I was very blessed. You see, I married my best friend. Our parents called us soul mates. At age 17 we were sure our love knew no bounds. We were sure that our relationship out-matched any other in communication and solidity. We were going to have the perfect marriage when the time came. Ahhh, young love.
Sure, we have hit our share of hard times. There are times when we get mad at each other and need to cool down. But we have weathered the hard times so far; and that has made the good times even better. Getting along with someone and being their "roommate" is challenge enough. Add to that different family traditions, different emotional & physical needs, different personalities and children -- sometimes it is hard to not get frustrated.
When these times come (and those times get fewer and fewer as the years pass) there is one thing that keeps me committed to my husband. I know I love him. I love everything about him, even his flaws. If only I had his flaws, I would be doing much better in my life. I love working through challenges and growing closer. When I look at my husband, I see a man who the good Lord puts to work. I see someone who I grew up with and yet I am in awe of who he is.
No, we don't have a perfect marriage -- yet. But we are working on it. And I know that the Lord has given us marriage to help each other. I want to be better because of my husband... I think that is what it is all about. Helping each other -- the way God designed.
I believe marriage to be a sacred ordinance between 3 people: Man, Woman and GOD. I believe that if this nation will work to build up marriages (in the "traditional" sense) that families will be strengthened and communities fortified. No, marriage isn't easy. But God will bless the marriage -- and the nation -- for doing this.
I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. There is no question as to the position we take on marriages. It isn't what the loud majorities are saying. It isn't politically correct. But it IS God's will.
During the election year, there are many issues that are debated back and forth. I could spend a blog or two on the "mixing of words" and "waffling of issues" but will only say this. Our nation, to continue to be strong MUST support marriage as defined by God. Between ONE MAN and ONE WOMAN. This is what His law is. This must also be our law.
Now, in case I have been misunderstood, I do not "hate" gays and lesbians. They are also children of God. They are also good people. I wouldn't turn away or "segregate" someone just because of their "life-style." But I do not believe that life style to be what God intended.
Politicians can say what they will, but our nation WAS founded on Christian values. It was founded by Christian men, through inspiration of God. Our nation IS a Christian nation. We will accept those of all faiths because that is what Christians do. But our strength comes from being a Christian nation. And as long as we continue to support those "traditional" Christian values, our nation will be strong. Marriage between a man and a woman is one of those values.
I believe that most people feel the same way. My mom would always say, "the squeaky wheel gets the grease." I think that is why same-sex marriage is getting so much attention. In California, they have legalized same-sex marriage. But that is NOT what 61% of voters wanted. The votes of the people were overturned.
Having same-sex marriage legalized and marriages redefined in the constitution will have a snowball effect that I don't believe people want or are prepared for.
I have friends and family that feel differently than I do. My intent here is not to offend, only to defend, that which I believe with all my heart. I do not have animosity against anyone who may share a different point of view -- or life style. This is what I believe. Marriage is created by Divine Design, for the children of God.
**** check out these links for more information*****
A Family Proclamation
ProtectMarriage.com
When Gay Rights and Religious Liberties Clash
The Divine Institution of Marriage
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
A Beating Heart
One of my favorite sounds in the world is the sound of my husband’s beating heart. I love to feel the steady rhythm against my face as I listen to the strong repetitive sound of life.
The heart is a funny thing. So strong, so vulnerable. Its job is to sustain life and yet without life, sustaining it, it will fail.
This year has been one of vulnerability. In February, my sweet MIL suffered from dangerous heart patterns that ended with a life-saving bypass. A few months later, I was in the cardiologist office, discovering small and, thankfully, insignificant irregularities. Although it was nothing serious, I certainly felt the fragility of this amazing organ. Only a few months later, my BIL was in the hospital with heart arrhythmias. He gave us a scare but things were brought under control and he was released with no serious events. Only this last week, my FIL entered into cardiac care after experiencing some frightening symptoms. After showing large amounts of blockage, they are opting for a stint to be placed in his arteries. With my husband already on cholesterol medicine, I would be dense not to see the developing pattern.
To drive the point home even more, as we were walking into the room where my FIL was, we passed the “purple zone.” Like the tide filling a depression in the sand, memories came flooding back into my mind in vivid detail. The “Purple Zone” is where my mom passed away almost 3 years ago. I stared at her “room” and remembered watching her heart rhythms as she faded into another world.
I suddenly felt very small in a very big world. And thought how grateful I am for a beating heart.
The heart is a funny thing. So strong, so vulnerable. Its job is to sustain life and yet without life, sustaining it, it will fail.
This year has been one of vulnerability. In February, my sweet MIL suffered from dangerous heart patterns that ended with a life-saving bypass. A few months later, I was in the cardiologist office, discovering small and, thankfully, insignificant irregularities. Although it was nothing serious, I certainly felt the fragility of this amazing organ. Only a few months later, my BIL was in the hospital with heart arrhythmias. He gave us a scare but things were brought under control and he was released with no serious events. Only this last week, my FIL entered into cardiac care after experiencing some frightening symptoms. After showing large amounts of blockage, they are opting for a stint to be placed in his arteries. With my husband already on cholesterol medicine, I would be dense not to see the developing pattern.
To drive the point home even more, as we were walking into the room where my FIL was, we passed the “purple zone.” Like the tide filling a depression in the sand, memories came flooding back into my mind in vivid detail. The “Purple Zone” is where my mom passed away almost 3 years ago. I stared at her “room” and remembered watching her heart rhythms as she faded into another world.
I suddenly felt very small in a very big world. And thought how grateful I am for a beating heart.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
To Pitch or not to Pitch
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sprouts and Tofu
When I was growing up I was always a little apprehensive about inviting my friends over for dinner. I wasn't sure what they would be fed.
I have a good friend from Jr. High and High School who was offered fresh squeezed carrot juice every time she would come home from school with me. Other times, while out running errands, my mom would stop at the local health food store for a serving of fresh tofutti. (I want to meet the person who looked at a Soy Bean and thought, "mmmm, this would make a delicious frozen treat." )
When the missionaries would come over for dinner, my mom seemed to take great pleasure in serving them a vegetable they would have neither tasted nor heard of. She would dish it right along side of our 37 ingredient toss green salad and stir fried tofu.
I remember in 8th grade, my parents decided to grow their own yogurt cultures. Our laundry room became a veritable culture lab while yogurt of all the purest varieties were produced. The yogurt was only a small element of the whole image. On our counter, we had a large machine called a water distiller. It would purify our water.(It also earned me a ribbon in the school Science Fair.) The other side of the counter held a stack of plastic circular dishes, each growing a different variety of sprout. There was also a spot for the current crop of wheat grass, which I remember my dad gnawing on as a snack.
At one time, we had a whole acre of land that my dad cultivated into the Garden of Eden itself -- well that is if the Garden of Eden had nothing but produce. We had our own corn, watermelon, potatoes, grapes, peas, squash (at lest 4 kinds) and anything else that could possibly take root in Arizona. There were wild chaparral trees around our house which my parents would use to make their own herbal tea remedies.
So, life as a child was very healthy. And I hated it. Any time I could get my hands on brownies, cookies, anything with sugar, I would binge. Most church and school activities were followed up by something that fit into this category, and I got pretty good at keeping my treats hidden from my mom. Imagine how distraught I was when I learned as a teenager from a manners course that it was only polite to take 2 if there was a tray of goodies. Rats!!!
So, here I am, a couple days into REALLY trying to eat healthy, and I can’t believe I am back to the way of eating I grew up on. I swore I would never do it. But in the aftermath of more than one heart crisis in the extended family, I have decided that my mom taught me a pretty good way of eating. (That gulping and gagging you hear, is me, swallowing my pride)
It is more than a matter of preference now. If I want my husband and myself to be around to play with our grandchildren, I have to do this.
That is how I feel now, ask me in a few days when I am tired of having 7 grain cereal and my kids have rebelled completely against my sprouts and tofu.
I have a good friend from Jr. High and High School who was offered fresh squeezed carrot juice every time she would come home from school with me. Other times, while out running errands, my mom would stop at the local health food store for a serving of fresh tofutti. (I want to meet the person who looked at a Soy Bean and thought, "mmmm, this would make a delicious frozen treat." )
When the missionaries would come over for dinner, my mom seemed to take great pleasure in serving them a vegetable they would have neither tasted nor heard of. She would dish it right along side of our 37 ingredient toss green salad and stir fried tofu.
I remember in 8th grade, my parents decided to grow their own yogurt cultures. Our laundry room became a veritable culture lab while yogurt of all the purest varieties were produced. The yogurt was only a small element of the whole image. On our counter, we had a large machine called a water distiller. It would purify our water.(It also earned me a ribbon in the school Science Fair.) The other side of the counter held a stack of plastic circular dishes, each growing a different variety of sprout. There was also a spot for the current crop of wheat grass, which I remember my dad gnawing on as a snack.
At one time, we had a whole acre of land that my dad cultivated into the Garden of Eden itself -- well that is if the Garden of Eden had nothing but produce. We had our own corn, watermelon, potatoes, grapes, peas, squash (at lest 4 kinds) and anything else that could possibly take root in Arizona. There were wild chaparral trees around our house which my parents would use to make their own herbal tea remedies.
So, life as a child was very healthy. And I hated it. Any time I could get my hands on brownies, cookies, anything with sugar, I would binge. Most church and school activities were followed up by something that fit into this category, and I got pretty good at keeping my treats hidden from my mom. Imagine how distraught I was when I learned as a teenager from a manners course that it was only polite to take 2 if there was a tray of goodies. Rats!!!
So, here I am, a couple days into REALLY trying to eat healthy, and I can’t believe I am back to the way of eating I grew up on. I swore I would never do it. But in the aftermath of more than one heart crisis in the extended family, I have decided that my mom taught me a pretty good way of eating. (That gulping and gagging you hear, is me, swallowing my pride)
It is more than a matter of preference now. If I want my husband and myself to be around to play with our grandchildren, I have to do this.
That is how I feel now, ask me in a few days when I am tired of having 7 grain cereal and my kids have rebelled completely against my sprouts and tofu.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
WHY there are STICKS in my Macaroni????
Seriously, sometimes I wonder how I got this mom job. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, but there are certain nights when I wonder how I am going to get through. Unfortunately, tonight was one of those nights.
It wasn't all the kids. Truth be told, I am the problem a lot of the times. I was at home with the kids about dinner time and decided to make the ever faithful mac -n -cheese. How can you go wrong? Well, just as I add the macaroni to the boiling water, B started crying desperately to be held. Since she had spilled water all over herself (and floor), I had to change her. Along the way I broke up about 67 fights between the boys. Someone was kicking someone or jumping on someone else. Nobody was bleeding, thank goodness, so got back to handling the distraught princess and returned to my macaroni.
I walk into the kitchen only to find J melting a plastic fork on the burner. So in addition to the water on the floor from B, my kitchen smelled like a piece of plastic had melted on the bottom of the dishwasher (which, incidentally, actually smelled like dead fish) As I was approaching the stove, R told me that J had added THREE cups of oil to the over boiled noodles. How did he have time, I thought? I thought he was kicking someone? Anyway, in his effort to try to help and keep the noodles from boiling over, he added ALOT of oil (some of it olive oil some of it veggie oil) He was trying to do what he has seen me do -- its just that I only add a teaspoon or so. So then, I am stirring the macaroni with my strangely melted spoon (hmmm) and am sure I see something floating in the cloudy, bubbly water. I keep looking and sure enough a STICK -- as in a TREE BRANCH!!!! Gross! So, fishing it out, I decide to ignore it. I am NOT going to make more food. This was enough of a challenge. Then, just as I am calming down... ANOTHER BRANCH!
I was so close to loosing it. Thank goodness for good neighbors. I was so angry and about to let the children see mom's wrath, but thought to call my good friend next door instead. She listened to me rant and rave, helped me laugh and I was able to speak calmly to my sweet children -- as we ATE the macaroni they all helped make.
It wasn't all the kids. Truth be told, I am the problem a lot of the times. I was at home with the kids about dinner time and decided to make the ever faithful mac -n -cheese. How can you go wrong? Well, just as I add the macaroni to the boiling water, B started crying desperately to be held. Since she had spilled water all over herself (and floor), I had to change her. Along the way I broke up about 67 fights between the boys. Someone was kicking someone or jumping on someone else. Nobody was bleeding, thank goodness, so got back to handling the distraught princess and returned to my macaroni.
I walk into the kitchen only to find J melting a plastic fork on the burner. So in addition to the water on the floor from B, my kitchen smelled like a piece of plastic had melted on the bottom of the dishwasher (which, incidentally, actually smelled like dead fish) As I was approaching the stove, R told me that J had added THREE cups of oil to the over boiled noodles. How did he have time, I thought? I thought he was kicking someone? Anyway, in his effort to try to help and keep the noodles from boiling over, he added ALOT of oil (some of it olive oil some of it veggie oil) He was trying to do what he has seen me do -- its just that I only add a teaspoon or so. So then, I am stirring the macaroni with my strangely melted spoon (hmmm) and am sure I see something floating in the cloudy, bubbly water. I keep looking and sure enough a STICK -- as in a TREE BRANCH!!!! Gross! So, fishing it out, I decide to ignore it. I am NOT going to make more food. This was enough of a challenge. Then, just as I am calming down... ANOTHER BRANCH!
I was so close to loosing it. Thank goodness for good neighbors. I was so angry and about to let the children see mom's wrath, but thought to call my good friend next door instead. She listened to me rant and rave, helped me laugh and I was able to speak calmly to my sweet children -- as we ATE the macaroni they all helped make.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Making History
Most of us had a turn watching the Summer Olympics. As I look at my exercise equipment, eating a carton of Ben and Jerry's, I am really inspired to get up and be healthy. Next time I drive my air conditioned car to the corner grocery store, maybe I will actually choose a parking spot away from the door so I can get my exercise.
I will never complain about a bad hair day again. It could be worse. I could be immortalized like this...
Melissa Wu is actually a very cute girl... again, frozen in time? Like this?
No! I don't want to see how hairy your armpits are or how ugly you can make your face!
This just isn't right!
Ummmm, Yeah. No comment.
All in all, these athletes have shown the world a thing or two. They have made their place in history. As proof, I give you the following images. These are moments I will never forget -- even if I wanted to.
Ouch!!! I can't even imagine this position!!!
I will never complain about a bad hair day again. It could be worse. I could be immortalized like this...Melissa Wu is actually a very cute girl... again, frozen in time? Like this?No! I don't want to see how hairy your armpits are or how ugly you can make your face!This just isn't right! Ummmm, Yeah. No comment.Even the little green men came out to cheer! Go Leprechauns!
And, last but not least....
Our Commander in Chief!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
From the mouths of babes...
Tonight was one of those nights you don't really want to remember as a mom. We were late on dinner, baths and bedtimes. Everyone was extra crabby. I felt like someone was screeching fingernails on a chalkboard with each whine, cry, and tantrum. I must have been "nagging" a little louder than I thought because as I was taking Bekah into her room she yelled, "Daddy, you shower NOW!" And I wasn't even saying anything to Tim. She then started yelling, "guys! hey guys! go bed! NOW!" I chuckled and made a mental note to stop yelling. I went to rock Bekah, as is our night time routine. When I do this, the boys all like to take turns coming in to say goodnight. So, Spencer comes in to say goodnight. Instead of Rebekah saying "goodnight" like usual, she said "Mencer (Spencer), you shower now?" Quickly followed by a yell, "GAKOB (Jacob), you shower now!"
So that is pretty pathetic that my almost two year old is mimicking me and it comes out as yelling and bossing her family around. I think I have some work to do in the "meek and mild" department.
So that is pretty pathetic that my almost two year old is mimicking me and it comes out as yelling and bossing her family around. I think I have some work to do in the "meek and mild" department.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART
Today is the most important and influential day in my life. Today is the birthday of my best friend, sweetheart and companion. Even though this post is not intended to embarass, I kinda hope it does. :)
I met my DH in 1989... just a few months before we both turned 17 and entered our senior year of high school. I was drawn to his steady personality and the way he seemed to love the Lord.
Years later I am so happy that the Lord brought us together. DH is the kind of man that makes this world a better place. His love of the Lord dictates all he does and because of that, he is a wonderful father and husband. I want to be better because I know him.
Because I am not TRYING to embarass DH I won't go into all the detail that makes me love him. But I will say this... I am reminded of the scripture in the Book of Mormon: Alma 48:11-18.
Something else that comes to mind are the words of a song from "BABE"...
A kind and steady heart can make a grey sky blue;
And a task that seems impossible is quite possible for you.
A kind and steady heart js sure to see you through.
It may not seem like very much right now but it'll do, it'll do.
When you find yourself in the middle of a storm
And you're tired and cold and wet,
And you're looking for a place that's cozy and warm
You'll make it if you never forget:
A kind and steady heart can conquer doubt and fear.
A little courage goes a long long way,
Get's you little bit further down the road each day,
And before you know it you'll here someone say:
That'll do, that'll do.
A kind and steady heart is sure to see you through.
A little courage goes a long, long way,
Gets you little bit further down the road each day,
And before you know it you'll hear someone say:
That'll do, that'll do,
That'll do, that'll do.
Happy Birthday, Sweetie. I love you!
I met my DH in 1989... just a few months before we both turned 17 and entered our senior year of high school. I was drawn to his steady personality and the way he seemed to love the Lord.
Years later I am so happy that the Lord brought us together. DH is the kind of man that makes this world a better place. His love of the Lord dictates all he does and because of that, he is a wonderful father and husband. I want to be better because I know him.
Because I am not TRYING to embarass DH I won't go into all the detail that makes me love him. But I will say this... I am reminded of the scripture in the Book of Mormon: Alma 48:11-18.
Something else that comes to mind are the words of a song from "BABE"...
A kind and steady heart can make a grey sky blue;
And a task that seems impossible is quite possible for you.
A kind and steady heart js sure to see you through.
It may not seem like very much right now but it'll do, it'll do.
When you find yourself in the middle of a storm
And you're tired and cold and wet,
And you're looking for a place that's cozy and warm
You'll make it if you never forget:
A kind and steady heart can conquer doubt and fear.
A little courage goes a long long way,
Get's you little bit further down the road each day,
And before you know it you'll here someone say:
That'll do, that'll do.
A kind and steady heart is sure to see you through.
A little courage goes a long, long way,
Gets you little bit further down the road each day,
And before you know it you'll hear someone say:
That'll do, that'll do,
That'll do, that'll do.
Happy Birthday, Sweetie. I love you!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Not enough cooks in the kitchen...
Ok – here’s the thing. When I was 19 I went to live with my sister to be her nanny. One of my responsibilities was to cook dinner. It was a relatively simple process. I looked through my little magazines full of “tasty – if – not – impractical” recipes. I decided which ones I wanted to serve on which days and then took the menu to my sister for approval. Once it was approved, I would do the shopping and followed the menu completely. Of course my cooking time was uninterrupted and I had as much time as I needed to cook. Everyone ate it all (or at least I thought they did)
Fast forward 17 years. I have 5 children and husband to feed. Their palates are all so different. Some love sea food, others gag at the smell. Ketchup is adored by some and spewn out by others. Some kids will eat veggies, others will throw them on my wall. Kids prefer sugar, white flour and anything that can cause a heart attack. Hubby and I however are trying to eat better and not die before we reach 40. One child’s nutritional needs include high fatty foods, trying to “put some meat on them bones”. But more of us in the family than not need low fat foods. So there is a predicament. What I can make for one to enjoy the other cannot eat, or should I say will not eat.
My cooking skills are limited. If I don’t have a good recipe in front of me, you don’t get good food. While most women in Heaven were lined up in the “homemaking skills” line, my ADHD personality drifted to and from the “cool-power-tool” line and “any-other-project-BUT-homemaking” line. Now don’t get me wrong, I can cook a mean baked potato and I have never seen an ear of corn I can’t prepare. I am also pretty good with alpha sprouts and tofu, but that is another therapeutic blog to come.
I am just not a natural homemaker. Unfortunately, cooking falls under that “homemaking” title. So here is my problem. I learned from Food Network that if I add enough butter, cream and/or cheese to anything, it will taste pretty good. I also learned at the feet of my mother, any health book on the market today and the Doctor Guy on MSNBC that these things are all BAD for you. So, combine my inability to cook with the absence of the “sure fire” cooking strategies. Do you know what you get? HUNGRY!
I am on a quest now. How can I find a healthy recipe that won’t end up with children on the floor crying, an empty bottle of A-1 sauce or a secret trip to McDonalds (yeah, guys… I know about that) How do I keep more food in my kids belly than the garbage – without being a Nazi? We need to eat more fish. And in spite of the fact that we tried convincing the kids that their brains will be smarter by eating fish, even my best eater can barely stand it. Is it the fish or is it the cooking? We may never know. And, if I find a meal that three people like, what about the other four? Should they go hungry? By the way, how am I supposed to cook with someone hanging on my leg, another shoving a paper to sign in my face and three other people trying to carry on a conversation? Don’t they know I will end up adding cayenne instead of cinnamon?
All of this lack of ability combined with that I really don’t’ want to spend two hours cooking a meal that people are going to spit out, causes some problems. On this quest of mine, I have to find convenient food (preferably just add water) that is totally healthy. Combine that with green leafy veggies (natures scrub brush, y’know) and we will be set.
But alas, tonight we will eat rotisserie chicken from Basha’s and some homemade cornbread (not healthy). Oh – I can make cornbread too. But then again, it is full of butter and cream, how can you go wrong?
Fast forward 17 years. I have 5 children and husband to feed. Their palates are all so different. Some love sea food, others gag at the smell. Ketchup is adored by some and spewn out by others. Some kids will eat veggies, others will throw them on my wall. Kids prefer sugar, white flour and anything that can cause a heart attack. Hubby and I however are trying to eat better and not die before we reach 40. One child’s nutritional needs include high fatty foods, trying to “put some meat on them bones”. But more of us in the family than not need low fat foods. So there is a predicament. What I can make for one to enjoy the other cannot eat, or should I say will not eat.
My cooking skills are limited. If I don’t have a good recipe in front of me, you don’t get good food. While most women in Heaven were lined up in the “homemaking skills” line, my ADHD personality drifted to and from the “cool-power-tool” line and “any-other-project-BUT-homemaking” line. Now don’t get me wrong, I can cook a mean baked potato and I have never seen an ear of corn I can’t prepare. I am also pretty good with alpha sprouts and tofu, but that is another therapeutic blog to come.
I am just not a natural homemaker. Unfortunately, cooking falls under that “homemaking” title. So here is my problem. I learned from Food Network that if I add enough butter, cream and/or cheese to anything, it will taste pretty good. I also learned at the feet of my mother, any health book on the market today and the Doctor Guy on MSNBC that these things are all BAD for you. So, combine my inability to cook with the absence of the “sure fire” cooking strategies. Do you know what you get? HUNGRY!
I am on a quest now. How can I find a healthy recipe that won’t end up with children on the floor crying, an empty bottle of A-1 sauce or a secret trip to McDonalds (yeah, guys… I know about that) How do I keep more food in my kids belly than the garbage – without being a Nazi? We need to eat more fish. And in spite of the fact that we tried convincing the kids that their brains will be smarter by eating fish, even my best eater can barely stand it. Is it the fish or is it the cooking? We may never know. And, if I find a meal that three people like, what about the other four? Should they go hungry? By the way, how am I supposed to cook with someone hanging on my leg, another shoving a paper to sign in my face and three other people trying to carry on a conversation? Don’t they know I will end up adding cayenne instead of cinnamon?
All of this lack of ability combined with that I really don’t’ want to spend two hours cooking a meal that people are going to spit out, causes some problems. On this quest of mine, I have to find convenient food (preferably just add water) that is totally healthy. Combine that with green leafy veggies (natures scrub brush, y’know) and we will be set.
But alas, tonight we will eat rotisserie chicken from Basha’s and some homemade cornbread (not healthy). Oh – I can make cornbread too. But then again, it is full of butter and cream, how can you go wrong?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
When you have to say "Good-bye"
This week I have been reminded of my own mortality more than once. Between updating our will, lessons at church and home teachers, I have found myself pondering the subject of death. Today, at church, we had a beautiful lesson in Relief Society about death and the eternal plan Heavenly Father has for us. It brought back many memories and tender feelings from when I lost both of my parents. It made me so grateful to know about Gods plan, to know I have a part in it, and to know that everything is all part of one eternal round.
Death affects so many people. I have a sister in law who lost her brother to a terrible accident. A dear friend who lost her infant hours before he was born. A brother and sister in law who lost their sweet three year old son to meningitis and another brother and sister in law who lost their daughter to SIDS. I can’t even fathom the heart wrenching pain that must come from loosing someone so close. Parents are expected to die before their children. But everyone shudders to think of a child who is lost too early. I can only hope that the Savior sends his comforting peace to be with those who have lost someone so dear. I believe He does. I believe He offers comfort to all those who seek it. I have personally, only experienced the death of my parents. These are my feelings about that experience.
My dad was simply amazing. Anyone who knew him could tell you. He was the kind of man that loved everybody and everybody loved. He was kind and rarely raised his voice. He was a band teacher for many years and always played “big band” songs on the piano. My dad started showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s around 70. Part of him died long before his physical body did and it was as though I had to say two goodbyes. Slowly, over the 15 years my dad suffered with Alzheimer’s, he began to forget names, places and stories. He drifted back to an infantile state, needing help to do the most basic daily tasks that I always take for granted. His confident stride became an unsteady shuffle and while he knew I belonged to him, he could never vocalize my name during those last years. This kind and gentle man became a force to be reckoned with when the nurses tried to help him with “personal tasks”. His years of being a musician were so engrained into his soul that the piano was the last thing he forgot. In fact, for many years, my mom would take a portable keyboard to his nursing home to help keep him more alert. And it worked. While he could play, he was more active. It was only the last few months before he died that he started to forget to play the piano, and eventually stopped playing all together.
Dad gave us a little “warning” that it was his time to go. We got a call from the nursing home that said he had stopped breathing but had started again on his own. I immediately went down there as did my brother who was in town. My sister flew in from California and a few more siblings began to trickle in. My sister and I took turns staying by my dad’s side. Hospice was there and taught us how to swab his mouth and help him get comfortable. Three days after his “warning” dad quietly left this world. Though my sister and I had been by his side non-stop, he passed away about 10 minutes after we both left for a break, leaving him with my brother. My brother tells me that dad just didn’t want to leave his little girls so he had to wait until we were gone. I believe him.
Five months later, I was by my mom’s side when she passed from this world. The situation was completely different. Even though my mom’s health was never ideal she had enough fire in her soul to make us all believe she would live forever. She was quite the “firecracker” to coin her own phrase. My mom was so sad after my dad passed. Even though he had been in a nursing home for a few years, she was still very much in love with him and needed him so much. Part of her died when he did. So when she got pneumonia, she didn’t have it in her to recover. After being hospitalized for a couple weeks, she was sent to rehabilitation center to help continue her recovery. I got a call from them about 5 am on a Monday morning. They said she was being taken to a hospital, her vitals were bad and they thought she had an infection. I didn’t think too much of it, but hurried to the hospital anyway. I figured we would be out by the end of the day. I was brand new pregnant with B and so sick. I remember having to eat raw snow peas while I was in the ER with her so I wouldn’t throw up. I was also trying not to pass out the whole time. Those who know me know that once I get pregnant, I start passing out. At about 12:30 my mom had settled into a restful sleep. I decided to go home, only a couple minutes away, to eat and rest. About 2:45 I felt a sudden urge to get back to the hospital. I waited for the kids to get out of school at 3:00 and made arrangements for them. On the way to the hospital, I received a call from the ER nurses. They said my mom had stopped breathing. By the time I got there, she hadn’t been breathing for about 15 minutes, but her heart was still beating. I was there, holding her hand, when her heart stopped. It was as if she was waiting for me to get back to the hospital. I hadn’t expected my mom to die so I was a little more emotional than when my dad passed. Still I was so grateful for the chance to be there.
In fact, I feel so blessed that I could be there for both of my parents passing. It was as if I was sending them into the next world. I remember, with my dad, during the quiet final moments that heaven felt so close. I have heard that there are two times when heaven and earth meet. During birth and during death. I believe that with all my heart. I felt heaven both those times. And even though I was sad and miss my parents daily, it was such a beautiful experience to send them into the next life.
I had been taught my whole life about the plan of salvation; life after death and the purpose of this life. But it wasn’t until I experienced the death of my parents that it all made sense. The Lord does have a plan for us. And, just as we lived before this life, we will live after it. Death, while sad, is only another step in Gods eternal plan. I was comforted knowing I would be with my parents again, in their most healthy state. I was comforted knowing that I am sealed to my family. I am so grateful that I was able to experience this. My parents always taught me well. They did their best to help me understand the most important things in life. And I believe this was their last teaching moment they gave to me. I miss them. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of one of them. But I know I will be with them again. It is that belief that sees me through.
Death affects so many people. I have a sister in law who lost her brother to a terrible accident. A dear friend who lost her infant hours before he was born. A brother and sister in law who lost their sweet three year old son to meningitis and another brother and sister in law who lost their daughter to SIDS. I can’t even fathom the heart wrenching pain that must come from loosing someone so close. Parents are expected to die before their children. But everyone shudders to think of a child who is lost too early. I can only hope that the Savior sends his comforting peace to be with those who have lost someone so dear. I believe He does. I believe He offers comfort to all those who seek it. I have personally, only experienced the death of my parents. These are my feelings about that experience.
My dad was simply amazing. Anyone who knew him could tell you. He was the kind of man that loved everybody and everybody loved. He was kind and rarely raised his voice. He was a band teacher for many years and always played “big band” songs on the piano. My dad started showing symptoms of Alzheimer’s around 70. Part of him died long before his physical body did and it was as though I had to say two goodbyes. Slowly, over the 15 years my dad suffered with Alzheimer’s, he began to forget names, places and stories. He drifted back to an infantile state, needing help to do the most basic daily tasks that I always take for granted. His confident stride became an unsteady shuffle and while he knew I belonged to him, he could never vocalize my name during those last years. This kind and gentle man became a force to be reckoned with when the nurses tried to help him with “personal tasks”. His years of being a musician were so engrained into his soul that the piano was the last thing he forgot. In fact, for many years, my mom would take a portable keyboard to his nursing home to help keep him more alert. And it worked. While he could play, he was more active. It was only the last few months before he died that he started to forget to play the piano, and eventually stopped playing all together.Dad gave us a little “warning” that it was his time to go. We got a call from the nursing home that said he had stopped breathing but had started again on his own. I immediately went down there as did my brother who was in town. My sister flew in from California and a few more siblings began to trickle in. My sister and I took turns staying by my dad’s side. Hospice was there and taught us how to swab his mouth and help him get comfortable. Three days after his “warning” dad quietly left this world. Though my sister and I had been by his side non-stop, he passed away about 10 minutes after we both left for a break, leaving him with my brother. My brother tells me that dad just didn’t want to leave his little girls so he had to wait until we were gone. I believe him.
Five months later, I was by my mom’s side when she passed from this world. The situation was completely different. Even though my mom’s health was never ideal she had enough fire in her soul to make us all believe she would live forever. She was quite the “firecracker” to coin her own phrase. My mom was so sad after my dad passed. Even though he had been in a nursing home for a few years, she was still very much in love with him and needed him so much. Part of her died when he did. So when she got pneumonia, she didn’t have it in her to recover. After being hospitalized for a couple weeks, she was sent to rehabilitation center to help continue her recovery. I got a call from them about 5 am on a Monday morning. They said she was being taken to a hospital, her vitals were bad and they thought she had an infection. I didn’t think too much of it, but hurried to the hospital anyway. I figured we would be out by the end of the day. I was brand new pregnant with B and so sick. I remember having to eat raw snow peas while I was in the ER with her so I wouldn’t throw up. I was also trying not to pass out the whole time. Those who know me know that once I get pregnant, I start passing out. At about 12:30 my mom had settled into a restful sleep. I decided to go home, only a couple minutes away, to eat and rest. About 2:45 I felt a sudden urge to get back to the hospital. I waited for the kids to get out of school at 3:00 and made arrangements for them. On the way to the hospital, I received a call from the ER nurses. They said my mom had stopped breathing. By the time I got there, she hadn’t been breathing for about 15 minutes, but her heart was still beating. I was there, holding her hand, when her heart stopped. It was as if she was waiting for me to get back to the hospital. I hadn’t expected my mom to die so I was a little more emotional than when my dad passed. Still I was so grateful for the chance to be there.
In fact, I feel so blessed that I could be there for both of my parents passing. It was as if I was sending them into the next world. I remember, with my dad, during the quiet final moments that heaven felt so close. I have heard that there are two times when heaven and earth meet. During birth and during death. I believe that with all my heart. I felt heaven both those times. And even though I was sad and miss my parents daily, it was such a beautiful experience to send them into the next life.
I had been taught my whole life about the plan of salvation; life after death and the purpose of this life. But it wasn’t until I experienced the death of my parents that it all made sense. The Lord does have a plan for us. And, just as we lived before this life, we will live after it. Death, while sad, is only another step in Gods eternal plan. I was comforted knowing I would be with my parents again, in their most healthy state. I was comforted knowing that I am sealed to my family. I am so grateful that I was able to experience this. My parents always taught me well. They did their best to help me understand the most important things in life. And I believe this was their last teaching moment they gave to me. I miss them. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of one of them. But I know I will be with them again. It is that belief that sees me through.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Choosing to do laundry?
So, I am not even sure how this happened... I had just begun loading some laundry into the washer when the doorbell rang. I had only put a couple articles of clothing in before I answered the door. I probably spent a good five minutes at the door. When I came back, here is what I had found. B had dragged the laundry basket over to the washing machine and was working tirelessly at putting the cloths in. Look at the bottom picture to see how full she got it. She kept going; making little "huffing" sounds everytime she would stuff something else in (I wonder if I do that?) She had to tip the basket down and practically crawl inside to reach the clothes. I finally had to make her stop because nothing else would fit -- and she wasn't happy. I can't believe this is my child! Mostly my kids just make laundry, not wash it, especially of their own free will. She isn't even two!!! Can I make this last another 16 years? 
One morning at recess...
As the second day of school draws to a close, I find myself so grateful for the teachers at my children's school. They are definitely doing a job I don't have the patience for. I know how crazy I get when my five children are all hyped up and full of energy. I can't imagine 30 kids, full of energy, every day, ALL DAY. Teachers definitely don't make enough money for the service they give and while I may not agree or like every teacher, I am SO glad someone is out there trying to make a difference.
As I watched the kids on the playground yesterday morning (I always have to spy the first day to make sure they get to where they need to go) I saw something quite touching. All the teachers were out on the playground so the kids could see them. There were the happy greetings, occasional hugs, chatting with parents. All the teachers seemed in a good mood and relatively happy about being there. Most teachers were chatting with each others in groups of two or three. Or they would be talking with a parent, with a quick hello to their student. But there was one teacher who was different than all the rest.
Barely taller than the 2nd graders she teaches, this teacher blends in well to the elementary crowd. If you don't know her, I am not sure you wouldn't think she wasn't just a 6th grader at the school. She was SWARMED with children. The closest teacher to her was well out of shouting range. She bent down (even though she didn't have to go very far :)) to each one of the kids she spoke to. She gave warm loving hugs to EACH one and they all clung on to her as if she was their favorite person in the world. She looked into EACH child's eyes and smiled and laughed with them. Although I was there to watch my own children, I was captivated by the interactions this teacher had with all the children she came in contact with.
One particular boy was in tears. She tenderly wrapped her arm around him and listened to everything he had to say. Although, I couldn't hear the conversation, I could see his little shoulders rise and fall with each stuttered breath. This teacher listened and comforted him. While all the teachers seem to love seeing their past students, her students loved to see their past teacher.
In my opinion, it sure says alot about a teacher when she is rushed by student after student with a warm hug. Teachers should be a comfort away from home. Having been blessed to have this teacher two years in a row, I know for a fact that she treats each of the children with love. And as a parent, this gives me great reassurance when I send my children to her. This is the kind of teacher that really makes a difference. To this teacher, and I think you know who you are, thank you for making a difference!
As I watched the kids on the playground yesterday morning (I always have to spy the first day to make sure they get to where they need to go) I saw something quite touching. All the teachers were out on the playground so the kids could see them. There were the happy greetings, occasional hugs, chatting with parents. All the teachers seemed in a good mood and relatively happy about being there. Most teachers were chatting with each others in groups of two or three. Or they would be talking with a parent, with a quick hello to their student. But there was one teacher who was different than all the rest.
Barely taller than the 2nd graders she teaches, this teacher blends in well to the elementary crowd. If you don't know her, I am not sure you wouldn't think she wasn't just a 6th grader at the school. She was SWARMED with children. The closest teacher to her was well out of shouting range. She bent down (even though she didn't have to go very far :)) to each one of the kids she spoke to. She gave warm loving hugs to EACH one and they all clung on to her as if she was their favorite person in the world. She looked into EACH child's eyes and smiled and laughed with them. Although I was there to watch my own children, I was captivated by the interactions this teacher had with all the children she came in contact with.
One particular boy was in tears. She tenderly wrapped her arm around him and listened to everything he had to say. Although, I couldn't hear the conversation, I could see his little shoulders rise and fall with each stuttered breath. This teacher listened and comforted him. While all the teachers seem to love seeing their past students, her students loved to see their past teacher.
In my opinion, it sure says alot about a teacher when she is rushed by student after student with a warm hug. Teachers should be a comfort away from home. Having been blessed to have this teacher two years in a row, I know for a fact that she treats each of the children with love. And as a parent, this gives me great reassurance when I send my children to her. This is the kind of teacher that really makes a difference. To this teacher, and I think you know who you are, thank you for making a difference!
Monday, August 11, 2008
First day of school -- sort of
Like many good moms, I got my kids off to school today. With a smile on my face and song in my heart we started the day off early. I made breakfast (the only day of the year I really ever make anything). Of course it was just cinnamon toast, but hey, I buttered that bread with love!!!
S tried his best to look all grown up for 8th grade. He wasn't happy I was snapping this shot in his class.
J was already at his desk when I caught up with him. He wasn't looking at me, however. His teacher had just mentioned the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie.
I caught up with R on the playground. He was in the middle of kart-wheels in front of a bunch of girls.
Poor T was still making his way to school after the bell rang. He was so loaded with things to take the first day of school that he could barely stand up. 
Of course, I had to snap one of B so she wouldn't be left out. She was so happy just to go bye-bye!
We didn't have to hunt for shoes, hair was combed, boys were happy and excited and I was giddy! I took S to A hour and hurried home to send the rest of the kids off to school on their first day. Just as they were leaving the house, I realized I had forgotten one major thing. Good moms wouldn't forget this... PICTURES!!! What the heck was I thinking -- or not. So, I quickly asked the boys if they wanted their pictures taken. J responded with "Is that a rhetorical question?" R and T said "NO!" So instead of a battle, I carefully took their pictures without them knowing... see the candid shots below...
S tried his best to look all grown up for 8th grade. He wasn't happy I was snapping this shot in his class.
J was already at his desk when I caught up with him. He wasn't looking at me, however. His teacher had just mentioned the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie.
I caught up with R on the playground. He was in the middle of kart-wheels in front of a bunch of girls.
Poor T was still making his way to school after the bell rang. He was so loaded with things to take the first day of school that he could barely stand up. 
Of course, I had to snap one of B so she wouldn't be left out. She was so happy just to go bye-bye!Sunday, August 10, 2008
Just a little bit more, please.
We had a family reunion this weekend at a cabin in Pine. There was this terrific tire swing that B found her way to and didn't ever want to leave. I think we figured she spent about an hour and a half in that swing. Every time we tried to take her out, she protested. She just sat there with her bear and relaxed. But then again, she didn't need to get up. Her little cousin "Nephew JJ" would bring her Twizzlers every few minutes. When she ran out, he would go get more for her. I finally pulled her out when she was falling asleep and was too tired to argue.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
How do I tell him?
T is our youngest son. He is six and entering first grade. The year before he started school, he was in preschool everyday for half a day. So we figured he
was prepared for kindergarten. Last year, we put him in all day kindergarten as that was the big push for our elementary school. Gradually our little even tempered boy began to have more and more tantrums. He had more trouble going to sleep and became more needy. He seemed to love the mental and social aspect of school but was experiencing such a 
separation anxiety that I breathed a sigh of relief on the last day of school.
Summer began and T's episodes seem to diminish. The only time I seemed to have a problem was on Sunday mornings trying to get him to church (any of you who know me and my kids, know that we are quite the side show during church :)) 
The last week, we have been getting ready for school and talking about returning to school. Suddenly, T can't sleep in his own bed anymore. He has adopted a new blankie (like the one he used to have when he was younger) He is talking in a smaller voice and insists he doesn't know how to read. He is asking me "Mommy, will you miss me while I am at school?" "Mommy, do I have to stay there all day?"
Tonight, I tried to help him fall asleep by telling him of angels that watch over him while he is away from mom. Instead of the comfort I had intended to induce, there were tears. If these adorable eyes were looking at you, how would you tell him he has to go back. I can sympathise with those who home school. I have thought of it long enough to realize if I want my kids to have the best education, they will need to go to school. 
So as I listen to T's deep breathing while he curls up on my bed, I wish I could hold on to my little baby forever. I wish I could keep him from growing up. I want to savor every little thing he does. When he sleeps, he doesn't look 6, he looks like the little baby we brought home from the hospital so many years ago. How do I tell this little boy wearing dinosaur pajammies, that he has to go to school all day when he would so much rather stay home?
I really think Heavenly Father sent me his best angels to be my children. I love them so much and as crazy as I get with them, I am so grateful for them. Don't get me wrong, I am looking forward to the quiet that the start of school brings. But I know I will miss T and his brothers every day.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I AM SO ONE OF THOSE!!!!
I was talking with a family member the other day. One with whom I share very different views on many things but also love very much. The subject of politics came up and subsequently the upcoming election. Now I am not overly political. I love my country, but there are definitely more things I can do to support it. There are two main candidates running for office, neither of which is ideal. But the democratic nominee, Barack Obama, is especially concerning to me. One of the many reasons is that he doesn’t always salute the flag during the national anthem. I know you don’t HAVE to, but to me it is a basic sign of respect. That alone tells me he is not the kind of leader I want. There are many other reasons, but this is the only one I mentioned to my afore mentioned family member. When I mentioned it concerned me that the possible leader of this country didn’t salute the flag, I received the response, “oh no, you’re not one of those people, are you?” Of course I answered, “I sure am.”
I have thought since on the question; one of what people? One of those crazy nut jobs that feels respect towards the flag? One of those extremists who honors the blood of those heroes who fought to defend our freedom? One of those who fly the flag and don't let it touch the ground? You bet, I am totally one of those!
I am one of those people who believe that the United States was established with the divine guidance of God himself. I am the type of person who feels reverence and emotion when I ponder on the lives lost to bring liberty to pass. I feel a small portion of the pain a family must go through when they sacrifice a loved one for the cause of freedom. I cry when I see soldiers coming home to the open arms of a tearful child. I am one of those people who takes time to thank those I see in uniform and who aches for those who are sending loved ones off. I am one of those people who tear up when singing the national anthem.
I am one of those people who believe marriage between a man and woman is sanctioned by God. I believe a home with both parents is ideal for our society and would heal a lot of the trouble our youth face. I am one of those people who believe that just as we have the right to free speech, we have the right to carry a gun. I believe people have free agency and choice but that those choices shouldn’t involve the death of another human, no matter how small. I believe that there should be welfare systems in place, but should be used with discretion. I believe that a man that busts his back in providing for his family, should be allowed to keep that money. Render that which is Caesar’s to Caesar, that which is Gods, to God. And the rest, that man should be able to keep. I am not opposed to taxes, I am opposed to being penalized for making a certain income.
Yup, I am totally one of those. I will always place my hand over my heart when I hear the national anthem or say the pledge. I will cry for those who loose loved ones in war. I will pray for our troops. I will fly my flag and proudly declare, “I am an American who loves her country and who has ALWAYS been proud of it.” I am proud that we were the underdogs in 1775 and managed to gain that which is most precious. I am proud to see the troops today maintaining that. Sometimes I think I was blessed with so many boys because I can help raise them to love this country. And if the time were to come that they have to go off and fight a battle so we can keep flying our sacred American Flag, then I will sadly, but willingly, send them.
No one says it better than Frances Scott Key. I am willing to bet that those early Americans placed their hand over their heart when they heard the following song. And I am proud to say that I am SO ONE OF THOSE!
http://www.usa-flag-site.org/song-lyrics/star-spangled-banner.shtml
I have thought since on the question; one of what people? One of those crazy nut jobs that feels respect towards the flag? One of those extremists who honors the blood of those heroes who fought to defend our freedom? One of those who fly the flag and don't let it touch the ground? You bet, I am totally one of those!
I am one of those people who believe that the United States was established with the divine guidance of God himself. I am the type of person who feels reverence and emotion when I ponder on the lives lost to bring liberty to pass. I feel a small portion of the pain a family must go through when they sacrifice a loved one for the cause of freedom. I cry when I see soldiers coming home to the open arms of a tearful child. I am one of those people who takes time to thank those I see in uniform and who aches for those who are sending loved ones off. I am one of those people who tear up when singing the national anthem.
I am one of those people who believe marriage between a man and woman is sanctioned by God. I believe a home with both parents is ideal for our society and would heal a lot of the trouble our youth face. I am one of those people who believe that just as we have the right to free speech, we have the right to carry a gun. I believe people have free agency and choice but that those choices shouldn’t involve the death of another human, no matter how small. I believe that there should be welfare systems in place, but should be used with discretion. I believe that a man that busts his back in providing for his family, should be allowed to keep that money. Render that which is Caesar’s to Caesar, that which is Gods, to God. And the rest, that man should be able to keep. I am not opposed to taxes, I am opposed to being penalized for making a certain income.Yup, I am totally one of those. I will always place my hand over my heart when I hear the national anthem or say the pledge. I will cry for those who loose loved ones in war. I will pray for our troops. I will fly my flag and proudly declare, “I am an American who loves her country and who has ALWAYS been proud of it.” I am proud that we were the underdogs in 1775 and managed to gain that which is most precious. I am proud to see the troops today maintaining that. Sometimes I think I was blessed with so many boys because I can help raise them to love this country. And if the time were to come that they have to go off and fight a battle so we can keep flying our sacred American Flag, then I will sadly, but willingly, send them.
No one says it better than Frances Scott Key. I am willing to bet that those early Americans placed their hand over their heart when they heard the following song. And I am proud to say that I am SO ONE OF THOSE!
http://www.usa-flag-site.org/song-lyrics/star-spangled-banner.shtml
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Why?
One word. One syllable. It is a word in which children all over the world have learned and use frequently. It is a word that can evoke a wide array of feelings, from compassion to frustration. It is this word, I explore today.
Why? This age old question has so many answers, but I only list the ones I don’t seem to have the answers to.
Why is it that as soon as you close the door to the bathroom there is a chorus of "mom", fingers sliding under the door and telephones ringing?
Why is it that every time you decide to wake up early for quiet time, your children also begin to wake-up earlier and earlier, making your quiet time, a fleeting thought?
Why, when a mother sits down to eat, her newborn baby will suddenly need to be held?
Why can children spend a concentrated effort on making a ball land in a basket, but can’t seem get the household garbage all the way into the trash barrel.
Why do boys have perfect aim when shooting a water gun but can’t seem to aim at all when they use the bathroom? (have you ever cleaned behind and under a toilet used by 4 boys –eww)
Why is mom the only one who knows how to find a lost shoe?
Why do children suddenly have urgent issues when mom gets on the phone?
Why is new carpet and furniture the only thing that attracts sticky, yucky and grimy things?
Why do children mimic their parents? Don’t they know it is painful to watch, sometimes?
Why are children so emotionally honest?
Why is it that a child who is sick and distraught is comforted only in the arms of its mother?
Why does a mother’s kiss make the “owie” go away?
Why is it that when you look at your sleeping child, you forget all their misdoings and think only to when they were small enough to hold in your hands?
Why would Heavenly Father trust me with such sweet spirits? (but I am so glad he did)
Why? This age old question has so many answers, but I only list the ones I don’t seem to have the answers to.
Why is it that as soon as you close the door to the bathroom there is a chorus of "mom", fingers sliding under the door and telephones ringing?
Why is it that every time you decide to wake up early for quiet time, your children also begin to wake-up earlier and earlier, making your quiet time, a fleeting thought?
Why, when a mother sits down to eat, her newborn baby will suddenly need to be held?
Why can children spend a concentrated effort on making a ball land in a basket, but can’t seem get the household garbage all the way into the trash barrel.
Why do boys have perfect aim when shooting a water gun but can’t seem to aim at all when they use the bathroom? (have you ever cleaned behind and under a toilet used by 4 boys –eww)
Why is mom the only one who knows how to find a lost shoe?
Why do children suddenly have urgent issues when mom gets on the phone?
Why is new carpet and furniture the only thing that attracts sticky, yucky and grimy things?
Why do children mimic their parents? Don’t they know it is painful to watch, sometimes?
Why are children so emotionally honest?
Why is it that a child who is sick and distraught is comforted only in the arms of its mother?
Why does a mother’s kiss make the “owie” go away?
Why is it that when you look at your sleeping child, you forget all their misdoings and think only to when they were small enough to hold in your hands?
Why would Heavenly Father trust me with such sweet spirits? (but I am so glad he did)
Friday, August 1, 2008
Little Moments, Lasting Memories
A friend of mine has found a fun way to preserve memories. Check out her blogspot...
www.littlemoments-lastingmemories.blogspot.com
VERY CUTE!
www.littlemoments-lastingmemories.blogspot.com
VERY CUTE!
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