It’s Time

** I was asked to be the keynote speaker at the stake women’s conference back in August. The theme for the conference was “It’s Time.” Again, I did not write out my talk and have reconstructed this blog post based on some notes I had and what I think I said:) This is what I felt inspired to talk about.**

I love Apple products. I haven’t always. For most of my computer-using life, I used PCs.  Then, the iPod came out. I had a couple of very inferior mp3 players that I never used because they were such a hassle so when I got an iPod and it was so...easy and intuitive, my conversion began.  Next was an iPhone. It just made sense to have my songs AND my phone with me at all times. Then, I got the smaller shuffle for exercise and the nano too for...more exercise? I guess. I just wanted it all. A few years ago, our family made the big switch and got an iMac instead of another PC and we started becoming familiar with all of the apple software. It was a fait accompli when I got an iPad last Christmas.  I don’t consider myself a rabid Apple fan who camps outside of stores but I am a middle aged fan who will search out the best price online and order it there. Crazy. I just really enjoy each product and believe they work better than the alternatives out there.

It makes sense then that when I read the Steve Jobs biography by Walter Isaacson a few years ago and I got to the part of the book when Jobs defended what is called a “closed system,” in the computer world that Apple uses, I totally nodded my head in agreement.  Literally. I was walking and listening to the audio version and I can remember walking near Pastorious reservoir and doing an “Amen” head bob when Jobs explained to his partner, Steve Wozniak, that the majority of people don’t want “open” systems or the freedom/responsibility of personal design when it comes to their personal computers (Wozniak assumed everyone would want to do this because this is how he and Jobs built Apple...tinkering with computer and personalizing software and hardware). Instead, he argued that most people simply want something that works well. Better than the alternatives.

Now, I have very little understanding of how computers operate but as Jobs described how much better Apple would work because their components and the operating system couldn’t be altered and messed with and all of the software would be specifically Apple designed so that every part of the design worked congruously together, I honestly appreciated his vision. I don’t want to build my own computer or hack or upgrade or switch out anything or think that much about any of it.  I just want to plug a computer in and have it run well...virus/malware/bug free. Add an aesthetically pleasing package and the wonderfully efficient cloud now that shares it all effortlessly between my devises and I stand solidly in camp Apple.

While I was on my walk, however, my brain did this troubling connecting of dots. Closed system. No choice. Efficiency over flexibility. Gah! I was nodding enthusiastically, nay, coveting what basically mirrored Satan’s plan. Awesome.

I mourned for a few days because I had a nagging worry that to be truly righteous, I should give up all of my Apple products but I have since decided it is just my electronics that have no agency, not me, therefore I am free to continue to enjoy them.  In all seriousness though, it really opened my eyes to how attractive Satan probably made his plan seem in the pre-existence.  And, I don’t think he’s done trying to convince us that his operating system of mortality is superior to what we chose instead.

With his pitchfork in hand and its prongs of persuasion pointedly persuading us to underuse and undervalue our messy agency, he continues to wage war against Heavenly Father’s Plan of Salvation here on earth. The war is not over. I’d like to focus on two of those prongs in my message today.

The first prong could be called “Control with Contentment” or “Don’t Rock the Boat.” I think this is Satan at his most sneaky because he’s not convincing us to do anything wrong, a tactic we might better recognize as his, but rather seductively lulls us into not doing anything different at all. We all settle into comfort zones and, sometimes, change, progress and a desire to accept challenges that allow us to grow seem better suited for the younger or more adventurous or less stable. Personal growth stalls because “All is well in zion.”

This is an especially tricky ploy of Satan’s because being content is a great feeling. After all of the transitions that are necessary to become a productive and self-reliant adult...to feel settled is not a bad thing. In fact, I think being content with our homes and our dress size and cars that may not be the latest and greatest model is actually a good thing. That kind of contentment is not what I am talking about. No, Satan distorts this feeling of contentment and extends it into areas where we should not be content to be content. We turn down callings because they aren’t things we’re good at or we’ve done them before. We don’t visit teach that one sister because she doesn’t seem like like us or care if we come. We stop reading the scriptures because we’ve read the Book of Mormon at least 5 times.  We stop attending the temple because things are fine and it takes so much time to go. When life is busily chugging along at a good clip and everything is running smoothly, it’s awfully uncomfortable to think about messing with what works.  They do say, “If it ain’t broke, why fix it?” for a reason.

Now, I want you to think of Eve. If ever there was a woman who could claim contentment, Eve could. There she was, living the good life in the Garden of Eden. She didn’t have to cook. She didn’t have any laundry to do. She had the undivided attention of her husband who didn’t have a job or hobbies or a football season to distract him from hanging out with her. But, Eve was a choice spirit. Bruce R. McConkie wrote, “ There is no language that can do credit to our glorious mother, Eve.  Eve - a daughter of God, one of the spirit offspring of the Almighty Elohim - was among the noble and great in the pre mortal existence. She ranked in spiritual stature, in faith and devotion, in conformity to eternal law with Michael.” I’m certain that had the lord put me in the Garden of Eden, I’d still be there! Thank goodness for Eve!

Even though a veil prevented her from remembering her choice of agency, her spirit recognized the dangers of spiritual contentment. She yearned for growth and knowledge. She made a choice that took away all of her comfort. The immediate repercussion was work, sorrow, pain, and physical death. Isn’t that what we fear will happen if we rock our calm boats? That our choices will make things worse or somehow harder for us? Eve said it best. She said, “...were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil and the joy of our redemption and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient.” Because of Eve’s courageous choice, we don’t have to personally transgress to have that knowledge. She passed that gift of knowledge on to us. C.S. Lewis, in his Chronicles of Narnia series calls human females, “Daughters of Eve.” I like that. I like knowing that I am a descendent of Eve and can be like her.  It is time that, like Eve, we choose the potential and promise of joy over satan’s ultimately unsatisfying contentment.

The second prong of Satan’s pitchfork of persuasion could be called, “Manipulate with Misery” or, “There is no boat.” This persuasive tactic uses Satan’s more obvious tricks but they become difficult to recognize because of the hopeless state in which many find themselves. Depression, marital crisis, divorce, addictions, crippling debt, injury or loss of health and grievous sin create a psychology where no relief seems possible so why even try? Just as Satan motivates the content to resist change, he suppresses agency by making it appear as if none exists. We are drowning. There is no help. There is no fix.

Now, I want you to think of the woman in the New Testament with the issue of blood. If ever there was a woman who could claim misery, she could. This woman’s plight is described as bleeding for twelve years.  Twelve. Years. Although no medical terminology is given in the scriptures, a modern day diagnosis might be Menorrhagia, which includes abnormally heavy and prolonged menstruation, to the point where normal activity isn’t possible. This would be a miserable thing to suffer in our modern day, but for a Jewish woman who lived during the time of Christ, there might not be anything worse.

A couple of years ago, I had an opportunity to travel to Israel and learned much about the history of that troubled land by what is revealed in the archeology. In the land where the Jews lived during Christ’s life, mikvehs or ritualistic baths, existed in abundance. Mikvehs look a lot like our church building baptismal fonts. There is usually a sort of antechamber attached to stairs that lead down to a font or depressed bath. Because they had to be built below ground is why there is so much archeological evidence of their existence. These mikvehs were used by Jews for purification. In Jewish law, if a woman is bleeding, she cannot be touched. Blood, especially menstrual blood, is unclean, a symbol of death, and so women are considered unclean during menstration and for seven days after they stop bleeding. After those seven days, a woman would have used a Mikveh to purify herself to be allowed to resume relations with her husband, to go to synagogue, to go to temple.  Well...this woman never stopped bleeding. She could never have been touched.  If she had been married, her husband would have been legally allowed to divorce her.  She obviously was unable to have children. She never would have been worthy to participate in worship services that may have provided spiritual relief. She would have been weak and anemic from the loss of blood. She was financially ruined after failed attempts by doctors to cure her.

When I think of her state of deprivation, I marvel at her mental and physical courage to seek out the Savior as he traveled among the throng. Remember, she would have been an outcast. Anyone she touched or bumped into would have been unclean by association. Whether others recognized her or she had a reputation, I don’t know, but I do know that she had every reason to stay home, hide from her shame and curse God. There is no doubt in my mind that Satan would have manipulated her to think that if there was a God, he certainly didn’t love her so why should she turn to Him?

Somehow, she remembered that agency within her. Even with her heavy burden, she didn’t succumb to the misery. She wanted the healing power of Jesus Christ. She knew that if she could get close enough, if she could just touch the hem of his robe, that all of her suffering would cease. She didn’t seek for a direct blessing. She wanted none of His attention. In fact, we know that she hesitated to admit what she had done after she touched the robe of Christ and WAS healed. Christ knew immediately that something had happened. His power, a physical power that the scriptures name as virtue, left Him following her touch. He looked around and asked who had touched Him. Even His closest disciples admitted it would be impossible to identify a single person because there were so many surrounding Him and many were touching Him.

This woman could easily have stayed silent. She could have disappeared, happy in her relief and anonymity. But, once again, she turned to the Savior. The repercussions from this unclean woman touching Jesus Christ, surrounded by his most ardent disciples and making him, according to the Law, unclean, would have been a big deal! Many could have been justifiably angry at her action. The Savior could have rebuked her. But Jesus Christ, always a teacher, always our redeemer, said, “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.” She was a daughter.  We are daughters. Like this woman, we are also followers of Christ, desperate for his miraculous healing. We have that same right and ability to seek his healing without permission or price...even if we are considered unclean or unworthy. Especially if we are unclean and unworthy. It is time for us to throw Satan’s misery aside and act with the courage and faith of this woman and choose to be healed from our afflictions.

Satan is smart and deceptive. Like a masterful marketer, he offers sleek alternatives to our sometimes messy and buggy agency that seem smoother and simpler. But, it is time to open our eyes and recognize Lucifer for who he is just as Eve did. It’s time to seek out the Savior and His power to heal our hurt. It’s time to use the agency, for which we fought, for which Christ atoned, more fully.  I testify that when we do, we will come to rely more on our Savior and, eventually, become like Him.

Lessons from a Jaredite

**I was asked to speak at Young Women In Excellence.  I didn’t read this but prepared notes and spoke from my heart.  I wrote this out afterward using my notes.  Not sure I said it all but it’s what I meant to say, at least: The theme of the evening was “Let the “Son” in.”)**

Lord Byron, a famous poet, once wrote, “History, with all her volumes vast, hath but one page.”  Another, less fancy way of saying this is history repeats itself.  We know this is true and often repeating cycles of doomed civilizations, wars and failed economies makes this statement seem like a depressing one.

But, is repeating something always so bad? I am the primary chorister in my ward and we just had our primary program on Sunday and let me tell you…we practiced those songs a lot! When teaching music, repetition is actually the key to learning a song so for the past several months, the majority of my teaching has involved coming up with different games and ways to sing the same program songs over and over.  And the children, even the three and four year olds, did learn them.  You know this from your own experiences, I’m sure.  How did you learn your times tables? That dance routine? How did you memorize the articles of faith?

My point is, is that, yes, history repeats itself, and sometimes, I think that our human tendency of repetition allows Heavenly Father to teach us important truths.  Most of us are probably familiar with the term “Nephite Pride Cycle” and we know what the warning is from this recurring pattern of action. There is another history in the scriptures that sort of cycles through both the bible and Book of Mormon.  Here is the story: there are people living in a place where they cannot stay, either because there is no chance for progress or their destruction is guaranteed by staying. The Lord, through revelation, tells these people to leave their home, where to go and how to get there, motivating them with wonderful divine promises BUT… the journey to a promised land is never easy.  This is found in the history of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Lehi, and the pioneers during the early days of the church.  I think it’s fairly easy to see the symbolism of The Plan of Salvation in each history.  We lived in a place where we could not progress.  To get to the promised land of eternal life with our father in heaven, we have this earth life journey and the travel will not be easy. The fact that we have earthly experiences that mirror this all important truth is no coincidence, in my opinion.  I think our Heavenly Father is a majestic and eternal primary chorister, teaching us how to successfully learn how to navigate this earth journey by having us learn over and over again how others have done it.  The famous World War II general of the Allied forces, George Patton, said, “Prepare for the unknown by studying how others in the past have coped with the unforeseeable and unpredictable.”  Like Patton, I want to study one such story in this historical pattern, that of the Jaredites found in the Book of Ether in the Book of Mormon, to see what valuable insights we can learn from them.

You are probably familiar with the Jaredite history but in case you are not, I will give a brief reminder.  Jared lived during the time when The Tower of Babel was being built.  God, in his anger at the audacity and pride of man, confounded the language of those building the tower. Jared asked his brother, a righteous man named Moriancumur, to plead with the Lord to preserve his language as well that of his friends and family.  The brother of Jared did so and his desire was granted. Jared’s friends and family were led by the Lord through the wilderness to a sea shore where they built unique barges as a way to cross the water.  These barges, or boats, were windowless and airtight so that they would not sink but they also did not have a way to get air or light into them. The Lord instructed the Brother of Jared to cut a hole in the top and the bottom of each barge that they could open for fresh air and close, when necessary, to keep the water out. The Lord, however, did not instruct the brother of Jared on what to do about the lack of light. Instead, the Lord asked him what he thought a good solution might be. The brother of Jared went to a mountain and molted 16 clear stones from a rock.  He took these stones to the Lord in prayer and asked the Lord to touch the stones so that they would be filled with light. Once lit, he would places these stones inside the barges and everyone inside each barge would be blessed by the light.

Now…I want to liken this scripture story to all of us. All of us here are in the throes of our earthly journey.  We lived in a pre-earth home with our Heavenly Father but we had to leave, come to earth to gain a body and participate in sacred ordinances necessary for the blessing of eternal life. So, we can all glean some vital information from the Jaredites and their experiences. You 12 to 18 year-olds, however, are on a journey within the journey. You are transitioning from child to adult.  Growing up is not only inevitable, it is required to progress.  Just as in the many repeated histories, you are being asked to leave the more comfortable known of childhood and journey to womanhood; a place full of wonderful promises. But, in order to get there, you have to get through middle school and high school first. Yay.

The Lord wants you to be prepared for this tough journey. Just like those expertly designed air-tight barges, the Lord has created your body to be a protection to you while on this earth as well as the vessel that will bring your spirit once again to His presence and to safety.

But, expert design notwithstanding, you can’t successfully make it to the promised land. Not yet. Not on your own.  The brother of Jared knew that none of them traveling could survive in the barges without air. He told the Lord, “We shall perish, for in them we cannot breath, save it is the air which is in them…therefore we shall perish.”

Do you remember what the Lord told them to do? He answered, “Behold, thou shalt make a hole in the top and also in the bottom and WHEN THOU SHALT SUFFER for air thou shalt unstop the hole and receive air.

Our spirits will also perish inside our earthly vessels without a way to let air in.  That air, the very thing we need for survival, is the atonement of Jesus Christ. Without the atonement of Jesus Christ we all will perish. Like the air we breath, it is absolutely critical for our salvation. For your journey, it is essential that you understand the beautiful design of repentance.  The Lord said, “And when thou shalt suffer…” which could mean sin (we all sin) but it also includes the loneliness you feel when your friendships change, the uncertainty of how well you fit in or if you even have a testimony, the frustration from fighting with your parents and siblings, stress from school and all its work, temptation to do the things we have been commanded to wait until marriage to do…all things common throughout life but particularly isolating in adolescence, to unstop the hole and receive air.  Receive the atonement.  Let the Lord in.  Let the son of God in. He does not want you to suffer.

He also doesn’t want us to be miserable.  The scriptures promise that all men( and young women) are that they might have joy. I love the next part of this story.  The Brother of Jared, relieved to have his first problem solved, sort of hedges now in his second request of the Lord. He already got the big problem solved…air….life…salvation….and it seems like he knows he should be satisfied. But he dares to ask for more. He said, “Lord, behold I have done even as thou hast commanded me and I have prepared the vessels for my people and, behold, there is no light in them. O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?”

I imagine the Lord with a gentle, understanding smile on His face when he responds, “What will ye that I should do that ye may have light in your vessels?”

The Lord doesn’t rebuke him here for his second request.  In fact, he reassures him that he’s asking for the right thing.  He pretty much says, “Yeah…you’re going to need some light because it’s going to be a pretty difficult journey.  Lots of wind and rain and floods.  I'm glad that you asked.  Now...what do you have in mind?"

He does not reply, “I don’t know.” He had an idea...to create 16 small clear stones by "moltening" then out of a rock. THEN...he went to The Lord and basically said, “This might seem like a really insignificant thing to you because of how awesome and knowledgeable you are but…this is what I came up with using my skills and I know, because you can do anything, that if you touched these rocks that I have made, they would light up and we could use them in the boats!”


Now...I'm pretty sure if The Lord asked me to come up with a source of light, my first inclination would not be to molten down a rock and create clear stones.  That is just not in my bag of tricks. But, it was in the brother of Jared's.  He clearly possessed the handy gene and using the earth's resources to make things was a talent of his. I like to think that he took more than rocks to the Lord but, instead, he took one of his talents to The Lord and asked him to make it a source of light.

I believe that we all have the opportunity to approach The Lord, in humility, with our talents and say, "Lord...touch this that I might have light for my comfort and to bless the lives of my family and friends." If you think about it, the rocks that the brother of Jared created were beautiful and "neat" to look at and enjoy and certainly would have garnered him the attention of his peers for being cool but it wasn't until they were touched by The Lord that they became powerful. Useful. Comforting. What talents do you have that can be made powerful? What do you have in your "bag of tricks" that can become more than just something to enjoy or something fun or beautiful and actually become a source of light and comfort for all who surround you to enjoy? I see so many of your talents…dance, photography, athletics, theater, writing, music, language…and I wonder: whose lives can be blessed by them? Whose dark journey can be made light?

The Lord loves you.  He wants to bless you.  He wants you to successfully cross these violent waters and not just survive but thrive.  I testify that the source of all light is the Son of God. I know he has the power to bless us with his light and through us, many others who might not yet know of his goodness and mercy. I hope you understand by the repeating history lesson throughout the scriptures that he wants us to bring us to his promised land.  And, by this story in particular, I hope you know that we can do it with his love and his light....and all we have to do is ask.  

Sometimes....

Henry is a funny boy. Charming, unique, creative, friendly and cute but he is also often a difficult and unreasonable boy.  Eight years of blogging about his antics back me up on this.

In a lot of ways, he is so much easier and more mature than he used to be. More and more, I am able to reason with him out of a frustrating moment or, better yet, prepare and practice with him before he has to go through a potential emotional minefield so that his reactions and behavior are more palatable for public consumption.

Unfortunately, there are times when I have to send Henry into situations where I am pretty sure he is going to struggle.  Those times usually occur about every 6 months when Henry is due to see his dentist.

To preface and explain some of his behavior, Henry was born with an oral/motor delay.  He had a newborn tongue-tie and still deals with poor tongue muscle action, which contributes to his speech disability. To top it all off, he has the most sensitive gag reflex I’ve ever seen. He can’t handle having anything in his mouth, which is why he is such a poor brusher, which is why he has so many cavities, which is why he has to go to the dentist so often.  Oh, and I’m pretty sure he’s addicted to sugar.  I mean...If you give a mouse a cookie!

When we first moved here, we picked a dentist from the plethora of LDS dentists in our area. After one attempted cleaning, this dentist said Henry was a tricky patient and would be better served at a place that specializes in pediatric dentistry so we tried one of those strip mall places.  I know...but we were just out of residency and saving for a house and paying for all of our dental care out of pocket and I thought it would be good enough. I was super unhappy with the place (they put all of those silver caps on his teeth without asking me if I’d rather have them in tooth color) so we found the one and only and thus expensive board certified pediatric dentist in this small town.  Even with all of their kid friendly gadgets, colorful rooms, prize boxes and movies playing on their ceilings, Henry’s issues continued. I’m not privy to their private conversations but I’m pretty sure Henry ranks near the top of their difficult patients list.  They probably have special meetings to prepare for his visits...perhaps draw straws to see who’s going to wrestle with him and clean up his vomit this time. He’s that bad.

We’ve been through it all there.  Sedation, nitrous oxide, no treatment at all because he kept throwing up the sedation medicine, and even a few successful treatments that lulled us all into thinking he might be maturing out of this oral hygiene nightmare. His varied experiences have turned me into one of those jittery lab rats who either gets shocked or rewarded with food when they press a button.  Not knowing what to expect - the horrible or the tame - I feel anxious each time an appointment approaches.  Henry, on the other house, has no apprehension.  Each time, he is sure that he is going to do great.  It’s bizarre.

This last time was no different.  It’s a little misleading when I say, “last time” because it makes it seem as if it was only one appointment when it was actually three.  The first was his regularly scheduled check-up with cleaning and x-rays which, as usual, showed two new small cavities in his permanent molars.  The second appointment was the attempt to fill those cavities but ended prematurely because he would not let them put cotton in his mouth to dry the area for the filling. I do not know exactly why they need to have the treated area free from wetness and saliva but they assure me they do and it’s become Henry’s stumbling block.  They can even drill his tooth without issue but as soon as they put something in his mouth to keep it open or dry, the struggle begins.  They gave up, put in a temporary filling and told me he’d have to come back and either be sedated or restrained.  We’ve gone the sedation route in the past and it’s not pretty (he won’t swallow the nasty tasting medicine) so I chose the papoose.

I told him what to expect and he was honestly fine with the idea.  He even agreed that it would probably help him stay calm if he knew he couldn’t push their arms away.  When they brought him back to the treatment area, I chose to stay in the waiting room. Honestly, it’s just better now if I can’t see him struggle.  It’s too....everything.

After 45 minutes, his hygienist/assistant came out to give me an update.  She said he did great with the drilling but things took a drastic turn for the worse when they started the filling again. He was aggressively  fighting them now and it was pretty bad. Lots of thrashing his head and crying and screaming and gagging.  They wanted to know if I wanted them to stop or go ahead and do the second filling.  Without hesitating, I said, “Please, just finish.  Get it over with.”  I had absolutely NO desire to come back for a fourth time.

About 20 minutes after that, Henry, his hygienist, and the dentist came out to the waiting room.  The hygienist looked exhausted. Henry’s entire face was red and sweaty and his eyes were bloodshot. The dentist looked amused.  With a suspicious smile on her face, she said Henry had said the funniest thing when they were all done.

Apparently, Henry continued to gag and even threw up onto the hygienists’ shoes. He cried and screamed but they got their work done as fast as they could and when they were done, they sat him up, took off the papoose and said, “Henry! Henry! You are done!  You did it! We are all done!” He stopped crying, sort of looked around angrily, sniffed, wiped his face with the back of his hand and said, “Well...sometimes you just gotta do what you don’t want to do.” Like some cowboy in a western. Like some sensei in a karate fight.  Like some kid who did not just scream and gag and barf through his entire dentist appointment.

I laughed so hard I got tears in my eyes.  The dentist was equally amused and said Henry was a “special” boy.  Then, she told me that next time, he would have to be sedated. The dangers of aspirating will keep him from being part of the difficult patient papoose club or the difficult patient nitrous oxide club.  In spite of everything he heard us talking about, he seemed so proud of himself, red face and all. I am proud of him too for doing the best he is able to do, even though that best effort is so different from what I wish for.  Until the next time....(which I am totally dreading).

Something Isn't Always Better Than Nothing

Imagine you love Mozart's music.  His clean melodies, balanced harmonies and crisp rhythms.  You listen to his music whenever possible and have all of his CDs but nothing brings you as much joy as listening to a live performance with an amazing orchestra at the helm.  The energy in the room is palpable and there is something about the passion of the performers, their bows moving up and down, their fingers and breaths in perfect synchronicity, that makes the moment even more than about the music. It is a shared event. It is wonderful.

Now, imagine that you live in a place where there is no community symphony. You still have all of your CDs and listening to them gives you pleasure but there is something about the lack of variance that begins to diminish your enjoyment. It's all so...predictable. Every swell and formata sounds exactly the same, time after time. It's been years since you've heard these works live and you are craving a concert.

Then, you notice on Facebook that there is an event right in your own small town: a Mozart Extravaganza! They are bringing in special musicians from out of town and performing one of your very favorite major works. You buy your ticket and anticipate a few hours of pure bliss. You know the musicans are amateurs and so the music won't be as polished and clean as you are used to hearing it from the professionally recorded CDs but the opportunity to hear it live is worth the trade off.

The day comes and you go to the concert.  You find your seat and even feel a bit giddy about what the next two hours will be like.  The curtain opens and....

all of the performers are middle school kids. There is a bit of panic as you have been to your fair share of middle school orchestra concerts and know how schreechy and painful it can be but this is a special event. Surely, only the most talented and prepared musicans have been selected to perform and it will be good, if not great. Then they begin and it is every bit as bad as you feared.  Out of tune. Slow. Totally uninspiring.

You stay an hour and then, disheartened, you get out of your seat for what your brain decides is a drink of water. In the hallway, you hear the music start back up and, rather than return to your seat, you leave.

Replace Mozart with Zumba and this is my story.

Why didn't I just tell it with Zumba as the passion to begin with? Because caring about the music of a century's old musical genius is understandable and caring about Zumba is silly. Caring about the quality of instructors is petty. It's just a form of exercise, right? It's just as fun following an out of shape 50 year-old woman with no rhythm as it is some gorgeous latina whose hips don't lie. For me...no, noit isn't. I felt like I was at the middle school Zumbathon!

It's been tough finding Zumba these past few years. There are probably half a dozen classes here in my small town but none has fit in with my schedule.  The times I can go are in places with no child care and the places with child care have their classes during my get-my-kids-to-their-things time. I bought a Zumba app on my ipad but I can't get into following an animated dancer. I have the videos but rarely do them because I don't like videos. The music is corny and the instructors say the exact same thing every time. Wah.

Back in my biggest loser days, there was a Zumba instructor I really enjoyed.  None of her routines were complicated but she could really dance and I think Zumba is most enjoyable when you are following a good dancer because then, in your own mind, that is what you look like dancing too and you leave feeling like a latin goddess. She no longer teaches and I've been to a few different instructors around town but it isn't the same. They move weird.

Such a snob, you say, and you are right. I've been fortunate enough to go to some really good classes up in Utah with Sarah and perhaps they spoiled me. There are these two instructors from South America and their Zumba routines are how every Zumba routine should be: fun, energetic and sassy. But, most importantly, they sell those routines with their abilities. I have participated in a booty war and I know I must have looked ridiculous but I didn't care because I was having so much fun.

Searching for that kind of atmosphere is what compelled me to attend this local Zumbathon today. I knew I wasn't in Utah and really wasn't expecting the routines to be at that level but I was expecting it to be better than it was. I think we did 10 or 11 routines in the first hour and, out of those, there were only 2 that didn't leave me wanting. Whether it was an instructor who couldn't stay on the beat or my own inability to just let loose and have fun anyway, I left after an hour. A straw was placed on my back when one instructor continuously, and I mean obnoxiously so, fanned herself because we were so "hot." Another straw came from all of the women who insisted on wearing jingly belly dancer scarves around their waists the entire time. But my camel's back was broken when we were expected to flap our arms like birds and fly around the room. I did go for that drink of water then and never came back.

I called Sarah from the parking lot because I knew she would best understand my deep disappointment. She understood and appropriately sympathized. When Jay when he asked me about it, I told him that becoming a Zumba instructor must be easy because there doesn't seem to be much quality control. I've heard that the Subway corporation doesn't regulate their franchises very much which can be frustrating to owners because their ease of opening can easily lead to oversaturation. It must be true because there are 4 Subways in my small town (and only one McDonalds). The Zumba CEO must have had a tete-a-tete with the Subway CEO because it seems some of these well meaning people simply shouldn't be teaching Zumba. Just because you enjoy something doesn't mean you will be able to sell it.

I meant this to be funny but I think it's too late to attach any wit to this long, tiresome day. After doing some dull physical therapy on my neck (my PT thinks my shoulder pain is stemming from a bulging disc and the labrum tear is kind of secondary) and trying to figure out why my new vacuum won't work and feeling stressed about taking away a certain son's electronics after he downloaded an app I said he couldn't have, I was really hoping for some fun. I thought Zumba at any level was better than no Zumba at all.  I was wrong.

Why Don’t I Play Ping Pong With My Mouth?

Apparently, my inspiration for blogging comes from snippets I read in the news.  Another interesting article brought about some more navel gazing and today’s the day to write about it.

First of all, watch this video clip.



OK. Pretty cool story, right?

I thought so too.  I admire people like Ibrahim who overcome the obvious impossible to do something extraordinary.  Honestly, I even admire people who overcome much more modest challenges to do something extraordinary but their stories might not cause my brain to churn quite as much.

Sometimes, I feel like an anti-Ibrahim.  Not  “against” Ibrahim but “opposite” Ibrahim.  I have some nagging shoulder pain that became burdensome in late November and the pain and even the potential of pain has shut me down from doing certain things.  I was working out...lifting weights and other weight bearing exercises like burpees and push-ups but this shoulder pain has halted all progress.  Last week, an MRI showed that I do have a tear in my labrum (tissue surrounding shoulder socket that connects a bunch of things like bicep tendon etc) and I’ll admit that the diagnosis helped ease my guilt about not doing what I was doing but a torn labrum doesn’t mean that I can’t do anything. I can walk.  I can do the elliptical machine (can’t swim, Yoga, pilates or Crossfit though. Not that I ever cross fitted but now I have a legitimate excuse not to other than just being philosophically opposed to its cult like following).

My lame shoulder is not the point of the ping pong metaphor, however.  I enjoyed workout out but it was never something I loved so I don’t miss it like Ibrahim seemed to miss playing. Without that passion, I can understand why I haven’t done any and all to find some way to adapt workouts so my lats and deltoids get some lifting reps. No, my being aware of not playing ping pong (table tennis...whatever) with my mouth has to do with singing.

Two months ago, I rejoined the local choral society. I quit 3 years ago when my YW president calling (and then surprise pregnancy) superseded my desire to sing.  After a visit to a doctor a few months ago, who suggested either going on anti-depressants or making time in my life to do something I enjoyed that is independent of church, mothering or being a wife, I felt like singing might be the thing to help me restore some balance. It has been just the thing.

I don’t think I enjoyed participating in the chorale as much the first time around.  This time, I have made a more concerted effort to meet and know the other choir members and it definitely helps that my two older boys are old enough to take care of things at home if Jay is not around.  We performed a concert two weeks ago entitled “Serenity,”singing classical religious music that was beautiful and challenging, including Shubert’s Mass in G, and we have another concert tonight called “Cabaret” which is filled with show tunes, jazz, and patriotic numbers. Additionally, there were open try-outs for solo spots.  I didn’t try for any of them.

The thing that is really bugging me this week is that I keep fantasizing about singing a solo in the concert. I thinking I have crooned “Maybe This Time,” which would have been perfect for this concert, in the car...at the piano... in the shower...about two dozen times in the last two weeks since auditions. I have all of these songs I know and love that I never get to sing (because where do you sing a song about getting dumped in full belt voice?) and I’m a little sick to my stomach that when an opportunity came to sing them in front of an audience - to do something I really enjoy, nay, something I am, in fact, passionate about, I didn’t have the guts to do it.

There is something, in my opinion, a little embarrassing about being passionate about singing. I don’t feel like that about other musical passions.  Guitar, piano, oboe...you name it...someone who passionately goes after opportunities to play is pretty cool! But voice, when the skill on the instrument is hidden inside the neck and upper body cavity, well...it’s more personal. It feels a bit like narcissism. Like...look at me! When you sing a solo, you experience this moment in time when you, just you, are trying so hard to be good and what if, in spite of your very best effort, you aren’t? What if, during that moment of total exposure, with your singing feathers in full plumage, those watching and listening are thinking, “Meh.”  Truthfully, because voice tones are so unique and preferences so personal, there is a very good chance that that is exactly what is happening during any vocal solo. I don’t know where my neurosis comes from, exactly, but the only time I sing solos is when asked (and 99.8 % of the asking is at church where the repertoire is limited) and even then it feels a little bit like showboating.  What is my problem?

Perhaps, and this is a stretch, I lost my singing arms back when I decided that a degree in vocal performance wasn’t for me.  I can remembering making the decision as an 18 year-old fish out of water freshman at BYU that I wasn’t good enough to really do it. Perform professionally. Out there in the world. That decision, to forgo the training and the experiences and the effort to be better, tied my arms behind my back so that I then had an excuse to not do something that I really love doing. Whether it’s from my own lack of pursing or a real lack of opportunity, it is easy for me to watch and listen to others perform and wonder, “What if?”

Now, I’m the chorale again and my brain knows they do this cabaret concert every year. My brain knows I could audition next year. It feels ridiculous to be thinking about something so far away.  It feels ridiculous to be this contemplative and nervous about auditioning for a solo spot in the future in a small time show in a small town. It’s not like I’m trying to get on The Voice or a part on Broadway. Still, I want to do it. I want to sing “Maybe This Time” or “Tell Me One A Sunday” or “Can’t Help Loving “Dat Man” or, heaven forbid, “I Dreamed A Dream” in front of an audience on a stage with a spotlight squared right on me. Is that too weird? Why can’t I like quilting or running or home decorating or some other socially acceptable hobby?

If I’m going to do it, I need to get used to having a metaphorical paddle in my mouth. I need to be brave enough to do something I love inspite of/because of my inability to do it at a level I once dreamed about. I need to remember that it’s better to adapt a dream than give it up altogether.  I need to try.

Are You What You Are Or What?

Did you hear that Edie Brickell hit Paul Simon last week and their domestic dispute got them both arrested? I suppose I’ve thought about Paul Simon once or twice in the last few years as he has many hit songs that still get played here and there but I hadn’t thought about Edie Brickell since her big hit back in the early 90s. Her “What I Am” is quite catchy and her name resurfacing transferred her long ago hit into a bit of an ear worm this week. It was triggered again this morning when I miraculously managed to drop Seth off at his middle school before the morning bell and actually got to watch him walk up to a group of friends before driving off instead of hoping he’d pick up his gait to avoid yet another tardy.

Does it make me creepy that I wish I could spy on my children when they are away from me?  Seth recently turned 14 and there are so many things I love about this teenage stage but his new-for-me preoccupation with his friends and my limited ability to know who all these friends are and what they do and all the stuff that goes along with that takes up more space in my mind than I imagine is healthy. Sometimes, after visiting his Instagram page or clicking on the profile of his friends who like or comment on his pictures, I am left reeling. Teenage girls in bikinis for their profile pic. Drug references. Vulgarity. And they’re proudly showing it!

I’ve talked to him about social media standards and safety and what I expect from his end a few times but he’s a boy, nay, a teenage boy, and he seems to have inherited my aversion to talking about anything stressful so his ability to address my concerns vocally is kind of limited. What’s really interesting is right when I’m on the edge of total freaked-outness, a reassurance washes over me that he’s fine. All evidence points to him being a likable, friendly, funny boy who isn’t doing anything wrong. Do I wish he had a picture of a temple and some scriptural reference on his Instagram bio? Yes, yes, I do. But I need to acknowledge whatever comfort I’ve been given that he is who he tells me he is: a good boy.

Perhaps my cynicism or whatever negative emotion that causes the doubt comes from the knowledge of my own duplicity. I have days when I omit my lazy hours, binge sugar eating, toddler neglect or whatever less-than-proud behavior from the record. Those moments tend not to be reflected in the pictures that I take, conversations I engage in or recountings of our day that I give to Jay. In all honesty, when I used to blog more, I felt like there was a more accurate over-all picture of who and what I am. Now, I can kind of craft whatever image flatters me best.

Still, I know that my own online image isn’t false or made-up - only incomplete.  I suppose that is the root of the worry. What am I missing?  Most days, school and all that jazz consumes the bulk of my school-age children’s hours of the day. I don’t even think that schedule is odd or wrong. We are, after all, preparing these growing souls to eventually be independent enough to go away so it would be more weird to keep them by my side all day long. And yet...I wonder. What gets said in that group of friends whose circle he happily joins? Do his friends get the more real side of him or do we get it at home? Are the two sides even that different?

Oh, my goodness, I am out of practice thinking at this slow, blogger pace. I can’t remember what point I set out to make or why I felt like it was important enough to break the silence but I’m going to leave it as is. In conclusion, (my kids are learning how to wrap up an essay and I see this a lot in their writing) I worry too much. Edie warned me about that.

P.S. After much thought I decided that I’d rather blog publicly, stalker potential and all, than not blog privately. We’ll see. I’m hoping it’s not too late to try and write again.

Just One Time

It makes me incredibly sad that I don’t blog anymore. Even more sad, I don’t even think about it daily anymore. Every so often, I will compose or organize thoughts in my head like I used to in a sort of pre-blog-prep but it doesn’t get typed and, just like any habit, it is weakening to the point of death. I think, “I’ll just make it public again,” as if that is the reason I no longer blog. I don’t think that’s the reason, exactly, although I do think it contributes, but I can’t really resolve that decision with the one that made me go private in the first place: to keep my kids safe against what I perceived as a cyber threat.

But, I have one day left in February and I’ve never, in 7 years of blogging, had an entire month go by without a number in a parenthesis beside it. So, here are a few things I’ve been thinking about recently. They aren’t necessarily light or deep or well thought out.


1. I really dislike parenting. I totally get the horror of the statement and the blasphemy against my most sacred calling, motherhood, but it’s the truth. I like my kids. I love them as humans and as part of my family and as little people learning and as future adults and I get the responsibility of what I do so I do it but it is so heavy. The constant stress of my most menial tasks in keeping them alive and happy combined with the heavy burden of teaching them to have faith and to understand the great Plan of Salvation and their role in it is often more than I want or think I am capable of doing well. Honestly, I have had this conversation with several people now, but it has really made me question whether I am capable of celestial glory if parenting, and dealing with “children” for eternity is what is my potential future. I might make a better ministering angel. I don’t know. I obviously don’t have all the light and knowledge but having billions of spirit children and having all of them have major issues to deal with seems above my eternal skill level. This obviously deserves a bit more than a paragraph and maybe I’ll come back and address it in fuller thought and reason in the future but it’s been on my mind a lot lately so I thought I’d jot it down.

2. For the past two years, I have used Instagram as pure social media. I hated how bloated Facebook became so I didn’t seek out acquaintances (i.e. high school classmates, local people I see every once in a while or even former cyber friends that I have distanced myself from) via Instagram and tried to keep it to people who actually interacted with me. That hasn’t always worked and I probably need to get rid of a few more “friends” because I really dislike feeling irritated by such an optional and supposedly social activity. What I really didn’t understand was following people I didn’t know. I am not on Twitter and can’t/don’t/don’t want to see the lure of being bombarded with messages or paraphernalia from more famous people. Then I started following 2 artists whose art spoke to me. I didn’t know them but I wanted to see their pictures. Then I started following BOM365 which is an account that posts some scriptures everyday and then asks a question or two about the verses read and then people comment and it’s like being in a good gospel doctrine class every day. I really enjoy it (minus the comments written by people who overuse the all caps feature. It’s effective every once in a while but when you start using it ALL the TIME IT GETS OLD. Plus, I feel like they are yelling at me even though I know they are trying to use emphasis. I try to be forgiving). Then, I found some accounts where people post pics and recipes of their clean meals and since this is my greatest desire this year - to find a way to eat that helps me lose this gross weight - I am willing to put up with their non-food pics too. I also started following a woman who has lost 100 pounds in one year. Is it odd how much stress I feel being one of many followers to someone I do not know? It feels like idol worship. It seems so silly but I hate being a fan of anything but particularly of anybody. So, I choose to think of it as discovering interesting information and hopefully the shame will lessen.

3. That’s all I have right now. Jay just got home and Daniel is messy and my brain just went “POOF!” (yes in all caps. It was that dramatic). So, here you go, February. One post. Oh…wait. I am learning Spanish! How’s that for new and exciting? I do prefer the french language but I just started with this Duolingo App on my phone and it makes me feel productive when I’m sitting in a car and use my phone to pass the time. Yeah…that’s all I got. I’ll leave you with this sentence in spanish. Yo no corro entre enero y dieciembre. Ha ha. Maybe my new instagram “friends” will change that.

Book Review #1 - The Goldfinch

Reading a book with as much hype as The Goldfinch is an interesting experience.  Every sentence carries the burden of great expectation and each page is weighted with anticipated excellence.  I certainly bought into the hype and, mostly, I was not disappointed. Until the end. I really disliked the ending.

Donna Tartt has us readers invest in her flawed and well-crafted protagonist, Theo Decker, who from the very first page is clearly in some sort of trouble, as he reflects back on how he came in possession of a famous painting, The Goldfinch during a terrorist attack at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. After briefly being introduced to adult Theo, who explains that a dream about his mother is the impetus for the story to come, we are taken back to witness an injured and traumatized 13 year-old Leo, disoriented and separated from his beloved mother amidst the mayhem of a bombing, innocently take a priceless and famous painting from the wreckage. Not knowing how to explain how or why he took it, orphaned and despondent upon learning about the death of his mother in the attack, he secretly keeps it, more out of fear than greed, turning a tragic moment of confusion into a soul-crushing crime that influences every future decision he makes. Just like the Fabritius’s goldfinch, his life becomes chained to that painting.

One part of the story that confused me a bit was the time span. 13 year-old Theo possessed an iPod and the setting seemed to be present day. But his future, older story-telling self also seemed to be set in present day. I couldn’t figure out if the explosion that set Theo’s tragic trajectory in motion was set in the past, like the 1990s, or if his older, more ruined self existed in the future and it was sort of science-fiction-y without the science fiction. I pointed out my confusion to my mother, who had finished my copy from the library right before me, but she didn’t notice it (or care) so perhaps it doesn’t matter, but I often found myself troubled about the progression of time without any obvious progress in time. Not too troubled though, because the writing is so engrossing that I was mostly absorbed in whatever scene Tartt threw Theo into, whether it was in a ghost town, foreclosed neighborhood in Las Vegas drinking Vodka with his Russian and equally neglected by his father friend, Boris, selling antique furniture with his rescuing guardian, Hobie, in lower Manhattan, or hiding from the Dutch police and Russian mafia in Amsterdam.  Every shift in Theo’s world was fully developed and his guilt and obsession with The Goldfinch prominently staged as the major contributor to his mental decline. In that regard, I kept comparing this complex book to Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart or Dostoyevesky’s Crime and Punishment.  For most of the 700 plus pages, I actually thought I was reading a modern retelling of either of those great accounts of obsession and guilt.

Until I got to the last 60 or so pages. Everything was going along swimmingly…depressing, for sure, but good, well-developed depressing, when Tartt decided to go with the bad ending.  I had forgotten, but the book did begin with Theo stating he was telling his story. Still, even with the first person narration, I never felt that Theo was actually writing the story. Novels often use flashbacks or first person recollections, and Theo’s recollection, once started, proceeded in an orderly, chronological retelling that I felt jolted when the past caught up to present day and Theo began to refer to me as his reader. The change in tone from recollective to persuasive irritated me for some reason.  Suddenly, there was an intimacy in the story, a confessional conversation between Theo and me and I felt like the purpose and direction of the story changed. Instead of me neutrally observing Theo and the chaos his drug dependency and PTSD gave to his life, I was now required to sympathetically agree with Theo and his philosophies about right and wrong, good and evil, God and fate and agency and death. To be honest, I got annoyed. I wanted to go there by myself, if that was where the story directed me. It bordered on the moral of the story being spoon fed to me, as if the author didn’t trust me enough to figure it out, if there was anything to figure out, on my own. In my opinion, I would have loved for the story to end where it started, in Amsterdam, with Theo’s personal Road to Damascus experience. I would have loved to have wondered what he did after that.

Can an ending I dislike ruin an otherwise incredible book? A little bit. I think this book is stock full of wonder and literary gold. But, like the cliche goes, that last bite left a bad taste in my mouth.

Year In Review - 2013

1.  What did you do in 2013 that you've never done before?

I decided to buck my aversion to DIY and sand and re-stain my enormous back deck. I was incredibly nervous about renting an industrial sander and the inevitable back breaking labor from using it, but the project was actually a good experience for me and the boys. I hope they remember working along side me, although their help only lasted a few days. I was left to finish it…which I hope to do next summer (just a few steps and less  visible parts didn’t get the stain applied.  Which means I will probably have to re-sand them). 

I also fell in love with sushi.  Who knew? 

And I went to an evening of Cowboy Poetry on a date with Jay.  It was very entertaining.  Such a surprise. 

2.  Did you keep your New Year's Resolutions and will you make more for next year?

I totally failed at keeping my New Year’s resolutions, which were to blog more (worst year ever) and to write book reviews promptly (I am currently 28 books behind). I don’t know what the future holds for either of those things. I like to write but don’t like to feel any pressure to do so.  Honestly, I’m scared to make New Year’s resolutions this year. I am tired of failing at them.

3.  Did anyone close to you give birth?  

I had several friends give birth but no family. My dear friend, Lisa, who I have been friends with since 1st grade, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl she calls Coco (short for Collette), which totally delighted me.

Such a cutie and I gave her this adorable pink bear.

4.  Did anyone close to you die?

My cousin, Boyd, died but I wasn’t close to him. It was interesting to have old memories with him from when I was a young girl resurface and realize how little I know about the current lives of my cousins.

5.  What countries did you visit?  

I am so excited to fill this question out with the name of a country instead of the depressing-to-me answer, “None.” I went to Israel with my sister, Maureen, and loved every day of it.

6.  What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?

It’s interesting that this question uses the word “have” instead of other verbs like “do” or “be”. I don’t really need anything but there are lots of things I’d like to have that I don’t currently possess.  But, I’m going to answer a bit more transcendently and say I’d like to have more patience with Daniel. His toddler year of 2013 revived some of my old demons.

7.  What date from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory and why?  

I decided to sit here and think of any dates I could actually remember specifically and why. I wouldn’t say it was important but maybe because of dread or just seeing so many email reminders, but I did attend my 20 year high school reunion on July 20th.

8.  What was your biggest personal achievement of the year?

Nonspecifically, it would have to be the contribution the continued growth and development of my children.  Specifically, I worked really hard all year at my calling of Primary Music Chorister. I enjoy it and feel like the children in my primary were prepared for the program and knew the songs we learned. Is it sad that a successful primary program is my biggest personal achievement?  I’m also proud of another successful 3,000 mile summer road trip with the kids.  It is quite a feat of endurance but I’m so glad we go. It makes for such great summers.

9.  What was your biggest failure?

Since April, I have been meeting with a personal trainer but haven’t lost a pound or any inches. I started  intensely with twice a week solo sessions. That eventually turned into one solo session and one I shared with friends which turned into two sessions shared with friends which turned into one session shared with friends which turned into none. And this failure was mine all for the low, low cost of hundreds of dollars.

This was supposed to be my “before” picture.  Sadly, it is my “still” picture.

10.  Did you suffer injury or illness?

Yes. This is ultimately why I stopped meeting with a trainer. Something is wrong with my shoulder. Jay did an ultrasound on it and I have an inflamed AC joint. I don’t know if working out and lifting weights contributed to it or if it is auto immune related like arthritis or what, but my right shoulder is out of whack. Can’t really consistently lift things above my head.

11.  What was the best thing you bought?

We had a bit of a heat wave in early June and our house does not have air conditioning. The expense to install it exceeds the need to have it but when those 100 degree days hit, it is miserable. We do have a windowless basement that stays very cool and, one day, in a fit of hot mama rage, I ordered a new TV for the basement so that we could spend the hottest part of the day, the later afternoon and evening, comfortably downstairs.  With that purchase in mind, I started looking for furniture. It took me forever to decide and that new TV sat in a box in our foyer for over 3 months.  I do not move quickly.  But, after a weekend of help painting the large room from my sister, I finally chose a black, bonded leather sectional and we enjoy the room.  We looked into having it wired for surround sound but when the audio guys came out and gave us a $4,000 estimate, we bought a $250 sound bar from  Sam’s Club instead and have been totally happy.  There are some messy wires that, no doubt, the professionals would have better hidden, but I like my $3,000K+ in savings.

12.  Whose behavior merited celebration?

Jay’s whole family got together for a family reunion! And it wasn’t for a wedding although we did belatedly celebrate Jay’s parents 50th wedding anniversary.  It was a quick weekend in Utah in a fabulous house but it was great to see all of those cousins.

I am also so pleased my parents went on a big trip to Israel, Jordan and Egypt.  My dad is not really a lover of traveling and it is difficult to convince him to go places so it was wonderful to see them do something so grand together.


I’m always proud of Jay. He is so disciplined and works so hard to be successful in what he wants to do.  He learned how to A.I (Artifically Inseminate) and had success this year.

Look at me feeding the cows! These are two of the steers that are a result of his successful AI-ing. They are beauts (if cows are every beauts). 

He ran a great marathon in Newport, Oregon in May and has been trying to rehabilitate a bad calf after injuring it in August, which caused him to bow out of several other races he had planned this fall. He is feeling a bit better and hopes to run in Boston this April. I am also so proud of him for sticking with the whole “digging the ditch” to get electricity to the barn.  It was very labor intensive but he did it. And now there are bright lights!

I got to drive alongside the runners (they only had one side of the road closed off.  I just put my hand out of the window and shot as many pictures as I could.  I’m so glad one turned out. 

The home stretch!  He finished in 3 hours and 30 seconds.  He was bummed about those 30 seconds. 

He spent the rest of the day with me at the beach.  It was such a beautiful day. 

I think lighthouses are the perfect metaphor for life. It was fun to see one up close. 

Thanks to Yelp, we found some great seafood.  I got the fish tacos.

The view from our hotel room.  

Sam had eye surgery in March and had to wear these horrible stickers on his glasses to prepare him for it that made his eyes cross and distorted. He wore them without complaint, had his surgery and when it didn’t fix his ambloypia (lazy eye) just went about his glasses-wearing business, even though I know he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be glasses free, as he had hoped.  He quit his soccer team that he had been heavily involved in for 3 years and tried playing football, his favorite sport.  It was hard to find a place on a team that is heavily nepotistic (all 7 of the coaches have sons that play all the main positions and any other position that is involved on any play called) and even harder to excel in the position they did put him in, wide receiver, when he has no depth perception (which I explained to the coaches). The way his brain has adapted still makes it possible for him to catch balls but I don’t know how great he can ever become at it as the balls thrown get faster and when the games get played at night, but he likes being part of the team and never gave up working hard. He is an inspiration to someone like me who usually only chooses to do things that play to my strengths.  

With those blasted stickers to force his eyes to cross.

Pre surgery

5th grade champions!

Sam also earned his Webelos and Arrow of Light, pretty much all by himself.  Well, Jay and I helped him but he only had maybe five actual meetings and then the Webelos leaders, whose own son had finished and turned 11, stopped having them.  It took forever for a new leader to be called, and by the time there was one, he was practically done. I wish I were more of a fan of the whole scouting program.  I do understand its merits but the way it is administered through primary and young mens doesn’t often work well.  Plus, my boys aren’t super motivated by badges, beads and belt loops so it can be hard to drum up any enthusiasm.  But, with four boys, I suppose we need to keep at it. 

I was bummed he didn’t get a cool Arrow of Light ceremony but glad he got it nonetheless.

Seth has become more private and distant the older he gets, which I have to remind myself is totally normal and thus not to take too personally, but I do know how much he has worked at becoming a better basketball player and have to celebrate his determination and effort.  Last year, which was really the first year I realized how interested he was in the game, he made C team at the middle school.  There were five teams based on ability and skill and C was right in the middle of the five.  There were boys better than him and boys worse, even on his own team. Over the summer and full, I don’t think a day passed where he didn’t handle the ball and work on his shot. He told me his goal was to make and start on the A team his 8th grade year and I admired and worried about his goal.  When tryouts happened, he had a really good day and a pretty bad day (according to him) and on the day the teams were announced, I picked him up from practice a bit sick to my stomach. He got in the car, fought back tears, and said he was on B. I tried not to give him any platitudes, because I knew he just needed to be allowed to feel disappointed for awhile, but as soon as we got home, he picked up a basketball and went down to the barn to practice.  It was like I could hear the Rocky music in his head! On the following Monday, the first day of practice, Seth came out of the school with a huge gash in his chin, one eventually requiring stitches, but with the biggest grin on his face. He said, “This is the best day of my life! I actually made A team but they forgot to call my name.” He bravely faced the stitches his dad gave him on our own dining room table and started every game.  He also ran extremely well in XC.  I hope he continues on in that sport too.

Flying.

One our summer trip date with Ansel:)

First Day of School

So brave getting his stitches!

Daniel receives props for sheer survival. He has three siblings who mug on him at every opportunity and spent an abundant time strapped into his car seat while attending his brothers activities.

Look at the bump on his head. Ouch.

In addition to the mugging, the older brothers are also incredibly kind and helpful. He can pretty much get any of them to do anything.

Walking the boys to the school bus in the morning.

Glad daddy is home after the cattle round up.

Henry has nearly mastered his “S” sound (I’d say he is about 80%) and his last sound is “R” which, according to his speech therapist, is the hardest sound and different depending on which consonant or verb it is next to. He sometimes gets lots in the shuffle, but he has started piano and is the master of entertaining himself. It usually means there is a mess involved and, sometimes, the destruction of property, but he is creative and has the best imagination in the world.  He also learned how to ride a bike (though he won’t try anymore) and even tried a week of karate to see how he liked it (he didn’t).

He did it!

He did like putting kids in head locks and bring his knee up for a blow.  Unfortunately, he didn’t like the discipline of following every instruction from a very strict teacher.

His teacher is impressed by how quickly he is understanding and learning the notes of the scale and staff.  His ability to read music exceeds his coordination at playing it, though. He has some fine motor skill delays too.

I am also really, really proud of my four nephews out on missions. Scott is in Florida, Derek is in North Carolina, Michael is in Columbia and Jacob is in Russia. As the oldest cousins on either side of our family, I am so relieved and proud of these boys and the examples they are setting for my children and hope they choose to follow in their older cousins’ footsteps.


13.  Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

I think Miley Cyrus is an abomination.  Oh..I’m sure her fame and riches have caused some psychological problems that should garner up my sympathy but her attitude and behavior in public appalls me.

14.  Where did most of your money go?

Every year, there seems to be some sort of house catastrophe that needs repaired.  This year, it was our well pump. For 9 days of December, we had no running water and that experience was really eye opening. For starters, I realized how unprepared I was. It wasn’t really an emergency, as there was water elsewhere (we showered at Jay’s folks and bought drinking water at Walmart) but I saw how desperate it could quickly become if EVERYONE suddenly went without water at the same time. The disaster in the Philippines had happened only a month earlier and I read news accounts about the looting and crimes to get drinking water. It was totally inconvenient and emotionally challenging to be unable to do the things I need to do to run the household but we were safe and served by loved ones.  But, it was dang expensive to fix. It’s not where most of our money went (taxes, mortgage, new car) but it’s where a lot of money went that I wished had gone elsewhere.

15.  What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I finally got a Toyota Sequoia! It was crazy how it all eventually worked out but I have one and I like it. I don’t like the company I bought it from but I try to separate the emotions from each other and focus on the gratitude for the space and comfort in which I spend my days on the road.

16.  What song will always remind you of 2013?

My kids really like pop music and I’ve even noticed Daniel singing along.  He can time that gasp for air in the song, “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons almost perfectly.  I think that is definitely the song of the year but I also really liked “Sail” by AWOL nation, “Berzerk” (only the clean version) by Eminem, “Say Something” by A Great Big World (I prefer it without Christina Aguilera, whose voice drives me bonkers even though it isn’t bad in this song) and “Get Lucky” by Daft Punk.  I was feeling bad about listening to “Get lucky” because it’s pretty much about getting lucky but when Sam told me that he thought it was about a bunch of friends staying up all night playing games…I let the guilt go.  I wish I could listen to songs with kids’ ears.   We can all sing along to Wrecking Ball, though I loathe Miley Cyrus and I changed the radio station every. single. time (which was a lot!) Blurred Lines came on.  I get the good beat but I don’t enjoy songs about rape (at worst) or infidelity (at best).

17.  Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?

a) sadder.  Same answer as last year.  I wish this wasn’t true.  I don’t know what’s going on.
b) fatter. Ugh.
c) the same. Poorer. These answers are depressing. But, the expenses went up and the income did not. Still, we are blessed with Jay’s secure and good job.


18.  What do you wish you'd done more of?

Everything I love.  I wish I spent more time with friends.  I wish I found the time and desire to sing.  I wish I had read more, even though I read a lot.  I wish I had spent more time at the lake and more time on the mountain and hiked more and exercised more and danced more and served more and read more books with Daniel and blogged more.

19.  What do you wish you'd done less of?

Feeling sorry for myself.  I have some really good friends going through horribly hard times and I hate when I throw myself pity parties.  The truth is, everyone is fighting a battle, public or not, and I need to focus on my blessings and not my trials.

20.  Did you fall in love in 2013?

I fell in love with Caitlyn Connley’s art.  I have never had an eye or taste for art but found this Utah artist through instagram and almost all of her sketches and paintings speak to me. I bought one and would like about 50 more.

This is the one I bought. It is called, “But If You Look At It This Way.”  Yes. 

21.  What was your favorite TV program?

SYTYCD.  Of course. I even went up to Salt Lake for the tour, which was so great. These dancers are really talented.

22.  Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

No.

23.  What was the best book you read?

Best Book.  Hmmm.  I feel like it should be one of the books I gave 5 stars to on Goodreads, because those are the ones I thought were amazing, but I’ve decided that the book I have enjoyed thinking about the most is Me Before You by Jojo Moyes.  I really liked Heft by Liz Moore and A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra too.

24.  What was your greatest musical discovery?

I pretty much stick with what the local radio stations feed me as I do not have XM radio but I’m a sucker for buying the songs used on SYTYCD.  If there is a visual I love, I want to repeat the image in my head as many times as possible.  Still, those are not my discoveries.  I recently bought an album from a duo out of Provo called Mideau that I really like.  Check it out: “Way With Words”  Good stuff.

25.  What did you want and get?

Second chances to be better.  Every single day.

26.  What did you want and not get?

My pre-pregnancy body. My own fault.

27.  What was your favorite film of this year?

My favorite was “Saving Mr. Banks".  It is such a moving picture and I love the complicated emotions embedded into the making of such a beloved and well-known film.  Plus, I cried. I love movies that move me. I laughed and laughed (particularly at the end when the minions did the white tux BoysIIMen spoof) during “Despicable Me 2" and loved the music and conflict in Frozen (I can listen to Idina Menzel all day).   I thought “Austenland” was a hoot, even if it was a bit over the top and "12 Years a Slave" felt like the most important movie I watched.

28.  What did you do on your birthday and how old were you?

Boo for Sunday birthdays! As a yes day believer and birthday diva wannabe, I hate that neither are really possible on a Sunday (because I would never, ever choose to cook on my birthday).  It was a busy day at church but I got some nice gifts and cards that always make a girl feel good.  I turned 38.

29.  What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

I’m feeling stumped by the word “immeasurably”.  I want my answer to justify such a big word. I think more temple attendance.  I am embarrassed to admit that I believe I only went to the temple 3 times in 2013.  There is definitely room for improvement and I think the blessings would be immeasurable.

Me and Emily in front of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple.  I also went to the Draper temple with my sister, Sarah, and the Monticello temple with Jay.

30.  How would you describe your personal fashion concept for 2013?

This was the year of the necklace for me.  I got a long one, for when I wore tops with higher necklines, and several shorter ones I could wear with lower tops.  Almost all of my shirts are from Kohls or Sam’s Club so there is no real high fashion going on here.

My favorite metal knot necklace. 

31.  What kept you sane?

I don’t know if I am! Sometimes, I think I am losing it. Humor keeps me sane and I seek it out whenever possible.  I like to be around funny people.  A trip always keeps me forging forward.  Honestly, most of my bad days can be made better by a hot bath.  Go figure.