{ five things for friday }

- one -

I came across this picture on Pinterest the other day, and fell in love.

It absolutely captures the way I feel about myself at this moment in time.

Whenever I face regrets about past mistakes or frustrations that I'm not quite where I want to be in life, I hope to remember these words.  

Beautiful.

- two -

I taught my fourth Relief Society lesson last Sunday.

You would think that with a few months under my belt that I would be starting to feel a little bit more comfortable behind the podium.

I'm not.

I absolutely love my calling, but I still get the shakes all during Gospel Doctrine before I have to teach. Once I get up and am a few minutes into my lesson, though, I loosen up and things flow fantastically.  (Thank you, Spirit!)  I just wish I could relax a little bit more and not be so nervous prior to teaching.  Every month I come home completely emotionally drained and physically exhausted!

- three -

As a mom to two girls, I get so frustrated at the messages our culture sends out to young women.

On Facebook the other day, one of my friends posted a link to this article, which expressed outrage over the messages emblazoned on girls' tees for sale at JCPenney.

It seems like every year there's some retailer making headlines over these "message tees."  But Penney's?  Isn't that as mainstream America as you can get?

Things like this just increase my resolve to teach my girls well about their own individual and inherent worth as daughters of God.  One's worth is not dependent on their perceived physical attractiveness to the opposite sex.  Unfortunately, it appears we have quite the battle ahead of us if these types of messages continue to onslaught our girls.

- four -

Yesterday was my brother, Rob's birthday.

We've been through thick and thin together, and I don't tell him enough how much I love him.

I can't imagine life without him.

I love you, Robbie!!!
Happy Birthday!

- five -

As you might (or might not) have noticed, I've started blogging again after quite a long sabbatical.  

When I started writing, I gave myself permission to take breaks as needed so that the blog didn't become an unbalanced priority in my life.  So this year has been very sparse on the posts because I have tried to devote my attention to those who need me most-- my husband and four little munchkins.  

But I had an experience the other day, when I was trying to find a quote that I knew I had posted once upon a time.  In the process of locating it I came across story after story about my kids that I had completely forgotten about.  It almost frightened me, the little moments I had forgotten simply due to the passage of time.  These moments we have with our children are so precious, so fleeting.  

I knew that I had to start writing again-- not because of any self-gratification I might feel, but to keep a record for my children and grandchildren.  

I want them to be able to read these words and know just how loved they truly are.

And for that reason, I'm back in full force.

•••

And those are my five things for Friday!

Lunch Box Love Notes

When I was young, my mom and dad would occasionally pack little love notes in with my brown bag lunch.  Often, they were written on little bits of paper or notecards.  Sometimes-- usually from my dad-- they were written directly onto the brown paper bag itself in thick black permanent marker.  This continued throughout my school years-- even high school.  I probably feigned embarrassment as a teenager, but even then I secretly adored every hand-penned sentiment.

So, as Taylor began his first year of full day school, I decided to follow suit.  I wrote a quick little note with a red colored pencil-- his favorite color-- telling him how proud I was of him, how much I loved him, and reminding him to make good choices while he was at school.  I stuck it in his lunch box without a word, and off he went for his full day.

That afternoon upon his arrival, I asked him how lunch had gone.

"Good," he said, and then added, "You put a note in my lunch box, Mom!"
"Yes, I sure did."
"How come?"
"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you and that I love you very much."
He looked thoughtful.
"Was that okay?" I asked.
"Yes," he grinned sheepishly.  "I saved it."
"You saved my note?"
"Yes, I put it in my classroom."  He paused, as though debating whether to tell me the rest of the story or not.  "I wanted to keep it in case I got a little scared or lonely at school.  Then it will help me feel better!"

Sometimes it really is the little things in life that make the biggest difference.
I love my little man.

Zip-a-dee-do-dah

So, it's finally happened.
The twins are talking.

Aside from the traditional "Mama" and "Dada," the first words are officially in.

For Logan, it was "uh-oh."
For Dani, it was "shoe."

Obviously, we are in big trouble here.

But my current favorite word being said around the house these days is Dani's version of "sippy cup."  Not being able to clearly pronounce the sounds required of her, it has instead become a "sippy sip."  And most of the time even then, she has difficulty in getting her "s" sound correct.  In which case, the words come out "zippy zip."

Zippy zip.
I love it.

Every time she toddles on over to me and asks me for a "zippy zip" in that cute little voice of hers,  I can't help but grin ear to ear.  Her charm is irresistible.

That is, until the other night when I was woken by the sounds of little Dani crying in her crib.  I glanced at the clock.  1:30 am.  Bleary-eyed, I stumbled into the nursery to comfort her-- assuming that she must be teething again, frightened, or in some other dire need.  As I approached her, however, the cries stopped and instead she gave me an enormous grin.

"Zippy zip?" she asked sweetly.

Hmmmmm...

I stared back at her in disbelief, trying to be annoyed.

But it was pretty much pointless.
Even then, it was still adorable.

At the Bus Stop

Waiting on the curb in the unforgiving sun, I began to worry.

Did Reilly's first day of kindergarten live up to her high expectations?

Would she make new friends?
Would she like her teacher?
Would she find her way?

As the bus rounded the corner, I couldn't help but have a twinge of anxiety.

"Oh please," I thought, "please let her be on that bus."

As the kids began to pour outside from the loudly creaking doors, I began my search.
But the bus was blocking the view of the children--all I could see was their legs from the ankles down.
So I started checking shoes.
Soon, I found Taylor-- two black & green Nikes and a dinosaur backpack.

But where was Reilly?

I didn't have to wait long.  As the bus driver gave the kids the okay to cross the street, there they were.  Taylor and Reilly.  Holding hands.  And I held back my tears as they ran up to me with their excited smiles.

"How was your day today at kindergarten, Reilly?"  I asked.

"Great!  Taylor sat by me on the bus!"

I should have known.
Clearly, everything here is under control.



 

Cheer and Bless and Brighten

There are certain moments in life when you feel undeniably connected to those who have gone before.  This past weekend was just such a moment.  As we celebrated our country's independence and honored those who fought to defend the liberties which we freely enjoy today, I remembered a man dear to my heart, who served his nation with honor during the second World War.

My Grandpa Ensign's service in the navy took him to many destinations, and as a result he spent many Sundays attending church among strangers.  There were many times that he felt lonely, sitting in a chapel where few would take the time to greet him and make him feel welcome in a place so far from home.  After his military service was over, he took it upon himself to ensure that any visitors to his own congregation were given a most warm welcome.  To the embarrassment of my then-adolescent father, Grandpa would purposefully seek out visitors and newcomers alike, introduce himself, and strike up a conversation.  No one would feel alone on his watch.

Fast forward to the present day, and this past Sunday I found myself sitting in the chapel of my sister's ward with my family.  Sitting in a pew toward the back corner by the door, I figured we wouldn't draw too much attention to ourselves.  I was wrong.

Logan, in the spirit of his great-grandpa, was determined to greet each and every family as they came to worship.  With an enthusiastic "hi!" and a hearty wave, he was the unofficial welcome committee for the day.  Immediately my thoughts turned to Grandpa and I felt a warm feeling of peacefulness-- as though he were smiling down on us at that very moment.  I'm certain he approved of Logan's cheerful efforts in carrying on his legacy.  I looked down to smile at my baby boy and received an adorably cheesy grin in response-- a perfect little ball of pure joy.

What a wonderful example to follow.
For that and so much more-- thanks, Grandpa.

Radiant

My four-year-old daughter is a living, breathing encyclopedia.  Nearly every sentence that comes from her lips begins with

Well,
Actually,
But really,
or
Not necessarily...

It is awesome.

Seeing her blossom into a strong, intelligent young woman makes my heart soar.  I want to bottle that confidence she has and store it away for those difficult years of teenage insecurity which will most likely make their uninvited debut down the bumpy road of life.  But at this moment, she radiates self-acceptance and absolute joy as she lives in the present moment.  I try to catch some of that enthusiasm and embrace it in my own life.  Life was so simple at four.  Maybe it still can be, at least in some regards.  

One sunny morning, after she has just expounded on some subject of deep importance to her, Bryson cocks his head and grins at her.
 
"Reilly," he asks, "what on earth would we ever do without you?"

She takes a moment to seriously consider the question and then pronounces her answer with great theatricality.

"Panic!"

Truthfully, I think she's right.

Where Do We Go From Here?

As you may (or may not) have noticed, it has been difficult for me to post lately.

It's not that I haven't had time, and it's not that I haven't had much to write about.  The process of putting my experiences into a cohesive train of thought has been problematic.  I sit down to write and am completely overwhelmed.  I don't even know where to begin.

The past few months have been pretty intense.  Equal parts challenging, painful, illuminating, and rejuvenating.  C. S. Lewis described the process aptly in Mere Christianity:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

Every time I reread this quotation, I am reminded of Neal A. Maxwell's remarks on leaving behind the summer cottage in Babylon and establishing our permanent residence in Zion.  Our Savior taught that in our Father's house are "many mansions."  Giving up the cottage for the Lord's version will be worth it in the end, even if we can't see the full picture in the here and now.

All of the pushing, pulling, and stretching we undergo here during our earthly sojourn is for our own individual growth.  And grow we most certainly shall, if we approach the difficult trials with an open heart and a willing spirit. 

The life of discipleship is not for the faint of heart.  If we truly want to have that deep and personal relationship with our Father in Heaven we can expect many trials and obstacles.  We will not earn worldly acclaim.  We will likely be scoffed at and dismissed as unenlightened and out of step with "things as they really are."  But if we persevere step by step, and line upon line, we will find that the pathway is sure and the destination is glorious.

At some point in all of our lives we will reach a crossroads where we will be required to make a choice.  We will have to evaluate the questions within of who we are, what we believe, and where we are going.  And we will be tested.  Sometimes it may seem that the path has been abandoned, and we are left to press onward in blinding darkness.  We may feel alone.  We may feel scared.  We may feel as though the heavens themselves have been sealed.  But I can tell you from very personal experience that if we press onward, the light will return.  It will return.  And when it does, it will bring added knowledge and understanding to our hearts and minds. 

And life as you know it will never be the same again.