and respect your way, your home and your family, may they be blessed.

These Are The Times That Try Men's Souls

In the midst of the commotion of living in the middle of America in it's disintegration period, I find myself frequently shaking my head. When the news blares and the tears fall for strangers who were alive last week and dead now- that would be as strange still were it not for their famous and brutal demise, I wonder what my great grand parents would have thought. The tragedies of their day were all they knew, new to them as a Twin Tower or a Vegas are for me. Their tears fell and their hearts reached out from their chests in a wish to somehow comfort those who fell in their days. They too shook their heads and wondered what the world was coming to. They wondered how the world could get any worse and if there would be a world to wake up to for their children and grandchildren.
    I don't know what the future holds nor would I deign to ask anyone but God. So far, He doesn't seem to think to necessary to fret about, just prepare for. This I do know, that these are the times that try men's souls. So was it designed to be. The challenges of our time are perhaps unlike any other, but so too are the blessings unlike any other. The opportunity to reach out to God and allow His mercy in our lives has never been greater. We have at our fingertips a relationship with Jesus Christ that is unlike any other relationship that we have experienced. His grace is there for us at every moment. In the midst of commotion there is a sweet peace that can fill the heavens and and our hearts- one as easily as the other. There cannot be anyone else responsible for it but ourselves. This experience cannot be given by virtue of another's sincerity, dedication or determination- only our own soul can ask and receive. So please ask, please pray, please insist until the answers come that you seek. Get real and be serious with God- there is no substitute. And when He answers, accept it. There have been times that I asked sincerely and then was tempted to reject the answer because it was not what I expected, was harder than I anticipated and required more commitment than I thought I was capable of giving. There have been times I have been unsure where the answers were going, when I couldn't see the destination and I wondered which train I had boarded and if perhaps I had been standing in the wrong station to begin with. Take heart, God intends to give you more than you asked for. He cannot bless you enough- though at times we might feel stretched beyond what we feel is necessary, He intends to give you greater blessings than your imagination can conjure. There is hope in this world of darkness and pain and it doesn't come from legislation, social reform, news broadcasters or even a hurting people who come together in times of need. Those who come together in times of need are a symptom of the hope that is in us through Christ Jesus. We have brought with us to this Earth a love for our fellow man that Christ showed us is stronger than any force.
If you never have, take some time to quiet your mind and ask for God to speak to you, to give you peace, to fill your soul and answer your heart's questions. If you have before, perhaps many times before, take the time again to invite peace for yourself and in behalf of others. This world will be a better place.

Healed

Wallowing in despair,
  I cried.
My burden and my heart
 So heavy.
"There is only grief
  No rest for me
Oh help me, now,
 Oh Lord" I sighed.

My sister came
  Her lamp in hand
Her tender voice spoke
  Love and friendship.
She offered light,
  It warmed my heart
And filled my eyes with hope.

But she could not stay,
  She must away, to family and home
They called.
  And all too soon,
The light, it dimmed
 And left my rooms so cold.

My brother too, he came
  On errand from The Lord.
To share words,
  Of comfort , faith and love.
But with his parting,
  'Er his shadow left my door
The voice of darkness
  Spoke once more;

"The light, it cannot save you
     It leaves you hopeless, yearning..
I'm always here, you're not enough
Despair is all
 You have in store
Change is hopeless,
 Your efforts,
     Puny
         Worthless
You'll always be alone."

"This Jesus
That they speak of,
  Who is he?
 Where is he now?
Oh? He can? But will he save you? How?"
  The voice drones on,
Together with
  My stomach churning.

I cried out
  "Liar! It can't  be true,
I've felt it in my heart
  The warmth, the light, the burning!"

The laughter from the darkness rang
  Rasping in my ears
The voice reviewed my sins
 And faults,
My weaknesses,
  My fears
And I , ashamed,
  Sat hopeless, lost
And all my thoughts just turning, turning,

Until a tiny voice,
 A thought
Swam upward from the pile.
It pushed gently to the front
 And said,
 Without pretense or guile
"What if, what if you tried?
       What if you asked and He replied?"
What if this bully in your mind
  Is only that? A bully and a cipher?
Disembodied and feeding on your flame, your fire?"

My confidence,
 It drew deep breath
And taking heart, I spoke.
I told Him all, as with a friend,
 My hardest, deepest
    Pain.
I told of childhood fears and monsters, haunting still,
  Of words I spoke and actions done ,
 in shame
   I emptied out deep wells of darkness
Confusing,
      unexplained.

Looking on with kindness,
 His face so calm and still,
  He asked if I would give it all
I quickly said
    "I will....but how?"

"I cannot, will not steal from you,
     These things you've suffered through,
  You've learned and felt, through
 This darkness, chosen
    But freedom is my gift to you."

"There is no other way to learn,
         And yet,
     To choose to live
 You'll give me the burden and the guilt,
         I'll take them,
  Turn them light
               With this Gift I freely
           Give!"

I looked inside
   And in my heart
I saw the life, the lessons
        I had gained
The precious truths
   so hardly won,
 the pain and purpose now explained.

The laughter from the jeering
  dark had turned to gnashing teeth
       and anger stark
and yet,
        with my gratitude it calmed,
the storm no longer lingered on
   the gift erased my hatred,
all of my fears
  now gone.

There reigned in space and time
  amazement, love and joy-
 replacing darkness with the light
healing my soul with grace divine.
 


     *I feel humbled and very inadequate to try and describe the depth of love and gratitude I feel to Jesus Christ, my Savior. My efforts feel somewhat like a cross between Dr. Suess and a large Victorian lady who imagines herself a great poet and will prove it over tea and her relatives better judgement but express it I must, despite my shortcomings. I hope the feeling triumphs over the spelling and punctuation errors. Glory to God and the credit for the mistakes to me.

I've Got This Beautiful Friend

This wonderful friend of mine is sad, with haunted eyes. She lost a child and life will never be the same. Would she want it any different?
Let me explain. Of course I assume she wants it all back, the companionship of her family and the joy of his presence. She wants the sweetness of every good memory and she would maybe even take back the bad times, the hard times and the sadness just to have him, just to have the chance for things to get better, to allow time to swing the pendulum back to the good. If life were to be happy would that mean she didn't care, didn't miss him? Would that mean that he was really gone....if she weren't sad?
   Does her heart cry out to God, "Why do you hate me?! How could you do this to me."
"Why couldn't I love him enough? Enough to keep him safe?" Or maybe "Enough to give me peace, knowing that no matter what, he knew I loved him."
  Perhaps she walks alone in a world full of people who have no idea of the heartache and sorrow that she drags behind her like a Grand Canyon suitcase. She smiles at those she meets but it's always there, a chasm big enough to see from space. It's full of memories of the tiny boy who first held her heart and then her finger and then her every waking moment. Of the boy that held her breath as he rode his bike like he would never crash when she knew better. It's full of his crazy smile and great love of the outdoors and all the heartache when he struggled with math and choices and friends and girls and more choices. It's full of every time she wished she could take away the pain and agony and every time she wished you could still spank him even when he's taller than you.
  And maybe sometimes, for just a moment, when she opens her eyes in the morning after a beautiful dream she can still feel him there and she forgets that he's gone and the world feels right again.

I see you, my friend. I see that Canyon behind you. Some days it's hovering in the distance and some days it's under your feet. Some days you fear a misstep will allow it to swallow you. And I don't know what to say- it's a private canyon and sacred. I don't share it, I don't know it like you do. I don't really understand and I don't know how to tell you I can feel it and see it around you. And sometimes I'm afraid that if I say it aloud you'll think I'm crazy. But please know that you aren't really alone, the walls of pain and darkness that divide us from each other cloud our minds and we believe the lies that no one cares, no one understands. I may not fully understand but by dang, I sure want to try.

*i woke this morning with one particular friend on my mind and could not go back to sleep but as I contemplated on what I wished I could say to her I realized that the list of friends, family, loved ones and acquaintances who also carry this same burden of sorrow and worry for the living and the dead is too long to even comprehend. My love goes out to you in your own sorrow that the eye can't see.

To Live

Preface

This was written after I read an article by a former abortion clinic nurse whose life was changed and healed. I share cautiously as my understanding of abortion procedure is limited and I don't have the heart to learn more details, nor the stomach for it. Certain assumptions are made and hopefully the message is clear if the knowledge of the writer is faulty.

   There was a pulling. First a slight tugging. Sort of a gentle, tentative, testing pulling. Then more firm pulling. 

She really didn't like it.

   The warm comfort, so familiar, was disrupted as the cold  hardness on her feet pulled...demanding and insistent. It became painful.

   She thrashed around looking for comfort, to escape. Then the cold and a bright light above her shone down as she reached frantically for the warm protection of her mother. Her tiny hands and arms moving without strength.

"This one looks great."

A tremendous pressure and slicing pain consumed her. Her heart cried out in fear and pain. She longed for Gloria.

Gloria

   The little girl danced impatiently. Her mommy and daddy had gone to the hospital and she couldn't wait until they came home.

The sun shone brightly outside but she couldn't even play, there was too much to think about. She knew from her little friend, Kelly, that there were blankets and clothes and bows and even some not so fun things like crying and waiting for stinky diapers to get fixed but she was willing to put up with anything just to finally have her baby sister. 

No one had told her directly but she knew. Everyone knows that when Mommies get big round tummies and feel yucky and tired that there's a baby in there. Kelly's mom had acted just the same as her mommy and she was always putting her hand on her tummy. Gloria hadn't quite worked out how you got the baby out of there and Kelly didn't seem to know either, but it didn't really matter.

  She had prayed and prayed ever since she was little and had asked her mom and dad for one for her birthday but she never thought  she would really get one! They must be planning to surprise her, she thought. Daddy was always talking about how much things cost and he said babies were too expensive. She had heard them talking about how much her Academy would cost next year and Kelly had told her that they were always buying something for her baby so Gloria was surprised they had changed their mind.

   But Melanie had come to babysit her and she heard them give a number for a hospital stuck between "macaroni for dinner" and "Remember to brush her teeth, okay?"

Kelly said her mom went to the hospital to get her baby out but Gloria never expected it to be so soon, she thought it would take much longer to grow her baby and Kelly's mom had been much fatter.

She settled down by the window to wait and would not be coaxed away.

Courtney

  She had said she would. She had to stick with it. There really was no other choice. When she thought of Gloria she wished there were some other way and dashed away a tear from her cheek with an impatient hand. This had to be.

   There was no use thinking about it anymore. Don't think about how tiny Gloria's hands and feet had been or of her pleading for a baby sister.

   They didn't even know if was a girl. The ultrasound tech had asked, hesitantly, for he knew their plans but still was so used to parents hugging and exchanging joyous looks over such news that he couldn't help but try. She had wavered and almost looked but Jack had been firm and decisive. 

"No. just check the organs and gestational age" and the appointment had moved on. Courtney wondered if she had spoken it might changed his mind somehow and again cursed herself for not saying something....the right thing.

   She steeled herself and pulled the conversation back, reliving his words. "we really can't afford another one. We're maxed, Courtney! Who gets pregnant on the pill? You almost died with Gloria and I'm not going through that again. It's not worth it ...and besides,the fetus will be used for research , just think of how many people will be benefitted. To us it would be just a burden but it could bless so many people." 

 So many thoughts had played through her mind as he spoke.

  That they had decided on one child was true, but she hadn't realized at the time how much joy she would feel with Gloria. The doctors had been very worried about her but her OB assured her that a second pregnancy had a low risk for the same complications. Placental abruption in labor is rare and unlikely to happen twice. Cesarean delivery would not likely be needed in subsequent pregnancies. At the time she had brushed his assurances off, for they were only having one, anyway . She had waited too long to have her tubes tied, her dislike of hospitals and doctors after her scare in the delivery room was marked and she still had nightmares. 

All of Jack's reason's were not insurrmountable  but the one thing she couldn't, wouldn't risk kept her in her chair in the waiting room. 

   His recovery had to be considered. He was finally stable and functioning. He had promised to be faithful to her, his meds seemed balanced and he was much more patient with Gloria . His PTSD seemed under control but she knew how little it took to set him off. He hadn't gotten out of control with his anger for months and was finally acting like the husband she knew he could be and she wasn't willing to sacrifice that stability for anything. If this baby was his idea or he were excited that would be different....

   If there was one thing childhood had taught her it was that parents should scrifice to stay together . Gloria needed a mom and a dad. She knew how it felt to be abandoned and she wouldn't let that happen to Gloria. 

 Her hand rested unconsciously on her stomach. She had struggled, even with Jack's ressurance that his friend would perform the procedure. He knew him from his time in the military and the man had offered to help him when he heard about their situation. Still, she felt far from comfortable with this man she had only met once. The memory came unbidden of Gloria , a look of peace and wonder chasing quickly through her eyes- quickly hidden so that Mommy wouldn't know she knew and her chubby little hand reaching tentatively for her stomach and then drawing back as she caught her mother's eye. It had broken Courtney's heart. The reason, the real reason she had waited so long was still there at home, waiting. The reason she had prayed to ..someone...for another way. 

   And she remembered her prayers as a little girl that God would bring her Daddy back. She had prayed for years and then she had finally decided that God must hate her because he never did. 

But Gloria had whispered so softly, so quietly, next to her Mommy asleep on the couch. She had put out her hand so carefully next to her rounded belly and the words, "Thank you, God" had crept from her mouth. 

Courtney coud hardly breathe, surely God couldn't deny her little girl. Surely a way would open for her to have a husband who loved her and Gloria could have a father and Jack would change his mind .... But she knew inside that he wouldn't change for she remembered what her hesitation had caused already. When he sensed her reluctance he had frightened her with the intensity of his anger. It had been a long time since she saw that look in his eye and she knew she didn't have the courage. It was Gloria's baby dream or her life of happiness, security and opportunity. Gloria ws just too young to understand  what was at stake here. She would understand better when she grew up, Courtney told herself. She was so young, only four, and she would forget. She had to. A deep breath and Jack's hand on her elbow renewed her resolve to keep her safety and security as she made it from the chair to the door that led beyond the waiting room. 

"You're 28 weeks?"

The nurse eyed her.

"That's right." A dark weight settled into her chest and she walked forward into the inevitable.

   Gloria listened to Melanie on the phone with her boyfriend. 

"Yeah, I'll be home in a few more hours. No, she's having a medical procedure done but she'll home tonight. Okay, see you then. Bye."

She wondered at the strange ways of adults. Why don't they just say what they mean?  Maybe they were just trying to keep the secret of her surprise. 

Quietly, with no notice from the busy world outside and a crowd of busy professionals just doing their job and hiding any sorrow they might have felt , Gloria's hope died on the table.  She never had any name spoken, though what name she was given by a little girl may still live inside her heart if not forgotten in the clouds of experience and emotion that comes with living. Her perfect beautiful light left her pain-filled tiny body. 

   It was divided, separated by professionals plying the tools of their trade in providing a perfect brain her, a liver there.. 

"Don't damage the wares, slice carefully  for with your soul you pay your way."

Don't hate me

  The doctor executioner

   The nurse holding tiny dead hope in pieces

   The deliveryman carefully, quickly juggling the expensive wares of death

  The mother, trapped in dark patterns, trading hope for endless regret, with deep eyes full of longing that find only visions of tiny feet and perfect hands she'll never hold.

The father running from his demons and responsibility ,inability and pain.

Don't hate me. Help me.

Forgive me for judging- 

the outsider looking in who thinks you don't care because only a monster would kill their child, not understanding that no one will judge more harshly than one's self.

Forgive me for thinking that if I walked your road I would have done better.

  Love me 

I am a person 

Protect me 

Give me a name

Give me a voice

For though someday I may move mountains, sing the songs of the heart, save a life or be the greatest love of someone's life, today all I can do is love you. 

Please love me.

Congratulations!!!!...........The Post that Got Lost Til Now

For those of you who read my blog- I should have thrown you a bone and announced that we're expecting. But being my reticent self ( that's the one that you never hear about as she's only in charge when it comes to how much I may have spent on the Rue21 sale or the details of my  inner workings or any personal information that you tell me that you don't want shared. ) I was trying to wait until I had to tell anyone.... If someone asks me point blank though I am prone to truth telling so the word had leaked out a bit.
Ahem. That was the good news!! You should always start there. The rest of the news is that I am currently on bed rest and time will tell if I get to keep this one. Having been pregnant a few times before ( seven to be exact)  you might think that this is just part of the experience but I have had no prior experience with bed rest and its a good thing. For if I had the baby train might have stopped at an earlier station.
Whining is unattractive (hence matching my hair and the state of my bed currently) but I've little else to do for the moment so you're welcome to close the tab or scroll down if it really bothers you.  My family doesn't get to hear it because I'm dependant on them for food, movies, music books and other favors so I've reserved that for the internet.
THIS BITES ROCKS AND STICKS!!!!      
I haven't got the skills for this. I know how to cook, clean, garden, paint and sew. I don't know how to just sit. Maybe if I had an entire season of something (UPDATE: I actually have about three of them now, thanks to my helpful FB friends - these fun show do not fall into the following described catagory!) I want to watch really bad I could manage it for a day or two but frankly most tv is just garbage anyway.

I am so well rested that I can't believe it. I take a nap every day and wake up at six and seven.......and squeeze my eyes closed til eight just to make the day shorter. I listen to kids yelling at each other or giggling hysterically while I can hear stuff crashing or water running........Restful.
I think "Confined to Bed" would be more appropos.


**Though I ended up losing the pregnancy, the following is still true.......

So if you are lonely or need someone to say something nice to you because everyone you're interacting with today hates your guts and you don't want to go eat worms? I'm your gal. You're awesome and doing better than you think. If you don't believe me, just call me and I'll talk you into it.

To God, Sincerely.

Dear God,
   When I left Your presence I was looking for beauty. I wanted a beauty like you had, inside of me.
Why did I think I would find it here?
    I've found heartache, pain, suffering. I've found bitterness, hatred, loneliness. I've found sorrow, tears, betrayal and hopelessness.
  I've found myself watching others suffer without any means to comfort them. I've found ignorance and it's victims slowly swirling like silt as the pond of life empties slowly and inevitably away.
And I've shouted again and again to a seemingly empty sky "WHAT IS THE POINT?!?!?!"
I've done the right thing.
I've done the wrong thing.
I've confused the two of them too many times.
  And still, something drives me forward. This feeling that there has to be something, something better.
And at times I feel the warm glow of  You, burning brightly and sometimes my lips part at the right time and that warmth comes out of my mouth.
And one day, I realized that to see the beauty in the world around me, I had to see it inside me first.
And that changed everything.

                          Love Always as Best I Can,
                                                                     Me

Excuses

I would give everything to know you.
Except my time.

I would stand up for you no matter what was being said because I love you.
Unless they called me names and shamed me for being "too good".

I would give food and clothes to starving, cold and homeless people.
Unless they deserved being homeless and cold and starving because they drank alcohol or used drugs over better choices.

I would serve my neighbor who is lonely and misunderstood- except that her house smells funny and she has too many cats and a poor command of language and I'm too uncomfortable.

I would turn the other cheek but those people on the internet are just idiots who don't understand how wrong and stupid they are.....unless I point it out.

I would be forgiving of others if they would just be sorry.

I would be friendly and kind to strangers if I just knew for sure they were trustworthy and wouldn't turn around and stalk me.

I would seek until I found if I knew what I was looking for.

I'd be a true Christian if I ever ran out of excuses.

Wherein I Try Something New

Once Upon A Time
There was a mother. No, not just any mother but a very specific kind of mother. The kind of mother that is me- and believe me you can't get much more specific than that. And this particular mother has always been rather busy and independant. Not necessarily that she was always productive, because that's not always synonimous with busy, as you well know. She didn't usually sit down because if she did she would fall asleep. For her body knew that she only sat down and stopped moving if it were midnight or perhaps church and those are both good times to take a nap. If my bishop or RS President were ever to read my blog they can enjoy the confirmation of their suspicions that I might not be deep in contemplation. This is  why I will probably enjoy many years as ASL translator so I'll stay awake by  talking in church ALL THE TIME.
  This is the thing. (besides the fact that my contrary keyboard has decided to be italicized- that's an entirely different thing) 
I don't know how to just sit. I finally learned how to meditate if my mind is having it's own experience and the body is quiet for thirty to ninety minutes I can handle that. Finally, after a year and a half of practice. 
But apparently this amazing feat of Zen experience was insufficient for my growth and experience and I find my self on bed rest. Only get up to pee and bathe kind of bedrest. Don't twist or pull or use any core msucles kind of bedrest. No yoga in bed or leg lifts or weight lifting kind of bedrest. 
Just grow a baby and hold still kind of bedrest.
I don't recall ever having complained about being busy. I'm the one that does it to myself. I like a clean house, food that not only do I like but is somewhat healthy, freshly painted walls (love painting!) and grass growing in my yard.....instead of weeds. I love taking old junky furniture and painting it. I love sorting through toys and clothes and giving a bunch to DI...so I can go find more great deals on something new and different. I like change and I like making something look better, different and interesting. I willingly admit I have complained about having a dirty messy house or yard but that's a Mom thing that just comes with ovaries.......like guys turning off lights all over the house- it's a reflex.
I didn't pray for patience. I promise. I have prayed for many things and I may well have uttered some heartfelt plea for something that is directly tied to this experience but it wasn't for patience. 
I will admit that the first week of bedrest was harder and things have gotten easier. And there are people who would kill to just roll over and go back to sleep when it's seven-thirty instead of getting up and going to work. They aren't wishing they could lace up their running shoes and plug in their earphones and head out the door for a three mile run as the sun comes up. There are advantages to taking a nap whenever you want to as long as your sleep mask is on, earplugs in and door safely locked and barred. I have never napped so often and have experienced insommnia for the first time in my life. It's great- I have a great deal more compassion for anyone who can't sleep. I would love to never experience it again.
I have been the recipient of more meals, house cleaning and kid sitting than in all my other new baby phases combined and I'm so grateful for all the help.
But I  have been  served more by my seventeen year old daughter than anyone else in my whole life except my own mother. She has taken over the cooking, cleaning, garden, yard and kids. She has gotten up in the night with sad kids and got them down for naps in the afternoon just in time to save both of our sanity. She has requested, cajoled, threatened and cried but mostly yelled in frustration as she got 5 other children to get up. sit up to eat, get dressed for the day, for church, for parties, for friends. She has gotten shoes, jackets, diaper bags, clean hands and shirts all out the door at the same time as the little bodies they go with and managed to holler out, "Bye, Mom, love you!" in a happy tone of voice. She has sung sweet little songs under her breath to a very cranky little boy who just wants something at 4 a.m. but has no clue what exactly that might be. She has figured up how much I would owe her if I were paying her to babysit and then laughed ...and laughed. She has smiled when a friend asked her if she wanted to have kids after the last 42 days of being the mom.
She has made special meals for me to meet my high protein demands and managed to practice her musical instruments every day through most days. 
Though I do not recommend it as a great way to get a vacation (no one in their right mind would pay money to get a back ache, and be assaulted by small children without any  warning several times a day and have to watch your two year old swing your favorite baritone Uke above his head  while you resist the temptation to jump up and stop him while yelling desperately for his big sister, would they?) I have certainly learned a lot about what kind of mom my daughter will be. And I have to say, I'm very proud of her. 
For the last ten days as she had to do the outside chores with her dad on a trip to Texas I have come to dread the time she is gone outside as that leaves me undefended  and I have a better idea why my little kids freak out when they can't find mom for thirty seconds. 
I've never been much of a crier and rarely find myself feeling lonely because I always took a minute to feel what ever is going on and then get up and go do something about it. Until i found myself entirely dependent on someone else for everything and where there is no other option but patience  and nothing to do but wait. Happy or sad, tired or rested and entertained or not - laying here is the option. I am so excited to meet this baby !.............and for Shaylee to come put in a new DVD.




*My cursor is freaking out..... no idea why! It jumps all over the screen so I'm not editing. At all .
My OCD is going wildand arguing with my inner English teacher. Good times* 

Mom is great at Math or How Three Turned Into Six

To My Dear Friend-
    How was your day today? As you are a mom, I'm pretty sure it was crazy in some way. Your children are so cute and fun and full of life. I remember when I had three kids and my hands felt really full and my brain felt really fried. Those little people have a way of eating up your everything.
I remember sinking to my knees in my toy strewn bedroom and saying "Heavenly Father, I'm really tired and maxed out. I want to have as many kids as You would have me care for, but can I have a break?" My parents had eight children and I knew the blessing of family. My extended family on my mother's side were so close and made me want that experience for my children. It is a commandment given by God and though my church teaches that the number of children a couple chooses to have is between them and God it has been made very clear that having children is essential and should not be put off or limited for selfish reasons. I was not thinking that me not having any more children just then was a matter of selfishness but rather self preservation and I was so relieved that I felt very calm about taking some time before looking to have more.
We bought an indoor dog and loved her like our baby and four and a half years passed before I had another child. In this time I had a few experiences where I learned more about how this "more kids" thing might play out. I had an experience where I felt strongly that we should adopt. Not a passing "Gee, I've got a spare ten thou and I think pregnancy is the worst idea ever so lets give it a try" kind of experience but a direct and unmistakable kind of experience. We went through conventional adoption processes right up to the time we felt strongly to move to a house with one bedroom. That was not a typo. Three kids sleeping in the living room for three years. There are not words to describe  the joy, happiness and sheet volume of this living experience. I knew that we would be ready to move ahead with this new phase of our lives when we had a little more space. During that time I read several books by Sarah Hinze and a blog post by another woman whose name I have now forgotten that really changed the way I looked at adoption before. I had been instructed to learn about spiritual adoption and I thought that meant the spiritual action corresponding to a sealing experience here on Earth.(Sealing a family together in a covenant before God is an ordinance performed in our temple) My attention was finally drawn to an aspect of the commandment to care for the least of these, these whose lives never really began. These whose parents had not kept their agreements, who had because of pain, deception and darkness,  not provided them the lives they had promised. Who had through abortion terminated their lives and stolen from them their opportunity to fulfill their mission on the Earth. The picture I had in my mind (it looked remarkably like a Mormon ad, I'm embarrassed to admit) changed from one of the selfless sacrifice of a birth mother ( bless their hearts- every single one of them) and the joy shared by all who love these little people who come from hard situations , perhaps in foster care or suffering from medical conditions or poverty in another country, to one of the desperation and longing for a body, a mother, a home, a family. A picture of ones forgotten in the rush to pursue goals of wealth, education, fun and pleasure. Promises made and broken  and not even remembered. There are many women who feel a longing that they can't quite supress for someone missing, for empty arms and they can't explain why. Don't think that there isn't someone on the other side wondering if you will remember promises made, who long to fill those arms and be with you. I felt that I had fullfilled my promises when I had my first three children but when I expressed a willingness to have more I learned a whole new perspective. With each subsequent child my husband and I have had the opportunity to make a new agreement before the experience of pregnancy ever began. We felt prompted to take a foster parenting training but never did get to the last class addressing attachment. I prayed to recieve help in completing the training but was told that we had done all we needed to. As years have passed I've recognized patterns and symptoms of emotional trauma more often found in adopted children. I've found help and comfort in remembering the training and my parenting has imroved as I've recognized I am dealing with emotional/spiritual beings who have reasons to distrust and doubt the sincerety and safety of others. I've been reminded again and again of the wise words of Inigo Montoya, when he states that "I don't think it means what you think it means." For some weird reasons I can always remember "Princess Bride" better than Scripture references, what can I say. I hope I can still go to Heaven.  I have prayed in the past for eyes to see the forgotten, alone and poor. I had a deep desire to love those the Savior commanded us to care for. I looked around for those whom I could serve and I have found an opportunity here and there to make a dinner, to tend someone's children or to smile and compliment someone having a hard day but it wasn't until I asked that I saw those who have no voice. Those who wait for arms to welcome them to this world of experience. Those whose hope has been lost when they were rejected, feeling unloved, unworthy.
So I can't tell you my dear friend, nor should I, how many children to have. That is between you and God. I can't tell you what your physical, mental or spiritual capacity is, how much you can or even should handle. I can't even explain to you how I have managed to do a good job with six children because I don't feel that I have. I can only tell you that my life has been blessed more than I can explain. My life has been changed in ways that I haven't expected and some ways that I don't really even understand. I am still tired, I frequently feel fried after a week of lousy sleep with children who have been sick and I still wonder about my mental capacity (daily, if you were wondering) but I would do it again in a heartbeat. For the least of these have shown me the face of God.

                     With much love,
                                      Jessie

I recognize that there are many wonderful women who can't bear children, who would if they could. I see many women who are doing an amazing job of mothering a few children and I am not shaming anybody at all, ever. I am sharing my experience and really cannot begin to tell anyone the "right" way to mother, the right number to mother, the right age to mother or that they should have twenty children. Most days I would throw a grand piano at anyone who would dare suggest that I could handle even one more and I felt this exact same way when I had one...and two...and three....you get the picture. I have once or twice contemplated asking God to stand a little closer so I could get Him in range so I could launch any musical instrument close to hand but by the end of the conversation the love I felt was enough to get me into compassion -peace-love and violins are expensive mindframe  and I felt confident that it would really be okay. Which is how I came to have six kids. Ask and ye shall recieve.

I have often wondered....a lot of things, really, but this one thing has come to the front again and again. How does God expect any person to become a parent and be any good at it. How He knows they will become parents is pretty well established and it seems to be working great for a good portion of my friends and family. There are definitely some who are now or have in the past struggled with infertility- and my heart goes out to them. I definitely have no idea how that feels. At all.
But the part where they (parents) are any good at it is the part that has me shaking my head in wonder.
First of all, there really is no training available that really does parenthood justice. It helps if you are an older child in a larger family or a younger child of a larger family and prolific siblings who provide material for study but in the end it turns out that all you really walk away with is a little more realistic expectations of how much baby poop stinks and how many dishes a big family can make in a  short period of time. Because, really, have you noticed that children sleep really well through babies crying, they aren't bothered (much) by noise if that is what they are used to - and they don't worry about all their siblings growing up and going to jail. Or if they do, it's a fleeting and perhaps at times even a hopeful one if regarding an older brother they deem a menace to society that should be locked up to preserve their Barbie's lives.....or heads....or whatever you call what Barbies' have.
I became a parent at a young age and I'm grateful that I learned to spell early on in life because that's really the only thing that has felt orderly in my life since. There are few times that I remember peaceful silence in my house in the past seventeen years with the exceptions of those times that all the kids went with Dad to feed cows or everyone was napping at the same time and that creates a magical equation for the unique parenting style I like to call "Interrupted Parenting".
This is a method were the mother spends a lot of time trying to recall the page number she is on in the child rearing book she is trying to read while nursing and re-reading parts that she finally recognizes after a few paragraphs and skips ahead hoping to guess close since the bookmark was knocked out of the book when it was bumped off the arm of the chair she uses for feedings. Because once you get that baby latched on you aren't going to go looking for it, Heaven knows.
She soon advances to cooking, cleaning and paying bills punctuated with baby crying for attention in the background of every call which confuses the heck out of those stupid automated machines who love to repeat "I'm sorry, I couldn't understand that. Please try again."  There would be silence for a moment and emboldened, Mommy starts again,,,,just as baby drops the favorite toy and begins wailing. Nevermind the wait of twenty minutes, at this point Mommy would kill for a live person to talk to who can guess what you're saying in the moments of silence.
Being interrupted is difficult so she becomes an expert at waiting until baby is sleeping to do anything possible and after bedtime she catches up on anything she missed and decides that she didn't really need sleep anyway.
If she's blessed she might have several more children close enough together to make certain that one child will interrupt the other child who is having their story read while Mommy is nursing and she is off the hook of ever having to finish that book about how to get babies to eat, sleep and poop in some sort of intelligent fashion that allows for uninterrupted showers or whatever but she doesn't really care that much anymore because she doesn't really know what showering alone is like anymore anyway. She has learned that at least if baby is buckled into their car seat in the bathroom and is sleeping when the shower begins, at least you know if there is crying it isn't because Daddy forgot to watch out for the fast two year old and he isn't smothering the baby with too many kisses or a blanket or anything and she can relax through the crying as she showers as fast as humanly possible. Though she sometimes wonders if showering is really necessary- there are tribes that don't, and they don't do much laundry either.......hhhmmm.
She advances over time to the the stage where she doesn't really notice the frequent punctions of "Mom! Mom!" as much anymore as she ties the shoes and buttons the pants as she  cleans while on the phone and dispenses drinks with almost telepathic ability, only rarely giving the cup to the wrong child or kissing the boo-boo on the wrong elbow. But she can't seem to remember very many things for very long.....is it the fact she hasn't had a full and uninterrupted night's sleep in almost twenty years? Or maybe that she hasn't had a thought process without interruption in almost that long?  When her spouse takes her out for a rare evening away and she either sits in silence and can't think of anything to say that doesn't involve the children or she can't stop talking because no one has listened to her all day it may seem strange to someone who speaks to one person at a time in an organized fashion- maybe even with a secretary to run interference and prevent interruptions. It may seem odd to someone who hasn't ever had a group of children sit and stare at them as they are trying desperately to zone out enough to hear themselves think taking bets about what's wrong with her until a little impatient one takes her face in between both hands and yells "Mom! I want an orange!"
Several days ago I was trying to print four pages of financial statements off the internet with my phone. The phone was not defective, the printer was not defective or even out of paper. It took me an hour. I called a teenage boy down from upstairs, out of the bathroom and in from outside at least four times to finish his chore of sweeping the floor, dialed a number for another so he could call a friend, helped another child with four math problems because it couldn't wait- you know, URGENT math- and helped a toddler down off the sofa so he wouldn't jump on his sibling who was sitting smashed up next to me watching me push "Print". I also answered several questions from other children and called someone to get the toddler a drink. And change his stinky diaper for me. No I didn't pay them any money or favors, I reminded them they get groceries and clothes and don't pay rent. It was discussed but I held firm. My husband called me a little later and asked if I were finished printing them off and when I told him I had just barely got them, he wondered aloud (silly man)" What were you doing that took so long?"  I am considering going on vacation alone - perhaps to take part in a sleep study, where I could get paid to sleep without interuptions and leaving him home with the kids to find out what I was doing. They say women need more sleep because they use so much of their brain in so many areas at the same time. I wish it were possible but more sleep has yet to materialize. My parenting plans have been quite impressive in the past, the times that I remember what they are and they usually last just long enough to create hope in my bosom before they get interrupted by chicken pox, winter, morning sickness, accidents, emotional upheaval, travel or death. So I conclude that God intended for parents to love their kids and mess them up all at the same time. If that weren't the plan He would have made sleep a part of the equation. Or maybe the solution is hiding in one of those books stashed so carefully under a chair somewhere. I hope it's not any further back in the book than chapter one........
* Completely random sidenote- I was only interrupted ten times while typing this ....in the first ten minutes that is. My toddler is jumping off his bed and landing on the floor which happens to be right above my head. Over and over. This doesn't count as an interruption. I don't have to do anything about it unless I adhere to a system of child training. I seem to have lost the book that explains that one.

To Be A Mom

I'm a mom, a very mormon mom. And it's the best and hardest thing I've ever done. I'm not unusual amongst my peers for that sentiment, for there are many wonderful moms in my church. We take being a mom very seriously and devote much time, energy and effort (not to mention lesson time ) in our women's organization focusing on our divine calling as mothers.
But.
I have a confession. This won't be heard by my bishop nor will I likely announce in my women's group. Today in church we celebrated our mothers and their selfless sacrifices and devotion, every word reverential and respectful and the phrase "All I ever wanted was to be a mother." was said a number of times. But not by me.
"Being a mother wasnt all I ever wanted"
There, I said it. I love babies and before I ever wore a bra I liked children and thought people who didn't like children were crazy. I come from a quasi large family- 6- and there were a number of families of that size in my town and there were at least three I can think of with twice that many.
I always wanted to have children, but that wasn't the only thing I wanted. I wanted to travel and see many parts of the fascinating world we live in. I wanted to learn how to sword fight, play the accordian and speak other languages. I wanted to read, write, paint, sew, design homes and ride horses.
Sometimes I even wondered if I wanted to bear children. Maybe adoption was the way to go- a physiology class was enough to convince me that perhaps squeezing a baby out of the tiny orifice in my nether regions was likely the worst idea I had ever heard- long before I realized that our human bodies are amazing and wonnderful and that there are indeed many ideas that are far worse!!  (drugs, breast augmentation and the piercing of certain body parts were not on my radar yet!)
I knew some of my limitations with regard to patience, kindness and attention span and that created in me a curiosity to know if I were even capable of not misplacing any possible offspring, though I wasn't overly concerned since I wasn't exactly sure how any of the ladies I knew did it either and their kids seemed safe enough. I kinda figured guardian angels had some important role here- (they do!)
I then entered High School. A place where my observations of the opposite sex clarified my doubts that I would ever want to live in the same house with one of those masculine nutjobs if I didn't have to (with my elder brother, I most definitely had to, and it was an experience I both enjoyed and abhorred depending on the day and knew I didn't have the intense desire to replicate for life).
I liked a number of those masculine nutjobs and enjoyed their company quite a lot but a close look at their habits and hobbies and understanding of their interest (or lack thereof) in being helpful with small children, clarified in my mind that marrying, much less reproducing with one of these beings would be a headache, perhaps the biggest headache imaginable.
I wasn't wrong. I wasn't right either but I can tell you that the choice to marry a masculine nutjob was not as hard as I thought.
So how does a girl who liked kids and loved babies and had a great many other plans for her life (at least preceeding a family) get married at age seventeen and have six children?
I met a guy that neither liked sports nor had any interest in a large family.  He said two - I said eight, just to bring a little balance to the perspective. I was kidding. He was the cleanest person I ever met and a good cook. He said not much and didn't commit to something unless he really meant it and he didn't hesitate to speak his mind. I knew marriage would be a headache ( I watched Princess Bride, I knew full well that "life is pain").My parents are wonderful people who have loved and served their whole lives, giving their best for their family and I watched them closely as children do and realized that being married was going to be inconvenient, expensive, annoying and try the patience of a saint. I knew I wasn't a saint.
But I also knew that there was something in that man that I met, something that made me feel alive, something that to me felt  like coming home. He had something that awakened in me a memory I hadn't even made yet and I trusted my intuition long enough to get to know him. For to really know     someone is to love them- and I wanted to know him. I sought the Lord in prayer and made the best  and hardest decision of my life and married at seventeen. Not because I didn't have any other options or plans, not because I was afraid to go out and find life and live it to the fullest. I married because I couldn't betray my heart and live with that regret.
And it was and is an experience that I wouldn't change. We as a couple sought the direction of God as to when to have a family. The details of those conversations are none of anyone's business but ours. Not that people didn't offer their own brand of busy-body business minding but the timing and number of my children was God's timing and the results of our obedience as a couple. Certainly not based in an over-inflated belief as to our ability as parents, our confidence as to patience and our possession of it, nor our impressive pocketbooks. The doubts in my head by far out matched those of skeptical family members. But if my mother had her doubts, she never spoke them to me, for which I am grateful. My mother has stood by me and helped me kindly and gently meet the challenges of childbirth, sickness and skepticism without ever discouraging me or critisizing my best efforts

.
I have learned that I need to climb that mountain, buy that accordian, take a break, even take a vacation to be me, not only a mom but a person who has hopes and dreams and lives them. So that my children see that I am happy to be a mom, a wife, a musician,  a world traveler and a writer, even. Sometimes. So that my kids see that sometimes I don't feel happy and what I choose to do about it.
Because I am more than my ability to produce a baby - though if you want to list having pushed six humans out of a hole that size without medication, in a resume, I think you should get credit for sheer guts, personally! A mother isn't only someone who gives everything for her family- I believe she is someone who knows herself better because of her family, someone who gives herself- her best self- to the life experience that a family lives together. That woman who mothers gives her experiences and love and wisdom and these things come from a life lived. My plans changed but they were exchanged for richer experiences. Sure, there are some things I haven't yet done- small children need their mother's presence and that is the highest priority, but I have lived many of those plans with my children,  they see that anything is possible because families support us in our hopes and dreams, mothers too. My kids have watched me make time for things that challenge me, scare me and inspire me. I hope they see that life is not something that you do until you have kids but rather something that goes on no matter what and we find the joy, the lesson and the rewards.....together. Not one of those mothers that said today, "All I ever wanted was to be a mom" meant that they don't have hopes and dreams and talents and fulfilling lives- just that they didn't put something else at the top of their list. They are all amazing women.
All I ever wanted was everything. Everything I need to learn, grow, experience and love.I have traveled (some), I have learned several languages, learned to sew, play accordian....and violin, baritone uke and someday maybe even the bass after I inherit a million....or earn it. Someday I will paint a beautiful painting but for now I am loving painting furniture.  I've sewn beautiful gowns and quilted insanely large handpieced works that no longer match the homes I've decorated......because I redecorated - and I've not learned to sword fight. I don't want to anymore. I became a good shot instead. Ha, eat your heart out, Indiana Jones. I've ridden horses and can't get enough time to please me but my kids got the the love and a dad who is horse poor (13 might be enough....maybe) and he teaches them to shoot and sword fight, and someday I'll ride to my heart's content. And I have learned that I do like children- my own much more than anyone else's. I do love babies, and the exhaustion that comes from not sleeping for what feels like years ( ha, because it is!) makes you realize that far from wishing that they would never grow up, you are actually happy to love each stage and let them get to that magic age where they sleep (3,4,5.......in case someone here is hoping to hear the answer to that question, it can also be never but they learn to be up alone without you ).  And you look back with joy in remembering those soft and sweet first moments, days, months of that child's life. I've learned that your children will teach you more about yourself than you can imagine- and to know yourself is the greatest gift.
So when you look at a mother you may see a woman doing her best- if you can't see it, look harder.
I didn't only ever want to be a mom, I knew I wanted that but I also needed to learn what else I  wanted to be. God has shown me the miracle of His Grace in giving me everything I ever asked for in a better way than I could imagine. It's not "either/or" but simply "And".

I Am Feeling Good Today

I've been doing a silly thing. Oh, stop it. I know you all know I do silly things- that's not really new is it? But here's the thing. 
I have realized I'm doing it and it feels so great to stop.
I have always had this idea that somehow it was my job. 
Thought that if I did my job well that it would make other people happier.
Thought that if I didn't, that somehow people would think I didn't love them.
Sadly, I am not talking about serving lunch every day. Since that really is my job and people really do feel happier with a full tummy and if they are going hungry they really do think I don't love them. No, this is something different.
I stopped taking responsibility for their decisions. Those fabulous people around me are not my job and I am not responsible for their decisions. I can bless them through guidance if they are my child, counsel if they happen to be my husband, love and accept them if they are friends and family but I can let go of my "expectations" of them. If my kids dress funny and do childish things in social settings I will remember " Though others will judge me by my children, I love them and they are not me- they are fabulous all by themselves". Because I think we can all admit that we sometimes listen to those shadow voices that throw out judgement onto others. Or maybe that's just me. But regardless, I can and do need to let go and let God. Let God show His love for my friends and family through me. Let God worry about if other people say and do mean things. Let God put His hand on my heart and remind me that it is my job to serve Him and turn over outcomes to Him. Let God work in His way with all these wonderful and fabulous totally imperfect beings that He created to glorify Him. I don't know what  other people's lessons they have to learn and what path it will take  to learn them. I am not responsible for the happiness or sadness of others. I can make it easier or harder for them to be around me, surely. But I can't be awesome enough to make them happy nor dreadful enough to make them be sad against their will. I don't want the burden of knowing that I have hurt someone and certainly will strive to show my love for them. But if they don't receive I can find my own happiness and joy. I am blessed to know all of you and see the ways that you are great. I am free to love you because it's not for me to decide if your choices are good or bad, safe or scary. Those things are yours and God's. I don't have to worry about how my choices affect you, either. It's God's job to love, guide and teach you, Christ's job to save you and lead you back to Heaven and the job of the weathermen and economists to be wrong, my job to speak when directed by the Spirit, give when my heart tells me it's right, smile when I'm happy to see you, dance and sing when my Spirit is happy and sleep when I'm tired.....which I am.           <3 Goodnight.

Blame, shame......lame....

So let's say that once upon a time there was a Mom. Naturally, this is a hypothetical mom. This mom has kids- hence the "mom" title and she loves these little nuts like nothing else. She worries that they will grow up to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted big nuts who love their mom and visit her many weekends and bring her flowers on Mother's Day and get misty-eyed when certain songs play on the radio. Pretty basic Mom-type dreams, right?
  So let's say that she lives in the greatest country on Earth....aka The United States. Flag waving and barbeques included. She wants to keep up and do good things and so she begins the laborious task of figuring out how to do this mom thing the "Right" way.
   She looks at how her country is doing with regards to infant mortality rate. Ew, 27th is not the success story that one would expect of our wonderful progressive society but she didn't lose heart.
She looked at our cancer rates and suicide and depression rates among children and she looked at mental   health, obesity and education. She looked at what Americans feed their children and what things they gave them for gifts and how much time they spent on electronics. She looked at accident rates in children and allergies and everything she could think of and she decided that while there were many people in this old world that knew more about parenting than she , there were none who loved her kids as much and she decided to do things differently.
   She looked at countries that looked like they were successful with their health and well being. She looked at countries where their children don't suffer from diabetes, obesity and cell phones. She looked at countries with lower rates of infant death, suicides and she looked at how they ate, slept, walked, talked and breathed and she determined to change from the habits of those around her and instead be mindful of the state of the food her family consumed and the chemicals they were exposed to. And she decided that if you want different results from those you've always recieved you may have to try methods you've never tried before. And she did. She also noticed that if a parent feels threatened they will lash out at anyone who does things differently than they. As if you had to prove that your way is the one true way and none other can have joy and happiness if followed. And there was name calling and bashing on internet social sites. And she felt peaceful and good about the clothes her family wore and the food they eat and the places they go and the places they don't. She felt good about things her family listen to and what substances they put in their teeth and who was allowed to have a say in their family decisions. And sometimes she even said something when neighbors thought they should have input about what decisions she as a mom made. And this mom started to wonder why it was that she felt so good and safe at home but that the public square was a stressful place to stand. So she stood in her home and she sheilded herself when she went out and her mantra became "I have the right to be the best mom I can for my kids- and so do all of you."
Sometimes this mom would forget but a thoughtless comment would always remind her that judgement is God's and love is ours.
She wanted to stand in the street and yell "Go be the best awesome Moms you ever have been, the best you ever can be!!!"
And then she took a nap- because I'm writing this story and I choose to give the mom a break.
Can we do the same for every mom?

.........The Middle Of No-Where.

`I was raised in a small rural town and never got the memo that your life will not be complete without the necessary experience of living with neighbors sufficient to fill a sports arena and traffic sufficient to make you stop at "Yield" signs. So I never tried it. But we can't have life be TOO predictable so I occasionally traded one small "town" for another. And people say ".......You live where? Oh! That's the middle of no-where!"
   Have you ever noticed how there are the same sets of fabulous and crazy people everywhere you go?
   I actually like the middle of no-where. I've had at least 13 years practice at it. I still choose it.
We've lived in a number of lovely places all outside the city limits with only one exception. (Only 1 next door neighbor on the last street in town with a gorgeous view of the mountains!)
There are a few things that people don't seem to understand about "The Middle Of No-Where-ness".
 - Conscientious Earth-dwellers give me dirty looks for driving the old and cheap version of an SUV. I really do need  8 seats and 4-wheel drive. Promise.
- The UPS man is my best friend- next to Amazon Prime. :) I don't know his name but he sure knows a lot about me..
  -The road from our house to your house is much shorter than your house to mine. Weird but true. "We really don't come to visit you because it's so far. Why don't you come see us more often??"
  -Everyone thinks that all you do is sit around and enjoy the peace and quiet and clucking of chickens. I do love me some good peace, quiet and clucking...............okay, now I'll have to ask you to excuse me - I'm going to go feed the chickens, and pigs, and horses, , and dog and get the four-wheeler out of the mud. I understand that all some folks do is go to the theatre and shopping and .......you see what I mean.
- The nice ladies at the dentist's office wonder why you look like you've been run over by a truck when you show up for your appointment at nine in the morning with all the kids in tow. "Why does she do all of them in one day and she didn't seem too happy about her appointment time......" I should have picked a dentist closer than 2 hours away.
- Everything that starts right after dinner or lunch for anyone planning the event can expect my kids to be crabby- they weren't hungry when I fed them early to make it to your thing and now they're starving. And when we leave early, it's to go to the grocery store (to buy them some bananas so they won't eat all your cookies) before it closes because I'm too cheap to drive that much without getting groceries and gas.......and anything you can't order on Amazon Prime. :)
- Girls don't baby sit for you. At all. If they're old enough to drive they're too busy. And everyone loves that one lady that takes her kids everywhere with her. Believe me, I can tell from their looks.
- When you call two hours before youth activities start to let us know that they have been canceled that day- we've gone in time to go get groceries first and we'll show up anyway. Again.
- We love it when every kid's church group meets on a different day so we can spend an hour in the car for every hour long activity. Sometimes I give them a dollar to stay home. Maybe I'll just send them out to ride their bikes to Scouts....
.....and there's the things I love about it.
- My kids are each other's best friends.
- The stars are gorgeous and the sky is immense as I sit in the house trying to get kids to sleep just like all you other moms, but sometimes when I realize that someone left the car door open or I forgot my purse in the car or someone forgot to let the horses out of the corral I get to walk out and look at them!
-I have lots of space and lots of dirt and lots of horizon to enjoy.
-Phones.
-Costco is only two hours away....right by my dentist. I just wish that 8 seat /4 wheel Drive Earth Crusher had more cargo room - once a month shopping gets intense.
- CNG is cheap.
-When I make my kids do chores there are no nosy neighbors who think I'm worse than anything they've ever heard of.
-When I'm potty training the little boy and he pees in the front yard I know I'm not going to hear about it from the neighborhood.
- When I talk to my good friends who also have the same wide open spaces around them we can cherish our friendships even more knowing that it takes time and sacrifice to get together but it's oh, so worth it.  And knowing how needed friends are helps us be less critical.
And to all of you who have a sea of wide open city surrounding you and almost the same life challenges as me- or a small town full of neighbors that think they know all your business and almost the same life challenges as me- What do you love about it?

Since it's almost my birthday- Let's Talk Presents!

God is good. He reminds me all the time.
Like when I asked for a man to marry who could be straight forward and handle directness. I think He may have laughed a little at that one. :)
One time I read an article about fitness - don't gasp, I just read it! It didn't say 'running' in the title so I felt safe. ;) It touted the benefits of having two pair of shoes for exercise. I thought about my current walking shoes and thought aloud "That would be nice to have two pair of good white leather walking shoes!" My last pair of cross-trainers that I loved had been $50 on sale and I was feeling my tight-waddery......clutch-fistedist.........cheap self raising it's head. My husband would laugh if I told him I was stressing over spending on new exercise shoes, he would just buy them for me after he talked the sales lady down 25% more. But I went about life as usual and a few weeks later I was going to St George (aka "town " at our house- think John Wayne - "Hitch up the buggy, she wants to go to town!") and had a box of stuff for DI. I asked my husband to drop it off at the Cedar location which he thought strange but when I went into the store to look around ( you have to look around! There might be a match to the brushed stainless lamp you got there two weeks ago!!) and walked straight to the shoe section and they were there waiting for me. Two brand new pair of white leather walking shoes in my size. Thank you!!
   He always gives good gifts, He answers my questions, He sends great friends my way and he gives me experiences that change my life. When I was struggling with pregnancy and children He sent me a dream to remind me that I needed to ask more and be specific - especially about what it is I needed and then allow Him to provide in His way and time. Sometimes I wanted something in life to change and He whispered 'patience' to me and I later learned He was putting it all together for me- better than I imagined. A listening ear, a friend, a ride out of Vegas on a crazy weekend, a rainbow or just rain. The right words don't always come out when I open my mouth and I've said some cringe-worthy things in my life, but when I pray for the right words to help a mourning friend and wise things come out, you can know that was surely not me ! In so many ways I'm grateful, for a God who doesn't have  unfairness in Him but still makes me feel like I'm His favorite. And so are you! Be specific when you ask and you'll see His hand in all things. Remember that when you give thanks it allows him to bless you more.