Let's Start with Spaghetti

Before you read the post below, read this.




Just before heading to the MTC, #1's friend had a family move in with them. It just so happens that that family was from the Philippines.

Random? Okay, yah, I agree.

Wait….It gets better.

They were living with this friend's family until they could find a place of their own, and they did….In our ward boundaries (for those who may not know, a "ward" is an LDS congregation. What ward you are in is determined by where you live). At one point, I had heard that our ward has the smallest geographical boundaries in the state of Oregon. Whether that's still true or not, I don't know, but for them to just happen to find a place in our small boundaries?….Yah, random.

Then, okay, maybe not so random….I am made the wife's visiting teacher (in the LDS church, a visiting teacher is assigned to each woman to check in and make sure everything's good for the family. It's kind of like an assignment to be someone's friend. Strange? Yah, okay, but you really do end up being friends, and it's a lovely thing). So, you kind of get the picture of what my assignment is here. Well, my assignment has turned into a joy.

I have to admit, the first time I visited with her, I was nervous. We had chatted back and forth on Facebook a few times, but I really didn't have any experience with her, and I had to take #7 with me.

From the moment she opened her door, it became SUCH a SWEET visit. She even embraced my lively and wiggly four-year-old in her kindness. I couldn't wait to go and be with her again. I am grateful that I was the one who was chosen for this assignment. She has become my good friend.

The other night was her birthday. I went to take her a little something. The Warden waited in the car while #6 and I ran it in to her.


This woman invited us in and sat us down and fed us spaghetti. Not like American spaghetti or Italian spaghetti, but Filipino spaghetti. It was SO DELICIOUS!

We left with a big bowl full for the Warden. She had to share.


Knowing what I know now, is it any wonder #1 loves who she serves?


Yesterday we got word that #1 has been transferred to a new city. I received a letter stating the facts of her transfer. I want to share a line from that letter.

We were told where she will be serving and that it is a wonderful place, and then it goes on to say this:

"…The people are loving and kind, and you will also find the people to be hospitable….The members there are supportive with regards to missionary work and they are always excited to work with the Missionaries and involve themselves to the work."

These are the kind of people my daughter rubs shoulders with, and these are the kind of people I now rub shoulders with as well.

Can you see how this is not random? This is a small part of a much bigger picture. This is my life now. It's so different from what it once was.


There is one more significant detail to this story…..

Before you send a child to a foreign country, people tell you about the culture, the food, other little details. You don't really know what to expect.

So, in my first email to #1 after she arrived in the Philippines, I asked her about the food. Her response?…


"Sister E made spaghetti for us! Oh it was the best spaghetti I've ever eaten. reminded me of home."


Funny our parallel lives on opposite sides of the globe. Best spaghetti I've ever eaten. Reminded me of her.


People said there would be great blessings for sending #1 on a mission. I just had no idea.

Maybe you begin to agree with me….None of this is random.

Maybe I Don't Hate It as Much as I Remember

K, so as a follow up from my Facebook status this morning in which I asked for advice on how to start running again. Thank you to everyone who commented and left me private messages. More than anything else, thank you for caring. Dave, particularly, thank you for your message. It was very fitting for the circumstance, and I'm sure you didn't know that. Your message was inspired, and I felt very encouraged as I read it.

After all of the love that was shown, I thought I'd better give some follow up. It was too long for Facebook, so here  you go....

I went running. Yay, me! I knew I couldn't ask any of my three oldest to go with me, they are WAY too fast (Thank you, Wes, for taking the photos. I swear I wouldn't have any if it weren't for you). They all run cross country and track, so I asked #4. He doesn't do that crazy running stuff yet, so he was the perfect candidate, and he rocks! Did I ever tell you that? Well, he does.

We found a great park and just went for it.

image: brandeating.com

We went to breakfast with the Warden's parents for the Warden's birthday. I ate a light breakfast. Want to know what I had? Oatmeal. Yes. I ordered oatmeal at a restaurant where I could have had anything. It was DELICIOUS, and as I ate it, I thought, I'm being so good to myself. Again, yay, me!

#4, however, ordered an omelet and ate himself silly, so it was nice to have his gut an excuse to walk a bit during our run.

image: flickr.com

We ran at Noble Woods Park in Hillsboro. Hillsboro has some really nice parks. I searched them out online.

We ran on the main paths through the park and found ourselves on the opposite side, so we exited the park and ran through the neighborhood a bit.

I have no idea how far we ran distance-wise, but we ran/walked for a half hour, and you know what? It felt GOOD. I had forgotten how good it feels. I think the thing that makes it feel so good is the fact that I know I've conquered something in myself just to get out there and do it.

image: slashsport.com

I also have a new pair of shoes that I call my little gift from heaven that I'll have to explain, but once I explain, I think you'll understand why I feel such a compulsion to run.

image: store.nike.com

The other day, I mentioned that something awesome was going to happen and that I was waiting for it. Well, those shoes are one of three things (that I'm aware of) that were awesome that happened that day.

More on that later.....




Don't you just love it when I leave you with a teaser?

Time to Hang Up My Cape

When I was a teenager, I remember being disappointed by things I'd built up in my head....Things I expected that others were going to do and just how they were going to do them. I built them up to the point of being totally CRUSHED when those things didn't happen. I remember retreating to my bedroom, putting my face in my pillow and crying for hours.

From these experiences, I learned that the only person I can control and should be able to count on is myself.

Well, lately, I'm learning that that much isn't very true either.

image: hangingaroundforever.wordpress.com

There have been things, since I've been married and have had children--a household to care for--that I've built up for myself. Expectations for myself that I feel are my responsibility and no one else's. I grasp them selfishly. They are mine...mine...MINE. **Insert evil laugh here**

My kids do quite a bit around the house. They have assigned chores, but there are things that I've reserved for myself--those things that I think define me as a mother, a wife, and a homemaker. When I don't get those done, I am so disappointed in myself. I don't cry for hours over them, but maybe that would help. If only I had time to retreat to my bedroom.

It's funny, I don't have one of those husbands who comes in after a long day of work and says, "Where's my dinner?" or "Why isn't the house clean?" If I did, maybe, just maybe, I could blame these feelings on him. Boy, that'd make me feel better, but darn it! No, I have one who comes in after a long day of work and just gets to work all over again, in a different way. Here's the clincher....He does is HAPPILY! Ugh! I'm so grateful for this good man, but my guilt and disappointment in myself grows every time.

Life has been busy with added responsibilities that didn't used to be there, and I don't think the sleep apnea's helping at all. No, I don't have the device for the apnea yet--long story. I guess what it comes down to is that I don't have the energy I used to, but those aren't good excuses. I am cutting myself no slack here.

I've been really bothered by all of this....until early last week....

We were sitting at the dinner table. The Warden called on #7 to bless the food. As soon as he did so, this little voice in my head/heart said, "You don't have to give every prayer."

That may seem like a funny statement to anyone outside of my head, but these words made everything else click. It was the thought that I don't have to do it all. It's okay to delegate things. Everyone in my house can help, and it's all okay. Nothing defines me as a mother, a wife, and homemaker as much as my love for them. If those tasks are causing me undue stress, I need to let them go. They're not worth it. I need to stop defining myself by what I do and start appreciating how I feel. Yes, the things I do are an outward expression of what's in my heart, but service to my family comes in so many different packages.

I have a friend right now who is pregnant. She was the oldest child raised in a very large household. I guess I thought of anybody, she'd be up and doing it ALL for her family. I've heard of women who were nine months pregnant and out working in the fields. That's what I, at times, have aspired to. I thought that's how this woman would be.

In the past two weeks, I've been described as "tough" by my children first, and then by the Warden in front of my children. I've tried to prove to them that I can "fight through" anything. That I can take a licking and keep on ticking. I haven't wanted to be a marshmallow that backs down at the first sign of adversity. But, that all brings a big price with it. That price is called self-neglect.

I made arrangements to have one of this friend's children to come play at our house. The night before the playdate, I received a text from her stating that they wouldn't be ready because she wasn't sure she'd be up and about yet at that time of the morning. Could we arrange a little bit later so they could take their time?

Wow!

It hit me, as I pondered her text, that in taking care of herself, she was really taking care of all in her household--even the not-yet born. She wasn't being tough. She was being tender and thoughtful and careful...of HERSELF! Wow, I want to be like that. I want to be able to say "I'm not going to be ready yet" and not feel guilt. I want to be able to cut myself some slack.

I've been married for 20 years. How do I train my family, after all of these years of martyrdom, that it's okay to take care of me? Oh, my goodness, and then, where do I begin?

My heart churns most of the time lately. I have no other way to describe it than that. Those must be my super powers trying to break out. Well, I think I need to quiet the powers and stop trying to be super woman everyday. It's the falling short that's disappointing me. Maybe I need to extinguish those feelings. Maybe that's where I need to begin. Maybe it's in the little things I do to quiet those churnings that I'll find what it takes to care for myself. Maybe I need to stop motivating myself with the guilt I've heaped upon myself in my attempt to be tough and super and everything I have expected a mom to be.

No, I don't say every prayer here in this madhouse, and there is no manual written that says if I don't do something, the world will fall apart. Maybe it's time to take care of me a little bit more. Maybe it's time to stop running the hamster wheel, let others help me flatten it out, and run forward together.

No, I'm not super woman, and I don't want to be. It's time to remove the expectations and be good enough because I love them.

A Little Something Learned from the Physics Department

I finally did it! I took some pages of my blog and made them into a book. It's been something I've wanted to do for a long time. It took me two days, and it ended up being around 60 pages long. As I reviewed it, I ran across a few things I'd forgotten about.

image: kneebouncers.com

We had stake conference in April of 2008. At that time, a woman in our stake said something along the lines of pride cannot exist where gratitude is. Those weren't her exact words, but regardless, the idea was what was important.

This morning, I went searching for a quote from a General Conference or something so that I could find the exact quote. I was unsuccessful, but I found a very interesting source of similar information. I found the notes from a discussion that took place among the physics staff at BYU-Idaho. Did you get that? The physics staff. I LOVE that! 

Here is a link to the site where I found it. I've copied portions of it here because I feel that there is much to be learned from it....

  "How do we avoid pride?"
 

• Associating with "different people outside our bubble." Pride is building oneself up compared to others. Reaching out to everyone keeps us humble.  
   
• No one is above another.  Teachers are not any better than students. We are all equal in God's eyes; shouldn't we be in our own eyes too?
   
• We are here to serve. When you serve, it means you love your fellowman and want to see him/her succeed. 
   
• "Keeping an attitude of gratitude will help us avoid getting prideful."  Sometimes we need to step back and remember where we came from and be grateful for just what we have in life.

 

image: lastdaysigns.blogspot.com

The steps of the pride cycle (The physics department only touch on two of these steps, but the other two are pretty self-explanatory):

1st step - Prosperity

When  people prosper and do well, pride creeps in, and we forget the Lord and where our  blessings really come from.                

In reality, with extra blessings comes the responsibility to share more.  Give to others more freely.

Each day, I need to step outside of myself and serve someone else unselfishly. I need to keep this perspective and pray for these opportunities. When I feel that tug, I need to just do it and not question it. 

2nd step - Lifting ourselves above others

As we prosper, we start lifting ourselves above others, we forget, and we even grow to despise those who need us. Remember to praise the Lord, and "recognize how much he helps and blesses us everyday."  When we treat each other this way, "we can more fully feel His love."

 

"The antidote of pride is charity....The scriptures teach that charity has a number of characteristics ([1] Corinthians [13]:1-13; Moroni 7:44-45).  We can tell if we have charity by how the feelings of our heart and our actions match up with the characteristics noted in these scriptures":

• Suffer long - be patient, endure well
• Be kind
• Don't envy or be jealous of others
• Don't brag
• Don't become big headed
• Don't act or think inappropriately
• Be unselfish
• Seek out others that are different from you. Love and serve them.
• Choose not to be provoked by things that might make you angry or frustrated
• Dwell on all the good that surrounds you
• Don't delight in sin or the failure of others
• Be grateful for the truth and seek out more of it
• Believe, knowing that all good things come from God--recognize His hand
• Hope
• Do your best no matter what circumstances you might find yourself in
• Be grateful even in the hardest of times
• Be meek (easily imposed on) - be ready to jump in and help anyone at any time
• Have a "broken heart" and a "contrite spirit" - continually seek to do better than you did yesterday.

 

image: kymberleefenn.blogspot.com

"...Humility is not the only cure to pride, but that charity, or the pure love of Christ, is a better cure...When we exhibit the characteristics of charity, we cannot be prideful.  The two cannot co-exist."  We need to constantly reevaluate our actions and keep things in the proper perspective. 

 

We need to identify pride and its effects in our daily lives.  Work together with and encourage others. Together, we can help each other achieve great things and help others grow and feel the Lord's love as we serve them.  

Of course, I took a lot of the BYU-I physics department's ideas and edited them here, but I thought they were SO good.

I know when I'm being prideful. I feel like I get a little warning in my heart, but I, at times, ignore it and do the prideful thing anyway. I'm going to work on heeding those little tuggings in my heart better.

The Teacher Becomes the Student

I had the opportunity to teach sharing time today during Primary. Wow! Okay, so first, I need to be honest, today's lesson was a bit uninspiring--am I allowed to say that? Well, I guess I just did.

I read over it early last week and just couldn't get behind it. It was somewhat interactive, but it just didn't have the oomph I felt it needed. I wanted something from which the kids would walk away being more aware of something in their lives that they could do as a result of what they had learned. That's what I look for every time it's my turn to teach them.

Today's lesson was on kindness. I felt that if they walked away from this lesson having learned nothing but how to recite a scripture, I would have failed miserably. I thought about it often during the week, but nothing really came to me.

I decided when I left for church today, I was just going to go with the thought that occurred to me the first time I read through it--give the kids situations and have them tell me what they would do that would be kind as a response to the circumstance given.

As I walked into the Primary room to help get it set up this morning, there was my counselor. I mentioned to her the difficulty I'd had with feeling inspired about the sharing time I was going to teach. She said that she had read the most wonderful thing taught by Sister Chieko Okazaki about "kigatsuku."

Here it was, the eleventh hour, and the inspiration had arrived--just in the nick of time. This was perfect and just what I would teach.

Kigatsuku was the magic I felt a year ago while in Japan! Here's the feeling I wanted my daughter to come to understand when she went with me. I don't think I understood all those years ago while living in Japan as a missionary, but this is the principle most of the Japanese people I had come to know and love had lived by. This was one of the ideals that made them different from other cultures I had experienced. This is what I was dying to witness again as I returned to Japan (last year) after so many years.

Later, when it was finally sharing time, I told the children that I was going to share a Japanese term with them, the senior Primary children (ages 8-11) gave out a small cheer. Really?! They liked this? Wow! Okay. Here was my chance.

I told them that "ki" means feelings and that tsuku was to "apply" or "adhere." Quite literally, this word means to "apply one's feelings" or in other words, to "become aware of" or "perceive."

Here's an illustration from Sister Okazaki's talk:

"When I was just a little girl, my mother began teaching me to be kigatsuku. When she swept the floor, she would say, “Chieko, what would a kigatsuku girl do now?” Then I’d run and get the dustpan. I recognized my mother’s teaching when I read that wonderful scripture:

“'Verily, I say, [you] should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of [your] own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness;

“'For the power is in [you], wherein [you] are [an agent] unto [yourself].” (D&C 58:27–28.)"

This is truly something that is taught and can be taught. You don't have to live in Tokyo or Sendai or Hiroshima to learn it.

During sharing time, I revealed some situations I remembered about the Japanese people and kigatsuku. This is not just mere kindness; this is the ability to act kindly before someone can say what they need. This is being so aware of others around you that you instinctively act and assist with the next thing you understand may come to be needed.

Can I give you a very real illustration?....

These are just two of the photos hanging in this room....

A room full of photos and photo albums lost on March 11, 2011, in the homes of tsunami victims. I'm sure it started with one or two such photos as above and someone's kind feelings toward a complete stranger--the owner of the pictures. Who knew whether the owners would ever come to claim them.

This is kigatsuku. This is the kindness--the what-would-I-want-done-for-me-if-I-were-in-this-situation kind of action. The let-me-do-this-for-you-before-you-ask-for-it kind of thoughtfulness. Sister Okazaki defined kigatsuku as “an inner spirit to act without being told what to do.”

As I've shared before, as I entered this room, the most amazing feeling came over me. Now I understand why. It's a lesson I have needed to learn. I need to learn to be kigatsuku. Not only do I need to learn it, my children need to be exposed to this just like Sister Okazaki was. This is a principle that could change our world.

I must share, though, that although I was learning as I shared today, the biggest lessons of all came from the children who sat before me. Today, it was not they who were learning, it was me. They were my teachers. No wonder I had been uninspired. Today was my turn to learn.

I had a number of little orange pieces of paper folded in half. Each had a circumstance written on it. I would call a child up to choose a situation and then I would call on others to share how they would respond to such a circumstance. All I can say is that now I understand better why we are commanded to "become as little children."

Let me give you one example....A child came up and chose this piece of paper: 

"Your neighbor had surgery on his leg and can't get out of his house. What could you do?"

I think every hand in the room shot up. They said such things as....

"Make him some cookies, and go visit him." 

"Go to his house and ask him what he needs to have done, and do it for him."

"Make him a card."

"Give him a hug."

The list went on and on. As I said, I was the student today.

How many times when someone has honked their horn at me on the road have I wanted to show them my longest fingernail? How many times have I been criticized and come back with a smart-alec response? How many times have I responded to meanness with meanness?

"What would Jesus do?" can be seen in the children around us. I am convinced that I am serving in the position I am in church for my own betterment. I so appreciate my little teachers today. I am grateful in the lessons I received on becoming kigatsuku. This is what I need to work to do better at--to return meanness with kindness and gentleness; to be aware of those around me and see to the things I can do to be of help to them even before I'm asked; and to cultivate that "inner spirit to act without being told what to do."

Maybe I was uninspired for this lesson because it was the lesson that would do the inspiring--for me.

Getting to the Core of Mothering

I woke at 5:30 this morning. My alarm didn't go off; I just woke on my own. I was so happy about this. My goal is to be up and moving before my children are. If they wake before me, I feel that I'm already behind in the game.  Lately I've been waking at 4:30 just to get ahead. It's been pretty lovely.

This morning, I got up, got dressed and washed my face. By 6:00, I was downstairs at my desk and computer to read the scriptures. This is the pattern I try to follow every morning lately.

I sat down, opened the laptop and decided to take a stop at Facebook first. I have a friend who went into surgery the other day for breast cancer, and I wanted to check in on her first thing to see how she's doing. She's been on my mind.

I got to her page. My eyes just happened to glance at the pictures of her friends. It was then that I noticed something wasn't right. One of her friend's names was "nielynn." What? The can't be right! I turned my head and found that it wasn't "nielynn," it was "Jennielynn." Uh oh! I'm in trouble! I knew I was destined for a KILLER headache. I have only experienced this kind of optical disturbance with my very worst migraines--less than ten times in my life. It's almost like there's some kind of blockage in my line of vision. My eyes will not focus on everything I'm seeing.

I went upstairs, took an Excedrin and laid down on my bed. No headache yet--just a pressure in my eyebrows.

I asked the Warden to wake the middle schoolers. They don't leave for school until 8:40, so I typically let them sleep a little longer than the others. I actually make them responsible to wake themselves at this point. If they miss their ride, they can figure out how to get to school. I figure they are old enough to do this and high school is just around the corner. I want them to learn from their mistakes before things really start to matter.

The middle school-aged kids came into my room, and I gave them options of how they could help the most. By this time, my eyes were freaking out, my brain was dizzy even just laying here, and I felt extremely nauseated. #6 was sent for a "puke bowl." I took another Excedrin (two pills were now on board--a pretty rare occurrence).

One of the jobs that was taken on by one of the middle schoolers was to wake one of the younger brothers. This is not an easy job--some of my kids just sleep harder than others.

Next thing I know, I hear unhappiness downstairs. The middle schooler had taken the job of waking younger brother VERY seriously and was determined to do whatever it took to wake him. It was clearly going too far.

I called younger brother up to talk to me and share what had transpired. He did. I didn't like the tactics middle schooler had resorted to and am sure middle schooler wouldn't have liked the same thing being done in the same situation, so I asked to have a little chat with that child.

As I spoke to middle schooler, the thought occurred to me that I needed to share a portion of my parenting philosophy with that child. Funny thing is that until I wanted that child to act as my agent, I didn't realize just how often this thought occurs to me in my interactions with my children. After I shared it, I found that this is my foundation as a mother. This is part of my core beliefs. This is why I interact with my children the way I do.

It's found here (read the highlighted portion--in other words, venture down the page a ways).

Here are a couple of additional thoughts on this....."Betimes" means early on, or I think of it as as soon as you see it's a problem--get on top of it; deal with it. In other words, don't ignore things. "Unfeigned" means not faked; genuine; sincere. "Reprove" means to rebuke, or basically call the error to the person's attention. In my mind, to "reprove with sharpness" means to be very straightforward not mincing words but getting to the core of the issue.

This scripture, in the very first highlighted verse says, "the priesthood." I, to be honest, kind of ignore that part because I think this principle holds true for anyone in their interactions with others. This is how we should deal with anyone and everyone, but most particularly with our children--those who are closest to us that we sometimes take for granted.

So, this morning, I read this passage to the middle school child. I shared that there must be persuasion (not force) because every human being has his/her right to choose, but in choosing, there are always consequences and those consequences seem to follow the kind of choice that was made--bad follows bad and good follows good. It's just kind of how life works.

I also shared that with that persuasion there must be patience and long-suffering. Our challenge is to be patient and gentle with every person that we come in contact with. That must be our focus.

After all was explained, younger brother was called upstairs. I persuaded middle school child to follow what the scripture said, to "show forth an increase of love." An apology was uttered and accepted and the challenge was given to middle school child to be patient and long-suffering in the future.

It seems strange to me that until I had to share it, I didn't realize just how much I lean on these words. Now that I've shared it with my middle schooler,  I see that I don't think there's a day that goes by that some part of this passage doesn't pop into my head.

As I've been writing this, middle schooler has walked younger brother to school. When he returned, I asked him if he was "patient" and "long suffering." He reported that he was. Phew!

My vision is still strange and the headache portion has emerged, but it's nice to know that at least one of my children is prepared a little better to act as my agent with a little more patience, gentleness and long-suffering.

I've heard people say that children don't come with an instruction manual, but you know what, I think they're wrong.

Celestial Living

I need to write.  I just need to.  It's a compulsion. Funny, but the last couple posts I've written have started out being about topics other than what they became. I had a completely different direction I wanted those posts to go, but they kind of took their own way, and after all is said and done, I feel satisfied with that.

So, for today, I'm just going to throw it out there....Whatever's on my mind.

You know that post I wrote about Family Home Evening?  And you know how I frequently comment about lessons in my life and how they seem to be pieces of puzzles that quickly follow one another and each piece comes from a different, and frequently unexpected, place?  Well, that's happening again.

Last night, I went to ward council.  Ward council is a meeting held a couple times a month with the leadership of the ward. We had a new bishop put in on Sunday.  I've never been at a ward council with a brand new bishop.

First of all, though, I need to interject something.  This new bishop called my house yesterday and asked for #1's email address.  He shared why he needed it--that he was going to write to her and thank her for the good job she did the other night at a meeting.  I hung up the phone and cried (True story. I cry at certain commercials and episodes of "Little House on the Prairie, so whatev). I was touched that someone would go out  of his way to make such a gesture to a teenage girl when things could so easily just be noticed and let go.

For last night's meeting, we were sent instructions to read this.  This is one of those articles that you read and know there's so much to it...so much more than you're really understanding on a quick one time through. We would be discussing this article during the meeting.

And so we did.  Fascinating!  We talked about the need to be strong spiritually (not just "strong" but "powerful."  We discussed ways to do this, but then the bishop turned to this scripture (take yourself down to the highlighted portion). Does that sound familiar? This is the same principle I referred to as I talked about this to my kids on Monday night.  Seems that this must be important right now, but it dredged up so many questions.  Questions I'm not sure I know how to answer. Questions that have answers but will require a desire for change once I find them.  They will require some searching on my part and some humility to alter how I live.  Am I really ready for this?  I figure I must be being taught this because Someone who knows me better than I do thinks I'm ready for this. It's now up to me to do it.

The challenge is to live a celestial law now. What exactly does that translate to?

The bishop shared that we are to strive, seek, repent, (lather, rinse, repeat) until we eventually eventually succeed.

Near the end of the article, Ballard quotes Spencer W. Kimball when he says:

“We have paused on some plateaus long enough. Let us resume our journey forward and upward. Let us quietly put an end to our reluctance to reach out to others—whether in our own families, wards, or neighborhoods. We have been diverted, at times, from fundamentals on which we must now focus in order to move forward as a person or as a people” (“Let Us Move Forward and Upward,” Ensign, May 1979, p. 82).

Wow! If this doesn't define me! But, I don't think I'm alone in this I'm finding that one of the biggest problems we human beings have is the inability to believe that each day is a new day--a day with promise--a day to start something new, and you don't even have to wait for a new day to move to a better course. It's okay to start something better at any moment.

Why do I allow myself to get comfortable?  Why, when I feel impressed to do something I might not normally do, do I not get myself up out of that rut and start on a new path?

So the question should come...who should I reach out to today? tomorrow? next week?

The bishop asked the question:  What is celestial home teaching?

As he said that, immediately, my brain (heart?) followed with it's own question: What is celestial mothering?

Along these lines, here's what grabbed me today....A friend posted a link to this video (Thanks, Ceana!). I think this has a lot to do with being a celestial, not only mother but, person:




What was shared next was so profound....The bishop said that every time we come in contact with anyone, our main job is to "help that person feel Heavenly Father's love." In order to do this, I know that I must feel it too.  Not only feel it, but powerfully feel it! What would this world be like if everyone you ever met made you feel this way?  I kind of get the feeling that "self-esteem" wouldn't be much of a societal issue any  more.

To close the discussion, and the meeting, the bishop shared (now you have to understand that as I'm sitting in this meeting, I'm sitting with fifteen to twenty of the most amazing people I know. I'm kind of the class clown in the group--you know the song..."One of these things is not like the others....") this...we all have major struggles. He said that we're not bad because we have weaknesses. The bishop challenged us to be honest with ourselves, face our weaknesses, repent, change our current course and move on.

Wow!  Where does one begin?

Thirty Years from Now

I have a child who (do you just cringe when you see me start a blog post like this?) conveys the feeling that mom and dad are evil and out to get said child. Where does this come from?

We sat at Family Home Evening this evening, and I just knew it had to be addressed. We were nearly done with the lesson, and I asked if I could have a few moments to bring up a point.  I was granted that time, and dove in.

My question..."What do you picture for our family? I mean really off in the distant future."

One child responded: "Together in heaven."

I shared that I felt that was great, but I wanted something a bit more reachable.  Something that would happen before that time arrived.

I asked them to look forward thirty years.  It took a few moments to regain quiet as everyone had to share how old he/she would be to everyone else, but once composure was regained, I asked, "Okay. It's thirty years from now. You receive an invitation to come to Thanksgiving in this very house. Let me tell you what it looks like. You enter this very room, and there's a table that runs the length of the room. Who will be at that table?"

Each replied with "I will."

I interjected: "Only you?"

It was quickly shared that they would bring their wives/husbands and their children.  That picture alone brought my heart near to bursting. I could practically see them. How exciting that will be!

I asked each child individually, will you be there?  Will you bring your family to my house?

They each assured me that they would.

I shared with them that the time to prepare for that Thanksgiving thirty years away begins now. That Thanksgiving will prepare us for living together forever.

Earlier in the meeting, #1 had been called upon to share a scripture. She shared Moses 1:39--"For behold, this is my work and my glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."

I shared with our children that in this scripture lies our motive as their parents.  Our job, as their parents, is to help with what that scripture is saying. My purpose as a mother is to guide them, teach them, and direct them toward eternal life. The reason I breathe, the reason I get up every morning and make the decisions I do is to help them attain eternal life. I assured them that I'm not perfect. Even though I have many years on them, that advancement in age in no way makes me infallible. I have a long way to go just like they do. I told them that I would quickly forgive them for their mistakes if they'd also forgive me.

Then I lowered the boom. I asked them what we would be like when we died. Were we suddenly going to be perfect and happy with everybody? Were our personalities going to change in the blink of an eye? I assured them that they would not. The feelings we have when we die are those we will have when we cross over to the other side. Our bitterness or our happiness will remain the same.

That being the case, shouldn't we strive everyday to do better than we did the day before? Shouldn't we try to be a little more patient, a little more loving, a little more forgiving? We discussed this for a little while.

That Thanksgiving thirty years from now can be heavenly if we learn to have heaven here now. It's now our challenge to make our home a heavenly place. A place that if we were suddenly to find ourselves there, we wouldn't know the difference. We wouldn't know we'd even left.

How'm I Doing, Mom?

2am - boy with asthma coughing and coughing and coughing downstairs; little girl with a new bump on her head and a fat lip--from falling last night--grateful her teeth didn't go through her lip--crying and crying. Two reasons to be awake, but why won't the sleep return?

Now - the coughing and crying have stopped, but this feeling nags at my heart. I can't sleep. Why am I feeling so awful?

I scan my mind for reasons. I can find a few. Oh yes, I can ALWAYS find a few (I keep a good amount of good ol' mother's guilt stored up for occasions such as these)--Are we making the right decisions for our kids? Am I spending enough quality time with them? Is their homework done?

I turn over and then it occurs to me. Today, March 17th was the day. The day my mom died. (While everyone else is wearing green, I have to admit, I'm much more blue).

That so totally explains the feeling. Once I make that realization, it subsides.

I've told you about her before. Lots and lots of times. But I have to be honest, I don't write about her for anybody but my kids. I'm sad they don't know her, and I'm sad she doesn't know them.


This morning, I want to paint a picture for my kids...

*My mom colored her hair. She told me that, when someone asked her hair color, she was just going to tell them "Nice and Easy [and the number of the shade she used, which I can't remember, but it was an auburn color]."

*She wore curlers....Sometimes even to the grocery store.

*At the grocery store, when I was little and there was an Albertson's on the corner of Cedar Hills Blvd. and Walker Rd. (where Office Depot now stands), they would, just as you entered the store and walked to the right, sell ice cream--like scooped and in a cone (AWESOME! Why don't they do that now? I'd find excuses to go grocery shopping if they did). Mom would stop and buy us a cone as we entered. One time, we just stopped at the store and bought a cone and then left the store to go home. As we left, the ice cream fell off my cone onto the sidewalk. She didn't even blink an eye but went back in and got me some more ice cream. I loved her for that.

*My mom had a cute laugh. Kind of a giggle. She also had a high voice--not super high, but the just-right-for-a-cute-mom voice.

*She had root beer colored eyes with a continual sparkle to them. She had smile lines; you know, the upward turning, ever-smiling wrinkles--the sign of a good and mostly happy life.

*My mom sang soprano when I heard her sing hymns sitting next to her at church, but to be honest, she should have been an alto. Some of those notes were just a bit too high for her.

*My mom was the perfect hugging height for me. She was 5'2" to my 5'4".

*She had little feet (size 6 1/2) and little hands but always long nails.

*She was low-maintenance. She was easy, breezy and oh, so easy to love.

*My mom loved people. I don't think there was anybody she didn't like, or at least she never talked about it. If she ever got mad at you, you'd never know it. She didn't say anything or fight back. She just smiled and wore red (that's what my dad told me that he learned about her when he was working with her. If someone ticked her off, the next day if she knew she was going to see that person, she'd wear red). I guess that was her don't-mess-with-me color.

*My mom learned how to drive when she was 40 and had four kids. How'd she get around before that?

*My mom LOVED my dad--deeply and enduringly. There was no doubt.

*She wasn't much of a home decorator. That kind of stuff just wasn't important to her. How things appeared just weren't her thing. She was a heart person, not a face person.

*My mom loved her family. She would do anything and everything for us. She loved not just us who were before her eyes everyday, but she loved EVERYONE in her family. She searched back generations to know her family and have them be part of her life.

*She didn't like balancing the checkbook. She often said it gave her that "deer in the headlights" kind of feeling.

*My mom was a fast typist. When I took typing in high school, people would ask me how I could type as fast as I could, I was pretty sure it was because I'd been hearing the click, click of her typewriter since I was en utero.

*I remember someone bringing a 9"x13" pan of something to our family. Before the dish could be returned, it got broken somehow, so my mom bought a new one and filled it with something yummy for the family. She didn't know the woman who the pan belonged to very well, but because the pan didn't belong to the woman, she thought it was my mom's so she returned it to my mom filled with something yummy. This went back and forth and back and forth for months, much to us kids' delight. This built a friendship between my mom and this woman.

*My mom was the kind that everybody loved, but she had a few very close friends--Delores, LaReen, Marty, Deonne....

*My mom liked maple bars.

*In the morning, she would have toast with crunchy peanut butter and boysenberry jam and a cup of hot chocolate.

*Steak and liver and onions were foods only for grown ups. Kids got mac and cheese or frozen pizza on those nights.

*Sunday always had a special meal--fried chicken and mashed potatoes and the most amazing gravy EVER, roast beef and carrots and potatoes, ham, or roast pork.

*Sunday evenings she would prepare popcorn and orange juice and we'd sit down and watch The Wonderful World of Disney after that dumb Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom would get over with. What was that all about anyway, and who cared? At least that's what I thought when I was a child.

*My mom stayed home with us kids until we were all in school then she took a job with Pakula--a jewelry company. She traveled around and took care of the jewelry inventory for stores in the Portland metropolitan area--Troutdale, Gresham, Beaverton, Tualatin....She chose where she went and when and was always back before we got home from school.

*My mom served in the Primary at church for years and years. She was the perfect "kid kind of person" with her sparkly eyes and endless smile. She also served as Relief Society president, counselor and secretery. She was secretery over and over again. She was very good at it. She would sit in sacrament meeting with a piece of paper and a pen in hand and would jot down who was there. Not in a stalker-ish way, but in a "hey, I really care about these people" kind of way.

*She spent hours finding just the right sticker or picture to go on the ward Relief Society newsletter--"The Nutshell." I believe she may even be the one who came up with the name. She'd type it up on her typewriter and leave gaps where she wanted a "graphic" to go. She learned that if she used Scotch tape around the edges, the edges wouldn't show when she would photocopy it. She wanted it to be flawless.

*At least once a week, my mom'd drive out to have lunch with my dad. I LOVED to tag along. They'd usually go out to a fast food place. Now that I think back, this must have been their weekly "date." Cute. I never realized that.

*My mom loved gardenias. They reminded her of the day she got married. She didn't care for roses. They reminded her of her mother's funeral.

*She suffered from hay fever every year. She said it would suddenly end, every year, on the 4th of July.

*My mom didn't sweat the small stuff.

*I don't remember my mom sitting down to read the scriptures. My dad did, but I don't recall that of her, but if someone needed a meal, she was there. If someone needed a ride, she was their girl. She was a doer.

*I remember her taking us to Primary in the middle of the week and we would pick up kids from other families week after week. My brother said that the kids lived in "Marlene Ghetto." It wasn't a very nice neighborhood, but we'd go every single week to get those kids and take them to Primary.

*My mom was NEVER sick.

*She liked to read Erma Bombeck books.

*My mom made things like "shipwreck" and tuna noodle casserole and spaghetti and tacos for us kids to eat.

*My mom's purse was kept on top of the fridge.

*She kept an ashtray tucked way back in the cupboard that held the pots and pans for when her sister (really her step-sister, but she never called her that) came to visit.

*My mom was not into fashion. She wore polyester pants and drove a station wagon. She didn't care, and you know what, neither did the people who knew her. Her heart, her spirit, her demeanor were always fashionable.

*My mom was a lip kisser.

*I remember her taking the time to read to me as a child. There was a story about a squirrel who went home to find toy soldiers had taken over her house. I was always relieved at the end to know that the squirrel prevailed. I remember a cardboard book "I Look Through My Window" or something like that that had a hole in the middle shaped like a window, and as you turned the pages it took you through the seasons. I must have been 2 or 3 because we lived in our house on 123rd in Beaverton. I also remember a Hans Christian Anderson story that had one of those cool covers that was bumpy to the touch and as you turned the cover one way or another the scene would move and look like the people on it were moving.

*My mom had wadded up tissues, a comb and a tiny mirror in a little rubber-ish case in her purse. I remember her handing me a tissue and having to ask whether it was used or not. It was always a new tissue; it had just been in there getting tossed around.

*She always wore lipstick but that was all as far as makeup went.

*We weren't allowed to get into the compartments in my parents' headboard of their bed. The compartments had these cool sliding doors. Anyway, they were forbidden. I snuck a peek once (or twice) on her side, and all I found were these nasty cough "disc" things in a box that slid open. Never understood why that was such a big deal.

*She got mad at me when I poured the entire bottle of baby oil down the sink in the bathroom when I was four. I thought it was water, and I had refilled it, so I didn't understand the hubbub.

*My mom believed that children needed to have pets, so we always had one or two cats and a dog.

*We almost always had a "bedtime snack," and very often it was ice cream. If we were really lucky, she'd have those brightly colored ice cream cones or sometimes the cones with people's names on sides of them. Of course, I always had to have a "girl name." My brothers and I would declare who we were to everyone before we'd eat the ice cream--"I'm Jane!" or "I'm Susan!" and I'd hear "I'm Pete!" If it was a really lucky day, we'd find one with our own names on them. Of course, that cone was meant just for us.

*When I was about 3 or 4, my mom was going to pick up a babysitter (Susie Larsen--my favorite--who'd take us out to the backyard and play mother-may-I and redlight-greenlight with us) for the evening and took a few of us along. She drove onto a nearby street to show us a house that had burned down to teach us about fire safety. I remember being freaked out by the blackness of what remained of the house.  She made her point without even having to say anything.

*My mom took us kids to "Prairie Market" to grocery shop. She let us ride on the flatbed and mark things with the grease pencils they would have in a little cardboard box near the checkouts when you first came in.  The pencils were used to mark the price on your own groceries. I think there were times she tried to stop us from getting those pencils, but after a few times she just gave up knowing that at least they'd keep us busy and out of trouble.

*Most important of all, my mom loved me. There was never any doubt EVER that this was true. She took the time for me.


So, today she'll be on my mind. Just like she is at some point in almost everyday. I'm going to try not to think of this day thirteen years ago. That time of my life proved that I'm stronger than I think I am. That's one of the very few things I'm grateful for for that day.

I will spend today being grateful for a wonderful, loving, caring mom, and I'll spend this day working, like I try to do everyday, to become more like her.