The Night Before Christmas

Children carry through the streets
A brilliant painted star.
Angels gather round the hearth
Strumming on guitars.
Men of great renown & faith
Say prayers on boulevards.
It's the night before Christmas.

But you don't have to be an angel
To sing harmony.
You don't have to be a child
To love the mystery.
And you don't have to be a wise man
On bended knee.
The heart of this Christmas is in you and me.

- Carly Simon

Christmas Miracles, Christmas Tears

Christmas is a time for miracles.


And there are few miracles as real & tangible as the birth of a child. My children are my own personal miracles, and I treasure them (along with my marriage to Bryson) more than anything on Earth. This past month I have been doing a lot of reflecting on the miracles that children bring into our lives.

I have some dear friends that have been through an emotional roller coaster as they anticipated the birth of their 5th child, a little boy. At the 20th week of pregnancy, the doctors noticed some abnormalities. There was an incredible excess of amniotic fluid. A subsequent ultrasound discovered a major heart defect that can be indicative of Down's syndrome, a mesoblastic nephroma (benign tumor) around the right kidney, and -- as if that weren't enough -- some fluid around the base of the spine, a common sign of spina bifida.

Needless to say, there were a lot of prayers said on their behalf.

As the birth approached, the family prepared for a long hospital stay, and possibly the immediate surgery of their little newborn. And just a couple short weeks ago, little Levi was born. A little miracle in every sense of the word. There was no Down's syndrome. MRI's done shortly after birth showed no signs of the kidney tumor or spinal problem-- positively baffling the doctors. There is still a heart defect, but it is something that can be addressed as the baby gets older. Only a few short days after his birth, he is home with his loving parents and four older siblings. Again, a miracle.


This announcement was still elating my heart when I heard some more tragic, heartbreaking news.

Just a few days ago some other close friends of ours lost one of their precious twin baby girls -- little Mhairi -- to SIDS. It was so sudden, so shocking. And there were so many questions racing through my mind.

Why?
Why should one child be blessed while another is taken?

At the funeral yesterday, I was a complete mess during the service. The tears came down my face in an endless stream as I wept for my friends' loss. And I marveled at their strength. They spoke of faith and God's will as they cradled their surviving daughter, only 3 months old. They believe that Mhairi was taken because she was too perfect for this world, and that she will watch over them as a Guardian Angel. And I believe them, too.

Families are forever. That is what we believe, as Latter-Day Saints. We teach that the bonds of familial love go beyond the grave and that we will live together eternally with our Father in Heaven if we strive to live worthily. It is wonderful, comforting doctrine. And right now I find it even more so. It speaks to my soul.

While the storm may rage around us as we make our way through this life, we have hope. We have love. We have peace.
We have each other.

And so this Christmas, I find myself holding my own little miracles a little tighter. I am so grateful for the light they bring to my life. And while I pray for continued blessings on behalf of both Levi & Mhairi's families, I also pray that I can always remember to cherish my family as the singular treasure in my life.

Today in the car-- as reality was over-taking us-- I started singing in an effort to put the fighting, screaming, crying... you know, the usual-- to an end. I paused, and Reilly asked if we could sing "Families." This is her title for a song we often sing in the children's Sunday School. Her little voice rang out:

I always want to be with my own family
And the Lord has shown me how I can.
The Lord has shown me how I can.
As she finished, I luxuriated in the peaceful warmth that followed.
Bryson remarked, "I am so glad we believe what we believe."
I couldn't agree more.

Born in a Manger

I have the precious opportunity to spend my Sundays with a very special group of people. You see, I am the Nursery Coordinator for my church congregation-- which means for two hours every Sunday I get to sing, play, and learn from the children in the 18-36 month old Sunday School classes.

Today it was Abby's turn to teach me.

Over the past few weeks, I have been teaching the children a new song for the holidays-- "Christmas Bells are Ringing." The lyrics are pretty simple, and easily learned.

Christmas bells are ringing!
Hear what they say to you:
Jesus is born in Bethlehem;
In Bethlehem.

In helping the children review the words, I asked, "Where was Jesus born?"

Little Abby responded.

"In a manger!"
"Yes, that's right! But do you remember the name of the town? It's a pretty long word..."

(furrowed brow of concentration)

"Is it Bethlehem?" I prompted.
"Yes! Bethlehem!""Very good, Abby!" I exclaimed.

But she wasn't quite finished.

"Yes, at Bethlehem. And there was no room for Him. No room. For Joseph and Mary. But they could go to the manger. And Jesus was born in a manger. And that's Christmas! It's Jesus' birthday! The baby Jesus was born in the manger. And I love Christmas," she finished fervently.
"I love Christmas too-- it's a very special time of year, " I agreed. "Shall we sing our new Christmas song all together?"

The children nodded. With jingle bells in hand, we began to sing. And no one sang louder than Abby.

There is nothing like the faith of a child. ♥

Dinger Bells

Taylor: (singing) Dinger Bells, Dinger Bells... Dinger all the waaaay....

Me: Taylor, it's actually Jingle Bells-- not Dinger.

Taylor: That's what I said-- Dinger.

Me: No... not Dinger, Jingle. With a "J." Jah... jah... jingle.

Taylor: Mom, it's not Jingle. Bells "ding," not "jing!"


Can't argue with that logic.

O Christmas Tree

The tree is up.

The ornaments are hung.

(Except when they're not...)

The lights are lit.

Everything is quiet.

How lovely are thy branches.

A Holly Jolly Road Rage

Due to the white-out conditions on the roads this morning, Bryson decided to stay put in the office today instead of driving up the canyon. Which, of course, made me happy for two reasons-- One: I didn't have to spend the entire day having visions of his untimely demise by driving in said ridiculous conditions, and Two: The kids and I were able to share his lunch hour with him-- something we enjoy but rarely have opportunity to do.

We were able to meet at a nice little cafe where Bryson & I enjoyed some yummy panini while the kids noshed on a cheese quesadilla. Afterward, I decided to dash into a nearby store and pick up some baking pans that I had noticed were on sale. Bryson followed me over and sat with Taylor & Reilly so I didn't have to do the kid-wrestling-tango that always ensues. I was in and out, with nary a holiday shopping headache! The cashiers were friendly, the patrons were patient, the Salvation Army bell ringer cheery & gracious. Ahhhh, I thought. So nice to have a positive experience this time of year. After loading the wares into the car and kissing Bryson goodbye we parted ways. He drove off in his truck, the kiddos & I in the SUV. The skies cleared, the sun came out. Life was good.

Then as I turned out of the parking lot on to a minor side road the warm fuzzies began to dissipate. I suddenly heard a car horn being laid on thick. Confused, I turned-- wondering what on earth was going on. A second later I saw her. A middle-aged woman driving a white pick up truck, clearly screaming her head off and using all sorts of hand gestures to get her anger across. Hmmm. Apparently, I was the problem.

Now, I am not someone you would label as an aggressive driver. Being raised near a big city, I know how to handle myself on the roads, but I am far from reckless. When I turned out of the parking lot today, this lady was not near me. Which leads me to one of two conclusions. One: That she was driving way too fast for this little road and I failed to notice, or Two: That she just was having a bad day and thought for some reason I slighted her somehow by turning in front of her. Either way-- even if I was in the wrong-- there was absolutely no intention on my part in offending her. And her reaction was clearly over-the-top. Even if I did slow her down for the briefest of moments, she more than quadrupled that time when she decided to slow down and give me a piece of her mind-- even stopping at a green light while I waited to turn left so she could drive the point home!

"Geez Louise," I thought. "What kind of person allows themselves to hang on to so much anger?"

I thought about that the whole way home. It's a good question. Life is so short. Who has time to send that kind of negative energy out into the world?

I really kinda felt bad for this lady.
I mean, c'mon, it's Christmas!
Perhaps she didn't get the memo about peace on earth & goodwill toward men.

As I continued homeward, I decided I needed to let the negativity go. She may have made the decision to send that anger my way, but it didn't mean I had to hold on to it.
"May you be well," I said under my breath as my exit approached.

And I hope she is.

Because, really, no one should harbor such ill feelings this or any time of year. We're all just driving to our own destinations in life... Where is the sense in sowing seeds of hate? It's just not worth it.

Morning Meditation

Honestly.

Could anything make you
feel more alive
than waking up to
this?

Heaven & nature sing, indeed.

{2}

the bones of winter
exhale life
in its sharpness

i hear
echoes
of past abundance

whispers
of peace
and plainness

promises
of rebirth

and i revel
in the satisfaction
that each new moment
lived
is impossibly more beautiful
than each moment
past.

{1}

The winter air
lights on skin
like crystal fingers
searching,
inquiring,
penetrating...

Heads bowed ignorantly
against the cold
we hasten
to the interior warmth

Oblivious

Of the heaven
displayed above
in ribbons of clarity
and stark opulence.

Christmas Tag

I haven't yet succumbed to the pressure of playing Blog Tag (Kristal, I'm still trying to come up with 7 quirky things... Soon!), but my friend Amy intrigued me with her current Christmasy one. So here goes...................

1. Wrapping Paper or Gift Bags?
Well, I have to admit I'm a sucker for the well-wrapped gift with ribbons and bows... although the eco-conscious part of me is starting to lean toward the reusable gift bag.

2. Real Tree or Artificial?
We stick with the artificial these days.

3. When do you put up your tree?
Some time between the day after Thanksgiving & the first of December.

4. Do you like eggnog?
Nope, can't say I'm a fan. Too sweet. Bryson could drink it by the barrel-load, though.


5. Favorite gift received as a child?
1985. Cabbage Patch Kid. 'Nuff said.

6. Hardest person to buy for?
The in-laws. Love them, but boy do I have to rack my brain over that one!

7. Easiest person to buy for?
My immediate family-- Bryson & the kids. I'm trying to scale back-- it's so easy to go overboard!


8. Do you have a nativity scene?
Yes, I glazed it myself back in my high school days.

9. Mail or Email Christmas cards?
Mail, for sure. Email should be a last resort when it comes to Christmas cards, IMHO.


10. Worst Christmas gift recieved?
I don't like this question! And I can't think of one.... So, next!

11. Favorite Christmas movie?
It's a Wonderful Life-- with A Christmas Story & Mr. Krueger's Christmas right behind!


12. When do you start shopping?
It's an on-going process... I'm always on the look out for something special, then I just save it for birthdays or Christmas.

13. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Nope.


14. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Bûche de Noël. It's a fancy French dessert I make every year.


15. Lights on the tree?
Yes, little white ones.

16. Favorite Christmas Song?
Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella

17. Travel on Christmas or stay at home?
I prefer to stay at home.

18. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?
Of course!

19. Angel or Star on top of the tree?
We have a star. Angels are nice too, though.

20. Open presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?
Christmas morning. Opening presents Christmas Eve is a pet peeve of mine.

21. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
The holiday shoppers who seem to forget the "peace on Earth, goodwill toward men" part of the season. I worked retail during college this time of year... you see the worst of people. I tend to avoid stores of all shapes and sizes until January.

22. Favorite Ornament Theme or Color?
I have been collecting ornaments since I was born-- it's a family tradition. So my tree is laden with all sorts of heirloom ornaments from different periods of my life. I love it.
23. Favorite Christmas Dinner?
Tradition is ham, although we had a lovely roast duck last year.
24. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Honestly? I really can't think of anything. Just more time spent with my family.

If you find this Christmas Questionnaire intriguing... consider yourself tagged!

Prayers for Jen

"Friendship that flows from the heart cannot be frozen by adversity, as the water that flows from the spring cannot congeal in winter."
- James Fenimore Cooper

Nothing makes you pause like the adversity of a close friend.

After spending three challenging years studying at Brigham Young University, I made the difficult decision to change majors-- and was accepted into a program offered at Utah State University. It was there that I met Jen.

Jen was my very first roommate at Utah State, and we became close friends almost instantly. It was she and another close friend and roommate that introduced me to my beloved Bryson. (That's the 3 of us pictured above-- Jen, Kelly, & I.) During those college years she was there for me through heartache and happiness, and we shared many cherished memories together. We got married within a year of each other. We bought homes, were both expecting little boys-- all around the same time. We share many of the same likes and dislikes. In some ways, it seemed like we lived parallel lives.

Over the years our friendship has remained, although the demands and experiences of life haven't allowed us to visit as often as we would like.

It was three years ago that we first heard the news.
It hit like a sucker punch to the gut.

Brain Cancer.

It didn't seem possible.
How? Why?

But cancer doesn't particularly care about the hows and whys of life. So Jen did what she does best. She fought. And three years later, she is still fighting.

It had been awhile since I had last talked to Jen. Last I had heard, she was upbeat and optimistic about her health. Then this past Saturday, Jen's birthday, I heard the latest blow.

It's not looking good.

Recently Jen was rushed to the ER with an agonizing headache. The neurosurgeon concluded that the pain was being caused by a build-up of pressure, which the tumor in the middle ventricle of her brain was causing. In his opinion, the best course of action would be to let nature take its course-- in essence, giving her a death sentence.

But did I mention that Jen's a fighter?

After some persuasion, the surgeon agreed to (yet another) surgery in order to relieve some of the pressure she has been experiencing. Jen has started a new round of chemo, and she continues doing battle daily against this awful disease.

As I said before, nothing makes you pause like the adversity of a close friend. I cannot fathom the kind of strength and perseverance it must take to continue fighting as Jen does. She continues to inspire her friends, family, and countless others. If her story touches you as well, would you please say a prayer for her or send kind words her way?

You can follow her story here.

My heart aches for my friend, her devoted husband, and their adorable little boy.
Fight, Baby, Fight!!!!!!!!!

A Birthday Present for Jesus

The holiday season has been magical for us this year, predominately because Taylor is grasping the concept and meaning of Christmas for the first time .

We have explained to him that Christmas is the time of year that we celebrate the Savior's birthday. In an effort to quell the I-want I-want I-want of the season, we've also been trying to stress the importance of giving rather than receiving. As a mom, I have found myself curious as to what was sinking in and being understood.

Of course, Taylor didn't make me wait too long to find out.

The other night, I was tucking my little man into bed after reading a Christmas story. We had said prayers, sang a song, had kisses & hugs-- when suddenly Taylor looked very concerned.

"Mom?"
"Yes, honey?"
"I just don't know what to get Jesus for His birthday!"

I paused for a moment, wanting to make sure I answered his earnest question seriously and truthfully. In the quiet, I found the words from one of my favorite Christmas carols come to mind:

What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part.
Yet what can I give Him? Give my heart.
("In the Bleak Midwinter" music by Gustav Holst, lyrics by Christina G. Rossetti)

I looked at Taylor.

"I think the best present to give Jesus would be to show kindness and be a good friend to everyone. Do you think Jesus would be happy if you were nice to your friends?"
"Yes, Mom. I think that's a good idea."

And so this year the focus has shifted.
Out with the "bigger & better," in with the "meaningful & heart-felt."

Because what could be better than giving one's heart?

Things I Did Today Instead of Going for a Run

1. Played soccer with Reilly (& Sheep).
"I did it, Mom!!!"
"Yay, Reilly, you did it!"
"No... Sheep did it!"
"Oh. Good job, Sheep!"
"Thanks, Mom!"

2. Made some killer homemade hot chocolate for Bryson & I after he surprised me by coming home early.
Best Surprise All Month.

3. Snuggled with Taylor on the couch.
"Mom? I just love you."

4. Ate Rocky Road ice cream & tasted freshly pressed apple cider at the Big Red Barn.

5. Made pizza & watched Beauty & the Beast with the kids for the first time...
and got a huge chuckle out of watching Taylor's excitement when Lumiere & company take back the castle from invaders...

6. Rescued Sheep from a spontaneous bath in the potty. (Auuuuggggggh!!!!!!)

7. Read bedtime stories and received an avalanche of kisses and hugs in return.

8. Had some much-needed cuddle time with the Most Wonderful Man on Earth.


Was it worth it?
Every minute.

It Just Depends on the Day...

Last Week:
Me: Reilly, you're Mommy's little princess!
Reilly: I'm not Mommy's little princess! I'm a big girl!

This Week:

Me: Reilly, you're such a big girl!
Reilly: I'm not a big girl! I'm Mommy's little princess!


We'll take her either way.

Come What May, and Love It

I was saddened to learn that one of the leaders of my faith, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, passed away last night. Both Bryson & I always looked forward to hearing him speak-- he always had a way of conveying so much love in his words.

And as life would have it, his words came back to help me through this day in particular.

It seemed as though today was doomed from the beginning. As I sat at my desk this morning, working out my to-do list with Taylor sitting on my lap, I suddenly heard an ominous "uh-oh."

As I realized just what was causing the warm-- yet moist-- sensation I was experiencing, Elder Wirthlin's words from his last address echoed in my mind, "Come what may, and love it."

In his words:

...Every life has peaks and shadows and times when it seems that the birds don’t sing and bells don’t ring. Yet in spite of discouragement and adversity, those who are happiest seem to have a way of learning from difficult times, becoming stronger, wiser, and happier as a result.

If we approach adversities wisely, our hardest times can be times of greatest growth, which in turn can lead toward times of greatest happiness.

There is an antidote for times such as these: learn to laugh. ...The next time you’re tempted to groan, you might try to laugh instead. It will extend your life and make the lives of all those around you more enjoyable.

As we look for humor, seek for the eternal perspective... and draw near to our Heavenly Father, we can endure hardship and trial. We can say... “Come what may, and love it.”

Now, I am fully aware that my trivial aggravations and frustrations are pathetically minute when compared to what so many are experiencing during these hard times. Still, his words were no less profound to me today.

For example:

Little boy peeing on my lap?
Come what may, and love it!
Going to the grocery store in an effort to clear my head... only to have little children disregard my requests and run off while I try to reign them back in?
Come what may, and love it!

Little girl knocking over a five-foot tall display of batteries at the aforementioned store?
Come what may, and love it!

Picking up the small mountain of batteries with nary an on-looker's assistance?
Come what may, and love it!

Trying to leave the store with some small shred of dignity intact when my little boy stops in the middle of the parking lot and refuses to budge an inch?
Come what may, and love it!

Little girl screaming at the top of her lungs as her mom struggles to carry her, push a shopping cart single-handedly, and vocally persuade (ever so gently, of course) her brother to get a move on?
Come what may, and love it!
Yep, my ship may have sailed in the dignity department today, but as I loaded the kids into the car-- and took a much needed pause alone outside-- I couldn't help but laugh. How absurd was this? Yes, I felt like wringing out my hair, but honestly--wasn't this funny?

Looking at things from this perspective made me realize how a change in attitude can affect our whole day. By choosing to laugh about it, I was happier, and the situation gradually began to resolve itself.

"Mom?" Taylor asked.
"Yes?" A wary reply.
"I'm really sorry I had an accident today. And I'm sorry Reilly broke the store," he explained. "I'm going to try harder. I just love you so much."

Ah, yes.

Come what may, and love it.
Thank you, Elder Wirthlin.

For another enthralling tale full of misadventures & Wirthlin inspiration, check out this post on a good friend's blog.

Overnight Accidents

Although Taylor has been potty trained for quite some time now, he still has difficulty overnight-- as many three-year-olds do.
This morning he found me, decidedly upset...

Taylor: Mom, I think I need to change my pants.

Me: Oh, Taylor-- did you have an accident?

Taylor: Yes, I had an accident in my Pull-up.

Me: Oh honey, that's too bad. Should we go change you?

Taylor: Okay! ...Ummm, Mom?

Me: Yes?

Taylor: Are you going to give me a spanking?

Me: Oh, Taylor, of course not!

Taylor: (laughing) Oh good. Because spankings are not good for little boys.

Too true, Taylor... too true.

Good Shepherds

At a Primary Leadership meeting today, my good friend Hope relayed this story originally told by Elder John R. Lasater of the Quorum of the Seventy. It touched me deeply, and I wanted to share it with you. He tells his story as follows:

Some years ago, it was my privilege to visit the country of Morocco as part of an official United States government delegation. As part of that visit, we were invited to travel some distance into the desert to visit some ruins. Five large black limousines moved across the beautiful Moroccan countryside at considerable speed. I was riding in the third limousine, which had lagged some distance behind the second. As we topped the brow of a hill, we noticed that the limousine in front of us had pulled off to the side of the road. As we drew nearer, I sensed that an accident had occurred and suggested to my driver that we stop. The scene before us has remained with me for these many years.

An old shepherd, in the long, flowing robes of the Savior’s day, was standing near the limousine in conversation with the driver. Nearby, I noted a small flock of sheep numbering not more than fifteen or twenty. An accident had occurred. The king’s vehicle had struck and injured one of the sheep belonging to the old shepherd. The driver of the vehicle was explaining to him the law of the land. Because the king’s vehicle had injured one of the sheep belonging to the old shepherd, he was now entitled to one hundred times its value at maturity. However, under the same law, the injured sheep must be slain and the meat divided among the people. My interpreter hastily added, “But the old shepherd will not accept the money. They never do.”

Startled, I asked him why. And he added, “Because of the love he has for each of his sheep.” It was then that I noticed the old shepherd reach down, lift the injured lamb in his arms, and place it in a large pouch on the front of his robe. He kept stroking its head, repeating the same word over and over again. When I asked the meaning of the word, I was informed, “Oh, he is calling it by name. All of his sheep have a name, for he is their shepherd, and the good shepherds know each one of their sheep by name.”

It was as my driver predicted. The money was refused, and the old shepherd with his small flock of sheep, with the injured one tucked safely in the pouch on his robe, disappeared into the beautiful deserts of Morocco.
(John R. Lasater, “Shepherds of Israel,” Ensign, May 1988, 74)

As God's children, we are called to be good shepherds to those we serve-- whether it be as parents, in church callings, or in volunteer service. What separates the good from the mediocre is love. Truly Christ was the ultimate Good Shepherd, and I am certain it would do us all a world of good if we would strive to emulate Him. For just like the Moroccan shepherd, He knows all of His sheep by name and loves them dearly.

Sibling Revelry

Taylor: (singing) I am a child of God... and He has... Reilly, sing with me!

(pause)

Taylor: Reilly, please sing with me. You're my best friend!

Reilly: Best friend, too, Taylor.

Taylor & Reilly: (singing) I am a child of God... and He has sent me here. Has given me an earthly home, with parents kind and dear....

Be still my heart. Heaven's here on Earth.

Thanksgiving

Things to be thankful for:

1. a home filled with love & warmth
2. healthy, happy children
3. a refuge in rural Paradise
4. roasted turkey in the oven
5. laying hens in the pasture
6. family football on the lawn (JJ, thanks for picking me when Taylor didn't!)
7. a little gray sheep
8. watching Bryson lope the horses (few things sexier...)
9. young love blossoming
10. pie: apple, pumpkin, cherry, lemon meringue, &
    Georgia pecan (thanks to our southern gentleman)
11. conquering city-girl fears & learning to ride
12. laughter and acceptance
13. a unity of faith
14. the blessings of an abundance
15. the ease of feeling completely at home

For that which we have received,

Let us be truly grateful.

Goldfish Crackers and a Serenade

Busy, busy, busy.

Bryson came home yesterday to a tired household. Tired, but happy.
Oh, no-- wait-- that was just me.
I was happy. The kids... well, they were just tired.

I was buzzing around the house, trying to at least partially conquer the mountain of laundry needing to be done.

Taylor was grumpily snacking on some goldfish crackers he had found while I was cleaning up. Reilly was still waking up from her nap, and very unhappy (and vocal) about it.

Bryson decided to get dinner on the table.
He hit the jackpot-- leftover chicken stuffed with goat cheese & artichokes. Mmmmm. One of our favorites.
Add a pint of home-canned green beans and some homemade applesauce--and voila!
He even tried his hand at entertaining us with a 'dramatic interpretation' of the Killers' new song "Human." He doesn't really care for that song too much. (Sorry, Brandon Flowers.)

The kids, however, were not impressed.
Taylor did eat his applesauce and a token bite of beans. Reilly just screamed.

Hmmm.
It was one of those nights.

I was tired and running low on ideas. Bryson decided desperate times called for desperate measures.
The goldfish crackers made a return trip to the table.
This made Taylor perk up slightly, but Reilly remained unconvinced.

Hearing the end of a laundry cycle, I seized the moment and left the room to swap loads.
From the hall, I suddenly heard a shriek of delight.
Then giggles, giggles, more giggles.

Returning to the kitchen, I found Bryson taking in a goldfish-- then squirming in his seat and squeaking, "Augh! They're swimming in my mouth!"
The kids were loving it.

Seeing me, he rose up to put his arm around me.
A kiss on the neck, a touch of the hand.

This is why I love this man.

Taking Pause

So much to do, so many things to get in order.
Ack!
Could we please find a way to stop the progressive advancement of the clock?
Just an hour or two?
No?
Dang.

Two days before Thanksgiving!!!
I am running around like a crazy person--
laundry to do,
floors to vacuum,
bathrooms to clean (oh the joy!),
pie to bake,
that weird green jell-o salad that Bryson adores
--as only a native Utahn could--
to prepare.

In my haste, I almost miss the tiny voice's request.

Mom, will you please help me?

Reilly.
She sits on the couch, looking up at me with that wistful smile. She taps the empty space beside her.

Mom, come please sit by me.

*Sigh* Is there really a choice here? Seriously now.

I sit-- the delight evident in her face. Her legs kick as she giggles with satisfied contentment.

Ahhhh...
There's always tomorrow... right?

I snuggle her and whisper softly
I love my Reilly.
And the whisper is returned--
I love my mom.

I Am What I Am

Me: You are so adorable.

Reilly: I am not adorable. I am Reilly.

Change of Tune

Sunday morning, rain is falling...

That's certainly the way it feels, at any rate. And when it rains, it certainly does pour.

Exhausted.
There are no other words.
I am completely drained-- body, mind, soul-- from taxing days and sleepless nights.

And so this morning I find myself singing...
Rain, rain go away
Come again some other day

There is just so much to do.
How on Earth do we pull through?
This morning there are meetings to attend, overnight "accidents" to clean up, breakfast to serve, kids to get ready for church, nursery snacks to distribute. Deciding to tag team it, Bryson puts on a movie to occupy Reilly so he can get ready for high council meetings-- enabling me to help clean up Taylor a little more easily.

I am grumpy.

After his much-needed bath, I lead Taylor back into the family room where Reilly is watching Snow White.

"What do you do when things go wrong? ...Oh! You sing a song!" the heroine exclaims on-screen.

This poor girl has just been betrayed by the queen, survived a murder attempt, and frightened beyond all recall in the dark forest.
And what does she do?
She sings.

With a smile and a song,
Life is just like a bright sunny day
Your cares fade away, and your heart is young...
I am laughing.

It occurs to me that I am probably singing the wrong song this merry morning. There will always be storms in life, whether it be today or some other day. What matters is my response to the approaching tempest.

So I try to change my tune.
The words come quickly.

Lead kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom
Lead thou me on!

I'm There to Keep My Eye on Her

Alice Walker queried, "Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister?"

Certainly there are few things stronger in life than the bond between sisters-- whether that bond is for good or ill. Certainly I have been blessed in my own life-- with a baby sister that is also my absolute best girlfriend in the world.

Eight years separate us in age, but our friendship knows no such distance. Thick as thieves, we are. ;)

It has been 23 years today since we started our journey as siblings together. 23 years of shared joys, heartaches, lessons, memories.

Has it really been that long? Seems like it was only yesterday I was pounding on her bedroom door asking (read: yelling at) her to please stop singing Aqua's "Barbie Girl" at the top of her lungs. 

Ah, now that's good stuff.

I am so grateful on so many different levels to have my sister in my life. In so many ways we could be twins, and yet our differences are actually quite distinctive and complement each other. Her gregarious and fearless nature have taught me that most strangers are just friends-in-waiting. Her determination and tenacity have reminded me that all things are possible if you work hard enough to achieve your dreams. Her struggles with injury and heartache continue to show me that faith and hope can bring you through tremendous obstacles when there is seemingly no light to be found. And hopefully I've taught her a thing or two through the years as well.

As the chapters in our lives continue to unfold, I am glad to have such a strong, kind force for good at my side. Through the good and the bad the blessings of sisterhood remain, and I look forward to some seriously good girl talk in the eternities to come.

Happy Birthday, JJ.
Love you more.

The Quiet One

I wanted to be tall.

As a teenager, I kept wishing that some more of that lovely human growth hormone would kick in and give me a couple inches' boost. Oh, to be taller! Sadly, it was not meant to be-- I remain at the same 5 feet, 4 inches that I was in the eighth grade. However, over time I have made peace with my height-- even recognizing that there are some benefits to being vertically-challenged. I have accepted that this is just who I am, who I am meant to be. And I'm okay with that.

Fast-forward to today.

Sitting and chatting with a group of friends yesterday, I found myself starting in on a familiar cycle. Not longing to be tall, mind you-- but something else entirely.

Standing around, as I listened to the swirling laughter & conversation surrounding me, I wished I wasn't such an introvert.

Now it goes without saying that I absolutely adore my friends. I'm one of those true-blue, faithful-to-the-core friends that really just enjoys people in general. But I don't know that I express it well... vocally, at any rate. I've always been more of a thinker than a talker. Which, really, isn't a bad thing. But yesterday I wanted to change that. What would it be like to be socially graceful? To be a fantastic conversationalist? To be irrepressibly charming?

It's not that I'm a wallflower-- because I'm not-- and it's not that I'm shy either.
It's not that I don't speak up and assert myself-- because I do-- and it's not that I'm afraid of rejection.

So why am I always the Quiet One?

In typical fashion, I was pondering over this as I drove away to pick Taylor up from preschool.

And thinking led me to a few conclusions. I realized that I actually like this quality in myself. I like being studious and thoughtful. I think it nourishes the creative side of me that is so important in my life. It helps me focus in on my goals and work hard to achieve them. It enables the Spirit to speak clearly to my soul-- even if I don't always recognize it for what it is at the time. It allows me to have an open mind about things, to study both sides of an issue. And lastly, I think it makes me extremely empathetic, and a good listener.

As I realized this, the tears came.

Though I may never be bubbly & effervescent, with a full social calendar like some of my dear friends, I discovered that in all actuality, I like myself this way. It is just who I am, who I was meant to be. And I'm okay with that.

Jake

Reilly loves the alphabet.

In fact, it is her most-requested bedtime song right after "You Are My Sunshine." She can sing the alphabet with the best of them... though she slurs over a couple of the faster spots as most toddlers do. She is also quite adept at recognizing the letters on sight... with a couple exceptions.
"H" & "J" have been just a tad problematic.

Instead of learning the pronunciation of the letters, she prefers to call them both "Jake."

Despite the amount of time spent trying to teach her otherwise, she is quite determined to reestablish those letters with a proper given name. And really, doesn't that seem more friendly anyway?

Feed My Sheep

When you're in the trenches of motherhood, there inevitably come those days when you question the decision-making process that led you to the present situation in which you now find yourself.

Not that you regret those decisions by any means, or would wish to go back and change things... it's just that there are those overwhelming times when you reflect and wonder how on earth you ever came to find yourself at this moment.

Back in high school I was one of those crazy over-achiever types. You know, officer in the National Honor Society, captain of the swim team, in the school musical... yep, one of those. 

Consequentially, I was surrounded by like-minded crazy over-achieving friends. These friends have gone on to impressive careers, some of them spanning the globe. Doctors, lawyers, consultants, scientists, professors, nurses, teachers... And I have to confess, there are those days I wonder what they must think of the personal choices I made with regards to my life's path, so different from their own.

Recently, Reilly came up to me, holding Sheep in her arms. Sheep is Reilly's most treasured possession. A little gray ball of fluff that she absolutely dotes on. Sheep goes everywhere with Reilly, be it the gym, grocery store, library, or church. Even in this year's Halloween pictures you can see Reilly running after Taylor to go trick-or-treating... with Sheep.

This day, however, Reilly had kicked it up a notch. She had found one of her baby doll's bottles and was cradling sheep in her arms with it. Bemused, I asked Reilly what she was doing. Reilly looked at me for a moment, then said rather matter-of-factly, "I'm feeding my sheep!"

Well, that gave me a chuckle... I bent over to give her a hug and was suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions I felt for this little girl. So precious, so vibrant, so important to me.

And through my tears the words of John 21 entered my mind...

"He saith to him again... lovest thou me? He saith unto him, Yea Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my sheep."

My path might perplex some of my friends, but I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I truly believe that the world can be made a better place through the smallest and simplest of actions. It is my desire & hope to be the change I wish to see in the world-- as Mahatma Ghandi so eloquently stated before me. And I truly believe this world can be changed one child, one small act of kindness, one life at a time.

So I continue... doing my best to feed His sheep.

Hooray for Frozen Indian Food!

Having an injured foot is making me restless.

So, this translates into excess energy that I've been burning off in the kitchen instead. Yesterday I decided to make an enormous batch of chicken tikka masala and freeze most of it to use on those crazy days I have absolutely no desire to cook. I am a huge fan of the Indian food. And thankfully, it freezes spectacularly. Here is the recipe for my concoction, if you feel similarly inspired... or just really really hungry. :)

Chicken Tikka Masala

Marinade:
5 cups plain yogurt
1/4 cup lemon juice
4 T garam masala
2 T black pepper
2 T salt
1 T cayenne pepper
2 t cinnamon
1 t cumin
3/4 t ground ginger

20 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size pieces

Sauce:
3 T butter
10 cloves garlic, minced
12 T garam masala
3 T salt
2 t cumin
2 t paprika
10 cups tomato sauce (8 oz = 1 cup)
10 cups milk
3 T cornstarch
1/4 cup water

1. In a large bowl, combine yogurt, lemon juice & rest of spices for marinade. Stir in chicken, cover, & refrigerate at least an hour-- preferably all day for best flavor.
2. Preheat broiler on high.
3. Cover large cookie sheet with foil & nonstick spray. Place chicken on sheet & broil until done... a few minutes each side.
4. Melt butter in a large stockpot over medium heat. Saute garlic for 1 minute. Add tomato sauce & spices to pot. Stir in milk. Bring to a boil, then simmer 20 minutes. Combine cornstarch & water, stirring well, then adding to sauce to help thicken. Cook an additional 5 minutes. Add broiled chicken and simmer 10 minutes. Transfer to a serving bowl, garnish with fresh cilantro if desired. Serve with basmati rice.

Makes approximately 20 servings, give or take.

If you're looking for a good garam masala, I get my spices from a company called Rajah through Amazon. Here's the link if you find yourself in need...  I know I have a really hard time finding good Indian spices where we are. The more expensive links are for 6-packs for those of you (like me) who like to buy in bulk and get free shipping. :)

What We've Got Here is Failure to Communicate...

Bryson: Hey, you're handsome, Bud!

Taylor: Dad! My hands are not mud!!!

You Can Never Have Too Many Apples... I Think

There is a reason these posts have taken a bit of a hiatus...

It is because, apparently, I am a glutton for punishment. You would think that one 38-lb. box of apples would be more than enough to satisfy any fruit-crazed individual... But fate found the kids & I back at the Big Red Barn again.

We had come to get a small bag of apples to bring to Taylor's preschool class Halloween party. It was supposed to be a simple in & out procedure. Get in, get the apples, and leave before some kitchen-crazy idea entered my head. Trouble is, it rarely works out that way for me. We got into the crisper and I noticed that the Jonathan supply was alarmingly low. Thinking of all the goodies I hoped to put up this autumn, I grabbed another box instead. Another 38 lb. box. I have no idea what I was thinking.

On our way out the door we also grabbed a bag of apple cider doughnuts-- sugary, apple-y, fatty goodness that is probably sinful to some degree. You know, to make me feel better about the 76 pounds of apples now waiting for me to put up. Man, were those doughnuts good.

So this week has been spent swimming in apples. Bryson helped me get a large batch ready to dry on our handy-dandy dehydrator by peeling/coring/slicing the apples on our fantastic contraption that does all 3 chores at once. (That wonderful man, boy I tell you...) Yesterday was applesauce day, and I put up several quarts of that pink ambrosia. I am hoping to get some apple chutney made before too long as well... and maybe some apple pie filling? Hmmmmm....

Lead Me, Guide Me

Sitting through church with two toddlers is always an interesting experience. Please note the use of the term "interesting," and not other adjectives such as "peaceful," "devotional," and "worshipful."

I cannot remember the last time I was able to sit in the chapel and truly drink from that spiritual fountain without some form of interruption. Bryson & I try to encourage Taylor & Reilly to think about Jesus, particularly when the sacrament is being passed-- we read books with them, quietly sing songs they have learned... But to be honest, you never really know what lessons are being retained, and what is lost in translation.

A couple Sundays ago our little family was engaged in the ongoing reverence struggle. Taylor & Reilly were arguing over, well, pretty much anything they could find cause for. I pulled Taylor close to my side and quietly starting singing "I am a Child of God" to him, hoping that it would calm him down and help him grasp a moment's focus on the purpose of our church attendance.

Thankfully (heavens be praised) Taylor was quiet for a few moments, even thoughtful. The sacrament was being passed. I was basking in the peaceful quiet when suddenly Taylor loudly blurted out, "Mom, I'm a child of God." A quiet ripple of laughter ran through some of the neighboring pews. Looking over at my little boy, I too had difficulty keeping a straight face.

But then I saw the sincere look on his face.

I hugged Taylor close and reassured him, "Yes, Taylor, yes you are. And He loves you so very much!"

"I have said, ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High." - Psalms 82:6

And I Get Candy for Me?

Taylor: Mom, are we going to go trick-or-treating?

Me: Yes, we will go today!

Taylor: TODAY?!?!?!?!?!?! At my school?

Me: No, not at school... Here at the houses in our neighborhood.

Taylor: In our neighborhood? ...Which houses, Mom?

Me: All of them!

Taylor: All of them?????? And I get candy for ME? Goodie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Halloween was a lot of fun this year, as Taylor is finally grasping the concept. Taylor loved being a pirate, and Reilly really liked her black cat costume.

And of course, the candy. Always the candy.