Precious Moments

Yesterday I posted a little about my friend Saundra's observation that Logan was a living breathing replica of a Precious Moments doll.  I've always thought he was adorable, but never had made that comparison in my mind.  (Perhaps due to the fact that I've never really been a big fan or collector of them.)  Last night, however, I took some pictures of my little Logan and had a good chuckle over the similarity.

He really is a doll.
Inside and out.

{five things xvi}

 - one -

I looked out the window this morning and what did I see?

Apparently my apricot trees decided to freely ignore the advice I have been giving them the for last several weeks.  I warned them that it was way too early to start blooming... that a late spring squall was likely eminent... 

Clearly they didn't get the message.

Here's hoping they know better than me.

- two -

One of my favorite people on earth was at Harvard this past week to speak on the basics of Latter-Day Saint beliefs.  If you've ever wondered what all the hoopla and fuss is about-- it seems like every day there's a new (and usually distorted) story in the media-- you couldn't do much better than to learn about our beliefs from Jeffrey R. Holland.

Love him.
I would have loved to be there for the question and answer session afterward... I'm sure that would have been fascinating.

- three -

My doctor's appointment on Monday went well.  I brought up my concerns about my previous pregnancies and the swelling I had been experiencing, and he validated everything I'd been feeling. 

The fact that I'm swelling like this so soon in the pregnancy isn't particularly promising, but we'll keep hoping for the best.  At this point, we're just going to start monitoring my blood pressure a little more closely and I will stay aware of how my daily activities effect the swelling and my general well being.  

In other news, I am totally on board with Heather's potato chip remedy to combat pregnancy-induced swelling.

So far I haven't seen a difference, but I figure you need to give it at least a few weeks to see results, right?  ;)

- four -

The Trayvon Martin story in the news lately has been breaking my heart.  The more information that comes out in the case makes me more and more disheartened.  The fact that a neighborhood watchman could pursue an unarmed 17-year-old boy (who was carrying only Skittles and an iced tea), gun him down, and then claim self defense...  I don't know.  I hate that things like this happen in America.

Despite the fact that I am a lot more liberal than most of my neighbors here in the Beehive State (and much more conservative than many of my friends back in the Land of Lincoln), I do believe in gun rights.
When there was a true case of self-defense just recently in a neighboring community, where a home owner shot a man who was committing a home invasion robbery and attempting to kidnap him and his wife, I was completely supportive of his actions.  I do believe that we should have the right to defend ourselves and our loved ones.

But to open fire on a young boy because he "looked suspicious?"  What exactly is that supposed to mean?  That he was black and wearing a hoodie?  I really hope not.  But the way the facts are coming out...
My heart just breaks for his family.

- five -

Last week in church one of my good friends in our congregation made a comment about how cute the twins were.  She remarked on how beautiful Dani is, and then told me that she thought Logan looked just like one of those Precious Moments dolls.

I was a little amused at her observation...  I've never really been a huge fan of them myself, but when I started looking at pictures of them and Logan...
Maybe I'll have to rethink that.

He is pretty cute.

• • •

And those are my five things for Friday!
Best wishes for a wonderful spring weekend.
♥

Vulnerable

I've been thinking a lot about the post I wrote yesterday.

It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to compose.  I am still unsure as to why I needed to get all that out there, but at the time I simply couldn't shake the strong feeling that I needed to write about my personal struggles with turning something so horribly dark over toward God's light.  Maybe it was just for myself, maybe it was for someone else.  I don't know.

But this morning I am feeling completely vulnerable.  Like this tree I photographed in Bryce Canyon several months ago-- I feel as though my roots are all exposed and available for everyone's scrutiny. 

It's a funny thing, this blog.

I have always been a writer.
I can remember in elementary school relishing the moment when my parents gave in to my pleadings to buy me some blank books to write in.  I filled those pages with stories and musings that I'm sure would make me chuckle (and roll my eyes, most likely!) to read them today.  I don't know that I even still have them in my possession.  But the desire, the urge to write and express my deepest personal thoughts into something tangible, permanent-- it's always been with me.

In high school and college I started composing poetry and writing compulsively in my journal.
After I married and started having children, finding time to write regularly became a priority delegated toward the bottom of the list.  And after a while, it just didn't happen anymore.  But time continued its march forward, and I started to become keenly aware of the slipping moments disappearing from memory.

To this writer, that was a tragedy.
So today, I am writing again.

I love all the wonderful, beautiful people I have met through this strange medium we call the internet.  I consider them friends, even though most of us have never met in person.  Many of us live thousands of miles apart, some on completely different continents.  Yet there are ties that connect us all.  For all the differences which seem to polarize and separate humanity in this world, I believe that deep down, there is more that binds us together than tears us apart.  Because when it comes right down to it, we are all brothers and sisters, and we have much more in common that we probably realize.  

And in many ways, my story probably isn't much different than so many others.  I really don't consider myself to be anything exceptional.  But for whatever reason, I feel compelled to share these thoughts and reflections that sometimes pour from my mind without much warning or regard for how I'll feel about them afterward.   

I hope they are received well.

Particularly by my most important audience:
My children.

Because really, that's who these words, musings, ramblings are truly written for.  Everything I write, every photograph I take, every testimony I bear is given with them foremost in my mind.  I hope someday they will find some value in these things.  That someday my words might help them, comfort them, encourage them. 

It is for them that I choose to make myself vulnerable. Transparent.

This is a crazy, beautiful, tumultuous, wonderful life we are living together.  The moments pass us by so swiftly, and I am grateful for each day given to me to learn, grow, and improve.  It is a beautiful thing. 

Darkness to Light

When your childhood and youth are spent living a somewhat charmed existence, often the darker and uglier side of life isn’t even on your radar.

Things like

ABUSE

and

MOLESTATION

and

RAPE.

These ugly words were absolutely foreign to me.  I had no comprehension of what they even meant as I grew up in a loving home environment.

When you discover that these horrors were actually the reality for a loved one during those same tender years, however, your entire world changes in the blink of an eye. 

Their pain suddenly becomes your pain.

Their betrayal quickly becomes your betrayal.

Your reality becomes filled with

OUTRAGE

and

SORROW

and unequivocal

FURY.

Your faith in an all-powerful, all-loving Father in Heaven is questioned.  Resentment toward those who neglected to protect the innocence of a young child festers.  You begin to close ranks as trust in your fellow man utterly dissipates with the wind.  

Not too many years ago this became my reality.   

How do you move on when confronted head on by an unspeakable crime?

How do you help your loved one work through the unimaginable pain and betrayal that only a victim can truly understand?

How do you find faith or peace when you find yourself in such a dark place?

As with most things in life, the answer is always

LOVE.

For us specifically, it was to cry out as Bartimaeus, the blind man along the road from Jericho:

'Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me.'

And many charged him that he should hold his peace: but he cried the more a great deal, 'Thou son of David, have mercy on me.'   (Mark 10:47-48, emphasis added)

For us, the only option was to let go of the anger and grab hold to the yoke of Christ.
To listen to and trust in the still small voice.
To cling to one another in His boundless grace.

I'm fairly certain that to do anything less would have torn us apart.

No matter our circumstance or position in life, trials and tragedy will come knocking sooner or later.  No one is immune from sorrow and suffering.

But this I have learned for sure:
We are not alone in our anguish.

I recall a priesthood blessing I received during one of the more difficult moments in my life, and vividly remember the words directed by the promptings of the Holy Ghost which stated that our Father in Heaven is pained to see us in pain.  That He grieves to see us in the midst of grief.  I know that is true.

I also know that if we will turn away from the darkness which so often surrounds us, that His light can lift us to greater heights.  We can emerge from tragedy stronger and with greater empathy and understanding.  It does not please God to see his children abused and made to suffer.  But if we let Him, He can turn even the darkest nights into a beautiful sunrise.  His grace is sufficient for all.

There is peace to be found in the words of our Savior:

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace.  In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.  (John 16:33)

When the storms of life catch us off guard, and we find ourselves crying out as did the apostles of old, "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" -- if we can just hold on to the smallest shred of faith and trust in Him whose children we are, He can bring peace to our souls.

And through that peace, we are forever changed.

• • •

If you or someone you love suffers from the horrors of sexual abuse, I highly recommend reading this discourse given by Sister Chieko Okazaki at BYU in 2002.

My love and prayers go with you.

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

Have you ever had an event in your life occur that challenged you to adjust to your circumstance?

Post your experience and link up with us.

{five things xv}

- one -

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

We love celebrating St. Patrick's Day here at our house.  Bryson has Irish ancestry running through his veins, and Reilly takes her name from that side of the family.  It's rather appropriate that she's the child that ended up with freckles and strawberry highlights.  I myself don't have any Irish blood (at least as far as my exhaustive research on Family Search has shown), but I do come from the land where St. Patrick's Day is a Very Big Deal.  I mean, we even dye the river green every year.

Since most of our family is busy helping with the stake road show tonight, we're having our big dinner tomorrow.   We're having our traditional "uncorned" beef and cabbage, which is a more healthful version of the more common dish from Martha Stewart Living.  (I substitute ginger ale & a little beef broth for the beer in the recipe.)  Served with mashed potatoes, it is seriously yummy.

Then for dessert we're trying out a new recipe for mint-chip ice cream brownies from Our Best Bites, which looks absolutely divine.

In honor of the day, here's an Irish prayer I love:

May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

- two-

We had Reilly's consultation up at Primary Children's Medical Center on Thursday.

It went really well.  The short version of the story is that while her reflux is getting all the way into her left kidney that thankfully there is no damage so far.  Given the severity of her reflux, she falls into the statistical group of which 80% will outgrow the condition within five years.  So at this juncture, she will have to be on several medications and have annual checkups and tests done at Primary Children's until that happens.  If she continues to get infections despite the medication or fails to outgrow the reflux, then we will be looking at surgical options.  Hopefully that won't have to happen, though.

As a side note, can I just say how impressed I was with Primary Children's?  I realize that it is a nationally renowned hospital, but I was really taken with how keyed in to taking care of the whole child they are there.  I am very grateful to have such amazing care for our little girl within relatively close proximity to our home.

- three -

Today I'm 24 weeks along with this pregnancy.

I had about a month where I was feeling really great, but the last couple of weeks have been pretty rough.

I started throwing up again, this time in the mornings (the first 20 weeks it was evenings!), which of course has been super fun.  I've started swelling up considerably already too.  I had to take my wedding band off a few weeks ago.  I wake up with my hands very swollen, and go to bed with my feet and legs all puffy.  So far my blood pressure has been fine, but it's still 25 points above what it normally is.

Apparently my body only likes it when I grow babies in pairs.

I'm glad I have my next doctor's appointment on Monday. 

- four -

Last Saturday we satisfied my garden fever and put the cool weather crops in our raised beds.

I went through our seed stash from previous years to see what might still be viable, and planted all the seeds right into the ground.  Usually I grow our broccoli and cauliflower indoors and transplant out with the warm weather crops, but figured this year was as good as ever to experiment.  If it doesn't work out, it's not too big a deal this year since a smaller garden is probably better for us with the baby coming anyway.

- five -

I've really enjoyed reading all of the celebratory posts in blogdom in honor of the Relief Society's 170th anniversary.

I think my favorite was Misty's tribute over at J & M Ranch.  If you get a chance, you'll have to take a peek.

Some of my favorite thoughts on Relief Society come from Sister Julie B. Beck's address from the 2011 Women's Conference:

The purposes of Relief Society, as determined by the Lord, are to help us increase faith and personal righteousness, strengthen families and homes, and seek out and help those who are in need. That’s why we exist. The outcome is that we will improve women individually and as a whole and prepare for eternal life; that we will build the Lord’s kingdom and homes and wards.
We’re not entertainers. This is the Lord’s business of salvation. That’s the business we’re in. So we teach like the Savior taught, and we teach, and we teach, and we build the Lord’s kingdom. This isn’t about causes or advocacy groups, because we have an advocate. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, is our advocate with the Father. And we stand with Him, doing His work, working for His great cause...  This is not a passé, worn-out organization. It is in its ascendancy.

I couldn't agree more.

• • •

Those are my five things for the week!
Best wishes, everyone! Have a wonderful weekend.
♥

Junior Executive

...Tie! ... Tie! ... Tie! ...

Apparently Dani and Reilly are not the only ones within our household who know how to make a fashion statement.

First thing every morning-- often before he asks for so much as a cup of milk-- Logan approaches us with his favorite must-have accessory: his clip-on tie.

It doesn't matter if he's still in his pajamas, wearing a T-shirt, or getting ready for church-- the tie goes with it all.

Just last week I heard on the radio that a time capsule was recently discovered in the old Crandall building in downtown Salt Lake City.  Inside were letters written in the late 1950's by prominent business and civic leaders in the community with their predictions of what the future would hold in the next century.  One such prediction foretold the happily-anticipated demise of the men's neck tie.

I'm sorry to inform that good gentleman that it simply isn't to be.
Not if Logan has anything to do with it.

Look out world, he's ready to take you by storm.

Who are these Children Coming Down?

The day had been long and my bed had been beckoning.
Alone last Thursday evening, I had wrestled the four little munchkins to bed while Bryson was away on a church assignment.
They all had seemed to have energy in spades.
I...  Well, I was not so fortunate.

The moment when I finally slipped between my clean white sheets and embraced my pillow like a long lost friend was complete and utter bliss.
My welcoming room was quiet, dark, and ever-so-relaxing. 

Almost at that same moment I saw the silhouette in my doorway and heard the tentative voice call out.

Mom?

Suppressing a groan, I lifted my head to get a better look at Taylor, who was peering back at me in the darkness.

After all the effort it had taken to finally get the kids in bed, it was difficult to not feel exasperated.  But in a moment of uncharacteristic clarity, something told me that it really wasn't the time or place for that.  Instead I beckoned him to me, patting the empty space in bed beside me and asked him what the matter was.

I was expecting stalling tactics for going back to bed.
That's absolutely what I was expecting.
And I was absolutely wrong.

For the next fifteen to twenty minutes straight, Taylor poured his little heart out to me.
He told me about misunderstandings with his friends that were troubling him.  Choices that those around him were making that he found to be upsetting.  Worries he had about Reilly's ongoing health concerns.

As I sat and listened to him, it seemed as though I was seeing him again for the very first time.   
Time stood still for a brief moment and then wrapped around itself.

Watching him quietly, I saw him first as my tiny babe in arms, my treasured firstborn.

Then suddenly as I looked into his eyes, I caught a glimpse of the man he will soon be.  All grown up, strong and thoughtful, much like his daddy.

And yet, almost within that same split second I returned to the moment at hand, sitting in my darkened bedroom, holding the hand of my six-year-old boy.

The two of us had a great conversation that night, and I tried my best to help talk him through some of his concerns and fears.  I sincerely hope that I helped him in some small way to feel secure and loved in a world that can often be uncertain.

But as for myself, that night left me forever changed.

This work we are doing as mothers is no small thing.
Yes, the days can often be long and mundane at times, but still the fact remains.
These are no small souls we are raising.
These little ones that have been sent into our homes possess an infinite and almost incomprehensible worth.
Children of a King, with such promise and potential.

Yes, truly this work is no small thing.

{five things xiv}

- one -

Taylor came home from school a couple of days ago with a quarter taped to a note card.  When I asked him about it, he told me that he had found it in the school atrium a few weeks ago and had been concerned about the student that lost it, so he turned it in to his teacher.

They gave it to the school office, which held on to it in case someone came looking for it.  When it was never claimed, they returned it to Taylor.

  

Now, a quarter found on the ground may not seem like a lot to you or me, but for Taylor it is some serious coin.  I was so proud of him that he would think of others before himself and turn it in.  After I told him as much and gave him a big hug and kiss he looked at me and added,

"I found a bouncy ball in the hall the other day and turned that in too...  but that one they haven't given back to me yet."

I'm grateful to hear of his small acts of honesty in the moments when no one is watching.  It does a mama proud.

- two -

Work on the temple site continues to move forward, with the construction offices and other preliminary tasks being completed.

Several weeks ago they put up this big green fence surrounding the grounds, which I have affectionately christened "the Bryson barrier."

For the last few months, Bryson had enjoyed driving his work truck onto the site and getting the inside scoop from the workers -- who happen to be from a sister company.  No longer.  He is pretty bummed about it, even though we knew it was an inevitability.

Work on the temple itself is scheduled to reconvene in earnest on the 16th, according to our stake president.  It's an exciting time.

- three -

I really enjoyed this editorial from the Huffington Post this week.

Written by Kara Gebhart Uhl, it's entitled "Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago."

I love her take on how your perspective on parenting completely changes after you have children.  I know I am entirely guilty of having had a perfectionistic ideal of parenting prior to actually having children of my own.  When you are actually thrown into the throes of motherhood, however, reality hits hard. Suddenly you realize that some days just aren't going to go the way you'd like and you have to make peace with complete and utter imperfection.

I particularly enjoyed these thoughts of hers:

My day-to-day routine isn't what I envisioned it would be four years ago. Some of the things I imagine I'm judged on now are minor, others, a little more major. But mostly they are simple faults and I now know that they don't make me a bad parent. Sometimes I leave dirty diapers on the changing table. My children's socks don't always match. I forget to brush my daughter's hair. I use TV as a way to take a breather. I utilize the fast-food drive-thru. I bribe. I'm sometimes too easy. I'm sometimes too hard. I sometimes make the wrong decision, give the wrong punishment, ask too much, ask too little. But within all these minor and major faults is a singular truth: Most days, I'm doing the best I can. And I honestly believe that's a truth that can be applied to most parents: Most days, we're all doing the best we can.

- four -

Don't you just love the fashion sense of a five-year-old girl?

Reilly was able to go back to school this week, and yesterday was Grandparents' Day for their class.  My parents made the drive down from Cache Valley to attend with her this year, and Reilly wanted to be dressed to the nines for the big occasion.

This is what she came upstairs wearing.

In case you can't quite make out the entire ensemble, that's a bright teal shirt, pink/brown/white skirt, bright red and black checkered socks (with snowmen on them), and her gray Sketchers.  Oh, and her fake pearls-- keeping it classy.

It was so incredibly awesome.

If it had been a normal day here at home I probably would have let it go, but I figured a fashion intervention was probably best for our purposes that day.  Luckily, she was sufficiently impressed with my proposed modifications.

- five -

You may have heard on the news, but Oreo just celebrated its 100th birthday this week. 

Here at our house we're pretty healthy eaters-- mostly whole foods and all that.  But all six of us have a horrible weakness for the yummy sandwich cookies.

Growing up, Oreos were a way of life.  Every Saturday night we would have what my dad called "wild and crazy parties."  It was simply code for Oreo cookies and milk with the family.  To this day, it's not really a party at the Ensign house unless there are Oreos involved.

I'm pretty sure my sister could live off of them.

Happy Birthday, Oreo!
Thanks for the memories.


• • •

And those are my five things for the week!
Best wishes for a  wonderful spring weekend, everyone.

Where I'm From

I am from the wind;
from cornfields and concrete.
I am from skyscrapers and forest glens;
from limestone and steel.
I am from the lilac bush, green lawns, and duck ponds.
From the twilight of the firefly's dance and
a cricket serenade.

I'm from guitar chords and piano keys,
from goggle straps and chlorine-scented hair.
I'm from Polish sausage and Italian beef,
from blue lakes and one green river
where the sauce goes on top of the pizza
(naturally.)
from sticky summers and piercing winters.
Of snow and sleet and sun and sky.

I'm from wagon wheels
and transatlantic steam.
I'm from tear-stained faith in every footstep,
from wooden doors carved in a sacred space.
I am from blue spruces and white mountains;
from popcorn popping on the apricot tree.

My father's camera sits
on a shelf beside my own.
Memories upon memories, captured through time.
I am from the photographs, an image slowly developing
carefully
with help from the Master's hand.

• • •

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

Where are you from?

Write a poem in the style of George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From" and link up with us!

Silent Tears

Reilly with the stuffed bear she received from the hospital.

  

Her resonant cries brought silent echoes of my own.
Trying to be the strong reassuring mommy I stood close to her side, rubbing her legs softly as Bryson held her hand and gently stroked her hair away from her face.

Our promises that everything was going to be alright weren't very encouraging to Reilly in the difficult moment.

Undergoing a very uncomfortable and slightly invasive procedure for a little five-year-old girl while in the middle of a painful urinary tract infection, the entire experience was more than she could bear.  Her sobs echoed throughout the radiology wing of the hospital.

At the peak of the discomfort, Reilly looked at Bryson and pleaded through her tears, "Oh, Daddy, please make it stop!"

There was nothing I wanted more than to take her pain away.
I wanted to cradle her in my arms and make her feel safe and secure again.   
But I couldn't.

As a parent, I knew that this test was absolutely necessary to her well being.
But still, her pleas cut deeply into my heart.

Life can be full of difficult and painful experiences.  There have been times in my own life when I have found myself in the middle of a desperately bleak situation and have wanted to cry out to my Father in Heaven just as Reilly did, "Oh, Daddy, please make it stop!"

Sometimes we have to go through the heartbreaking trial anyway.
Sometimes it is absolutely necessary for our well being.

I realize-- and empathize with the fact-- that many people have difficulty in making peace with the idea of an all-loving God with the amount of suffering that is so pervasive in our world.

How could God allow such a thing to happen?

It's an all too common refrain.

But standing in the radiology wing that day with my sweet little girl, I gained an entirely new perspective.

This life is not meant to be an exercise in pleasure and constant leisure.  We are here to learn, to grow.  To gain necessary experience, which will refine the soul.  It is not an easy thing.  Many times we are placed in decidedly uncomfortable and painful situations.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell once opined:

Therefore, how can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, "Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken.  Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art!  Then let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!"
("Lest Ye Be Wearied and Faint in Your Minds," April 1991 Conference Report)
  
But just because God does not see fit to take the pain away does not mean that He is not there, cradling us in His arms with silent tears of His own.  He is always there, even in the most lonely of trials. 

When we stand shaking and alone, thinking "The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me."

He answers softly but reassuringly:

Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?  yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands...

Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains:  for the Lord hath comforted his people and will have mercy upon his afflicted.
(see Isaiah 49:13-16)

Never alone.
We are never alone.

{five things xiii}

- one -

Just when I was starting to relax a bit when it came to Reilly and her health issues of late, everything came roaring back in full force this past week.  

Wednesday morning she was looking a bit pale, so I took her temperature even though she didn't feel warm.  It was normal, but decided to keep an eye on her and had her rest rather than start getting her ready for school.  Just a couple hours later her temperature had risen above 101°.  By the time we arrived at the doctor's office a short time later it was well above 102°.

Given the serious nature of these infections and the fact that she's now been in three times in the past few months for the same thing, we had some tests done at the hospital to check for underlying issues.

After a very traumatic diagnostic procedure (for both Ry and her parents!) it was discovered that she has a condition called vesicoureteral reflux.  We are still waiting on the pediatrician's assessment as to severity, but hopefully this is something she will outgrow.  If she doesn't, or if the severity is determined to be too great a risk factor, she may have to undergo surgery.  Despite this, it is a great relief to finally have some answers.  We are thankful that we have a diagnosis and a path forward.

- two -

Thanks to everyone who left encouraging words about my lesson last week.  I was pretty certain it would all work out-- it always seems to.  This last time, though, I was overwhelmed by so many thoughts and ideas and the importance of the topic was weighing heavily on my mind.  

With everything that has been going on here lately-- coupled with my fuzzy pregnant brain-- it was a challenge to find that still small voice.  

But find me it did.

I actually went to bed the night before my lesson around nine.  I had read, studied, and pondered the material for weeks, but still hadn't felt that spiritual nudge as to where my focus needed to be.  My lesson outline remained elusive.  I was so tired, and it just wasn't coming.  So I went to bed with a prayer in my heart and my alarm set to rise early.

Around four in the morning I got up out of bed-- a series of small things continued to wake me from three o'clock on, so I decided to take it as a sign.  In the quiet of the dark and silent morning the words finally came. 

 The lesson went very well, I think. 

- three -

I had fun reading about Heather's favorite Dr. Seuss books on her Five Things post in honor of Dr. Seuss's birthday yesterday.  Our favorites are very similar-- growing up, mine were Yertle the Turtle, The Lorax, and The Sneetches.   Yertle the Turtle was one of my family's all-time favorite bedtime stories.  I can still vividly remember curling up on the bed in my parents' room and having them read that book to us.  Poor little Mack.  Each time his burp sent the tyrannical Yertle down from his lofty heights we kids would giggle and giggle.

But perhaps even more well-loved than Yertle in our family was the short story that immediately follows it in the book-- a tale about a little bird named Gertrude McFuzz.

The moral of the story-- that vanity, jealousy, and materialism can only lead you down a dangerous road have stuck with me through the years.  As I've seen our culture cultivate a pervasive attitude of entitlement, this lesson seems all the more relevant.   

- four -

The past couple of weeks I've enjoyed listening to Audrey Assad's new album Heart.

A blend of Christian contemporary and indie singer/songwriter genres, it is right up my alley.  It has been my soundtrack while I've been navigating the past difficult week.

- five -

Even though there's five inches of snow on the ground right now, I have major garden fever.

Does anyone else get that this time of year?

I always do.

This is the time of year I start planning what our garden will hold-- soon it will be time to plant peas and other frost hardy crops, and we'll start our heirloom tomato seeds under the grow lights in our basement.

I'm trying-- somewhat unsuccessfully-- to restrain myself this year, because my due date in early July is seriously going to limit my ability to cultivate and harvest this year.  I realistically know that I can't handle a large diversified garden, but I think I'm in denial about it.  I'm still poring over seed catalogs and daydreaming about new varieties.  This may be a problem. 

• • •

And those are my five things for the week!

Best wishes to all for a wonderful weekend.

♥