A Lesson Learned While Flying Around

I wrote this blog entry a couple weeks ago on a flight home.  Since then I have had a chance to visit my doc and discovered I have either a torn meniscus (easy recovery, but harder the rest of my life since i lose more of my little meniscus) or my cartiledge on the end of my femur has become disattached (bad recover, better over all given my previous history). I had forgotten to post it until today as when I wrote it I did not have internet.  I hope you enjoy!

I will never cease to be amazed at how many every day coincidences and experiences are given to me in order for me to learn by my Heavenly Father. Today, once again, i had a lesson I needed to learn, or relearn, and He took care of creating the perfect situation for me to be in.

For those who don't know me , or don't know me well, a bit of background might be needed. About 9 years ago I was decorating a christmas tree for a local children's hospital to be auctioned off. After working on the bottom level, i tried to stand up, but found it impossible to do. My meniscus had been ripped in a almost complete circle, leaving only about 20-30% undamaged. The following years would bring multiple surgeries on both knees, leaving me with only a fraction of my cartilage and with pain as a near constant companion. For some unknown reason I had developed severe early onset osteoarthritis. I occasionally tear off bits and pieces of meniscus, and depending on the amount and location, this can just mean a few weeks of more pain, or it can mean yet another trip to my surgeon.

My knees recently have been doing better than i remember for years!! Recently i had the blessing of running a week long girls camp for nearly 300 girls for my church. I had been overwhelmed at the thought of this undertaking during the entire year long planning. I knew my knees would be an issue, and knew I would spend the week in pain. A funny thing happened there. I threw my cane (yes, I have one, and hate it!) in my truck for 'when i needed it.'  Camp began on Monday, and due to my responsibilites,  I don't recalling having an opportunity to sit down and relax until Thursday, and I even wore a pair of shoes out somehow with all my running. And yet, the most amazing part of the whole week was I didnt ever feel any discomfort or pain. I truly felt that was one of the biggest miracles of my life. Now, for my story's sake, we will jump back to my current life.

A few weeks ago my oldest daughter discovered there was a mansion/museum in Washington D.C.  filled with secret passages. She had been obsessed with secret passages for awhile, and such a find was a dream come true!! Since then she has been caught many a time telling different people about this mansion, and how she wanted to see it. Well, due to the fact that i have been blessed with a job that allows me to fly all around the country with no cost, this seemed to me to be a wish that I could give her. I scheduled the flight, found a friend to crash with (thank you Clara!), and got everything ready to give my daughter what I could (and hanging out with one of the sweetest 12 year old girls ever was just icing on the cake!). My sister, and her daughter were coming too. Nothing could be better in life! Until I started packing.

I was bending over to get some clothes, and felt that all familiar pain. It wasn't the pain of me predicting an in coming storm, or my general constant aches, but it was that pain where I am usually begging my doctor to get me in that afternoon, and we have usually scheduled my surgery for later that same week before the appointment finishes. I didnt know what to do. All of my plans had been made, and I didn't want to lose this opportunity to share this with my daughter. So I was left with one choice, and only one choice. I grabbed my cane, hobbled around the house to finish packing, and then headed off to the airport.

Between 3 different flights to get to Washington, and 4 different attempts to get from boston to washington reagan airport (oh, and due to the bumps, going through security a total of 6 times) my knee was getting worse, swelling and aching. But of course it is all worth it in my mind. On one of the flights, my sister, daughter, and niece all got on, leaving me alone at the airport. And this is when suddenly God decides to teach me.

I am standing by the desk at the gate, my family has boarded the flight, and I need a new boarding pass to try for the next flight. An older man asks me what is wrong with my knee, and I tell him the shortened version of my history and pain, and how I will be fine. He asks me to sit by him while we wait for the agent to get our tickets. (He too was attempting to get on that flight, and had gotten bumped like me.) As my knee is turning into a small pumpkin by this point, I gladly take the seat to relieve some pressure. He tells me that he has dealt with medical issues in the past. He tells me of his life, and how he has tried to become more christian, and how he prays for those whom he meets who are sick or injured, and he has seen people healed by Heavenly Fathers power. He bears his testimony of his savior, Jesus, and asks if I mind if he says a prayer for me.

To me, this is not a new concept. I have many times had blessings for medical issues, and many times for my knees. I have seen miracles where I can do things i knew were beyond my physical ability. But, I have also come to understand, that God doesn't take away all of our pain (not that I would argue if he decided to take this away!). He cares enough for me to allow me to grow. He leaves enough so I can remember others pain, and show them the same love and compassion that I am sometimes in need of. 

This kind older man says a prayer asking me to feel better, asking God to help me have the strength to continue on. The amazing thing is i feel a bit better, and a bit lighter. My knee still hurts, and that is okay. God wanted me to remember that he loves every one of us, regardless of religion. He has given us all blessings, and watches out for each of us. He wants us all to pray to him, and to keep our eyes open for those whom we can serve, in whatever ability we can. He wants us, who have a testimony and knowledge of his gospel and his son, to share it, even when it is with a complete stranger.

As I am now flying above the beautiful clouds, looking at this amazing earth he created for us, and listening to primary songs played on the piano, I am in awe. I am so thankful for a Heavenly Father who loves me enough to subside pain when I need that, for a Father who loves me enough to let me grow, and who is always willing to teach me, even when it involves a bit of pain. And I am grateful that there are so many others in my life who help me remember His love daily.  

Anger and Forgiveness

Anger is a very interesting emotion. Psychologists will often tell you that it is a secondary emotion, not primary. This means that it is not the first emotion we leap to, but is a result of some other emotion, such as pain, fear, or sadness. We take that primary emotion, and decide, either consciously, or subconsciously, what to do with it. One problem in the world today is how many people immediately jump from any of the "unpleasant" primary emotions to anger. And the sad truth is, the more often we make that leap, the more our brains learn the pattern, and soon it would seem to us, and others, that anger is our primary emotion.



I remember driving with someone who heard a "weird" car noise. It didn't sound pretty, and it was the kind of noise that, if you heard it from your own car, it would give you a moment to wonder if you needed to visit the mechanic. The initial emotion, fear that your car is broken, followed by worry that the money needed to fix it will cause you some type of inconvenience. Almost instantly, in a very angry voice, the person I was traveling with stated, "I hope that is someone else's crappy car!" Obviously the sentiment of not wanting one's own car to be broken is completely understandable. I don't think any of us wishes for a broken car (well, maybe a mechanic who needs more work, but even then they don't want it to be their own). But there is a big difference between hoping for good in ones own life, and wishing for harm in someone else's life.



Now, I am not going to even pretend that I don't get angry! If I did, my children would start laughing hysterically! But I am trying to rid myself of that emotion. It does no good in the world, it solves no problem, it helps nobody. But in order to get rid of it, I know it will take a lot of hard work, and a lot of self reflection.



I recently was speaking to a sociologist about something that had truly angered me. It wasn't a recent event, or even a small event. But it had angered me enough to carry it around with me in my heart for about 20 years. He asked me what good holding on to that anger did. Well, let's see. During those 20 years I was less likely to forgive. I was less likely to trust. And I was more likely to let things that people did hurt me. Hmmm.. not really anything that made my life better, and not anything that led to any solutions to any problems.



So, he gave me the best advice I have ever had. Let it go. Forgive.



I had a really hard time with this advice at first. Forgive? But I had been wronged!! How could I just let it go?? Isn't that saying it was alright in the first place?? No, it isn't. But that is how it seemed to me, and I think that is why I had held on to my anger so long. He explained forgiveness in a way that I had never thought of it before. Forgiveness is simply understanding that even though bad, even horrible, things may happen, that God still loves you. It is handing the problem over to God, letting him worry about "dealing with it", and realizing that He will be a merciful judge, to both you and all His children, and not to fret about what will happen to them, but simply be filled with hope and love for His mercy toward you. It is putting your trust in Him, fully and completely. And simply letting all the anger go away. It isn't as much to do with your relationship with the offending party, as it is to do with your relationship with Heavenly Father, and Christ.



I worked with this wonderful man for a few months. He had me write letters to people that I knew I would never deliver, although he encouraged me to do so. He listened to me cry, and probably watched me go through at least a few boxes of Kleenex. He told me that yes, I had been hurt, and yes, I had a right to be angry, but I also had a right to be happy, and I had a right to not hurt, and I had a right to not be angry, and to let go of the heartache that I had carried around so long. I never realized how much the anger was holding me back, how much I let it guide my decisions and my life. To let it go was to take back the control, it was simply saying "God, I know you are still there for me. I know you will protect me. And I know you love me, and all your children", and then moving on. The memory of the hurt may always be a part of me, but I don't need to feel it any more.



I remember my last meeting with this wonderful man who taught me so much. I know I am not done, and still have a long way to go. But out of my experience, not my anger, I am learning sympathy, empathy, and learning to be more Christlike, and to share Christ's love with all. Through my forgiveness of others, I am learning to be non judgemental (as I know not the paths they have trod, or the trials they have faced). I am learning how to treasure each happy moment, and make them a focus of my life. I am learning to forgive.



And as I look at the things, both large and small, that I allow to cause anger in my life, I am learning to look at my first emotions and grow from them, instead of wither from anger. Out of my pain and sadness, I can learn to have more sympathy. Out of my fear, I can gain a greater desire to comfort and serve others. Out of my hurt, I can come the desire to show charity and love to others, and learn the importance of not hurting others. But out of anger, comes nothing of worth.



No life can ever be devoid of undesirable emotions, but I believe as we grow closer to God, and learn more of Christ, and His atonement for each one of us, we can rid ourselves of anger, and embrace forgiveness. The miracle in forgiveness is not only the peace we find when we seek forgiveness for our sins, but it is the peace we find when we forgive others.

When Mr. Right Lives Across the Country, oh.. and you haven't met

Looking back, there is no doubt in my mind that my Heavenly Father had a huge part in the decision of who to marry. However, it happened so fast, I don't think I had a clue until I was already married to my best friend.  So, here is a post on God giving you what you need, even when you didn't even realize you wanted it yet.

I was attending school at the University of Utah.  I had always thought my path would lead me to be a doctor at some point, and I had used high school to work toward that goal, then began college first working toward my bachelors of Nursing. And that is where my story begins, a girl wanting to be a doctor, doing her nursing pre-reqs, having no idea how her life would be turned upside down in just a few short months.

Now,  if anyone is reading this, and unaware of how "getting married" is different in Utah, well, maybe I should explain a bit.  Many guys, and almost every one of my male friends, served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  They leave at 19 years old, or there about, and they spend the next 2 years of their lives teaching people about the gospel, serving them, and growing closer to their Savior, Jesus Christ.  They come home so much at peace, so much more mature, and very often, ready to step into their next phase of life, marriage. 

So here I am, at college, with all these guys around who seem to have one thing on their mind, getting married. I already have my little road map of my life ahead of me.  In my mind I will 1. Finish my bachelors, and go on to get my medical license.  2. Serve a service mission for the church where my medical license will be put to good use.  3. Open a practice and when I have spare time, look for someone to marry, and start a family.  Because of being somewhat of a geek in high school, I started college with enough credits that I was already a Junior, so although these were long term plans, I was well on my way.

I am not sure if the next part of my story was an experience that was concocted by  God just to put me in the right frame of mind, scared out of my wits, or just coincidence, but either way it worked.  Apparently, being a cute little 19 year old girl in science classes at the University of Utah had its advantages.  I was happy, smiley, and even though my thoughts on marriage were so far in the distance, I could barely see them, I was more than happy to say yes to anyone who asked me out on a date.  After all, a free meal, good company, and some fun was just what I needed to give me some extra energy to go accomplish my dreams.  So I dated, as much as I could. I wouldn't date anyone seriously, only casually, usually a few dates with a guy before I moved on.  I didn't need, or want, anything serious.

But then it happened. Apparently someone snuck in my bedroom in the middle of the night, and must have tattooed my forehead to read "Marry Me Please".  They must have used some special ink that was only visible to men, because I could never see it, but apparently they could.  My next few dates would prove that.  Date number one: Cute guy from physiology class.  OK.  So, this one I didn't even get an official date from before he sent me running in the opposite direction!

We had sat next to each other a few times during physiology class, and after talking to one of my good friends, I discovered she was related to him.  So, knowing I found him cute, she invited him to my surprise birthday party.  And he offered to drive me home.  It was a dream come true.  Until the conversation changed, and he asked me how soon I wanted to get married.  Marriage?? Huh?? I think I just stared at him as if he were a crazed lunatic!  There was nothing wrong with him! If he were willing to come back in, well let's see, about 10, maybe 12, years, sure! Sounds like a plan! But right then, um?  I told him this, and well, he wasn't thrilled about my answer.  In fact, he tried to talk me out of it.  But I stood my ground. Nope! Nada!

The following day, I still sat next to him the in physiology, and introduced him to my friend, a very cute red head spunky thing, and, well, I guess he got his wish! They got engaged about 2 weeks later.  And all i could think was "better her than me!"





Then, scare number two came along.  This guy seemed nice.  I met him at an institute dance, and danced with him a couple times.  He had a nice smile, seemed friendly, and only had a couple things that I wasn't interested in.  The main one, he was shorter than me.  I had a list of things a guy "needed" to have to be my prince charming.  First one, he had to be taller than me.  I spent the end of junior high, and all of high school, just short of 6 feet tall.  I spent years dating guys who I could tell them if their part on their hair was straight, because I could see it, easily.  Slow dancing was awkward, to say the least, with their heads being level with my chest instead of the other way around.  But, he asked me out, seemed like a nice guy, so according to my self imposed rules (to date as many people as possible!), I said yes. 





We were having a fun time! I discovered he actually competed on the university's ballroom dance team, which made me feel so much more aware of my gangly long limbs. But it's just a date, all is well. After a fun night of dinner and dancing, we were walking along the street downtown by temple square.  Now, anyone who is Mormon, and lives in Utah knows that if you are going to propose, this is the place to do it.  But of course, it is my first date, and so such thoughts don't even enter my mind. Now the conversation takes an interesting turn.  He asks me how my parents met.  Well, they grew up around the corner from each other. My dad started hanging out at my mom's house around the time he was 8 or 9, and they were great friends.  They started dating later, and got married soon after my mom finished high school.  Then he asks how I think will meet my future spouse.  I am sure he will just become my best friend at some point, and then a few years later, finally we decide to get married. He begins talking of how his parents went on their first date, and during the date, his dad proposed, and his mom accepted, they just knew.  He asked me if I thought that was terribly romantic, and how would I feel if that happened to me.  I, thinking this was just a conversation maker,  told him how I thought about it, and apparently it was the wrong answer for him.  Oops.  Let's just say, there was never a second date.

Add a couple more experiences like that, and I am sure you can see how I was now a bit skittish around men.  How could you meet someone, and instantly marry them, or even talk marriage with them? I have to admit, I don't even remember either of these guy's names, and the one I was kinda spacey on his name during the actual date.  But now, when I went on a date, I was very cautious.  If any talk of marriage came up, I instantly changed the subject.  I asked about goals in a "predate" conversation, and made sure I mentioned all I was going to accomplish before I got married.  Looking back, I may have scared off a few of the normal guys, too. But that was fine by me.  I just wanted to make sure I had a chance to live my life and gain my goals! And, I did know that marriage would interrupt those goals.

Now, there was another "must" on my list of what I required in my future husband, and this one was a deal breaker.  I wanted, no needed, someone who could marry me in the LDS temple.  I never saw the point in being married to someone until death, and then, when one of us died, saying "Hey! Thanks for the great memories! Bye!   Hasta la vista baby!"  Instead, I wanted someone I could be married to forever, this life and the next, and I knew this could be achieved in the temple. And this was where my whole story got "interesting" and a guy snuck under the radar.

I was going to school back in the days when cell phones were only owned by a very elite few, the Internet was still in its infancy, and there was still long distance charged from every land line, even to call from Salt Lake City to Provo. Many of my friends had gone to BYU to attend college.  So to call them, or talk to them, I would have to pay money!! It was appalling!  So, we found out about this new "technology" called a MOO (Multi-User Domain Object Oriented).  It was kind of like a chat room, in its very beginning stages.  It was used, mostly by techno geeks, to have a place to do funny little programming tricks, and show them to other techno geeks.  For me and my friends, it was a way to go to a computer lab, log into a computer, and plan our weekends, and chat, without needing to pay for an expensive phone bill.  It was a dream come true!!  We would choose times when we had breaks between classes, log in, and chat the day away.

OK, remember the mention of the missions? Guys going away for a couple years?  Well, there was one I had a huge crush on! But he was gone for a couple years, out teaching people about Jesus, and loving every minute of it! He was one that I figured I could throw away at least part of my dreams for when he got back if things worked out.  And he had attended Skyline High School, a small fact that would help set the ball rolling.

So, I was sitting in a computer lab at the University of Utah, getting very, very bored waiting for my friends to log on and talk to me!  To pass the time, I began talk to a couple other people who happen to be on this particular MOO.  There were a couple of guys, one who went  by Fenris Ulf, the other by Coyote, who were around a lot.  Apparently they had to log a certain number of hours on the MOO for their 20th Century Communication Class. Apparently this "chat" thing is going to be big in the future!! In fact, businesses may use it as a way to hold meetings, people will use it to talk to people in different cities! (Yes, chat rooms were in the “someday this technology” will be big time, and yes, dinosaurs still roamed the earth!) Some day, almost everyone will have it!  So, they had to learn to use it.   We talked a bit, and I met their instructor, Kiwi.  As we were chatting I learned that although they are attending the University of South Florida, Coyote went to Skyline High.  He grew up just a couple streets over from all the guys I hung out with in high school.  Another Skyline guy! I couldn't be more thrilled! The three of them, Kiwi, Coyote, and Fenris, were great! They always were so willing to talk to me and just be nice while I waited for my friends to log in.  And one of them, Fenris, was so much fun to talk to, but I knew he was safe! He wasn't Mormon, and lived in Florida.  I didn't have to worry about HIM throwing crazy words at me like MARRIAGE!  After all, he wasn't one of those insane return missionary boys!

Soon I found myself logging in, not to talk to my high school friends, but instead to talk with him.  We spent hours talking about just about everything!  We were becoming close friends, and yet had never met face to face.  I think we started talking around the end of October, or possibly the beginning of November.  As I am a psycho Christmas-aholic, I sent him a Christmas present, and a picture so he would know what I looked like (The computer technology didn't have a way for us to send pictures, so the US Postal service was as good as it got! Apparently he decided I was drop dead gorgeous.. and, according to his grandfather, way out of his league! And who am I to argue).  He mailed me a  present in return, including a gold heart locket and a picture of him in full camo face paint from his army days.  But he was still safe.  So I kept talking and getting closer to him.  One day he casually mentioned a drink.  I think it had the word blue? maybe even motorcycle? I had no clue what he was talking about, and told him so.  His words, I do believe were, "Oh, you live in Utah? And don't know what that is? You must be a Mormon!".  Yep!  (For those who are LDS, please sing in your head “I'm a Mormon, Yes I Am!” at this point in the story!) You better believe it.  He asked a couple questions, and we ended up having a nice long talk about religion, and my beliefs. 

Next, I asked him a question that would change my entire life.  "Do you mind if I send a couple friends over to teach you about my church?"  His answer was somewhat surprising to me. "Sure! I would love that." OK. No problem. 

It would be wrong of me not to share some of his background here. So consider this his flashback, unknown to me at the time. Tommy had always wanted to be in the Army. During high school, he was a leader in the ROTC. He qualified for a full scholarship to Embry-Riddle. He served in the 82^nd Airborne Division, and was part of a LRSD (long range surveillance detachment, which means the army flies you a few miles BEHIND enemy lines, drops ya off via kicking you out the aircraft door with your parachute, and you watch the enemy, and radio back details of the other armies happenings.) During this time he had an army buddy named Greg Rayty. Rayty was a return missionary. Tommy always admired him. He was the type of guy who would tell them, “I don't care what time it is! If you are drunk, you call me and I will come give you a ride!” He was always kind to everyone. And he and Tommy had numerous talks about beliefs, the meaning of life, and religion. Greg had shared with him everything missionaries teach, and Tommy believed him, and knew what he spoke was true, even though he didn't choose to do anything but listen at this point. OK. Flash forward...

The missionaries showed up at his house, and his grandpa sent them away. The missionaries, knowing someone in Utah asked them to go to this house, showed up again! This time grandpa told them to please leave and next time they would be greeted by the police. Tommy, hearing all this decided to take action on his own. On Sunday, he looked up the address for the local ward house, drove over, knocked on the bishops office door, and questioned “What does a guy need to do to join your church?” The missionaries took over from there, and shortly later Tommy was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Now, this meant that he was getting a bit less "safe" as a guy friend.  But he still lived in Florida, so I was still safe, or so I could pretend.  I could still have him as, well, now, one of my best friends. But funny thing is, apparently he didn't get the memo that I had a lot to do before I let myself fall in love, get married, and all that good stuff! And apparently the tattoo must have shown up on the picture I sent him. And he wasn't about to not follow that “Marry Me” advice that was so prominently there on my forehead, after all, if he didn't, someone else might try!

A couple days after his baptism, I got a phone call, not our normal means of communication, since we were both broke, and couldn't afford the long distance charges.  He said he was moving to Utah. I am not sure anything about marriage was mentioned, but as this was getting into  the "scary beyond belief" zone, I told him quite clearly that I was not interested in a relationship, but was happy to meet him face to face, and hoped he could find what he was looking for here. 

Well, to make a long story.. well, not as long as it could be, it ended up I didn't have to worry about him asking me to marry him on the first date.  He took care of that before we even had a chance to go on a date, only six days after getting here. And for some reason, coming out of his mouth, it wasn't so scary. 

Six months later, we were married, and that is how we began the story that we are now 16 years into, and how all of my grand plans were foiled by falling in love.  But the rest of that is for another story....

"What are your talents?".. Ummmm

I remember when I first went to my husband and said, "Honey, I think we are suppose to start having a family. What do you think?" The previous 4 years of marriage he had watched me ooh and awe over babies, pull faces at them, talk to toddlers with a huge smile, and knew this day was coming. I had just finished my college degree, and so the next logical step in my mind was fulfilling that baby hunger I had!

I didn't know how quickly, and fully that blessing would be fulfilled! Within two months of that conversation I announced I was expecting, and then later that year we welcomed our first daughter into our home.  I have to admit, she was somewhat a fussy child, but she was mine, and I was thrilled!  About six months later at a check up, my doctor told me she did not think I would be able to have any more children without major medical intervention.  I enjoyed my time as a mother, and thought, well, I have one.  Just when she was getting to that cute stage where she could pull herself up on things, and pull everything off the table or desk, and could begin to cause her own mischief, around nine months in age, we had another surprise. I was again expecting.  We were overjoyed! The doctors apparently were wrong, and we were thrilled at the chance.  Right as our oldest turned 18 months, we brought our second beautiful daughter home. 

Now, I said my first was a bit fussy, but my second was clearly in pain.  She had severe reflux.  We were still blessed, it was nothing life threatening. Not anything that would cause her to have hardships in life, just something that would keep her very sad, and would keep my shoulder constantly smelling like spoiled milk.  I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but knew this too would pass, and so I continued to enjoy my time as a mother.

Time went on, and Leah hit that lovely mischievous stage around 9 months.  She got into everything, made messes everywhere, and it was wonderful! And stressful.  On top of that, Kimberly had mastered the twos.  She was advanced for her age.  She could throw a tantrum and yell "NO!" with the best of them.  She wasn't a bad child by any means, but every 2 year old can be a handful at times, so with the two of them, I was managing, a bit sleep deprived, and a bit stressed.  But I knew this stage would not last forever, so I did what I could do to enjoy it.

It was at this time that I received more shocking news.  I discovered I was, once again, pregnant.  This time the announcement was not made with cute papers and smiles, but instead as tears streaked down my face to only my closest friends as I told them I didn't think I could handle it, and that I didn't understand why Heavenly Father would send me another child at this time.  But I did what I could to handle it. 

Nine months later, we brought our third daughter home. She too had reflux, but this time I knew how to handle it.  I found a car seat that had a strap that could sling over your shoulder like a large purse to carry her. And I went into survival mode.  I spent my days trying to cope with having a 3 year old, 18 month old, and newborn.  Luckily they were so close to 18 months apart for doctors appointments, and  I even had one time I could take all 3 in at once for immunizations! And due to my lucky find of the car seat, I was able to carry 2 screaming toddlers, one on each hip, and 1 screaming baby, in a car seat strapped to me dangling in front, all out of the doctors office at once, with the diaper bag.  Yes, I was living the stay at home moms dream, or nightmare possibly.  

I had a very hard time with this stage.  I had always been a very independent, very involved in the community personality, loving to stay busy and be involved.  Now I had no time for friends, or for any of what I used to do.  Which brings me to that dreaded question on that form.

Fast forward a bit. I now have a 6 month old, 2 year old, and my oldest is still 3.  The house is sometimes, well oft times, scattered with toys.  I have open packs of diapers and wipes in a few rooms in the house so I can change the child where ever we are at.  I go to museums and parks, and my favorite restaurant has been downgraded to McDonald's.  Sometimes we watch Seame Street so I can hear an adult voice in the house for a change.  And I am doing ok.  I am managing. My kids are doing well. And we move into a new ward.

I am given a paper that is a "getting to know you" paper with simple questions.  The first ones are easy. Name, Number of Children and ages, Favorite Food, Favorite Color, no problem!  It is the next one that strikes me hard.  "Talents and Hobbies".  Hmmm. Have to think about that one.  Hobbies.  Well, I know I used to sew? I like to sing?  I start looking over my life, and wondering what do I do? Gourmet chef? Well, as we eat mac and cheese a lot, no.  I think about sports.  Back in junior high I used to play basketball, but what do you expect out of a woman who has 2 brothers over 6' 4".  And my height was about all I had going for me back in my "day"; I hadn't take the opportunity to go out and "shoot hoops" for, well, about 3 1/2 years at least. (It is hard to make a basket while carrying a baby). OK, not sports. What else?

Crafts? Did I have talent in crafts? This was all happening during the early years of "scrap booking" where the scrapbooks were works of art and took about as much time as the Sistine Chapel.  Let's see.  I did put Sariah's ultrasound on some card stock and placed it in a binder, not sure it qualified. 

Sewing? I could mend  stuff.  Heck, I could even take a pattern and sew pretty much anything, as long as it was a decent material that was easy to work with.  Then again, when I got engaged, and chose a dress that was a mere $3,000 my mother had studied the designer dress over and over, and made a pattern to copy it, even down to the funky pillow bows on the back. Ok, sewing was not what I would call my "talent".

Singing? Well, I like to sing, love to sing.  Talent? Same mother, well she trained to be a professional opera singer before my brother was born. Nope! Couldn't even compare myself.

So I sat there.  Many thoughts entered my mind. Not nice ones, but instead very harsh ones.  How could someone else "get to know me" when I didn't even know myself?  What were my talents? Why was I worthwhile? It was a very hard look inside of myself.  I couldn't remember what I did for "fun", and as far as talents, well, I could diaper a baby while keeping the toddler from reaching in and  grabbing the poop. Not really what I thought they were looking for.  Looking back, I don't think the sleep deprivation and constant running helped my outlook.  I think I was just plum wore out, and rightly so! I had put a lot of hard work, late nights, early mornings into my kids.  I deserved to be tired! But I still wanted to know that I had a talent. I had something I could offer the world, other than just my kids, to say "Hey! Look! I am worthwhile! I am needed! God put me here because the world needed me, too!". 

As I sat there, I had a small child smile at me.  And I smiled back, probably winked (although I was close to tears). And I watched them get all happy and excited. I began to peak around chairs so they couldn't see me the peek out, and they would start giggling.  I played this game for a few minutes, while still listening to the dark feelings in my mind.  And then I had a prompting, and very strong prompting. "This is why you are important! This is your talent!" I could smile, and by doing so, I could make others smile.  I think I have a lovely smile! Not because all my teeth are perfect, or because my lips are just so, but because when I smile I smile with my whole being. My eyes light up, my cheeks bump up squashing out my eyes, and my whole body smiles with all it has.  And I have a loud, obnoxious, contagious laugh! I do not snicker, I do not giggle, I laugh with everything I have! Even when life is crashing down, I smile, I laugh.  It is my coping mechanism.  And when things are good, why shouldn't I smile or laugh?  So, I do it then also.  I found my talent, and I proudly wrote on the paper "smile". I  never did find out what they thought of such a silly answer.  I hope it made them snicker a bit and think "Maybe I should smile more too?", maybe they just wrote it off that the new girl might be a little weird.  And I am not sure I even care. 

What I do know is I prize that knowledge now.  When anyone asks about my talents I tell them God gave me the ability to smile! Sure, now that the girls are older, and don't require my every waking breath, I realize I have other talents.  I bottle all kinds of food for our family! I love to garden! I can create a home that, although it will never make it in a decorating magazine, my kids can feel comfortable, complete with indoor slides and swings, secret passageways, hideouts, and 3 foot My Little Ponies painted on the walls.  I did take singing lessons from a dear friend, and although I still am sometimes unsure about my singing abilities, I know people don't cover their ears and run in pain, and I am even asked to sing, so I guess I need to count that one as a talent as well. 

However, On every form that asks me "What talents/hobbies do you have?" I always know my first answer.  It is the answer I learned that day, and a talent that puts the rest of my talents to shame.  I can smile! Try it out, maybe it is your talent too!

Stopping the Hatred

I just read an article about Gabby Douglas.  For anyone who is unaware of who this is, she is a 16 year old who has just changed Olympic history by her amazing talent!  She executed nearly flawless performances in every gymnastic area, allowing her to win multiple gold medals.  She has a beautiful smile, and loves to show it to all.  She is confident and amazing!

The news reports that after winning gold, what was everyone tweeting about? Her hair. Apparently her hair is not up to Olympic standards?   Her response was perfect!

"I don't know where this is coming from. What's wrong with my hair?" said Douglas, the first U.S. gymnast to win gold in team and all-around competition. "I'm like, `I just made history and people are focused on my hair?' It can be bald or short, it doesn't matter about (my) hair... Nothing is going to change, I'm going to wear my hair like this during beam and bar finals. You might as well just stop talking about it."

I  am thrilled that she has enough self esteem and good sense to realize her hair is not the problem.  (In fact, I thought her messy "let's get this hair out of my face so I can get to work" look was very cute!)

I am thrilled that she took this in stride and realized that her hair should be worn however she wants it! But I am somewhat confused on when society decided the "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" rule doesn't apply. 

I am not advocating going and burying your head in the sand, and pretending nothing bad exists.  That serves no purpose.  At that point there is nothing to optimistically look forward to, nothing you can do to improve this world.  But, what would happen if we all took a bit more time to look for the good in the world? 

I heard of a singer, Hilary Weeks, who heard that we all think 300 negative thoughts a day.  300!!! So, she decided to see if that was the case.  She purchased a simple clicker to click every time she thought a negative thought.  What did she discover? She discovered that when she was clicking every time a negative thought came into her mind, she focused on them, and became more negative overall.  Solution: She turned her clicker into a "positive thought clicker" and clicked every time she thought a positive thought!  Then she asked the world to join her. 

What if instead of any tweets saying "#GabbysHair, they read #GabbysGoldMedal, or even #VictoriasSilverMedal (Victoria Komova is the silver medal winner, who feels she failed utterly, by doing gymnastic stunts that only one other person on the face of the planet can do!)  What if instead of telling our children their faults, we focused more on their accomplishments, or just being there listening? What if instead of looking at the dirt, or unfinished jobs around the house, we saw an open DVD case and thought "I am so glad I took time to have my daughter snuggle up to me, and we could watch that together?"  What if the world decided to start "clicking" their positive ideas, and told their negative thoughts to be gone?

Even in heated areas where mudslinging seems to be the main communication, such as politics, what if we took a step back, and looked for the good in each candidate, and then made an informed decision? I haven't known a single president to blow up the entire continent, or sell it off to gypsies, so yes, even those that I disagree with still have some saving charms that I can look at, praise, and learn from. And even though some may argue, none of them TRIES to ruin or hurt our country.   How would it be if a political candidate felt friendship and love from his competition and the public as a whole? How much harder would he try to work for us and find the correct solutions?

I look at my daughter, and her best friend, who is my niece.  They amaze me! They are polar opposites on almost everything! My daughter is the straight as straight can be dark haired, olive skinned, dark eyed beauty.  She is very quiet, peaceful, and can be downright shy.  She likes her room completely clean (well, usually).  She can be 2 feet from you for an hour, and because of her quiet ways, you may never know.  My niece has naturally curly blond blond hair, she is as fair skinned as can be.  She is loud, attention seeking, wants to create a scene and make everyone laugh! Her only vice seems to be that she will never (and I mean NEVER NEVER EVER) keep her room clean.  Her bubbly personality seems to explode all over her room.  If she is in the house, you will definitely know it!

The two of them, if following society rules for looking for the bad, should never be friends.  They should not spend hours together every day.  Bekah should tell Kimberly of the dangers of skin cancer (even though she looks tan in places the sun has never seen!) and call her a wallflower, Kimberly should tell Bekah that she is too loud, and should learn to act like a lady.  And they can both find differences, and therefor something to mock and complain about, all day. Instead, the best way to offend either of them would likely be to insult the other, their best friend.  Instead they compliment each other.  They both add so much to the world, and bring beauty in their own way.  They both teach me lessons in life, and how to be a better person myself.   They show a mutual respect for each other, and more importantly love to each other.

We should all look for the positive in each other, and celebrate it! We should notice the problems that we may face, but then decide if it is a true problem that we need to fix, or if it is fluff to complain about.  If it is a real problem, work positively towards a solution.  And if it is just fluff, then remind ourselves to find the positive, to improve our attitudes, and smile.  The world can be a better place if we can just see everyone in it a little better.

Parable of the Green Goop

I had just moved to a new area with my husband and my daughters, ages 4, 3, and almost 1. The following Sunday we went to our new ward, and as they always did, the asked me, as a new member, they asked me to introduce myself, and I said my name, where I moved into, and quietly took my seat. I didn't feel comfortable, being a stranger, to ask for help. I had been to the doctor 2 weeks earlier to have them look at a cyst in my neck. They were afraid it could be cancerous, and had scheduled me for surgery to remove it a few days after our move. So, I sat there, feeling very venerable, very scared, and yet very alone. But I had always been one who didn't like to ask for help, so I didn't. I sat, smiled, and pretended not to have a care in the world.
Three days later, I underwent surgery. Everything went well. They removed the cyst, found only one "precancerous" cell, and sent me on my way. Now, I would hate for anyone to misunderstand. I felt incredibly blessed. I was so happy that I had not been given news that I would be going through horrible treatments, or would have an expected shorter life where I wouldn't be able to see my little ones grow. But the surgery did take its toll. The next day, as I watched my three little ones, I tried to take my first bites after surgery. My neck was so swollen, I quickly discovered, anything that needed to be swallowed in any form other than a liquid was going to cause too much pain. Also, the intubation had caused my inner throat to be very sensitive, and the fruits I had bought to make smoothies were too acidic, and stung. So I sat very, very hungry, in pain both in my stomach, hadn't eaten in about 36 hours, and my swollen neck, crying, and feeling a bit overwhelmed and depressed.
Then a knock came on my door. I answered, and a woman I had not remembered ever meeting. She stood there with a very, very large serving bowl, of what I could only describe at that point as a greenish brownish goop. She told me she hoped she wasn't bugging me, but that morning she had felt very strongly like she needed to make a veggie soup. She didn't know why, but she did. Then, she felt like she should run the veggie soup through the blender. Again, she didn't know why. But then she felt like that "new sister" needed it, but once again didn't know why. There stood a woman with a huge bowl of veggie soup, on my doorstep. She proceeded to ask why my neck was, in essence, looking like I was wearing a partial costume for a mummy. I told her what was going on, and she asked what else she could do to help. I told her I was fine, and the soup was more than I could ever ask for. Well, she didn't listen to that, being the kind of woman she was. That evening, I was told, by another sweet neighbor, to expect dinners coming for the next 5 days. I was also told they were looking for people to help with my children so I could sleep. I had visitors dropping by constantly with dinner, fresh baked bread, treats, games for the kids, and to simply sit and check on me. I had random babysitters. And every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I would have a bowl of veggie soup.
After a week had past, I was feeling somewhat better, still tired. I was amazed at the love and service that had been given me. I sat and wondered if there was anything else that these wonderful neighbors could have done for me, and decided there was nothing! They had done it all! While the children were all taking a nap, I decided to be a "good patient" and take a nap. Well, about two months before this all happened, I had undergone surgery where my meniscus in my knee had been repaired. Climbing into bed, I re tore my meniscus. I was instantly unable to bend or unbend my knee, and because of my previous experience, I knew walking would be very difficult until I once again underwent surgery. Do I need to mention that these wonderful people once again took care of me while I recovered from that surgery.
It is funny. I have heard people say that miracles no longer exist, if they even ever did. I have heard people say if God cared for them, or wanted them to believe, He could send them a miracle. I have heard people ask how anyone in the scriptures could stray after they had a "miracle of that magnitude" occur. I think back to this time of my life. There is no doubt God could have sent an angel to tell me I would make it. He could have sent an angel to testify of how much He loved me. However, would it have been any more of a miracle than to send a sweet woman, with a big bowl of green goop? And could He make me any more aware of His love for me, than to send exactly what I needed when I needed it?
I now try to live my life as a woman with a bowl of green goop, trying to do whatever God can ask for me to show my love for others, even when I may not know what they need.

Dancing in the Rain, or Pipe Water

I have a memory that I cherish, think of oft times, and each time it reminds me of the person I want to become, and am hopefully becoming day by day.  It happened about 11 years ago.  My husband and I were begining a new phase in life, and had the exciting upcoming experience of buying a new home! As we did not have any money for a down payment, we had moved into my parents basement with our two beautiful, yet very young daughters.  There wasn't anything fancy, no appartment style living, but simply a couple of bedrooms where we were welcome to stay. 

We had spent most of our married life in married student housing, which, although perfect for our budget, was somewhat lacking in space for furniture.  We owned a desk, our bed, an old table, and a crib.  It was about all that fit, and more than enough for what we needed. Of course, when we moved into my parent's basement, we discovered even some of our sparse furniture would not fit, such as the boxspring to our bed.  So at night, we would lay on our matteress on the floor with  my two daughters in the room next door, and so our story begins.

As I lay in bed, fast asleep,  Kimberly, my oldest (who we called KC at the time), wandered into our room saying something about water.  My husband and I had spent the night talking, much later than we should, as was our habbit, and were both somewhat incoherant by the time our late night visitor arrived.  I can not remember exactly what was said, but I am fairly sure (for there have been many such conversations over the year) that it progressed in a manner such as:
"Tommy dear, KC wants you"
"No, Nancy, she wants water, and you want me to get it"
"No, I think she wants you to get it. KC, tell daddy you want him to get you some water"
"Daddy, water?"
"See my love, I told you so"
"Ok [reluctantly begining to get up, and causing me emense guilt!]"
"No, Tommy, lay back down, I can get it"
"Are you sure dear".. ...

However, during this particular conversation KC kept inserting words such as splash, play, nothing that had to do with getting a drink, but being half asleep, I didn't dwell on it. 

Eventually, I got up off our floor/materess/bed contraption, took a few steps and realized my feet were wet.  Now, I am still half asleep, and wondering why, when suddenly I wake up completely, and find myself standing in water.  Play? Splash? Suddenly my daughters words make perfect sense!

I yelled at Tommy, then dashed upstairs to my parents bedroom, where I am sure I gave them an instant heart attack as the words Emergency! Now! Need! came rushing out of my mouth. 

As I returned down the stairs, with my parents in tow, we discovered that
1. A very large pipe had burst in the downstairs pantry.
2. Although I had very little furniture, I had placed it as strategically as possible, with the large cumbersome desk immediately in front of the water shut off valve.

We quickly (well, as quick as possible! It did take awhile to remember/figure out where the valve was) moved the desk, shut off the water main, and then spent the rest of the night bailing out the basement.

My parents entire pantry of food storage was soaked (did I mention the leak was in a pipe running through the basement ceiling?) There was plenty of damage, and plenty of worry about what would/wouldn't make it, how many hundreds of dollars worth of food was destroyed? What books could be ruined.  Did it get into the computer that was on my bedroom floor? What about the mattress? Pictures?

But what I remember most was my dad's attitude.  Now, my dad is the most dedicated, hard working man I have ever met. And although he was constantly working just as hard to get rid of the water to prevent further damage, not once did I see his smile disappear that night. I watched him splash with his granddaughter in between walking buckets of water out to be dumped.  I watched him tell my other daughter, Leah who was only 1,  to come "play in the water too" and lift her out of her crib to join in the merriment.  I watched my girls giggle, laugh, and have a ball, not understanding that anything was sad or a disaster.

This was a situation that wasn't what anyone hoped for, that not much good would be observed, and yet, it somehow ended up a treasured family memory.  We had fun! We did the work, at a time all of us would rather be in bed, and did it with smiles on our faces!  We laughed and played for hours when we never expected to.  And even now, so many years later, Kimberly says she remembers that night.  I am not sure if she does, or has just heard the story so often that she thinks she does, but I don't know that it matters.  She "saved" us from the flood, and got her own indoor pool. Not bad for a 2 year old!

Life throws stuff at us we don't want to see, we don't think we want to deal with, or sometimes we don't feel we are strong enough to withstand.  But Heavenly Father will help us find joy, friendship, and love in every situation if we just let Him. 

The purpose of life is not to hide from the storms, but to learn to dance in the rain, well, or water rushing out of a broken pipe!