7 Lucky Years

Today was Anny's 7th birthday.

World's cutest 7 year old

Mesmerized by the candles

Making a wish!!

Go Anny!!!

We have now completed 7 lucky years of parenting.  I know they're lucky, because I'm told that all the time.  I've been told over and over we're so lucky to have such great kids.  But I'm going to let you in on a secret- it wasn't luck!!!  DH suggested against writing about this, but I have a very small circle of readers, so I think it's safe to reveal our secret.  Are you ready?  As I said before, we weren't "lucky".  The truth is, our kids are aliens.

It's true!!!  All 3 of them.  Aliens.  "But wait!!!!" you say.  "If your kids are aliens, then that means......."

Yes.  Also true.  My husband and I, are aliens.

I was reflecting on that truth today, while at Chic-Fil-A for Anny's birthday lunch.  It was raining on and off all day, so we decided to visit the only restaurant within at least 20 miles with an indoor play place - the new Gulf Breeze Chic-Fil-A.  I was reminded again that we are aliens as I watched the children in the play place.  There were other kids there, but they were nothing like mine.  They were screaming, pushing, shoving, climbing up slides while others where sliding down, pushing toddlers to the side if they were in their way... and all this with no parents in sight.  It came to me, clear as day- we are aliens.  My children in no way resemble those other children.  I can't say if I resembled the parents, because I didn't see them there.

I have to admit, I always knew I was an alien.  I noticed as a child, I was different than the other children.  I wasn't any smarter, or more beautiful, or even more interesting than them.  I was, however, different.  I have only recently discovered why.  My parents raised me with the same alien methods I use with my own children, and the same can be said for my husband.  (And aren't we both lucky to have found each other!!!  What are the chances that two aliens are to cross roads?!!!)

While I am still slowly discovering those alien methods, and have much to learn, I know my parent's "alien" style of parenting was solely focused on two basic ideas.

1. We are children of a Heavenly Father who has blessed us with knowledge of the right way to live and be happy

2. Because of that knowledge, our parents know we are capable of great things, and expect nothing less

Let me share an example of this philosophy in action.  At church, we begin with a congregational meeting, where everyone sits as families on the pews.  This meeting is approximately an hour long, where we partake of the sacrament, sing hymns, and listen to prepared talks given by members of the congregation.  My alien children, are quiet and reverent for this hour.  My two year old is still learning, but he gets better every week.  How do I keep my children quiet and reverent, sitting still for a full hour?  Setting aside that they are aliens, I apply the above principles.

We have taught our children of their sacred heritage.  Every week we have Family Home Evening, where my husband or I teach them a lesson about the gospel.  We sing songs about our Savior, Jesus Christ, we bare testimony to them that He loves them.  Every night we have scripture study.  We read scripture stories to them, and pray together.  They sit reverently, listen to the stories, and take turns reading or giving prayers.  They know from regular lessons, prayers, and loving testimony from their parents, who they are.  They understand when they are in church, that it is an important time, where we give of ourselves to Heavenly Father.  We pray, we sing, we listen.  What we do at church is very similar to what we do at home.  Our children recognize the Spirit they feel in both places, and it helps them to be reverent.  That's applying above principle number 1.

As for principle number two, they know we expect them to be quiet and reverent that hour during sacrament meeting.  We know they can do it.  We know they are capable of sitting still, listening, and thinking about why they are there, and why it is important.  They know if they are not reverent, that we will be disappointed in them.  We will be disappointed, because we know they can do better.  We know they did not live up to their best.  We know they made a choice to act differently than they were taught.

While in college, I again felt that lonely reminder that I am an alien, as I started student teaching, and then again as a new teacher in my first classrooms.  The commonly over promoted idea was not to push children too hard, or expect too much.  Too often I heard the phrase, "They're only 5th graders, 1st graders, 6th graders, etc."

I felt so differently from my peers.  I didn't think my students were "only" anything.  I saw them as wonderful children capable of great things!  I thought, "they're 5th graders, so I know they can do this!"

My teaching philosophy revolved around encouraging children to stretch their minds and abilities as far as they could, to try new things, and if they made mistakes, to try again.  I believed in my students, I knew they all could work hard and do great things. I never gave them excuses for why they couldn't, I gave them reasons to keep trying until they could.  The most satisfying moments I had in teaching, were when students struggled to work hard on something, but saw the task to the end, and then knew they had accomplished something impressive.  You could see it on their glowing faces!!  Sometimes they'd show a look of surprise, like they didn't know they were capable of such high achievement!  But I knew.  I always knew they could do it.  

So, I must ask, to my faithful few readers- are you an alien too?  Do you too find yourself setting high expectations for yourself and your family?  Do you know somewhere deep inside you, that you and your family are of great worth, with a divine heritage, and therefore capable of great things?  Do you expect those great things from yourself and them?  Do you feel sincere disappointment in yourself and them when goals are not met, yet also unfailing faith that improvement and new progress are possible?

If that isn't you, if you are not an alien, then change!!!  Believe in yourself and your family.  Don't make lists of what you or they can't do and why.  Decide that you can, because you're incredible.  Recite that daily to yourself in the mirror, and then go tell your husband, your wife, your children, your friends.  Tell them you love them, you know they have amazing potential, and even on the worst days, where they stumble and fall over and over, that they are still worth getting back up and trying again.  Find yourself saying phrases like, "I can.  I will.  I must."

This post has gotten too long, and even my few devoted readers have probably faded out a few paragraphs ago.  I apologize.  I can be long winded when it comes to something I feel strongly about.  I'll end with this quote from former prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley,

"I feel to invite every woman everywhere to rise to the great potential within you.  I do not ask that you reach beyond your capacity.  I hope you will not nag yourselves with thoughts of failure.  I hope you will not try to set goals far beyond your capacity to achieve.  I hope you will simply do what you can do in the best way you know.  If you do so, you will witness miracles come to pass." 

You know what you can do, and are capable of.  Deep down, you know.  You have a loving Heavenly Father who made you, and knows you can.  So do it.  And look for the same in your children, and those around you.  It's really not that  alien of an idea.      

Spilled chocolate milk

I looked my 4 year old in the eye, and said, "now I need you to be so careful with this milk.  I don't have an extra dress for you, and if you spill this chocolate milk all over your dress, we have to go home."

She returned my serious look, and said she understood.  We were sitting in the car, in front of the Burger King on base, scarfing down some lunch before attending an "I'm a hero too" party for children with deployed parents.  The kids had been looking forward to the party all day.

Can you guess what happened 10 minutes into our little meal?  Of course.  Spilled chocolate milk.  All. Over.  She was soaked.  Now what?  We live 30 minutes from base, no time to go get a change of clothes.  Well, I came up with the brilliant idea to go to the BX, and see if I can't find a 4T outfit, and still salvage our afternoon.  For all my non-military readers, the BX stands for Base Exchange, and is sort of like an on-base Wal-mart or Target.

I unbuckled and hustled everyone into the store as fast as their little legs could go, and toddler on my hip, diaperbag on my shoulder, little girls trailing, I grabbed the first outfit I could find.  It was a bright orange, frilly, sparkly, bejeweled top with zebra print capris.  A little more funky than what I usually buy, but Merrylee was pleased, and Anny was grateful her fun day wasn't ruined by a younger sibling.  I tried not to think of all the negative behaviors I was reinforcing as I paid the cashier.

The girls made some new friends at the party, and when I wasn't chasing around my energetic toddler, I was able to grab brief bits of conversation with other tired but stalwart moms fighting the same home-front fight.

After the party, I had planned to brave the mall with my crew so I could return some online purchases, and buy a birthday present.  I lost count of how many times I said in my loudest-but-not-yet-yelling voice, "Do not touch anything!"

We fit the exhausted-mom-shopping-with-too-many-kids mold pretty nicely.  The girls fought and picked at each other, while my nap-depraved son whined in the stroller, and dropped his lovey about every 5 minutes. Still, I managed to make my returns, buy the birthday gift, and even found time to buy a few fragrant hand soaps from Bath and Body Works.  I would have liked to have actually smelled most of their scents and chosen my favorites, but due to a lacking in both time and well behaved children, I went with the first one I liked, another that had a catchy title, and two favorites of the cashiers.

By then everyone was hungry.  I settled for pizza and lemonade in the food court for the kids, and a gyro and flavored fries for me.  The gyro was just ok, but I knew from experience, the fries would be amazing, thanks to their secret recipe seasoning.

I warned Merrylee to be extra careful not to get pizza onto her brand new shirt, and told Anny to be careful with the lemonade, and share with her sister.  Can you guess what happened?  Of course.  Greasy pizza, splat, onto the new shirt.  The lemonade spilled.  Thankfully, there was a lid on the lemonade, so the first initial spill wasn't too bad.  The second, third, and fourth however, took it's toll on our stack of napkins, everyone's laps, and my patience.  I didn't realize we also had a nice little sticky puddle of lemonade on the floor- until Ben dropped his lovey into it.

We went home.  I bathed the kids, we had scripture study, and everyone went to bed before 7.  A little early for a Saturday night, but I was done being a parent.

Feeling drained and a bit fragile, I cut myself a generous slice of leftover black forest cake, and settled into my computer chair, ready to unwind, and prepare my Sunday school lesson for the nursery.  On the LDS website where they have the lesson manuals, I saw this video.  Happy to procrastinate my lesson planning, I watched.



I cannot watch this little video without tearful gratitude for my Heavenly Father's love for me.  My frustrating afternoon and troubles suddenly seemed so infantile and small.  How many things have I taken for granted today?  How many times has God had patience with me, and warned me about bad choices, only to watch me make them anyway?  How many times has He then continued to bless and assist me, despite my imperfections?  He'll clean up spilled chocolate milk. He will turn my mistakes into growth and blessings.  He wont mock me for crying over silly little things, and he'll continually bless me with more ways to be happy.  He will always be there.  He will always provide.  I will never be able to pay Him back, or even fully comprehend all He has done for me.  He doesn't expect me to.  He does everything for me, for the same reason I do everything for my own children.  I love my babies.  Heavenly Father loves me.  He loves me because I am His child, and He is my Father.    

The Marrying Kind

While looking for some new tunes to add to my "happy music" playlist, (aka tunes that make me smile no matter my mood) I came across this country song by Kip Moore, Mary Was the Marrying Kind.  It's a sweet song, about how looking back, he's dated lots of girls, but the sweet girl next door, "the marrying kind" was what he really wanted all along.  His best friend beat him to the punch though.

It's supposed to be a sad song, about nostalgia and lost chances.  However I find this song sad for a different reason.  I cry not for the boy who realized a little too late what he was missing.  He had his chance, I don't mourn for him.  I think of Mary.  I know her well.  I too saw the Jennies, Beckies, and Tammies get lots of dates and attention, while I played the part of an unnoticed wallflower.  The boys didn't seem to appreciate that I was kind, thoughtful, and true to my church standards.  I did my best to doll up, buy pretty clothes, wear makeup, and be outgoing and friendly.  Still more often than not I found myself lonely on the weekends.  I remember once in a youth interview with my Bishop at church, crying about my dating woes.  He sweetly said I probably wasn't being asked out because I was "too perfect" and the boys were too intimidated to ask.  I smiled at his flattering response, but inwardly I laughed.  I knew better.  I wasn't being asked, because I was the kind of girl you marry, not the kind you date.  Boys just aren't interested in that at 16.  

Thankfully I was blessed with strict parents, who did not allow me to lower my standards a little, in order to make myself more appealing to the opposite sex.  I'll admit I was tempted.  Loneliness to a teenage girl is a curse worse than slow torture.  Questions like "what's wrong with me?" are not good on a delicate young heart.  Why is it the fate of the good girls to be lonely until they're of marrying age?

Thankfully that story ended well.  When I got to college (note that I went to a church school where there isn't the usual raucous binge drinking and partying) and dating was taken a little more seriously, I suddenly had plenty of attention.  Even the boys who shunned me in highschool, found I had something that interested them.  Let me tell you though, I had no interest in them!    

What continues to puzzle me is the "surprise" all boys becoming men have, when they discover those good girls all grown up, are suddenly very attractive.  I've heard it over and over from male family and friends, telling the story of the good little girl at home who went unnoticed in highschool, and to their great astonishment is amazing and desirable now!  Has it not occurred to them that it's not the girls who went through some over-night transformation, it's them?  These girls were always pretty, always sweet, always wonderful.  It's the boys who only recently realized they care about things like that.    

I blame both the boys, and their parents.  For some reason our boys are brought up to think their youth is for guilt free playing.  From the teenage years and up parents don't seem to care who their sons date, because they're too young to marry, so what does it matter?  Let them have their fun.  Even among the church boys, I saw a lesser but similar truth.  Do I even need to go on about how this is a stupid philosophy with damaging effects on both the boys and girls?  It's the reason good boys get into trouble, why girls are tempted to dress and act trashy in the first place, and why good girls who don't, cry dateless by the phone every weekend, thinking there's something wrong with them.  

Perhaps boys are just too dumb to recognize a good thing when they see it.  Or maybe they're that way because we expect so little from them.  With an iron fist parents tell their daughters who is safe to date, and who to stay away from.  Yet when a son shows up with a bleached blonde in a mini skirt and tight strapless top, do they sit him down and have a heart to heart about how she may not be the best choice?  More often than not parents, especially fathers, cheer!  They give him a manly pound on the back, a wink, and make some "good catch" comment.  Or even more pathetic, they'll disapprove, but shrug their shoulders and say, "boys will be boys" or "what can I do, I can't choose who my son wants to date!"
Yes you can!  Get a backbone moms and dads, and straighten your sons out while you still can.  We tell our girls, "date the kind of person you want to marry," why not say the same to the boys?
Why the double standard, especially among good, church going families?  Well it's time for a change!  I believe you can influence your sons, and train them to understand what is truly attractive.  As much as they may act like it, they aren't mindless baboons who can't be controlled or educated!  Starting with my own sons, I plan to teach them to seek out the good girls, not just the good-looking girls.  I expect them to look past their hormones, and ask themselves before they pick up that phone, "She's pretty, but what else do I know about her? Does she dress how I want my daughters to dress?  Is she someone I'd hope to run into again when I'm in college?" (Or someone who will even get in to college???) 

I expect they'll probably whine a little about this.  But like all good parents, I have foresight.  While they may not appreciate it then, I'm doing my boys a huge favor.  It's more than the fact that the good girls deserve to be asked out.  One day my boys will thank me.  I'm saving them from the fate Kip Moore is singing about.  In a few years when they see the real purpose of dating, they wont be crying, "Oh Mary, Mary, why was I so blind?" 

They'll thank me that I encouraged them to take out those sweet, angel faced good girls.  Because to the strange surprise of all the boys, those girls grow up to be exactly what they didn't know they've always wanted.  And those stunningly perfect good girls, will remember who was nice to them in high school.

To those good young girls out there, continue being the marrying kind.  It pays off.  No cute blue-eyed football player is worth lowering your standards for.  Marriage is infinitely better than the prom.  It might be hard, but you can stand being lonely for a few years until the good boys to come to their senses.  They will, and you'll be grateful you waited.  There's nothing wrong with you.  You are perfect and beautiful.  Your mother isn't lying when she tells you someday the perfect guy will notice that.  She knows, because she's been in your shoes too, and that might just be exactly how it worked out for her.  

Another form of relief

Last post I tried to provide a little heartfelt encouragement, in the best way I knew how.  It concerned feeding the soul, and finding solace through Christ.  Now for a lighter yet often effective form of relief- humor.

I dare you to watch this video and not laugh, or at least smile!

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

Special thanks to Anny, and the laughter we've had at her expense.  She giggles at this video now though, so I figured she wouldn't mind if I shared.  In her defense, she was a little tired from trick-or-treating (that's a lot of walking for a 5 year old) and she'd been going at that doughnut for about 5 minutes before she'd finally had enough.  I think it's safe to say she put the old adage "when at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again" to the test, and found it to be lacking in this case.

Daughters in the Wilderness

When I am at my worst, I find strength through reading the scriptures.  I feel stronger at the core, and similar to the sensation of Tylenol after a fever, that strength spreads to the rest of me, and things seem easier.  Much of this is because spiritual feelings affect us physically.  Physically one can feel lighter, less lonely, and peaceful after reading the words of God and his prophets.

It is also no secret that blessings come from study and learning.  While studying biology, a better understanding of life is gained, as well as an appreciation for the world, it's beauty, creation, and our place in it's vast existence.  The mind is opened as the function of organisms is broken down to a cellular level.  Wonderment of the intricacy of a tiny plant, and all that goes on for it to survive, broadens how we view everything else.  New knowledge changes us, and how we think. 

The same phenomenon occurs through studying and searching the scriptures.  We gain a clearer understanding of God, and his will for us.  The scriptures provide examples of people who had trials, sorrow, and pain of their own.  Some of these people through their trials turned cold, bitter, and set a legacy of hatred, killing, and ignorance for generations of posterity.  Others faithfully and steadfastly turned to God throughout their trials.  They were hungry, and prayed for where to find food.  In danger from enemies, they prayed for where to flee to safety, or how to fight and save their families and freedom.  They made boats, crossed oceans and vast wildernesses, started new civilizations, created new governments, and built temples.

I study the scriptures, and feel physical blessings from the spiritual connection I feel with God.  I also feel the knowledge from the scriptures change how I think.  Compassion replaces frustration, as I think on experiences with my children during the day.  Patience replaces weariness when I look at the examples of other steadfast saints, with trials much greater than mine.

Such was the case as I stumbled upon a poster online, of a group of women who knew real trials, much greater than what I've had to bear.

Ancient prophet, Lehi, was warned by God of the impending destruction of his home city, Jerusalem.  God told him to take his family, and flee into the wilderness.  Lehi was a wealthy man, and years of travel without what were his "modern conveniences" that came with city living, I imagine was no small difficulty.  However he unquestioningly heeded God's warning.  His family left, and had a long and difficult journey.  That family included Lehi's sons and their families.  Children were conceived and born on that trek, yet they carried on.  Lehi had a copy of the scriptures.  He read to his family, and I know it gave them strength and direction.

The poster I found online is of the women of Lehi's family.  Daughters and wives, with babies on their hips, walking forward, steadfast with faith in their God shining in their eyes.  In the corner of the poster is a scripture, describing the experience of these women.

1 Nephi 17:1-3

1 ... And we did travel and wade through much affliction in the wilderness; and our women did bear children in the wilderness.

2 And so great were the blessings of the Lord upon us, that while we did live upon raw meat in the wilderness, our women did give plenty of suck for their children, and were strong, yea, even like unto the men; and they began to bear their journeyings without murmurings.

3 And thus we see that the commandments of God must be fulfilled. And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them; wherefore, he did provide means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness.

I read of these women, look in their eyes in the poster, and feel some of their strength pass to me.  These women loved their families.  They needed strength beyond what they were born with, so they could complete the great task before them.  Turning to God blessed them with what I know they desperately prayed for.  When we are on our knees with our most desperate prayers, aren't those prayers always about our families?  I imagine those women on their knees and in tears, pleading with God saying, "Please, help me feed my babies.  Help me wake up tomorrow, and keep moving.  Please give me strength to carry on, when on my own, I have none left".

God answered their prayers.  He gave them strength like men.  These city women, with soft, unchallenged bodies used to easy living and wealth, discovered they could live off of raw meat, travel while pregnant, give birth in the wilderness, and feed their children.

If God answered their prayers, is he not even more capable of helping me?  When I come to him through prayer, knowing my own strength has left, I know he can help me, just as he helped these women.  I do not need the same blessings.  Thankfully I do not need to learn to survive on raw meat, and live for years in a wilderness.  My trials are different, and the blessings personal to me.  I see them everyday.  After a long tiring day, I find I still have the energy to stay up with a sick baby.  A friend will call or stop by, and give me support I didn't even realize I so desperately needed.  A broken internet connection will fix itself, so we can still talk to Daddy.  I have hot water, plenty of food, a working car, good health, a washing machine, air conditioner, and internet camera.  I can talk to and see my husband who is on the other side of the world.  I am blessed and made stronger, by being able to see my many blessings, and appreciate and focus on them.  Reading the scriptures changes the way I think, and better allows me to find happiness at a difficult time. 

The women of Lehi's family didn't pray, and wake up in the comfort of their homes in Jerusalem.  I'm sure on weaker days they noticed they were still in the dirty wilderness, still tired, still had to live off raw meat, and had little ones who always needed them.  I have no doubt there were mornings where they looked around and thought, "I really hate this."

If I'm not careful it's too easy to hate my circumstances too.  I notice my dirty house I never seem to keep up with, the large stack of calendar days my husband is still away, how yucky and tired I feel, and how early my children wake up every day, not to mention that never ending list of tasks I need to complete no matter how I'm feeling.  I wouldn't trade with the women of Lehi's family though!  They found strength in God, and so can I.  They eventually reached a promised land.  They set a legacy of faith, and their posterity turned to their examples again and again, as do I.

    
Granted, the poster is romanticized a bit.  The girl in the front is beautiful, and they're in formation doing a "power walk" like in the movies.  I don't think it's necessarily meant to be realistic, but more to paint a feeling of strength and inner beauty I'm sure they had.  So what would my romantic poster look like?  If I could paint it myself, my hair would be gracefully swept back, blowing in the breeze perhaps, with Merrylee on my hip, and Anny standing by holding my hand and looking trustingly up at me.  I'd be gazing towards the sky, watching airplanes, and seeing beyond the clouds with thoughtful determination, and hope glowing from my eyes. 

We all should have motivating posters of ourselves, don't you think?  Posters that through their artwork speak the words, "I am a daughter of God.  I am daily blessed with divine strength, and can conquer any trial, just as those before me."

Nephi, son of Lehi, probably said it best when describing how God helped his family:

"...And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them..."

Magic Pink Goggles

After a long and relaxing vacation in VA with the "Great Abs", the girls and I came home to a very welcoming group of friends, and swim lessons. They may look alike, but when it comes to the water (and many other things) my girls are very different. Merrylee is a little fishy, and used those very words today at the pool to describe herself.

"I'm a fishy!" she said, as she splashed and dipped her little sunscreen covered head into the water.

She shows no fear, and truly loves kicking her little feet, blowing bubbles, and even an occasional dunk (with Mommy of course). Anny however is more hesitant. Last year's swim lessons were difficult. Lots of drama, lots of tears, and no, it didn't get better after a few sessions. I feared another difficult two weeks ahead of me this year. We went to the pool a few days before they were going to start, and Anny seemed alright playing. She wasn't being pushed to try new things though, and I knew in her class she would be. My good friend, Kaycee, had a nice pair of pink tinted goggles. Anny and pink have a very close relationship, so needless to say she let Kaycee coax her into trying them on. To my amazement, Anny then dunked her little head into the water to look for a sinking toy. Then, she did it again!!! She kept it up until we were ready to go home. Guess who now has her own pair of fancy $12 pink goggles?!

Today was lesson #2, and I have the model child in class. Last year I was the parent apologizing for my screaming and upset kid. This year I hear the musical sounds of, "Look at Anny, see, Anny can do it!" and "wow, great job Anny, now everyone watch Anny!"

The teacher told me how blessed I was to have two children so naturally inclined to swimming and the water, and that I should be so proud of them. I am very proud of my little swimmers, but it's really not fair to give me much credit.  It's those magic pink goggles!!

It's been very exciting seeing Anny progress so much in that class, and enjoy herself while doing it!!!  She seems like such a big girl to me.  When asked about the Ariel on her swimsuit, she told the teacher today, "Oh, that's Ariel.  I really loved that movie when I was little."

Here's a photo of our sweet four-year-old swimmer, and another of her pretty hairstyle I made today, special for swim class to keep the hair out of her face and goggles. I'm actually quite proud of that little half-updo. My stylist friend must be rubbing off a bit!

the sigh of the weary

I find myself occasionally living days where I hum the chorus of the folk song Hard Times.  You can find the full text here.  The lyrics are sadly beautiful.  It's a song I think all human beings at some point in their lives find they can relate to.  Here's the chorus:

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more,
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more. 

You can listen to an arrangement of this song in my playlist.  My favorite version is sung acapella by Eclipse, but I don't know how to post that on my blog.  Anyone who knows how to post a specific song not found on playlist.com, I'd love to hear your instruction!

I haven't had days filled with hunger.  I've always had shelter, food, clothing, and my physical needs met, as most people fortunate enough to live in this country can say.  I have however had my weary days.  Everyone at some point I think experiences deep and thorough weariness, with no obvious or close end in sight.  My Christian brothers and sisters however, know and have faith in happier times to come, because that's what faith in the Savior brings.



After watching this very moving video, I felt a little cheated.  I wanted to know what happened to the family!  What happened to that poor father, his wife and small children?  Then I read more about the video, and realized Elder Holland is telling his own story.  Obviously, he kept his faith and things worked out. 

Have you ever wondered, if the "future you" could visit and give you advice, what it would be?  I'd expect the future Liz would say the same things I'd say now, if I had the chance to advise the struggling seventeen-year-old I was 10 years ago.    

"Hold to your faith.  Believe in the Savior, Jesus Christ.  He never will and cannot fail you, and your life, while not always perfect nor easy, is beautiful and happy.  Hold to your faith.  Your efforts are worth it."

blue crayon day

It's actually more of a blue crayon week than day. 

A nice, bright, royal blue crayon got left in the car today, on the front passenger seat of our van.  Add to this pretty mixture, the greenhouse effect of the Florida sunshine.  No further description needed. 

We dropped off Scott again at the airport for another deployment.  The same now sadly familiar feelings of emotional pain shot through my body, as I tried and failed to contain the screaming tears, and tried yet failed to pretend I was strong, and ok with saying goodbye.  Why do we try to pretend?  Here's a few reasons I suppose:

1- it scares my little girls to see me sobbing
2- if I can somewhat contain my emotions, perhaps the girls wont fully realize what's going on.  Innocence is bliss they say . . .
3. I don't want Scott to feel guilty for doing his job and fighting for his country.  At least I think I don't. 
4. It's not safe to drive with blurred vision
5. Pleading, "please don't leave me, please don't go, I love you, don't leave . . ." doesn't change the fact that he still has to

Forcing me to pull out of my own selfish wallowing, I received the news that a dear friend of mine had a tragedy in her family.  My pain that has become as regular as Scott's deployment schedule, is minuscule compared to what she is and will be going through over the next few weeks and months. 

So what next?  I turn my pain into action.  Comfort and love my friend - scrub melted blue crayon.  Blue crayon does not totally come out.  Heartache never completely washes away.

So what next?  We keep scrubbing, and keep comforting and loving each other.  A very wise woman told me on the phone today, "Virtually anything is possible if you don't have to do it alone." 

Thank you to all my devoted family and friends, who are always there for me when blue crayon days come around.  I love you and am so very grateful.  Way more than a silly blog entry can describe . . .

The front passenger seat- after an hour of scrubbing, soaking up the excess wax with an iron and brown paper, and several different solvents and cleaners . . . and to think when I was little, the blue crayon was my favorite!

You're Never Alone

Usually I don't post more often than every week or so. I want to give my friends a chance to read my notes or messages before I've put up something new. This couldn't wait though. This little youtube video filled me to the brim with encouragement, and reminded me yet one more time that I'm not doing this alone. As soon as I watched it, I knew I had to pass it on.



I couldn't help but relate to how Sister Dalton talks about how she feels towards those on the sidelines cheering her on. She thinks, "they don't understand. I still have so much farther to go . . ."

I've had similar thoughts these past few weeks. However this video helped me realize while my friends and family may not understand, they still love me, and are on my side. They want me to succeed and be happy, and are cheering me on. Of course the one person who knows exactly what is in my heart and precisely what I'm going through, has been with me every single step of the way, and will be there until the very end. My gratitude goes to our Savior, Jesus Christ. I can feel him pushing me forward, even on days when I'm sure my strength has run out.

It's the Climb

Day 4 of my husband's deployment, and already I feel heartbroken, and miss him like crazy. Yesterday was especially difficult, because I had to spend our 5th anniversary without him. We're being watched over though. Friends and family have reached out, calling, writing emails and notes of comfort, and giving us strength.

I spent the day of our anniversary keeping busy, cleaning, and taking care of the girls. That evening, we celebrated together, and had a girls night at home. I bought takeout from my favorite Italian restaurant, and rented a Chick Flick. The Hannah Montana movie, actually. I never would have guessed that silly movie would give me advice I needed to hear. She sings a song called The Climb.

Here's the music video, if you've never heard the song



The sweet and simple theme of the song reminded me that to stay happy during this lonely time, I need to find joy in the journey. It's not about enduring a challenging time, eyes focused on when it's over, it's about being happy no matter what circumstances you're in. Little Miley caught that presice theme in her song. Never thought I'd be among one of the screaming Hannah fans, but last night, I cheered and danced right along with my little girls, and celebrated the best 5 years of my life.

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Ode to Teenagers (the good ones)

I will shamelessly admit I am a fan of High School Musical. While I confess I like cheesy storylines and pop music, I think I'm drawn to the movie for different reasons. It illustrates a high school experience completely different from my own, and that's a good thing.

There is no shortage of cute high school flicks, with generic geeky and popular clicks. Sometimes the popular group is mean, but still these movies don't capture what high school is really like. They leave out the constant flow of profanity in the hallways. What about the never ending waft of marijuana coming from the bathrooms? Occasionally a film or TV show will show the metal detectors at the doorways, but they don't illustrate the regular violent scenes that forced the school administration to install them. What I saw growing up, were little girls, ages 14, 15, and 16, wearing skimpy, tight, and revealing clothing. I wish I could forget the nauseating displays of much-too-public affection in every corner. Now add hormones, insecurity, low self esteem, and make the halls more than a bit overcrowded with awkward bodies. The supposed role models that were my teachers and administrators spent more time teaching about "personal expression", "free speech", and "self discovery" than history and literature. Books with high morals were taken out the school library for fear of "offending". Required reading often contained language and scenes most of the students couldn't legally view in movies without a fake ID. What about Prom night, when the kids are dressed up and supposedly displaying better behavior? The girls came dressed in trashy, too short gowns, showing off their much too young, not-quite-adult bodies. There weren't sweet and romantic slow songs. The kids were bored by those. They demanded from the DJ fast trashy tunes so they could try out the latest dirty dance move they saw on a rap music video. Not a recipe for positive growth, or "best time of your life" experiences. Some of you may think I'm describing some scary inner city school. I'm not. I'm describing what I and 2,000 other students saw everyday in the 3rd richest county in the United States. And that was what it looked like 10 years ago. I can only imagine what the high school experience has become now.

Yet still, amongst all the sleaze, there were and still are boys and girls who refuse to join in. They too are tempted to use profanity when they're frustrated, embarrassed, or angry. But they don't. They have the same awkward bodies as their peers, but keep them covered, and treat them with respect. The same powerful hormones pull them towards the opposite sex, but they keep their feelings in check enough to control their actions. Instead of making fun of others in an attempt look better, they avoid gossip, and encourage their friends to make good decisions. They don't know the taste of beer, and have no idea how much cigarettes cost. No one even invites them to parties with alcohol and drugs, and they're grateful for that. After school hours for these few are filled with practicing sports and musical instruments, volunteer work, service projects, and regular studying for classes. They don't know who they are any more than the other kids. But they know who they want to be, and they make their decisions accordingly. They are often lonely, and rarely respected or praised for this continuous battle they fight everyday. Their drive to live better comes from great faith in God, and their strength is fueled by loving parents and family. They are happy, and everyone can see it. If they are remembered in any way among their peers, it's how they were positive, uplifting, and cheerful.

Here's to those boys and girls who made it through those horrible 4 years unscathed. You may have felt lonely then, but you definitely weren't and are not alone. And to those still living the nightmare, stay true to your faith, and never forget who you really want to be after graduation. Because much to the disappointment of those who in some twisted way hope high school will last forever, it doesn't.