Huh?

Taylor: Mom, do you know why I'm a little mean sometimes?

Me: (bracingly) Ummmm, why?

Taylor: Because I'm allergic to cats.


Okaaaaaaay....

New York. London. Utah.

While driving after picking Reilly up from preschool, I decided to take the long way home. The interstate was backlogged due to some construction traffic, and given the option of moving at 10 mph on the freeway or taking a longer route through the countryside... Well, let's just say that I will pick the country roads every time, even if it ends up taking longer.

I love living in the country. It is something I never pictured myself doing, having grown up on the outskirts of Chicago and seeing myself (then) as a city girl for life. I love so many things about city life. The culture, the architecture, the food, the pulse that you can almost feel in the air. When I look back on my favorite memories from my high school years-- so many of them involve taking the train downtown with my friends, whether it was to hit the beach or spend an afternoon soaking in the beauty at the Art Institute. It's funny how life's twists and turns can lead you to places you never anticipated, and yet are simply meant to be.

As I took the old Arrowhead trail back into town with the kids, I reveled in the scenery around me. Old farmhouses, windmills, greenhouses, horses & cows, fields as far as the eye could see-- all majestically framed by the spectacular mountain splendor.

"I love living in the country," I suddenly blurted out to Taylor & Reilly. "Isn't it beautiful here?"
"Yes, Mom, I like the country too!" Taylor agreed.
"Did you know that Mom used to live by a really big city when she was little?" I continued, "With lots of really tall buildings and trains..."
"And airplanes and cars?" Taylor interrupted.
"Yep." I replied. "I really loved living by the city, but you know... I think I love living in the country even more."
"I love the country too, Mom," he replied.
"Me too!" chimed Reilly.

As we rounded the turn off the old country road and came into town, I could tell Taylor was recognizing the familiar surroundings. I looked at our little downtown with new eyes, seeing the wonderful old brick stores, the park with its amphitheater, the old homes with their beautiful gardens exploding with the produce of Indian Summer.

"Do you know where we are, Taylor?" I asked.

"Yes, Mom...
ummmmmmm...Paris!" came the response.

Well, in his defense, both cities do begin with a P at least.

After I stopped laughing and corrected him, I couldn't help but look around again.
Architecture, culture, food? And more importantly, a community of neighbors that truly looks out for and loves one another?

We've got it all right here.

Paris has got nothing on us.

More Thoughts On Faith

Desire is a particle of faith that develops within us as we experience divine truth. It is like spiritual photosynthesis. The influence of the Holy Ghost, acting on the Light of Christ within every human being, produces the spiritual equivalent of a chemical reaction—a stirring, a change of heart, or a desire to know. Hope develops as particles of faith become molecules and as simple efforts to live true principles occur.

As patterns of obedience develop, the specific blessings associated with obedience are realized and belief emerges. Desire, hope, and belief are forms of faith, but faith as a principle of power comes from a consistent pattern of obedient behavior and attitudes. Personal righteousness is a choice. Faith is a gift from God, and one possessed of it can receive enormous spiritual power.

(Kevin W. Pearson, “Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,” Ensign, May 2009, 38–40)

Small and Simple Things

Truly, God answers prayers.
And not just the big ones.

One of my personal goals in life is to rely more on my Heavenly Father and to understand more fully the promptings of the Spirit. It is most definitely a work in progress. I have learned to act on certain feelings and impressions I have concerning friends and family-- although I wouldn't have necessarily considered them inspiration at the time-- and through these experiences have become increasingly aware that the Holy Ghost speaks to our hearts much more often than we might think.

Over the past few months I have tried to seek out a little more time for quiet meditation-- to turn off the TV, computer, music (that is a tough one for me!) and just reflect. I'm not always consistent with it, and I'm definitely not great at it, but over time it has made a considerable difference in my life.

This year there have been a lot of things to pray about on the grand scale. A dying friend. A newborn nephew's struggles. A beloved aunt having heart surgery. A favorite uncle suffering a horrible spiral break of his arm in a freak accident. A sister getting married. A horseback riding accident that seriously injured my mom. It is easy to pray when the heavy trials of life come knocking. Our faith tells us that God will hear our prayers during these times of adversity. But-- for me at least-- sometimes it is difficult to remember that God stands ready to answer all our prayers. Even the seemingly insignificant ones.

Last week we had the misfortune of Sheepie going missing again. (Yes, again.) It was late. I was not feeling well and was completely drained of all energy. Reilly was beside herself with grief for her missing friend, and Bryson could not find her anywhere despite his extensive search efforts both within and outside the house. He crashed on the couch, telling me that he simply couldn't look anymore. There was nothing left in the tank. He put Reilly to bed without Sheepie, and she continued to cry inconsolably in her room. I knew we would be in for a long night if we were unable to locate her. To complicate matters further, the next day promised to be long and hectic even without a broken night's sleep. Not finding Sheepie just wasn't an option this night.

Feeling slightly silly but not knowing what other options we had, I took to my knees. I prayed for the insight to find Sheepie. Afterward I got to my feet and instantly knew she was in Bryson's & my room somewhere. I had felt that impression previously, but now the thought was all-consuming. I knew she was in our room. I walked in our bedroom and immediately my eyes were drawn to Bryson's laptop briefcase. I couldn't help laughing to myself as I unzipped one of the compartments and rescued the poor, trapped Sheepie. It was just so like Reilly to put her in a small zippered compartment (purses are one of her favorite hiding spots), but we would have never checked the laptop case in a million years. The kids *never* touch it. We had walked past it several times in our previous searches.

After that evening, I pretty much learned my lesson. Our Heavenly Father is mindful of us, and knows our needs-- even the small heartfelt desires of a little child. So when the same thing happened just a couple nights later, my faith was already in place. After we did all that we could do, I said another simple prayer on Reilly's behalf. However, this time I didn't get an impression of where Sheepie was; only that I needed to do a load of laundry. Tired and grumpy, I had no desire to do laundry-- and did not grasp the concept that my stray thought just might be related to the ongoing search for Sheepie. We went to bed. Just after midnight, I awoke to Reilly's cry for her beloved friend. She went back to sleep on her own after a couple minutes, but I was left wide awake. I could not sleep. After deciding that lying in the dark staring at the ceiling was pretty pointless, I got up. I decided to get that load of laundry in the washer while I was at it. After the cycle was over, I opened up the washer, and much to my chagrin discovered Sheepie right on top of the clothing. I still have no idea when or how she arrived at that location.

Faith isn't something that has come easily to me all the time. I have a tendency to over-think, over-analyze, and rationalize that my emotions are just messing around with me. I wish I were more like Bryson, whose faith is an unshakable gift. I have difficulty not knowing all the answers to the questions that perplex me. It has taken practice to let go of that and simply hold on to the seed of faith.

I have a deeper appreciation for the words of Alma:

Now, as I said concerning faith—that it was not a perfect knowledge—even so it is with my words. Ye cannot know of their surety at first, unto perfection, any more than faith is a perfect knowledge.
But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words.
Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.(Alma 32: 26-28)


In today's society, it can be easy to dismiss God as an active participant in our lives. Some even doubt whether He exists at all. Religion is rejected as merely the opiate of the masses, and spiritual experience is believed to be nothing but a series of chemical reactions in the brain. However, I truly believe if even the smallest part of you wants to believe in Him-- if you work at it-- you can feel His continual presence in your life. Faith will replace doubt, and His love will flood every aspect of your life. Even the small and simple parts.

Take it from someone who's been there.

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation, Part 4

We encouraged.
We coaxed.
We begged.
We pleaded.
We bribed.
We threatened.

Nothing was enticing Reilly to abandon her diapers and start learning to use the potty. We tried just about every method in the book, and still there was nothing to show for our efforts except complete apathy on her part. Normally I wouldn't have sweated it, but preschool was starting just around the corner and because she was so excited to attend I was growing increasingly anxious about getting this developmental milestone taken care of. (Not to mention the sizable registration & supply fee I had already plopped down to reserve her spot.)

We read books, we made sticker charts, we gave rewards. We even watched "Elmo's Potty Time" ad nauseum. (Heaven help us all.)



Small successes were quickly followed by long periods of complete disregard for anything to do with the potty. I tried my best to stay upbeat and positive, but the façade was quickly crumbling away. I was certain we'd just have to put off preschool and gymnastics lessons for a few months-- which wouldn't have been such a big deal for me, but would have been an enormous disappointment to Reilly, who had been looking forward to it for months.

Then one day while we were out shopping, I had a sudden stroke of insight.

"Reilly," I asked, "Would you like a pair of big girl Cinderella underwear?"
"Yes!"
We walked over to the underwear display and I paused.
"Are you sure? Hmmmmmmm... I don't know..." I mused. "Only big girls that use the potty every time can have Cinderella underwear."
"I will use the potty, Mom. I promise."
"Well... I suppose... Okay."
The ear-to-ear grin that followed told me I must be on to something.

We took the prized princess panties home and immediately put the ones with Cinderella up on a shelf for her to use when she began to use the potty habitually.

And a few short weeks later-- success!!!
We still have our accidents from time to time, but honestly-- the difference has been night and day.

I guess sometimes it's just all about the clothes.

Of Siblings & Sheepies

As much as our family has welcomed Sheepie into our family with open arms, well... sometimes there's just a time and a place when we'd like Reilly all to ourselves.

To illustrate, just the other day our family had packed up our bags and were making the long drive up to Grandpa Bob & Grandma Brandy's home for a visit. As Bryson & I were carrying on a conversation in the front of the vehicle, we became increasingly aware of a heated discussion taking place behind us between Taylor... and Sheepie.

Reilly had Sheepie placed prominently in front of her face and was refusing to speak in a voice other than the high-pitched squeak we have come to affectionately recognize. Taylor, wanting only to talk to his sister, was quickly growing impatient with talking to a small stuffed piece of grey fluff.

"Sheepieeeeeeeee! I want to talk to Reilly!"

"No!"

"Sheepie! Please, I want to talk to Reeeeeeeeiiiillllllllyeeeeeee!"

"No!"

This dialogue was repeated multiple times in multiple variations before I intervened, asking them to please stop arguing with one another.

"Okay," squeaked Sheepie.

Taylor glowered into her beady little eyes.

"Sheepie," he muttered venomously, "go back to the barn."


Sometimes a boy just needs his sister.
♥

What I Did Over My Summer Vacation, Part 3

I went a little canning crazy in the kitchen-- and the end of this self-afflicted madness is still nowhere in sight.

The tally so far...

Endless varieties of jam:
(So many recipes... so little time!)
Strawberry-Rhubarb, Apricot, Strawberry-Vanilla, Raspberry Mango, Apricot Currant, Blueberry Lime, Blackberry (over 70 half pints in total!)

Two kinds of conserve:
Blueberry Citrus & Chocolate Raspberry

Several pints of Blackberry pie filling

And the dawn is just breaking on the peak tomato season! Salsa & pizza sauce only mark the beginning of another month of tasty offerings to be created.

Ahhhhhh.
Exhaustion is inescapable, but oh-so-worth it.