How I Feel About it Right Now

(This past summer my boys fascinated by a butterfly)

 

 

How hard is it to live in the moment?  Oh my goodness.  Every time I think to myself,

 

"Just look around.  What is going on right now?"

 

I fight through a buzz of cleaning, cooking, and parenting lists-- pushing them each aside with umph until I finally find that calm and peaceful place that is called PRESENT.  I remember doing that this day.  Buzzing through my overcrowded brain until-- oh, look...  a butterfly...

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of chubby cheeks.  You didn't mention chubby cheeks?  Huh.

 

 

 

Anyways.  Those pictures didn't have all that much to do with this post. 

 

 

 

Have there been prayers lately?  Like, heartfelt and full of tears, snot, and desperation prayers?  Have you sat in your bathroom (alone at last) and gushed out pain and frustration to God.  Not necessarily words, because there usually aren't words in those situations, but all the other elements of prayer were there?   If so, I feel ya.  I hear ya.

 

I've had those prayers too.  Lately I noticed something.  Those problems that cause those prayers sometimes don't go away no matter how much you wish they would in those bathroom  (again, ALONE AT LAST!) moments.  Those issues you are crying about don't go away no matter how many prayers asking for sweet release.  They just, stay. 

 

They stay.

 

 

So...  What to do...  Well I'll tell you what I did.  I kinda stopped praying about that issue bugging me.  I was like... What's the point?  Nothing happens when I pray about that and I'm pretty sure I will like, go to hell if I feel disappointed about that.  (You know, cause angels always remember that God has his own will and timing, while hellions complain about it.)  So how about I just don't put myself in the situation of being frustrated with God and his way of leaving my "issues" here and now instead of whisking them blissfully away.  How about that?

 

So, while I still prayed over how in the world to parent my exceptionally exceptional children, safety, and all the other things, I stopped praying over this.... thing.

 

Then today I was having a hard time.  I decided I would ignore it.  I would push on and ignore my hard time.  When friends called and asked what was up I would lie.  As I went about fulfilling my obligations I would put on fake face and pretend I was good.  It was going to be legendary. 

 

Then I received this sweet text from a friend telling me she just felt she needed to check up on me and she asked me how I was doing.

 

You know those moments?  Those moments where God gives you a smack and says-- "Girl, I am here.  Not in the way you would like me to be here.  But I am always here.  Though I am not taking away all of your sorrows, I am helping you through this.  Don't forget all the ways I am helping you through this.  Also, don't forget all the ways I could help you through this if you prayed about it."

 

You know those ones?

 

Well.  I remembered.  I felt humbled.  Mostly I began thinking about what it all meant.   This is how I feel about it right now.

 

God loves me.  Simple as that.  If he loves me-- well...  He DEFINITELY loves you. 

 

The end.

 



If I lose, I want to lose happily

Is your life a race?

I find something so relieving about reading or listening to Conference talks that seem to be telling me to slow down.  When I read council saying-- take it slow-  my body, mind, and soul sigh.  I literally feel my spirit taking a hopeful breath and my tired brain thinks,

"Would that be okay, 'cause I'm exhausted."

Every once in a while I like to stop and think--- what are my priorities?

This talk by President Thomas S Monson is the latest of many talks I have read about slowing down and thinking about what matters.  I liked these parts.

"In this fast-paced life, do we ever pause for moments of meditation—even thoughts of timeless truths?

"...when times of crisis arise, when loved ones are hurt or injured, when sickness enters the house of good health, when life’s candle dims and darkness threatens. Our thoughts become focused, and we are easily able to determine what is really important and what is merely trivial."

I really need these reminders.  I'm so grateful for the drink of water Conference is.  I can let other voices tell me what I need or should be doing much too often.  And most often, it is my own inner demon voice tormenting me day by day.

It says,

Utter Girl, your house is messy.

Utter Girl, your grass ought to be cut more often.

Utter Girl, you do not cook enough.

Utter Girl, you did not spend enough time at the gym.

Utter Girl, you did not spend enough time on your hair and make up.  I mean, how many days in a row has your hair looked like that??

It says other things.  Harsher things.  Cruel things.  I am my own worst critic and it seems sometimes that the only answer to the many calls of my inner voice is to just move faster.

When I became sick a year and a half ago and then remained sick thereafter (to varying degrees), I began to notice that the first thing to go was the house.  It became messier.  Then, my grass rarely was cut.  I certainly didn't get to the gym, and my hair was often ugly, while makeup became non-existent.

But what really really bugged me in the back of my SOUL were thoughts of my family. 

Are the boys happy enough? Have we walked together in nature enough? Do they see their friends enough?  Am I spending enough time chatting with them?  Does my husband feel supported enough?  Am I serving my friends enough?  Am I spending enough time on my calling?  Do those I love feel loved???

I had questions and nagging thoughts still, but the questions changed.  I also found that I could live with the first set of things going, but I absolutely hated letting the second set of things be neglected.  The first set of things were things that made me look as if I had it together, but the second set of things were what truly needed to be held together.

Does that make sense?

This past six months has brought on an improvement in my health, and with it, more capability to keep up with the lists.  But I'm tired sometimes.  And I hope I will remember the next time I am tired that the best thing for my soul and for my eternal happiness is to slow down.  Then, after I slow down, to think and ponder about lessons I've learned about what matters.  I hope that I let go of the things that make me appear like I have it together, and I focus on the things that really keep me together.  Because if I go to sleep at night having gone to the gym, done my hair, cleaned my home and with a manicured lawn-- yet I didn't spend time with my children, didn't serve my amazing friends, my husband felt neglected because I was much too tired to spend time with him after hurriedly putting the kids to bed--- those are the things that will keep me up at night.  Those are the things my soul will cry out over.  Weeping over lost time with chubby cheeks, tiny voices, and loving arms around me.  These are the things I can't live happily without.  So if I am tired enough that I need to choose, I want to just teach myself to slow down and pick the better part.  I know my soul will give that wonderful sigh if I do.  That wonderful sigh of true content.



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The Thing About Being Crazy Honest

I love being crazy honest.  It is so cleansing.  It is so freeing.  I think it is funny when I fear opening up and being honest about something and then it turns out that I had nothing to fear.  My brain is so crazy.  The more often I am honest about how I am feeling at that very moment, the more I come to terms with that crazy brain, the more I understand myself, and the more I connect with others.  So that is one of the very biggest reasons why I blog. 

Understand this though.  What I feel and write about so vehemently today, may be completely different by tomorrow.  After I write out what I feel, the thing I love more than anything is hearing someone else's take on what I said.  I love having discussions.  Ah- discussions.  Talk to me.  Change my opinion.  Tell me why I am fundamentally wrong.  Teach me about you and where you come from.  I want to learn from you.  YOU.  (Did you hear that?)  By tomorrow I will have a completely different view-- and I hope you are okay with that.  I feel that, as humans, we can have a tendency to want to keep people where they are in our memories.  One of the greatest gifts we can give one another is to allow each other to change.  Allow me to grow, and maybe we will get along on this blog of mine.  It is mine. 

Lately I have been struggling with prayer.  I also have been struggling with the doctrine of the church.  What is it?  Where is it?  What is the definition of Doctrine?  Why are there so many interpretations of the same scriptures?  Why do we fight so hard for what we deem to be the correct interpretation?  Why do we judge others so harshly for having a different interpretation of a scripture that isn't very clearly laid out?  The Word of Wisdom is a perfect example of this to me.  I have Vegan friends, grain free friends, gluten free friends, dairy free friends, friends that are juicers, friends that are against taking prescription meds, friends that love prescription meds, friends that hate cooking and buy everything at least semi premade, and friends who only eat what they cook and deem to be "real food".  I love all of these people and I really love hearing about how they ended up on the path they are on. I like hearing their stories and interpretations of the Word of Wisdom and how on earth they decided that they could be so certain about that interpretation that they actually want to tell the world all about it.  It fascinates me.

Anyways-- as much as I enjoy learning, I also get frustrated when doctrine isn't clear.  I am a, "Tell me exactly what I need to do so I can go get it done, " type of personality.

Also, what am I praying for, exactly?  To align myself with God's will?  Really?  Or am I supposed to tell him honestly all of my  thoughts?  Am I supposed to tell him all of my super silly thoughts, then listen and hope that what the spirit tells me afterwards makes my thoughts more in line with the way they should be?  Probably.  Mostly what seems to happen since I got sick though is this,

"Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you so much for the opportunity to be alive and spend time with my children and husband today...  Thank you for all the things you helped me accomplish, it felt really nice to get those things done.  Please help me to do better tomorrow.... zzzzzzzzzz... {start awake!} ummm... (then I start to get really guilty feelings as I think of that quote, "What if tomorrow I only woke up to the things I thanked God for the night before?")  Oh-  Thank you so much for my husband and my children and my wonderful  family and friends and .... zzzzzzzz....  "

Then I feel a gentle nudge from the spirit saying, "It is okay, just get in bed so you can rest your weary and aching bones."

And I end my prayer with gratitude for the kindness of our Heavenly Father, hoping I am not so exhausted tomorrow (which I will be-- experience people) and I climb in bed hoping for an excellent night of sleep and a fresh beginning to live life to its fullest tomorrow...

Perhaps my shorty prayers are proof that I am living life to it's fullest and that is why I am so dern tired.  zzzzzzzz....

Goodnight my friends.  Here is to fresh starts and understanding one another, rather than willfully misunderstanding, you know? 

Did You Know?

Did you know, that if your kids want to be in a parade, there is a way to call up some of their friends and make that happen?  Oh yes.  You can decorate their bikes, scooters, really any contraption with wheels with streamers or balloons (or both), you can turn up the music really loud in your car, and you can follow as every one rides or pushes their contraption around the block and your kids will Totally feel like they have been in a parade.

In fact, your kids and those friends will feel glorious afterwards.  What?

I just love the way summer inspires me to slow down and take time to create magic for my kids.  It isn't even hard.  That suprised me.  I thought it would be harder. 

 I feel that deep down, I am a really terrible mother.  I think I live in fear of that being true.  Every day I look in the mirror, second guessing all of the decisions I make for my children.   I wonder to myself, "Am I doing it all wrong?  Do I really have any idea of what I am doing?  Is that seriously a cobweb in my BLINDS?"  The thing is, I really really want to do it right, and I live in fear that I am doing it wrong.  Not just a little bit wrong either, like, psychological damage ruined life wrong.  Sheesh I need more medication.

I think there is a point to this.

On days like the Parade Day, as I sit around the dinner table and hear the kids tell thier father with shining eyes that mom made a parade and they were in it, I feel deep down inside that maybe I did something right.   I like that feeling and I try to repeat that feeling as often as possible.

And don't try to tell me I am a good mom.  We don't really know each other well enough for you to do that.  I think what I really wonder is-- do other mom's share my fear?  Or am I the only one who feels, "God made me a mom and I am sure it is a joke he's playing on me most of the time."

Oh yes, God has a sense of humor.  Don't ever doubt it. 

If you do share that fear with me, what do you do to combat it?  A parade?  Maybe?

I feel like reading books to my children at night is a good mom thing too.  I always feel like, "Man, I am an awesome mom.  I like, read to my kids.  Whew!"  Isn't that funny?  When we all sit down at the table for dinner at the same time, I feel pretty darn awesome too.  Oh- family home evening is another one.  If I am doing family home evening, I totally have an I'm a terrific person moment.  What are your moments?  Tell me tell me.

Peanut Butter? Um... No

My third son asks me every day if he,

"can make a butter samwich and eat it?"

The first time he asked me if he could do this we were going on a picnic.  When I am trying to herd my children out the door for an event like this, I generally speak to all of them at once.  So this day I said,

"Everyone make yourself a sandwich, put it in a baggy, then put it in your lunchbox so we can go have a picnic.

My third child, who is 4, had never made himself a sandwich before.  I was running around like a crazy person filling water bottles with ice water, digging around for granola bars, and resurrecting lunch boxes that had been getting buried in the pantry since school had let out for summer.  I suppose while I was doing this he was thinking,

"Hmmmm.... I am not very good at spreading things on bread like my brothers are.  Is there a very soft substance that I also like to eat on bread?  Then I can be big like them..."

I came back from crazy-finding-gathering-long-lost-lunch-paraphernalia land to Jackson proudly showing me a sandwich in a baggy inside his lunch box.  He said,

"I made a butter sandwich!"

 I said, "A peanut butter sandwich?"

He responded, "No, a butter sandwich."

Um.  Okay.

He has made himself a butter sandwich nearly every day since then.

Ew. 

But you should see him.  His chubby cheeks lift towards the counter as he searches for creamy yellow butter from the butter dish with his knife.  He concentrates as he determines that he is going to try to cut it in half by himself this time.  The way he carefully brings his plate to the table and then the way he eats all but the crust and then declares, "I can cut all my samwiches in half by myself for you now mom.  When you make grilled cheese, I will cut it for you."  He gets this look in his eyes as he thinks about these glorious future moments of independence. 

Dear little one.  I hope I can give you more chances to feel independent in your life.  I love the look you get in your eyes as you work for something you want.  You inspire me to help all three of my boys have that look every day of their lives.  You are so precious to me.  I am so glad I am your mom.

Joy and Misery

I remember a seminary class I attended in the 11th grade where the teacher had written on the board,

"Why Suffer?"

He then taught a class about all the reasons he had uncovered for human suffering.  I am grateful for that class because I think it taught me that suffering is going to happen, and too not get to hung up on the whole, "WHY??????" mentality;). 

I think it is good to wonder why to a point, but I also feel that we aren't always given answers.  It is a part of life that we are to struggle against all odds.  It gives excitement to our overall story.  Who wants to pass down a story to their grand kids about how well they did because everything was so easy?  No no-- we want to be legendary.  We want to have something to say about how we were strong, intelligent beings who molded-- with difficulty--- their life until it was shaped into something worth reading about.  I want my life to be gorgeous because I made it that way, not because that is how it was handed to me.

But-  I am off the original topic.

Last month I came across something in my scripture reading that I hadn't thought about before.  I believe it answers the , "Why Suffer?"  question a bit.  Even though I write about wanting to be able to hand down a glorious story to my grandchildren, it is still difficult to hang on to such a romantic mentality when in the depths of crappy misery.  Oh is it hard.  It is good during these times especially to be reminded why we struggle on to wrestle life into what we want it to be.

So if you are trudging on every day, just glad to be able to put one torturous foot in front of the other, barely hanging on with your chipped fingernails-- perhaps this one is for you. 

Have you ever read The Count of Monte Cristo?

(SPOILER ALERT!  If you haven't read this novel, there are spoilers in this next paragraph)

Well, you should if ya haven't.  I loved it, yet there was a part that sincerely bothered me after I read it.  During the novel the "count" feels he is blessed with resources that grant him the ability to act in Gods name for revenge on those who ruined his life.  That part was interesting enough.  He also felt it in his power to reward those he admired and who tried to help him in his life.  So he did so.  There was one Character in particular who he felt deep love and friendship towards.  So he set about making this man miserable.  He lets this man think his true love was dead.  He let this man eventually "kill" himself because he was so miserable over it, but she wasn't really dead and he wasn't really killing himself.  When the man woke up again after attempting suicide, he was in his loves arms.   The friend was given a letter from the Count explaining that since he loved his friend so well, he wanted him to be truly happy.  The Count tells his friend that he knows deep and true happiness is never achieved until you have felt total misery.  Oh yes.  When I finished reading that portion of the novel and after I had closed my shocked mouth,  I felt indignation at the Count's treatment of one he professed to love so well.

A few weeks later I was reading in the Book Of Mormon, 2 Nephi chapter two verse 23

The verse is talking about Adam and Eve and how if they had remained in the Garden of Eden they would have,

"remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery..."

I read and re-read this scripture.  I was already thinking about this topic because of the novel I had recently finished, so it was so surprising to run across what looked like the exact same view point as the novel I had been reading-- yet it was there in my scriptures!

Perhaps if we never experience misery-- And I mean MISERY.  That is the word used.  MISERY.  Duh duh DUHHHHH.....

Perhaps if we never experience misery, we will never know joy.  If men are that they might have joy, well-- they also are that might have misery, or they will never have joy.

In a dark hour, I read that novel, then I read that scripture, and I knew I was experiencing muddy ugly misery.  I also remembered that it was only so that I could understand joy once it was in front of me.  It reminded to me start shaping my life work with that muddy misery, so that when my grandchildren learn about me someday, they will see that I shaped my muddy misery time with care and I came through with an awesome sculpture.  They can know that I experienced true joy and I was able to recognize it.  They will say-- I hope that I can experience Joy too, and they will know that if they are to do that, they will have to have misery as well, so they won't be afraid of it so much when it comes.  They will be able to take misery more in stride, knowing life comes with both it and joy, and they should be glad because it is either both or nothing.

If I could go back and choose, I would choose both. 

(You are thinking... what is she looking at.....?)

I Left My Dad First

I left my dad almost 12 years ago.

So really, this is my fault.  My dad came to visit me this weekend in all his glory.  He is bigger than life to me and to his grandchildren.  He is a get on the floor and play, joker, make you feel wonderful type of dad and grandfather.  He will make dinner with me and chat about whatever deep thoughts are going through my head, then he will make me laugh until I cry.  He will charm my entire group of friends until they all wish they knew him better.  He is an absolutely sweet hearted, sincerly thinks he has the best kind of daughter type of guy.   He is a work on his laptop so he doesn't get behind in his business from the time everyone is in bed until 2 in the morning, then wake up early to work until we all wake up so he can play all day and make us feel special person.  He is my hero.   I love him so much.

I find myself enjoying immensly every meal I make for him.  Anything I can do to add to his comfort and care brings me deep satisfaction.  I am honored to serve this great man.  It is an honor.  I would wash his feet, then look around proudly at anyone who witnessed it.

He left me this morning to go back to where he belongs.  He went back to his home where he is needed and loved.  I'm pretty sure my heart just broke a little.

I left him first though.  So really, this is my fault.  I grew up and found another man to fit into my heart and make meals for.  Another man to honor and serve, and I never came back home.  It shows how wonderful this new man was.  How else could I leave?

Love you dad.  I will miss you until I see you again.  Thanks for honoring us with a visit for the weekend.