Back From Black

It has taken me over a month to get this post written due to computer complications (who knew a little light bulb could cause such a ruckus) and it isn't even what I really wanted to convey to you. But honestly, those feelings are hard for me to put into words. By the time you get to the end of it, I hope you understand and forgive me.

If the whole wedding reception tradition hadn't been so formal when I got married, I would have had two Bridesmen along with my Bridesmaids standing in the reception line. One of them would have been this guy, my friend, Digger.

Obviously, Digger is not his real name, but it is what he has gone by as long as I have known him and he still answers to it today. He is one of my best friends from high school who let me drag him to early morning Seminary Morningsides and kept Mr. Trimble's Spanish class, down right bearable. He could make me smile on the worst of days and took me to Senior Cotillion, when my R.M. boyfriend (Richard) had no interest in attending a high school dance. Although, I know Digger would have rather taken the girl that is now his wife.

But that life seems like a hundred lifetimes ago before we traded in the responsibilities and fun of high school for those of grown ups with families of our own.

Over the last three months, as I have gotten my children settled in to a new school year, Digger has watched as doctors at PCMC settled his little girl, Gracie, into a medically induced coma. As I have shuttled my kids to and from basketball, football, and other lessons, he has watched as Gracie has been shuttled to and from the operating room for various procedures to stop or slow down the seizures that have taken hold of  her little 9 year old body. Over the last month, as I woke my children to each new day Digger and his wife, Mindy, have wondered if this would be the day they saw their daughters eyes again as the doctors brought her slowly out of the coma.

Sometimes life seems really unfair.

I want to tell you Digger and Gracie's story because of a video I saw the other day. It was delivered to our inbox from a radio talk show host that we regularly receive mass emails from. It was a video where a toddler, about the age of two, is hit by a delivery van in a Chinese marketplace and how many minutes elapse before anyone helps the crying baby. It was honestly, the most horrific thing I have ever seen. The horrifying part not being seeing that child cry out in pain, but to watch 18 different people walk or drive by, obviously notice the child and not do ANYTHING! I didn't, because I couldn't, watch the whole thing.

The talk show's host intent on sharing the video was to show what living in a communistic country, under heavy rule by the government in all aspects of their lives, does to the charitable and basic humanity of its inhabitants.

 I guess he got his point across because I started to think about Digger's little Gracie, her situation and how the people of the communities in Utah (and I'm sure other places as well) have handled it. Here is a little girl and her family who have spent over 100 days in Primary Children's in the fight of their lives, just like the toddler laying in the street. This fight has taken a heavy toll on their family- both emotionally and financially. Instead of walking by and hoping that the next guy will do something many people, some that know Gracie and even more that don't, have stopped to give aid to a girl and her family in need.

People have organized and carried out a 5K and carnival with enough participants to catch the media's eye. Neighborhoods have held yard and bake sales. Friends and family have participated in special fasts. Restaurants have held dinners in Gracie's honor and donated the profits. Accounts have been set up where annoymous donations can be made. It has blown me away to see how people have stepped up and poured out all kinds of charity simply because of the goodness of their hearts.

This is the world I am thankful to live in.

A world where, thanks in part to those friends and strangers who have not only supported Gracie financially, but also with positive thoughts and prayers, she opened her eyes after 11 weeks in a coma on 11/11/11. And now a month later, she has been moved out of the ICU to a Neuro Unit and is making miraculous strides in her rehab and recovery.

Isn't it amazing what a little compassion, coupled with hope and prayer can do? It saddens my heart to think of children living in worlds where compassion is crushed by the fear of  "getting involved" and hope and prayer are nonexistent in a God-less society. Now I know the video is not indicative of all Chinese people as a whole, so here is my hope and my prayer that the baby laying in the street was afforded a miracle, just like Gracie .

All Thumbs

Two Thumbs Down- For those whom celebrated Pioneer Day by enjoying what had to be a mighty impressive display of fireworks in the church parking lot and leaving the mess behind.

Two Thumbs Up- For the youth who stepped up with rakes and brooms in hand and spent a good portion of a summers afternoon, on hot asphalt, sweeping up a mess they did not make.

 Two Thumbs WAY Up- For those who were in such a hurry to help that they showed up without shoes! They swept that blistering asphalt until they couldn't stand it and then borrowed shoes that were sizes too small from a younger brother and mom so that they could finish the job.

Two Thumbs Way Up & Bless the heart- Of this little one who wanted to help and hurried so fast that this is the way she showed up to help...

Now that is dedication.

Serenade of Support

Sometime in January, our family sat down to set some goals for the year just like we always do. I didn't have to think very hard of what I wanted to work on and I only had two goals in mind. First, to do better with my personal scripture study and prayers (this is #1 every year *sigh*), and second, to run Ogden's Half Marathon beating my time from last year.

As hard as number one seems to be for me to perfect, getting ready for number two  has seemed like the most insurmountable of tasks this year. Thanks to schedules, weather, sickness, some right hip pain and a great big heaping dose of self doubt, training for Ogden has just seemed too big for me. But I've done it. I've put in my time.  But over the last few weeks, as I have completed my longer runs, I have come to an awful realization- I won't reach my goal of beating last year's time. It hasn't been enough. I just can't get my pace where it needs to be.

I know...I hear you, "Oh WAH!" And yes, I know that I am lucky to be able to at least run it even if I'm not as fast as I would like to be. But I think that the human spirit has this innate desire to improve, after all isn't that why we feel compelled to set goals and make resolutions in the first place? So not improving is somewhat of a blow to me. This doesn't mean I'm not going to try my darnedest and hope that the downhill nature of the course and the adrenaline rush that race day brings won't provide some sort of miracle, but I'm not counting on it.

I love to run and I love that I get to run this particular race with my brother and his wife, even though, they leave me eating their dust. I also love getting to the home stretch, physically and mentally exhausted, and hear someone yell my name followed by some sentiment of support. It is an incredibly amazing feeling and makes the finish line come that much faster. This brings me to blow #2-

This little band, my little band, of cheerleaders won't be there at the finish line to cheer me on this year. There are other things going on at home Saturday that are more important for them to attend, which means I will also lose my biggest cheerleader (he will hate that I'm calling him that). So I was wondering if you would do me a favor. Would YOU come cheer me on?








Ha! I almost had you there, didn't I? I mean, I wouldn't discourage you from coming, but it is in Ogden about an hour and a half away, it starts at 7:00 am which is really early for a Saturday morning, and I realize that all of that is a lot to ask. Plus, I'm sure most of you are involved with some of the things that are keeping my own personal cheerleaders from coming.

So can I ask you to do me another favor instead? Would you support me by choosing a song to put in my play list that I will run to? It can be whatever you want it to be- just leave the title and artist in the comments section. It can be that song that really inspires you, the one with the really great beat that helps you clean the house when you really don't want to, or just whatever you would run to if you were running a half marathon. You've never run a half marathon? Well here's your chance. For 3 to 5 minutes, or however long your song lasts, you will be my sole running buddy and supporter.

Please, don't worry; I like pretty much any music, unless it is twangy-wangy-tear-in-my-beer country. Last year, I had Frank Mills playing The Music Box Dancer in honor of my parents and AC/DC's Thunderstruck, for my three older brothers with a little bit of everything else sprinkled in between. Believe me you can't go wrong because I believe that most of the magic that music holds is in the memories and the people it is associated with.  So give me some awesome music to serenade me with support and let's go make us an incredible memory this weekend.

Family Friend

Our family has a special friend. He has been considered a part of our family since the Christmas of 1999. He has accompanied us on many family vacations, various special events, and even a random shopping trip or two. But mostly he is just there during, and yes, sometimes an accomplice to, the day to day mayhem that is the Parke household.

At times he has been a friend to one child more than another, but only because they needed him more right then. Currently, he has become a sort of sidekick for Benjamin. Heck, he practically spent every day in pre-school with him last year and has had the opportunity to get in a few Kindergarten lesson this year as well. It is a relief for me to know that someone can be there when Mom & Dad can't.

He's never intrusive, just supportive, while sporting a pleasant expression on his face, quietly watching from the sidelines. Yep, stalwart, silent, supportive, and I might as well add "stuffed" because as you can see our special friend is Bear, a big brown fuzzy teddy bear.

So when I tucked Ben into bed the other night and he whispered to me that the next day was Bear's birthday, I couldn't say no to throwing our good and loyal friend a surprise party.

Now you may think it is silly to throw a party for a child's favorite stuffy, but I think that this smile is worth all the silliness in the world. Don't you?

Plus, I'll use any excuse to indulge in some fabulous chocolate cake any day.

White Elephant

White Elephant   noun-
2   c : something of little or no value
Definition from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary

According to the definition, what you see pictured above is probably the best white elephant gift EVER!
 
 
Although..... if I keep it up, they might end up having some value because they may actually fit me by the time  the holidays are over. This is not a goal by any means because honestly, these are one gift I can bear NOT to use and CAN NOT wait to re-gift next year.

You know what they say about paybacks...

A No Brainer

Photo Credit

If you love it and it's FREE, then why not?

Right?

That's right, there's no reason not to.

It's a no brainer.

Are you wondering what on earth I'm talking about? Well, let me tell you.

Some of you have expressed interest in my new blog header... it's pretty sweet I know, but what is even sweeter is that you can have your very own for FREE.

Yep, FREE. 

For a limited time the creator is offering to make your blog its very own Alphabetography blog header to grace and liven the look of your blog for absolutely nothing.

How do you sign up for your very own little masterpiece? 

You can get the details by clicking HERE.

And you better hurry! The offer is only good until tomorrow at noon.

I told you it was a no brainer.

What are you still doing here?  GO! Don't even bother commenting....Time's a wastin'!

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

“Cause we're all we got on this bouncing ball”
-John Ondrasik

A friend of mine received some correspondence a few days ago. Most often, correspondence can be a good thing; a note from a friend, a message of encouragement, or even a reminder. The correspondence my friend received was none of these things. In fact, it was the complete opposite- hurtful, hateful, and just plain mean.

It bothered me. And truthfully, I think it bothered my friend…. a little. Being ever the optimist, they managed to find the good in it all and could laugh and joke about it. But behind the smile, jokes, and optimism it was still there- a tiny little glimmer of hurt. How could it not, even just a little bit? I knew how those things made me feel and they weren’t even directed at me.

I wanted to turn around and give the offending person a tongue lashing of my own. Then the thought struck me, “What good would that do?” I thought about it for a few hours and concluded that my answer was, “Nothing. I would just make someone else feel the way my friend does.” And whether they deserved it or not, I don’t want to be that kind of person.

After all, when everything has been said and done, nothing has been resolved, the environment for healing has not been established, and in most cases, no one feels any better. Sure there may be that temporary euphoria of getting something off your chest, but that feeling soon fades and you are left back feeling the way you did before your venting session and, if you are like me, you feel worse.

It really reminds me of the Coffee Shop scene in the film “You’ve Got Mail”. Meg Ryan’s character Kathleen Kelly, is waiting to finally meet the man she met and has been getting to know in an online chat room. Instead of Prince Charming, her nemesis (or so she thinks), Joe Fox, shows up. Usually, when Kathleen is confronted she clams up and is unable to say what she wants to…until that night. That night she has a ‘breakthrough’ and is able to say exactly what she wants to say, when she wants to say it. She is elated she has been finally able to say all the nasty things that have been floating around in her head about Joe Fox. Though to her dismay, after all the rude comebacks and insults have flown out of her mouth she is instantly filled with regret and feels worse about the person she is or has come to be.

I guess what I’m getting to is that.... life is hard enough with out intentionally trying making it harder for one another. So why can’t we all just get along? My mom always told me while I was growing up, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I think at 33 years old, I will finally start to obey my mother.

Maybe we all should.

Mommy Retreat

Moving is always difficult; in one way or another, there is always hardship involved. When we moved to Provo from British Columbia, I found this to be particularly true. Although we loved our time in Canada, our move here was a good thing; we were back in the states, we were closer to family, and we bought our first home. Things were good. Life was good. But there was still a void. The void was that feeling of security that living in a place that feels like home brings. I figured that in time the void would be filled and Provo would finally feel like home and I was right....only it took a little longer than I thought.

In late October, I was invited to and started attending a weekly Craft Night with these ladies.

 In December, I told Richard that Provo finally felt like home. Coincidence? Maybe, but I don't think so. These ladies and some other associations have filled my void and given me that security that belonging brings.

 Friday night, I went away for a night in Park City with some of these friends. We stayed in a 10 million dollar home complete with 5 master suites, 3 kitchens, theater room, elevator, and hot tub.

This particular home has been rented by the likes of Justin Timberlake & Jessica Biel (pre-split), Tony Romo, and Will Smith....and now my friends and I. Only we didn't have to pay the steep per night rental fee- we enjoyed ourselves for free (Thanks Kari & Duncan)! Seriously, it doesn't get any better than that.

We had dinner in Park City at the Loco Lizard and then headed up to the house.

Once we were there all the girl fun began....

We fit all 11 of us in the hot tub.

There was nail painting courtesy of Carrilyne.

Some of us even played in the snow....and then hopped right back in the hot tub to warm up.

We stayed up too late watching a movie in the theater and even later just talking in bed.

In the morning some slept in, but my internal alarm would not let me. At 6:28 I woke to find this view from my window. It was amazing....even if Bigfoot didn't walk by (This is an inside joke for Chastina my roommate for the night and awesome backyard neighbor).

 Bummer.

At 7:00, when I realized I wasn't going to go back to sleep, I laid in bed and read for the next hour and a half which was as welcome as sleeping in would've been.

When everyone was awake and dressed we left to go and do what girls do best....shop!

Only I must not be very good at it because the 2 things I went looking for I came home without. Oh well, I guess there will just have to be a next time.

When we were worn out from shopping and lack of sleep, we headed back to Provo. When I arrived Richard was hard at work building shelves for our food storage in the crawl space, which only meant one thing- the kids, especially the boys, had been left to their own devices.

This is never a good thing.

One has to wonder what happened in my absence, when you find my youngest dressed in Halloween clothes, a  full sized shovel in the middle of the kitchen, every surface of said kitchen covered, and a mystery substance on the floor that is wet yet very sticky.......never mind, I don't want to know.

 It doesn't matter anyway, I was home.

A Baptism & Chocolate...or is it A Baptism by Chocolate?

On Saturday, our friends the Rubows, invited us to their son, Levi's baptism. Levi is quite the special kid and because of his sheer excitement at the prospect of being baptized coupled with his exclamation of "That was fun!" as he was raised out of the water, there was a sweet spirit in that room packed with friends and family that was undeniable. It was such a sweet feeling that I think many on looking eyes couldn't help but become damp at the grin that spread across Levi's innocent face. It was one of those moments you feel blessed to have been there to witness such complete joy.

Thank You Rubow Family, for allowing us to be part of such a great day.

Following Levi's baptism and confirmation, the Rubows also treated everyone to lunch- and man, did they put on a spread! Specifically so, because there really seemed to be quite an emphasis on the dessert course- my favorite...and apparently Benjamin's too.

It was our turn to dish our plates and even though Richard had a plate to fill  for Ben with lunch items such as the BBQ pork sandwhich, chips and veggies, Ben had his own plate and a different idea what his lunch should be.

He bypassed the lunch table and headed straight for the dessert table. Now, I'm not sure how it happened or who even dished it for him, but he wound up with a huge piece of Texas sheet cake, a gigantic slice of chocolate cake that could only be described as "Death by Chocolate," and a sliver of a chocolate cheesecake that filled the entire void of a 9 inch dinner plate! I think I gained 5 pounds just by looking at it!

He didn't even bother to get a fork or spoon, he just sat down and started licking! Fearing the onslaught of a "show me how the piggies eat" moment, I quickly got him a utensil and he proceeded to shovel chocolately dessert heaven into his mouth, but not before he got it on his chin, cheeks, nose and new Easter church outfit.

It was funny.

I have to admit, I should have been repulsed by his manners or lack there of, as I think the older lady who unfortunately had the misfortune of sitting across from us was, but I couldn't resist seeing the utter enjoyment on and all over his face.

We did give him a napkin and I wished I had captured his freckled face smeared with chocolate before it was wiped somewhat clean, but of course, I had left my camera at home. That's when I remembered seeing my friend Jason, there with a bag slung over his shoulder. Since he is a photographer and not exactly the type to carry around a man-purse, I was hoping that bag contained his camera and he would be willing to snap a shot of Ben for me. 

He readily obliged and even took a break from his own dessert to not only snap one shot, but a series of Ben eating his chocolate cake.

He even got him to grin so big that choclately goo was spilling out from where Ben's front teeth should be and between his lips- absolutely adorable!

Perhaps, it's a smile only a mom could love.... and perhaps not... because the unfortunate older lady was smiling too... until Ben regurgitated the chocolate mass back out onto the plate.

I guess it's time for a Family Home Evening on manners or we'll never be invited to eat in public again.

 Thank You to the man of many names- Jason, Mr. Z, or Backroads Photography photographer- for having my back and always being so willing to capture the moment.

I'm a Winner After all.

Do you remember the contest where I begged all of you to submit a comment saying that I sent you? You remember....the one that I bugged you about through my blog, e-mail, and Facebook for a week? The one where I was trying to win this-

"Farm Morning" from Backroads Photography

(Check out the website to see it and other amazing prints. You'll be glad you did.)

Yeah, that's the one!

Well, I lost.

Sort of.

Because this afternoon I was doorbell ditched. This was a different type of doorbell ditching because when I opened the door I found this package laying on the porch.

Inside of it was the very print I had been trying to win; a wonderful surprise delivered by a mysterious friend.

So I am a winner afterall; not because I now own the print I coveted, but because of the thoughtfulness and generosity of a friend.

Arrow of Light

Upon entering the 'tween years there is another rite of passage that occurs in a young scout's life before advancing from Cub Scouts into Boy Scouts, that is earning the Arrow of Light.

 Ashton received his Arrow of Light along with his friend Jared, at our Blue & Gold Banquet held at the end of last month.

No more goofy award cheers or building derby cars that may or may not win.

Nope. No more of that silliness.

He is now on to serious court of honors, camp outs, and eventually, Scout Camp; long with a multitude of other activities that no doubt will put gray in my hair and etch worry lines in my face. I wonder if I'm really ready for all this more grown up stuff.

Thank heaven we have a year of being a Tenderfoot to practice. 

And I am glad to see he's not ready to grow up quite yet either.

More B&G pictures clockwise from the top left- 1.  My BSA birthday cake creation. 2. Dallin & Richard enjoying dinner. 

3. Receiving my 3 year service award. 4. Ashton pining on my Arrow of Light mother's pin.

Why Is That?

On Saturday, I went to lunch for a girlfriend's birthday. While taking care of our lunch bills, I noticed my friend Julie's purse. It was big, dark purple, shiny, with a big round ruffled flower on the front.

And I LOVED it.

I commented on how much I liked it and she told me I should get one.

I inwardly laughed.

My problem with purses is that for most designer or even designer looking purses, you have to shell out a fortune...So by the time you pay for something to carry your money around in, you no longer have any more money to put in it. And Julie's purse looked expensive.

Julie is one of those friends you can ask how much things cost without being nosy or offending her, so I did. And I was surprised. I would pay that for a purse, especially one like hers.

But there was still the matter of the color and size. I have always been a small purse kind of gal, the smaller the better. In fact, in high school I was famous for my small purses. And Julie's was big...It wasn't really me, yet I still loved it.

As for the color, dark purple? It's not really me either. I'm more a conservative black or brown person, yet I loved Julie's purple one.

I told my friends if I brought home a purse like that Richard would wonder if I had gone crazy, because it's just not me.

Why is that?

If I love it, isn't it me?

And....
I read about this book in the paper one day.

It intrigued me.

So I went to the library...it was checked out...like until the umpteenth of forever, so I put my name on the waiting list. I waited for 3 weeks. Then on Tuesday, I received an email informing me that it was finally my turn to get my little fingers and eyes on the long awaited novel. I couldn't wait, so I picked it up Tuesday evening and started reading. I finished it on Friday.

I was engrossed.

I was enthralled.

I read it every chance I could possibly get.

I told Richard that there was nothing that could compare with reading a good book and getting lost in its pages.

The author used words like avuncular, elegiac, and assiduous; and for someone who as a young girl read the dictionary looking for new words to expand my vocabulary (Yes, I'm a nerd & you still love me.), I was in heaven. That was until the author felt the need to add a scene or two of some very unnecessary content- not a lot, but enough to taint the rest of the book for me.

I was disappointed & discouraged.

I had been enjoying the book with its interesting plot and unsuspecting turns and even though the ending did fall a little flat for me, I can't or rather, I won't recommend it...Simply because the author ruined a fascinating tale when she made the decision to make the addition of needless content.

Why is that???

I don't really expect an answer to my quandaries. I'm just tossing them out into the void, thinking out loud, and perhaps, venting a little.

Thanks for listening.

#11 is Heaven...

...Especially when you are spoiled like Ashton!

And you choose steak & broiled shrimp for your birthday dinner followed by a Pepperidge Farms chocolate cake, receive a new air soft gun and a new game to play on your DS, and of course, some clothes which an 11 year old boy is very excited about- let me tell you.  (I'm sure he would be very excited about them if he were faced with the possibility of going to school naked!)

And then a week later, you have your friends over for a late
night where you receive MORE presents, eat Cookies & Cream pie, and have a fantastic time bowling at the BYU Rec. Center. Then to end it all, you come home to play Runescape and run around sounding like lunatics with a volume that would wake the dead (or at least neighbors that are trying to sleep) playing night games outside.
In a word-
AWESOME!

Happy Birthday Ashton!!!

We love every spoiled inch of you!

Oh, and speaking of bowling...This is what I had in my head the whole time we were knocking those pins down. I thought you might enjoy it.

Magnetism

Ashton's 5th grade class has recently been studying about magnetism.  Apparently, some "magnetism" has rubbed off on Ashton, since he came home with this little note in his pocket yesterday.

Maybe it was just the spiked hair he sported yesterday...Or his incredible brown eyes...Or his killer smile (not shown in this pic.)

Whatever it was, he seems to have little Miss M's heart in a flutter.

This is the second time Miss M has "taken a shot" (his words, not mine) at him. The first was in December in the form of a note thrown into his desk during read aloud that read, "Will you be my boyfriend?" Back then he was honestly in a conundrum, with the What-do-I-do?-Girls-still-have-cooties! panic in his voice.

Yesterday, it was a whole different story.

He told me that, "This time there was just no getting out of it and he thought he was just going to have to say yes." This statement was said with the I'm-trying-to-make-it-sound-like-this-is the-worst-thing-in-the-world-because-you-are-my-mom-so-I-am-suppressing-the-excitement tone emanating from his words.

It is a little crushing to realize you are not the only girl in your little man's world anymore.

I know the hormones are changing; I can smell them when I stand close or not-so close, to him at the end of the day, but I'm not sure I was ready for this. Not girls. Not at 11 years old. I was born boy crazy, but I figured boys, especially my boys, would be impervious to cupid's arrow; and so my naiveté' rears it's ugly head again.

But this morning as I walked him to his appointed door where Miss M and his friends were waiting, he still gave me that arm around my waist sideways hug and I thought...I'm still number one...

At least, for a little while longer.

Feedback

In August, during the training for my 10K I hit a wall.  I didn't know what was wrong with me. Normally, I wake up at the same time every day, whether I want to or not, and I don't have a difficult time getting the bed off my back. But I found myself sleeping in and pulling myself from under the covers terribly difficult. I was tired and felt like I dragged most of the day accomplishing very little.

My runs were even worse.  I was supposed to be building up my mileage to make it through the upcoming race, but found myself barely making it through 2 & 3 mile long runs. My legs acted like they had no clue what I was trying to make them do and my stamina had decided to take a vacation.

I was frustrated.

I decided the time had come for me to do something I had been putting off all summer. I went on e-Bay and ordered a Garmin running watch with GPS. I had been wanting one, but figured by running the trail with markers and using a stopwatch I could get away without spending the money and still time myself just fine.

I was wrong.

My new toy arrived and on my first run using it I couldn't believe how I ever got along without it. Running would never be the same. With just a glance at my wrist I could instantly see my pace,  know exactly just how much further I had to go to reach my desired distance, and see exactly how long I had been running. It made all the difference. Why?

Because it was feedback.

I knew exactly how my performance was. It helped me realize I was doing better than I thought I had been and it gave me that boost to make it through those hard weeks when all I wanted to do was quit.

A few weeks ago, I experienced a change that caused me to question my performance in a different aspect of my life. Change is not always bad; sometimes it is very good and sometimes it just is. This change was a mixture of the three.

I had been serving in our Primary Presidency for what would be 3 years in March.  I was privileged to have served with some wonderful women I greatly admired and had learned a great deal from.  We had a great time serving together and had become good friends as a result. Now we were being split up and sent in all different directions with new callings.

As well as being fun, those years had been trying too. We all endured pregnancy and had babies in that time which presented a little more juggling, stress, and chaos. We had husbands who frequently traveled for work or needed to be away for other reasons leaving complete responsibility of our homes and children on our shoulders along with the various other duties we had to fulfill. There were times I'm sure we wondered if it was really worth it, if we were making any difference to the children we taught and yes, there were days we just wanted to quit.

Needless to say, we started feeling a little burnt out.

Then the news came that soon we would all be released. The dam of emotion broke; sadness & relief worry & wonder. At first, I was more relieved than sad. Life was crazy; I was struggling and felt like a change was the prescribed remedy. But as the day got closer to our release the worry and wonder took over. 

A small part of me wondered; was it just a time thing that we were being released now? Why not wait until the first of the year or when our 3 years were up? A bigger part of me worried; was I being released because I had become so burnt out that my performance wasn't what the Lord needed it to be or was it simply  because a wise and omnipotent Father saw a child's need for a rest? 

The next Sunday in church I received part of my answer.  The new presidency invited us to join them and the Primary chidren for the last 10 minutes of closing exercises where they presented us with 'Thank You' cards signed by all the children. As I stood in the front of that Primary Room receiving my card  in front of all my little friends, I felt completely out of place and like I no longer belonged there. 

You would think this experience would make me sad, but it didn't. It was feedback.

I realized it was time. I had my turn and now it was time for someone else to share their testimonies with my friends and to grow from the experience of serving them. My stewardship no longer belonged there; it was time for me to progress elsewhere.

The rest of my answer came a few days later when one of those sweet Primary girls showed up on my doorstep with her mother holding a plate of cookies she and her Primary teacher had baked (3 different kinds- Wow!) and a homemade 'Thank You' card. The cookies were delicious (esp. for breakfast) and the individual gesture was greatly appreciated. In fact, it made all the difference to me.

It was that boost to help me through the tough days where I still struggle. 

It was feedback. 
 
It made me glad I hadn't quit and gave me hope that maybe my performance had been enough after all.

Watch it! That's my friend you're talking about.

As I checked down my list of blogs to see what new little goodies had been posted this morning, I saw a new one on this  friend's blog. I clicked the icon and was whisked away into her blog world.
I have enjoyed this friend's blog for a little over a year now.  I started reading after the plane crash happened, so I got to know her through  her fans/friends reposts of their favorites of her pre-accident blog posts. When she came back I was excited to hear about how life was now; post crash.

I worried that things had changed; that she had changed. She could have easily- she had every right to, but she didn't. If she did, it was for the better.

While reading her blog post today, I was still kicking myself for missing her appearance on Oprah yesterday. I ran off to Costco and forgot to set the DVR. I think it had something to do with subconsciously not wanting to watch Oprah. (Yes, I hear you gasping.  But everybody loves Oprah! Not this body. I don't necessarily dislike her...but that is a controverisal tangent for another day.) So friends, if anyone recorded it and wouldn't mind sharing or knows where I can view it online I would be most grateful- even if it means I will be watching Oprah.

Anyway, while reading her latest post, which included what I thought was absolutely beautiful picture of this friend of mine, Dallin, wanting the computer, looked over my shoulder and made a derogatory remark.

I felt anger rise in me.

 I snapped back and launched into that she had been in plane crash where she was badly burned and that it was not her fault.  His grin faded and I could tell he felt bad; either from the story or my harsh tone, I'm not sure which. I remembered that this was a child I was talking to, so I apologized for snapping and softened; realizing, what I hoped to be a teaching moment.

Before I knew it, my mouth was spewing forth the oratory about beauty. You know the one we all recieved from our own mothers at one time or another growing up.

It went something like this:
"...True beauty comes from the inside. It does not matter what people look like on the outside, it is what they do and say- who they really are that matters. You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, meaning we shouldn't judge a person by what they look like; we should get to know them first..."
I even said, "Pretty is as pretty does."

When the oratory was done; all canned phrases repeated, and every word that I swore I would never say to my children spoken, I realized that probably for the first time in my life, not only did I know those phrases- I knew them.  I believed them.

Over the course of a year, through nienie's words, attitude, and simply who she is, I have been taught many things. But probably, the biggest accomplishment for me...was that she turned me into a believer.

Sanity Secrets

For the last 2 ½ months a lot of Richard and my conversations have gone somewhat like this...

Richard- “I have a business trip next week in England.”

Me- “Really?” “I want to go.”

Richard- “Then the next week I have to go to Tucson.”

Me- “Okay.”

Richard- “Then the week after that I’m going to Pennsylvania.”

Me- No comment. I look for a chair in order to sit down.

Richard- “Then at the end of the month I’m going to have to go the Philippines or India, I’m not sure which yet.”

Me- (Sigh) Where is that chair?

Richard-“Then to New York and Phoenix and then I should be able to stay home a while.”

Me- Forget the chair, I collapse on the floor.

Throw New Jersey and another New York & Pennsylvania in there, and you will have the last few months of our lives.

Really, I am not complaining. I have been very lucky this year with just a few trips here and there until now. It has been and could be worse. He counted up how many weeks he traveled last year and came up with the number 25. If you figure there are 52 weeks in a year, he was gone almost half of it….so I count myself very lucky. I think that single parents should be awarded something spectacular because I have had a taste of what they experience. I'm sure they will get their just reward in heaven- where it matters most.

I have friends and family who ask me how I do it and express that they would be insane if their spouse was out of town so much. This makes me feel good. They think I am still sane!!! I thought I bought a ticket on the 'crazy train' years ago. So barring that they are just being nice, I have decided to share my top 3 ‘Sanity Secrets’ with you.

#1- Prayer. And lots of it. There is no other power by which all of my children are still alive (especially #’s 1 & 3). They are a walking testament to the power there and that miracles do still happen.

#2- Caffiene. Yes, I am one of those “bad Mormons” that may have a slight dependency on stimulant laced substances such as Wild Cherry Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, and Mountain Dew; all of the diet variety of course. That one, maybe two- okay, three on a really bad day, ice cold pick me ups is a Godsend when my tank is empty. Plus, I am hoping all my prayer will get me an allowance in this department.

#3- Adult interactions. I love my children dearly, but at the end of the day I need to have a little more stimulation than hearing all about various Pokemon and the damages they do.

There is nothing like getting together with adult friends and talking about interesting subjects and current events happening in the world. Okay…. so that rarely happens to me. When Richard is gone face to face interactions are few and far between- almost nonexistent. (You realize how pathetic you are when you really look forward to a PTA meeting because there will be real live adults there.)

This is where you, my dear blogger friends, come in.

I love to read blogs. I love people and I love to know what makes them tick. Each time I interact with you by reading a post, I get a little glimpse into who you are and what makes you tick. And even if I can’t have face to face interaction with you, I start to feel like I know you. You become my friend, whether you like it or not.

I was chatting with a friend the other day and the subject of blogs came up. She said, “I don’t get up to read the news; I get up to read blogs.” I thought… That IS news!!! The very best kind of news! Because it is about someone you might actually know. And if it isn’t someone you really know, at least, it is someone that you care about enough, even if it is just because you enjoy their writing style or humor, that you give them a portion of your day by reading about their world.

This is the interaction I am talking about and love.

Your trials and triumphs, adventures and mishaps, trips and photos, are the news I crave. I laugh along with you or, if fitting, I laugh at you. I cry when you are hurting. I contemplate your views. Often, I do all three together. Sometimes, I sit quietly letting your words penetrate; absorbing the lessons you teach me. I most often comment, except when I hold back because I feel like a comment pest or have never really met the blogger who I am reading.

Recently though, I accepted a challenge to come out of my “blurking or blog stalking” shell. It has made all the difference in fulfilling my adult interaction quest. It feels good to let people how much I enjoy what they do, what they post...the little bit of their world they share. Sometimes they respond back and I love that- more interaction with an adult mind, acknowledging that I am there. Sometimes that is all that matters.

So you see, dear blogger friends, what you do is important. Keep up the good charity work you are doing. Keep on posting!

My sanity depends on it.