Full Hands, Full Hearts

This past fall, our family spent several days exploring Bryce Canyon. Traipsing about the various hiking trails with four small children in tow, we soon discovered that to many people we were quite the spectacle-- not the majestic scenery around us.

With Taylor and Reilly blazing the way, Dani on Bryson's chest, and Logan on my back, we caught many fellow tourists do a double take as we meandered on by.

Many people struck up little conversations with us as our paths crossed, usually beginning with either, "You two look like you have your hands full!" or "Wow, you guys sure are brave!"

Several times, groups would pass by us and then-- thinking we were out of earshot-- remark, "Now that is a lot of kids!"  Sometimes it was said with bemusement, sometimes a bit snarkily. 

My initial reaction to the fuss we were making was somewhere along the lines of, "Seriously?  There's only four!"  I do realize that here in Utah the average family size is much larger than the rest of the United States-- and other Western countries for that matter, but still... four?  Growing up with two siblings of my own in the Midwest didn't seem to raise any eyebrows, why would the addition of one more make such a difference today?

Was it because we seemed a bit young to have so many children?

At 34, I certainly don't feel that young.

Was it because they were so close in age, with our oldest only six?

Given the fertility struggles we had in getting our family started, and nearly four-year-gap between Reilly and the twins, it didn't feel as though we had been especially prolific.
 
Clearly the experience had an impact on me, because here it is six months since our trip and I am still ruminating over the whole thing.

I am bothered by the disparity between how society views children and parenthood, and how I believe God views them.  I see each of my children as a direct blessing from heaven.  The trust placed in me by my Father in Heaven to care for, teach, and raise His children is a stewardship I do not take lightly.  I don't choose to be a mother because I am repressed by a domineering patriarchal faith into staying in the home and not "doing something better with my life."  I choose to be a mother because my faith reminds me of the divine, ennobling calling that it is.  Molding the rising generation and helping them gain knowledge and life experiences that will assist them in ultimately returning to their heavenly home is my career choice.  It is my chosen profession.  It is my life's calling.

President Thomas S. Monson has said:

Let us earnestly follow [the Savior's] direction: "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for such is the kingdom of God." (see Mark 10:14)

A popular song includes the words, "There are angels among us."  These angels are quite frequently the precious little ones God, our Father, has entrusted to our earthly care. To them we may teach prayer, inspire faith, live truth, and honor God.  Then we shall have heavenly homes and forever families.  For what higher gift could we wish?  For what greater blessing could we pray?  None!"
("Teach the Children," October 1997 Conference Report)

Our hands might be full, yes.
But our hearts?
Even more so.

{five things xii}

- one -

I seriously woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

For a good two hours this morning I was grumpy and generally unpleasant to be around.  I have no idea why.  There was no cause for it.  Life is good.  And it's Friday to boot! 

Luckily, I had my Domino handy to turn my mood around.  There's nothing quite like the unpretentious enthusiasm of a dog to make you feel absolutely ridiculous for not embracing the day at full throttle. 

- two -

Bryson & I had a wonderful Valentine's week.  No flowers or chocolates or anything like that-- Bryson is actually a little anti-flowers on Valentine's because it's the "expected" thing to do, coupled with the fact that all the vendors raise their prices so drastically in response to the demand.  He prefers to surprise me with flowers on random occasions, "just because."  I'm totally on board with that. 

Instead, we had take-out on Valentine's Day from our favorite local Indian restaurant after the kids were put to bed and made a fancy night at home of it. 

Then on Friday evening we went out on our big date.  Bryson made reservations at Caffé Molise in downtown SLC, which is an amazing regional Italian restaurant.  The food was absolutely fantastic and the live jazz was wonderful as well. 

Afterward we walked the half block from the restaurant to Abravanel Hall to enjoy the Utah Symphony's performance of Beethoven's 4th Symphony and Rachmaninoff's 2nd Piano Concerto.  The Rach. 2 is one of my all-time favorites.  Although I must say that every time I listen to Rachmaninoff in general I feel a great need to practice the piano more often!  I can only dream to play like that. 

Classical music is so breathtaking live-- my favorite thing is the way the warmth of the lower strings (the cello and bass) wrap around you like a musical embrace.  Beethoven's 4th is a wonderful representative of that.  It's something completely lost when you listen to a recording.

I love that even though Bryson is utterly tone deaf and not particularly musically inclined, he loves going to the symphony.  Rock concerts and the like he could take or leave, but listening to a live orchestra is something he thoroughly enjoys.  I married well.

Thanks for a perfect evening, B.  I love you.  

- three -

Apparently, Monday was a Very Special Day.

It was Sheepie's 5th birthday.
(According to Reilly.)

There was a big to-do around here.
Taylor and Reilly spent the greater part of the afternoon getting everything ready.

Presents, party hats, colorful decorations.
Sheepie even had a party dress.

It's moments like these that I soak up, realizing that before I know it, the little sheep-toting Reilly that I know right now will be all grown up.

These are the moments I will miss so much.
Happy Birthday, Sheepie.

- four -

I had my 20-week ultrasound last Friday as well.
I was a little nervous going in, because I haven't felt much movement-- and after delivering four babies, I typically feel movement earlier and more frequently by this point than I have with this pregnancy.  With the ultrasound we learned that the reason for this is that the placenta is lying anterior to the baby, basically putting another barrier between him and my ability to feel movement.  Everything looks just fine, and that is a tremendous relief.

And, yes, it is a boy!!!!

To be honest, it really wasn't much of a surprise...  Even before we started trying for this pregnancy both Bryson and I had the strongest feeling that it was a little boy that would soon be joining our family.

We are so thrilled.
Well, everyone is-- except for Reilly.
She is a bit disheartened that the girls in our family are soon to be outnumbered.
She brightened up a bit, however, when I reminded her how much she loves the brothers she has now. 

- five -

This Sunday I am teaching a lesson in Relief Society based on Elder Andersen's Conference address on children.

It was my favorite discourse from our most recent General Conference.  I think it is an important talk, with so much that is timely and worth thoughtful consideration.  When I received the assignment, I was really excited.  Now after several weeks of careful study, I am struggling a bit.

In our ward there are women of all backgrounds and situations-- some that have never married, some that have not been able to have children, some that have not been able to have the number of children that they have wanted to have for various reasons.  I fear that there might even be a few that may take offense to the idea that motherhood and having children is a true blessing and an ennobling calling.  It seems that our LDS culture has shifted away from large families.  I've been hearing a lot that for many modern Mormon moms "three is the new six."

Now, I know family size is a deeply personal matter between spouses and the Lord.  The number of children a couple has is most definitely not an accurate measure of how righteous they are.  But I wonder at some of those flippant comments when I hear them.

I know that the Spirit will help guide me as I sort through my lesson material. I'd love to hear any thoughts you might have on the subject as well.  I know there are minds out there that are infinitely superior to mine.  :)

• • •

Those are my five things for Friday!
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

The Loves of Her Life

Before sending her off to her afternoon kindergarten class, Reilly and I spent some time completing some schoolwork she had been assigned.  In recognition of Valentine's Day, she was asked to draw pictures of things that she loved on one of her workbook pages.

She didn't even have to think about what she would draw to begin with.  

"Sheepie!"  She exclaimed, happily drawing her favorite little grey friend.

Carefully labeling her drawing, she went to turn the page to start the next assignment.

I stopped her before she continued on.

Isn't there anything else that you love?

She looked back at me blankly.  "Like what?"

"Well," I elaborated, "what about your family?  Don't you love your family?"

Suddenly the light went on, as she realized that the assignment could also include people and not just things.

She looked at me aghast.
"Of course I love my family!  I don't love Sheepie as much as I love God and my family!"

She quickly amended her original drawing.
 

Her simple faith, full of trust and love for her Heavenly Father inspires me to do the same.

Just as little children trust, each of us must have that same childlike, unreserved trust. We must all remember that we are sons and daughters of God and that He loves us very much. If we truly understand who we are, we will have an unfailing source of hope and comfort.

- Elder W. Craig Zwick, "The Lord Thy God Will Hold Thy Hand," Oct. 2003 Conference Report. 

Thanks for the reminder, Ry.

Of Such is the Kingdom of God

Have you ever had one of those days when you just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep off the stresses and exhaustion of the preceding hours?

A few weeks ago, I had one of those days.
And playing the tired, pregnant mommy card, I did just exactly that.

So very tired, and so very worn down, I climbed under my covers much earlier than normal.
Fighting a bad cold, tending to the affairs of the day, and taking care of three ailing children had simply run me into the ground physically and emotionally.

Dishes were piled in the sink, and my living room was positively smothered by mountains of unfolded laundry.  It felt as though I would never be able to catch up on all the mundane chores I had to do, much less anything else.

I wanted to lay down and sleep until the world seemed right again.
As it happened, however, my brief moment of rest was interrupted by a small voice at my bedroom door.

"Mom?"

I rolled over reluctantly, to Taylor's searching gaze.  Bryson stood behind him, grinning ear to ear.

Yes?

"Come with me, I have something to show you."

Seeing Bryson's encouraging nod, I decided I had better get over myself and go see what it was that Taylor had to show me.  Taking my hand in his own little one, he led me into the living room.  At first, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at.  Then it became crystal clear.  With tears in my eyes, I saw that my little boy had meticulously sorted and folded all the laundry all on his own-- in his very best, albeit rumpled six-year-old way. 

As I hugged him close and let my emotions tumble loose, I told him how grateful I was to him and how special his act of service was to me.  To my complete surprise, I saw that Taylor was in tears as well.

"I knew you weren't feeling well, so I wanted to do something to help you...  Oh, Mom," he exclaimed, "I just love you so much!" 

Over the past couple of months I have reflected on his little gift to me in a moment of difficulty often.

Taylor didn't need an assignment or some other reason to feel compelled to help.  He simply saw a need and acted out of love.

Speaking of our Savior, Elder José L. Alonso of the Seventy has remarked:

His was a life of service.  When we serve our neighbor, we help those in need.  In the process we may find solutions to our own difficulties.  As we emulate the Savior, we show our love to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and we become more like Them.

King Benjamin spoke of the value of service, saying that when we are "in the service of [our] fellow beings [we] are only in the service of [our] God."  (See Mosiah 2:17) Everyone has opportunities to give service and show love.

Each day we have the opportunity to give help and service-- doing the right thing at the right time, without delay. 
("Doing the Right Thing at the Right Time without Delay," Oct. 2011 Conference Report)

One of my favorite examples of service found in the Book of Mormon takes place when the Savior appears to the people of Bountiful after His resurrection.  Elder Alonso also refers to this event in his address, explaining that through His actions, the Savior gave us a wonderful example about not waiting to lend service to others when a need is evident:

Having taught the people, [the Savior] saw that they were unable to understand all His words.  He invited them to go to their homes and ponder the things that He had said to them.  He told them to pray to the Father and prepare themselves to come again on the morrow, when He would return to teach them.  

As He concluded, He looked upon the multitude and saw them weeping, for they longed for Him to stay with them.

"And he said unto them: Behold, my bowels are filled with compassion toward you.

"Have ye any that are sick among you?  Bring them hither.  Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt... or that are afflicted in any manner?  Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion on you; my bowels are filled with mercy." (see 3 Ne. 17)

And they brought their sick to Him, and He healed them.  The multitude bowed down at His feet and worshiped Him and kissed His feet, "insomuch that they did bathe his feet with their tears."  Then he commanded them that their little children should be brought, and He blessed them one by one.  That is the model the Savior has given us.  His love is for all, but He never loses sight of the one.   

Jesus never does things out of obligation.  He serves because He loves, pure and simple.  He doesn't do the bare minimum, just so He can feel good about His token effort.  He sees a need and is moved to fill that need because of His innate compassion for us all. 

I stand in amazement when I consider His singular example to us all.

An example that my six-year-old boy reminded me of through his small act of love, freely given with all the compassion in his little heart.

• • •

This post is part of a blog hop hosted by the Book of Mormon Forum!

Six, Going on Sixteen

My firstborn is a bit of a challenge.
Half sweetness and compassion and the other half stubbornness and intensity, each day never fails to present a new adventure.

I am often overwhelmed with love and exasperation for this young boy.
Mostly love.  But exasperation, frequently.

Over the past week we have been trying to teach Taylor the importance of being respectful and courteous to everyone, even when we are upset or having a bad day.

He had a bad day at school last week.
A Really Bad Day.

After a phone conversation with his wonderful and patient school teacher last Friday, I was so very disheartened and disappointed in the poor choices he had demonstrated in his class.  For such a generally good, kind, smart boy, these somewhat infrequent bouts of rebellion and testing his limits always bring me back to reevaluate what lessons we are striving to teach him as parents.  It is a fine line between encouraging his natural determination and preventing it from blossoming into bull headed obstinacy. 

Forget toes, this boy keeps me on my knees.

Over the weekend I lost a lot of sleep as I tried to discern what I could be doing better as a parent.  Taylor's mood swung back and forth between remorse for his actions and indignation for what he believed to be an unfair assessment of his behavior.  The fact that he had some favorite privileges revoked as punishment only added to his discontent.

I did my best to stay calm and firm in my resolve.
You see, I can be awfully determined too.

By Sunday morning he had become much more contrite, but I was still wound up pretty tightly.  I was in a foul temper and still discouraged by the events of the last few days.  I was feeling inadequate as a mother and impatient with myself and those around me.  Needless to say, the rush to get ready for church by nine did not go well.  We arrived after Sacrament Meeting, just in time to get Taylor to Primary where he was assigned to give a talk on Jesus' disciples, and how they were blessed for following the Savior.

I hustled Taylor and Reilly into the Primary room and quickly went to hang up coats.  Bryson, who had been away at stake meetings that morning, met me in the hall and whisked the twins off to Nursery.

As I turned to return to help Taylor with his talk, I could faintly hear his voice in the distance.

I was too late.
He had already started.

I stepped into the room and stood at the back, and listened as he delivered his talk with only the slightest bit of help from the counselor in the Primary presidency who stood by his side in my stead.  He read the words we had typed out together with conviction and clarity.  At once, my frustration and anger disappeared.  Pure love was all that remained. 

Silently I prayed, thanking God for the gift that this special boy was in my life and repenting for my weakness and shortcomings as a parent. 

Sitting in Gospel Doctrine class, I listened to the verses being discussed and my heart resonated with the message that was imparted from one of my most favorite passages in all of sacred writ.

Nevertheless, not withstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth:  O wretched man that I am!  Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.  
I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins that do so easily beset me.

And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless I know in whom I have trusted.

My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.

He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.
(2 Ne. 4:17-21)  

I was filled with His love, and an enormous amount of humility.

All of these little experiences of the weekend led to what I consider a "perfect storm" of keyed up emotions.  As Gospel Doctrine ended and Relief Society began, and we discussed various testimonies of our Savior as the Living God, I sat feeling overwhelmed with His love and my love for my family.  I was on the verge of tears nearly the entire hour.  I was kind of a wreck.

As she closed her lesson, our teacher said that she wanted to share three testimonies of the Savior that meant a great deal to her.  The first was the testimony of her father-- a family treasure with great personal meaning.  The second was the final testimony of Elder Bruce R. McConkie, given in General Conference just weeks before he passed away:

And now, as pertaining to this perfect atonement, wrought by the shedding of the blood of God—I testify that it took place in Gethsemane and at Golgotha, and as pertaining to Jesus Christ, I testify that he is the Son of the Living God and was crucified for the sins of the world. He is our Lord, our God, and our King. This I know of myself independent of any other person.

I am one of his witnesses, and in a coming day I shall feel the nail marks in his hands and in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears.

But I shall not know any better then than I know now that he is God’s Almighty Son, that he is our Savior and Redeemer, and that salvation comes in and through his atoning blood and in no other way.  ("The Purifying Power of Gethsemane," April 1985 Conference Report)

And after this powerful testimony of Elder McConkie-- right when you didn't think the testimonies could get much more moving, she shared her third and final testimony.

They were the words of a six-year-old boy.

My Taylor.

The Gospel is true.  I'm trying to be good.  I believe Jesus lives and that He helps us.

You better believe that those tears that had been forcibly held back the entire hour came spilling out.  In gushes.  My face turned bright red as I pleaded with myself not to go into The Ugly Cry.  I wasn't very successful.

Afterward, I went home and talked to Bryson about the entire experience. 

"I feel like such a hypocrite," I explained.  "Everyone was looking at me like I am such a good example of a good mother raising a good son.  I'm SO not!  I don't deserve to be put up on some pedestal.  I don't even deserve a stepping stool!"

Of course, he was able to put things back into perspective.  He always does.

Nobody is perfect, Tiff. 

Nobody.  

He looked directly into my eyes. 

You need to give yourself some credit.  Yes, Taylor can be headstrong and he makes mistakes.  But he is also a good, smart, and faith-filled kid.  And you have much to do with that.

Maybe there was a little truth to that.

Regardless, I find that my little boy teaches me so much more than I feel I teach him.

Hopefully he learns a few things from me too. 

Going into his room at night to tuck him in, I took a moment to just gaze at him in wonder.

I wonder how I got so lucky to be entrusted with such a remarkable spirit.
I wonder how on earth I will ever live up to being to the mother he needs and deserves.

Parenthood.  It truly is a marvelous work and a wonder.

An Unexpected Romance

In the late months of 1999, while the world was busy worrying about the impending computer apocalypse, I was preparing myself for a complete overhaul of my own life's trajectory.  After several semesters of study at BYU, I had made the difficult decision to change majors-- and schools-- to a program that was only offered at Utah State.

This was a move that took me completely out of my comfort zone.  I am definitely not a creature that craves change, and here I was leaving the familiar for a step in the dark.  But after some difficult and trying times in Provo-- including an on-again-off-again battle with crippling depression-- I was ready for a new chapter.

And so it was that while I was unpacking my things into my new dorm room, alone on a cold January day, two boys walked into my apartment looking for my roommates.  One of the two struck me as decidedly off-putting.  Shaved head.  Goatee.  In fact, he hardly spoke more than a couple of words directly to me before withdrawing completely from the conversation.  Bryson.  Let's just say our first meeting was not what you might describe as auspicious.  He was rough, reserved, and estranged from anything spiritually related.  I was doubtful that we would ever become friends, much less anything more.

But we did become friends.

At first it was little more than a back-and-forth banter that was certain to arise every time we were in the same room together.  Over time, however, the banter became warmer and a bit more playful as we began to understand one another better.

He discovered that I wasn't just some self-righteous Zoobie out to judge him by appearances.
I discovered that his rough demeanor was merely a defense mechanism built up over time, due to a life full of what can mildly be called "hard knocks."

Walls that had been meticulously crafted began to open up and crumble.

Our friendship continued to deepen after I had my heart broken, beaten, and shattered by a boy I thought I was going to marry.  Ironically, that person had appeared to be perfect for me in every way.

Appearances can be so terribly deceiving.

But I found a listening ear in Bryson.  I opened my heart to him, sharing hopes and fears with him that I hadn't dared speak to anyone else.  I told him of my dark battles with depression, of my spiritual struggles.  He confided in me about his past-- heart-wrenching experiences, that brought a whole new level of understanding to my eyes.  He became my best friend.  He was my confidant, my comfort, my rock.

And then one night he kissed me.

You would think that this might be a good thing, but the next morning I woke up slightly panic-stricken.

This had not been the plan.  I did not want to ruin a perfectly good friendship with the complications of a rebound romance.  After all, that's all it was, wasn't it?  That's what all my friends thought, anyway.  On the surface, we seemed such polar opposites that our relationship was most certainly doomed.  It would never work.  That's what people said.

But Bryson knew better.
He knew long before I did.
Thank heavens he is a patient man.

And over the course of time, I watched as he transformed before my eyes.  The jaded and cynical person I had first met simply didn't exist anymore.  The real Bryson, sincere and compassionate, emerged.  A deeply personal spiritual experience restored his faith in a loving God.  There was a light that returned to his eyes.

We grew closer and closer over time, and he never gave up on me.  It wasn't until he left to work a summer job in Moab, many hours away, that I felt his loss acutely.  I began to recognize my feelings for what they were.  And on a day trip to Arches National Park that summer with him, I finally admitted to myself that I was hopelessly in love.

Absolutely hopeless.

After that summer apart, there were few moments that we weren't together.  I discovered what it was like to truly love and be loved in return.  He flew out to Chicago to visit me.  We saw the sights of the city, and traveled to Nauvoo with my family.  And soon after, on a beautiful evening in late September at the old amphitheater on Old Main Hill, Bryson proposed.  Cradled in the shadow of the Utah State campus where we had first met; with the beauty of the Logan Temple and the Wellsville Mountains before us.  It couldn't have been more perfect.     

We were married on a blustery spring morning in the Chicago Temple nearly ten years ago.  And, as most good love stories end, we have lived happily ever after.  Which is not to say that everything in our lives has been perfect.  It hasn't.  We have had our share of trials and difficulties.  But through it all, our love for one another has never been in question.  And it, along with our faith, has always seen us through.

That's the wonderful thing about marrying your best friend.

Through thick and thin, our love has only continued to grow for one another.  Not a day goes by that I don't stop and express my gratitude to God that our paths were led to one another on that cold January day so long ago.  And how the journey we have taken together has shaped and molded us into the people we are today. 

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'' 

- Robert Browning

Here's to the next ten years, and beyond.

I adore you, Bryson.

 

• • •

This post is part of a Wordfull Wednesday link-up hosted by Chocolate on my Cranium!

What is your love story?  Share it with us and link up your post!

{five things xi}

- one -

Another week, another trip to the doctor's office.  I've started to wonder if we should just change our direct deposit so Bryson's paycheck can just go straight to the pediatrician's office.  This time we had to have an abdominal film taken for our little Logan.  Poor little guy is having all sorts of tummy trouble and has been in a great deal of pain.  Thankfully nothing serious is wrong, but he has to be on medication for the next couple of weeks.  So far, he is not a fan.

However, the good news is that the doctor was able to do a follow-up in the same appointment on Friday with Danika and see how her finger is healing up after Sunday's trauma-- and everything looks great.  There is no damage to the joints in her finger, and no signs of infection under the nail where the laceration occurred.  Just 3-4 more weeks of wearing her splint, and she should be good to go. 

It's been an exhausting 2012 so far, but we're hanging in there.

Now that we've conquered January, I feel like we can handle whatever comes our way.

I want to say, "February, do your worst!" but perhaps that isn't the best idea.  No, probably not.

- two -

Do you think God inspires radio disc jockeys?  I think that sometimes he must.

I love music.  All types.  However, I find myself drawn more and more to the great classics.  The dial on my car's radio is usually set to the local classical station.  In particular, I find the sacred choral music written by Vivaldi especially moving.  A couple of Sundays ago, I was feeling especially drained and run down, and when I got in the car one of my most favorite pieces began to play over the airwaves.  In that moment, it felt like a very warm-- and very real-- Providential hug.

The piece is Gloria in D. 

I hope it fills you with the same sense of joy and peace as it does me.

Whenever I hear those opening notes by the strings, my heart swoons.

And since I'm on the subject of Vivaldi, here is another work of his that sends my soul heavenward.  It may very well be my most favorite piece of music of all time, across all genres.  It is an aria from the sacred motet, Nulla in Mundo Pax Sincera.

I'm thankful for inspired composers and musicians (and DJ's, haha!) that bring a touch more beauty to this world.

- three -

We have a superhero in our midst.

Lately one of Dani's favorite things is to wear her blanket like a cape and trounce around in my black cowboy boots.  They go clear up to the tops of her thighs, which makes walking an interesting experience for her to say the least.  But no matter.  She will not be defeated.

It's tough work, saving the world.

- four -

On Friday night, Bryson and I watched the 2003 film made about the life of Mother Teresa. 
I highly recommend it.
While it may not be a big budget film with all the bells and whistles, it is something much greater.  It is a film that will make you stop and think.  It will cause you to reevaluate your priorities.  It may change your perspective on a lot of things in life.
That, to me, is what makes a truly great film.

- five -

Today Taylor bore his testimony in Sacrament Meeting.

He does this often.
(Waaaaay more often than his mom.)

What I love most about Taylor's testimonies is that they always come from the heart.  He doesn't get up and say the same things over and over in an endless repetition each month.  He thinks about what he truly believes and shares his thoughts with the rest of the congregation.
I'm certain that I never ever did that at the age of six.

At one point he shared, "I believe that Jesus lives and that He helps us."

He makes me so proud.  He makes me want to continue to learn and strengthen my own faith in return.  I often think that I learn so much more from him than he does from me!

• • •

And those are my five things for the week!

P.S. Thanks for all the words of encouragement and advice about dealing with sciatica-- I've tried some of your suggestions to great results.  :)

Slow Cooker Chicken Cordon Bleu

By request, here's our family's quick and easy version of chicken cordon bleu.  It's not nearly as fancy as the traditional version, but just as satisfying.

Apologies for the semi-unappetizing photograph...  it is a great challenge to take good pictures of food that's been cooked for hours in a slow cooker.  For this photo, I cut my serving in half to show the gooey ham and cheese center.

The original recipe calls for a can of condensed cream of mushroom soup.  I'm not a huge fan of condensed soups and their long lists of unpronounceable ingredients, but as I do have a stockpile in my basement's food storage, that's what I'm working with until it's gone.  If you're like me and would like a substitute for that particular ingredient, here's a recipe I discovered on Pinterest that I'm looking forward to trying. 

I usually serve this on top of a blend of brown and wild rice.  It sets off the dish nicely and allows you to enjoy all of the yummy sauce.  I hope your family enjoys it as much as mine does!

Slow Cooker Chicken Cordon Bleu

6 boneless-skinless chicken breasts
6 thin slices cooked ham (either leftover ham sliced really thinly, or a couple of slices of deli ham per chicken)
6 slices Swiss cheese
10 3/4 oz. can cream of mushroom soup
1/4 c. milk
sea salt
pepper
herbes de Provence
dried parsley

1.  Place each chicken breast in a plastic ziplock bag, or between two sheets of plastic wrap.  Pound to flatten.
2.  Top each with sliced ham and Swiss cheese; roll up so ham and cheese is enclosed within the chicken.  Secure with two toothpicks.
3.  Arrange chicken portions in a slow cooker, sprinkle salt, pepper and other herbs to taste.
4.  Mix soup and milk; pour over chicken.
5.  Cover and cook on low setting for 4 to 6 hours, until chicken is cooked through.
6.  To serve, remove toothpicks and arrange potions on plates; spoon sauce over the top.

Yield:  6 servings
Recipe adapted from Gooseberry Patch.