Which Opinion Is Really Mine?

There are about 60 blog entries to prove that I feel insecure in my capacity as mother.

BUT--insinuate that four might be too many for me as Dallin's Aunt did last night, or suggest that I am too young as hairdressers have for years, or that children's needs are best met in families of two children ideally spaced as several neighbours have, and here's the earful you get:

"Well, it sure seems to me that people educated, conscientious, and reasonably compassionate as I am ought to be having very large families. If we leave all of the child bearing to people who are so uneducated, stupid, or irresponsible as to think that raising children takes no thought our future will be grim. We who are trying to teach children to be socially responsible, honest, loving people need to have enough children to outnumber the ones who are growing up in a catch-it-as-you-can approach to values. I fully expect that my children will become responsible, hard-working, honest, kind people because of the effort that my husband and I are putting into their upbringing now. They are fortunate to have a father who sets an example of hard-work, honesty, and perseverance. They are lucky to have a mother who is sacrificing all sorts of things in order to go on every school fieldtrip, bring them home at lunch time when they need it, teach them to love people and literature and right. They already have learned to value courage, defending right, helping the weak, speaking the truth, education, and more and I've only had 8 years with them!"

And beware of mentioning to me how expensive it is to raise children, because that's a whole other tirade about what is really required to create these idyllic children mentioned above and by the way Dallin and I have three degrees between us and not a cent of debt for it. So there.

Well, it doesn't happen too often, but every now and then, I think, or at least say, how great a job I think I'm doing and how splendidly my children are turning out. You just have to ask the right question.

What's Up With Moods?

Why do we go to bed feeling sad sometimes?
Other times with the same set of circumstances it all feels OK.

Birds were singing today. The sun was shining. I bought plants. Children were jumping barefoot on the tramp. Cold cereal was for dinner. And everyone got their chores done, though not cheerfully.

So what's up with moods? Why feel heavy hearted in the face of all that?

Is it realizing I've already gained 35 pounds and still have 14 weeks to go?
Is it my friend going through a divorce that seems so unfair and so eternally tragic?
Is it children whining over chores?
Is it not having had a real meal in three days?
Is it that the mess of a crazy week and a weekend away is all still in every corner of the house?
Is it the $70 I spent on plants and seeds with the weak hope that I'll grow more than that in garden produce? And the even weaker hope that my children will eat any of it?
Is it concern that Dallin carries such a heavy burden to provide for us and pay for this house and continue our comfortable lifestyle complete with piano lessons and store-bought hot dog buns?
Is it worry about when and where Dallin will find a job?
Is it guilt that I am not doing anything to bring in income?
Is it self-absorption?
Is it realizing that my favorite non-Brooks person turns 40 in three days and it's too late to do anything more than say, "You're my favorite"?
Is it that when I decided to have one of those beautiful slow-down moments of watching my kids play and being nearby that it disrupted them and it all ended in arguments and bedtime?
Is it missing my husband who is gone and will be for most of May?
Is it not liking my haircut?
Is it distance from family?
Distance from the ocean?
Distance from my goals?

Maybe it's not enough sleep. That was always my mother's solution--"It will look better in the morning." I've found it to be true, but still,

what's up with tonight?

Do I Have To Clean This?

No wonder my kids say it. Do I have to?

Why Are We Driving Again?

Until I got married, I thought civilized people all flew any distance greater than three hours.

And they all live within two hours of an international airport.

And they definitely do not drive past four airports on their way to somewhere more than three hours away.

But here we were driving again this weekend. Seven hours. Leaving Saturday and back on Monday. The return trip with no Dallin. So I was dragging my feet (out of the bottom of the Flintstone's car) about the whole trip. And as the kids whined, and I exited in downtown Seattle by accident, and we all felt queasy from car snacks and fast food I wondered why on earth we would be doing this again. I hate it.

But, on Sunday, after hearing the missionary homecoming talk of a young woman Dallin baptized 12 years ago, he said, "There is no place in the world that I'm as loved as I am here." And that was worth the 14 hours.

What Should I Have Said?

At the hairdresser the other day I mentioned that I was giving a presentation that evening so it would be nice to have a new haircut. She asked what kind of presentation and I sort of stammered until I stumbled upon--"I volunteer for my church and this is a class on the joy that can come from keeping a Sabbath Day."
I could see the awkwardness in her face in the mirror.
"I believe a day that is different from the rest can rejuvenate us," I said. Then I changed the subject.
But there were 40 minutes left to my haircut. And somehow, the conversation kept turning to her self-defense:
-Her ex's mother was Amish and was always unhappy when they did anything on Sunday. "Oh." Subject change.
-The Mennonites in Mission complained to a store owner that his store shouldn't be open on Sundays, but they would still go out to eat on Sundays. "Hmm...that's too bad." Subject change.
-A child told her that unless she went to church she wouldn't have anybody come to her hair salon. "Really?" How many times can I change the subject?
-She was a very spiritual person, who believes in community, but doesn't go to church.
-She finds Abbotsford a very churchy community.
-She has to work on Sundays as a hairdresser. Etc.
OK. OK.
Was it an attack on her to say that I am teaching a class on the Sabbath Day?
Did I miss my chance to explain how much God loves his children and how there is something even better than just being a "spiritual person"?
Is this the missionary opportunity that someone else might sieze?
Did I have a reponsibilty to defend religion in general?
Was I a coward or was this all going in the wrong direction from the start anyway?

Again?

The first time he lost his wedding ring we were on our way from one reception to the other. It was a 12 hour drive and we were about an hour into it. We had packed the car. We had traded vehicles at the mechanic's. We had dumped our trash into a dumpster. We had gassed up the car. We were distraught. We prayed. We drove back. We found it on the ground by the dumpster. We said we would get it re-sized right after the honeymoon. We never did.

The second time and third time and ninth times he lost it are all a blur. With every succeeding one, I feel a little more callous and a little less deserving of an answer to our prayer. After all, a trip to the jeweler would save us all these faith-promoting excursions.

I looked at the five foot depth of brambles, bushes, lawn clippings, and blackberry bushes where the ring is now and said, "Well, I guess that's that."

Dallin said, "It's got to be right here." A few hours later, he decided to rent a metal detector.

We'll see.

*27 April 2009--Dallin found it. No metal detector needed. Just persistence and faith. He also said we never looked for anything close to a "few hours." It felt like a few hours. He found it where I had been sitting and half-heartedly searching. Ooops. He's on his own next time.*

What Do You Get For A Free Haircut Coupon? (Part II)

An unsure woman. (Who is a bit unhappy that the 15 inches did not also remove 15 pounds and 5 years.)

A long braid.

A grumpy boy who can't keep the long braid.

And a kiss on the neck.

Not such a bad deal.

Is This A Battle We Can Win?

Maybe we should all just reclassify dandelions as a perennial and sell their seeds at the nursery.

What Do I Win?

Surely after all of those hours of filing our nightmare taxes I must win something for finishing.

A trophy? A free trip? Flowers? A day off?
How about just a guarantee that the government won't come after me with guns or requests to see my post-it notes full of calculations?

This year I didn't even win a refund. Bummer.

But, I did win membership in a pretty amazing country.
*A country where our son can have hundreds of thousands of dollars of MRIs and brain surgeries and medications without us worrying for a minute about the cost. (We did resent the $12 a day for parking, though.)
*A country that has been free from war on its lands since it wasn't actually Canada yet and it had a small skirmish with the U.S. (Don't discuss with a Canadian who actually won that battle.)
*A country that accepts other cultures into it so openly.
*A country with Wonderbars and All-dressed chips.

*A country that came up with the funniest ad campaign I have ever seen (Diamond-Shaped Shreddies.)
*A country that gives parents 50 weeks off (paid) to begin their new baby's life off right.
*A country where a striking Sikh temple is directly across from our beautiful Stake Centre with a parking lot the size of Texas.
*A country with the most beautiful National Anthem I know. (And I've heard almost all of them because we have an electronic globe that plays them all.)
*A country with so much untouched and glorious nature.
*A country where when you write to Santa Claus he actually writes back. (That's because the North Pole is actually in Canada, of course.)
*A country where you can vote for one of about 11 parties (including the Communist, Marxist, Marijuana, and Annexation Party-which is fighting to be annexed as the 51st State.)
*A country so small that you can still register to vote in pencil just before you cast your ballot and they don't ask you for proof of citizenship.
*A country where stores all decrease their hours, or close down completely, on holidays. (It used to drive me crazy and Dallin would insist it was because Canada valued family time more than commercialism. I've finally decided he's right.)

A country that let me join and doesn't mind that I'm American too.

(Sariah becomes a Canadian Citizen--September 2007)

Won't Anyone Write A Long, Wonderful Blog Post For Me To Read?

I've been filing these dumb taxes for days now and I would take any distraction on the planet.

I've already had a piece of pie,
read old blog posts,
scanned the news headlines,
and looked at pictures of my own kids on the screensaver for many minutes.

Please?

What Do You Get For A Free Haircut Coupon?

Orange hair.
A shocked mother.
A happy boy.
And a lollipop.







What a great deal!

What Is Hope?

I was given a blessing when Chas was in the hospital a year ago that instructed me that I was to have hope.

I had been trying to grapple realistically with what a 33% chance that he would never speak again meant. To be realistic and face the numbers head-on felt wise. To hope seemed naive.

Now I'm in a position again of needing to hope, but I don't know what that means.

Does hope mean to act a sentiment of light-heartedness until I feel it sincerely? Fake it 'till you make it?

Does it mean to trust that it will all be all right in the end? The so-far-away eternal end? Well I know that, and it doesn't quite feel like hope.

Does it mean to wish?

Does it mean to pray? Because one of the things that an understanding of the gospel brings is a knowledge that trials, even severe ones, are in the Lord's plan for us and that they will strengthen us. Prayer brings us to the Lord, but it doesn't tend to eliminate trials (Joseph of Egypt or Nephi or Joseph Smith, for example.)

Is it to expect that Dallin will get a job soon enough that our lives aren't disrupted?

Is it to feign certainty that Chas will not grow another brain tumour?

Is it to count on everyone else's confidence that my children will turn out fine?

Is it just to endure challenges cheerfully?

I have heard that it is to anticipate a positive outcome and prepare for a negative one. That feels like a cop-out. In other words, they don't know what it means either, so let's just cover both bases to be safe.

Is hope in the scriptures really only about hope in the saving power of Christ? I do have complete confidence in that power. And it is an anchor to my soul. And it keeps me from despair in this and all other trials. So is that all? Just sit tight and it will all be OK decades from now.

Jeremiah says we should hope and "quietly wait" on the Lord.
Jacob says that he wrote the words of scriptures hoping that his children would receive them with thankful hearts. Many did not.
Moroni, Alma, President Uchtdorf and others say that hope and faith and charity come together.
In Psalms it says that hope is about not forgetting the Lord's works and keeping his commandments.

Maybe hope is just continuing to be aware of the Lord and to do what's right while we wade through stuff.

What Would I Do Without Cold Cereal?

It saw me through two decades of picky eating.
I think it saw my mother through too.
It provides a morning off every Sunday.
It sustains me through 3 AM pregnancy hunger pains.
It answers, "What's for dinner?" in two easy steps--pour ceral, pour milk.

In the last 24 hours it has been three meals (including one at 3 AM).

It's 2 Weeks Since Conference, How Far Behind Am I On My Goals?

Umm....14 days.

Math equation for General Conference here.

Is It Hypocrisy To Teach Something I Don't Know How To Live?

What if I went to a University and tried to teach Biology? That would be a bad idea. My last biology class was in Grade 12 (it was Grade 9 Biology.)

My assigned workshop topic for this Friday's Relief Society Stake Super-Something-or-Other is "Finding Joy in the Sabbath Day."
I agreed before I knew the topic.
I said, "I would be happy to."
I didn't mean it.
I might be happier if it were entitled, "Surviving the Sabbath."

My visiting teaching companion, who is about 65, said this was the last workshop in the world she would choose to attend.

Me too, I think.

Was Sugar Invented Back Then?

We argued with our children this morning about whether they could put more sugar on their cold cereal.

Dallin helpfully reassured them that when he was a boy, he never got sugar on his cereal.

Chas wanted to know: "Was sugar invented yet when you were little?"

Which One Is Really My Life?

My life looks better in pictures, I've decided.

It looks like I have my act together.

It looks like my children are carefree and content.

It looks like I create happy, meaningful experiences for my family.

It looks like my children cherish one another.

In pictures it looks like all of those other blogs. All those scrapbooks. All those Christmas Letters. It almost looks like a Mormon commercial.

Do You Want To Marry Someone Just Like You?

One time, a long time ago, someone asked me who I wanted to marry.  I described the perfect somebody. 

 

Then he said, "Do you want to marry someone just like you?"

 

I considered on it and decided, yes, someone exactly like me would do just fine.

 

Well,  in a lot of ways, that's what Dallin and I signed up for. 

 

Both so passionate and intense and loud.  Both too serious and desperate for righteousness.  Strong, determined, stubborn, and excessive.  Both inconsistent and maybe insecure. 

 

I was once in a group of women who are a lot like me.  They were the strong women, gregarious, leader-types.  One by one it came out that they each were so grateful for a husband who was calm and gentle, steady and slow.  One by one they said how well their husband, very different from themselves, balanced them and their home.  I was the only fireball among us that had married another fireball.  It was a troubling moment of realization for me.

 

Dallin and I don't balance each other.  We're both on the same side of the see-saw.  It's hard sitting on the dirt on the down end of the see-saw, but at least we're there together. 

What's A Recession?

"It's a recession when your neighbor loses his job.
It's a depression when you lose yours." (Harry S. Truman)

Well, we are in a depression now.

How Could This Possibly Foster Family Unity?

"If you can't speak nicely then don't talk to each other at all."

"I said, 'Don't talk to each other!' "

How Many More Days Until I'm 6?

Last year, it was about May when Chas started wondering about his next birthday. For 11 months he was sure it was "coming soon."

This year he made it exactly 41 waking minutes before he said, "I'm almost 6. Just one more year."

How Can I Give My Kids An Over-Inflated Image of Me?

My Mother's response to my posting about her was,

"Honey, I love you, but you have an over-inflated image of your mother."

How can I give that to my kids?

Did I Miss Anything?

When I woke up Chas this morning to carry him downstairs for breakfast-in-bed with his Daddy on their birthday, he said,

"Did I sleep late? Did I miss anything?"

Did you miss anything? Are you kidding? You are the anything of today. You are the everything.

Answer #3 -- I am so very glad to have you both.

Why Can't I Turn Into My Mother Like Everyone Else?

I have the grey hair.

I lose my keys.

I sound like her on the phone.

And I have a big smile.

I worry about my weight.

I wear only one type of outfit (hers is pullover dresses, mine is jeans and t-shirt.)

I like to read.

And I like everybody. Even "characters."

But I don't laugh at tense situations.

I don't know what to do when my children melt down.

I don't control my words.

I don't look on the bright side like she does.

I don't keep at it until I fix it.

I don't think I can figure it out myself.

I don't see the real-life applications of scripture stories.

My kids don't know I adore them the way I knew my mother adored me.

Why can't I turn into my mother?

Everyone else turns into their mother.

If I can't turn into her, why I can't I at least be the woman she thinks I am?

Is There Anything Better Than Wearing Your Underwear On Top?

Do You Throw Socks Like This Away?

Me: Do you throw socks like this away?

Colleen: Are you kidding? I wait until there's an actual hole.

Me: Me too.

Colleen: And then I feel guilty that I don't know how to darn socks so that I can fix them.

Now this is a Kindred Spirit.

Am I Glad We Are Doing This?

The Resistance

The Charts

The Bribes

The Tears

The Drive

What Could Be Worse For A Body Than Charred Inflated Sugar?

That fire is made completely of our garbage.

Why Do They Want To Eat EVERY Day?

I don't remember eating so often.
Or being fed so often.
Did my mom make dinner EVERY night?

I think it will be cold cereal tonight.

Only because we already had hot dogs for lunch, so I can't do that again.

Why Don't I Live In Utah?

• A babysitter who adores my children. Even when they're awful. (And she's free.)
• Chicken or Hamburgers on Sunday evenings that I didn't cook.
• "One more hand around," at 11:00.
• And Ten No-Trump without the Joker.
• A second opinion in my decorating.
• A shopping buddy who says, "Let's take it home and think it over there."
• Piano performances full of motivating praise for my children.
• Golf pals for my husband.
• A mortgage 1/4 the size of ours.
• Big Chas for Little Chas.
• Aunt Nicole for my girls.
• My Big Brother.
• A break for a moment.
• A date every now and then.
• The headquarters of our greatest (only) fan club.

What are we thinking?

Answer # 2 -- I Know He Lives.

Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping: and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, Tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master. (John 20)


(He Is Not Here, by Walter Rane)

Why seek ye the living among the dead?
He is not here, but is risen. (Luke 24)



(The Disciples Peter and John Running to the Sepulchre, by Dan Burr)

I know He lives. And it sustains me.

How Much Longer Are They Going To Buy It?

Chas: Is the Easter Bunny a real bunny?

Me: Umm, I don't know.

Chas: Well, how does he carry the eggs?

Dallin: He doesn't carry them, he lays them.

Chas: Oh.

--------------------------------------------------

Naomi: Look the Easter Bunny wrote us a note. He knew our cousins were coming.

--------------------------------------------------

Eliza: I don't think the Bunny left me a chocolate bunny.

Naomi: He left one for everyone else.

Me: I'm sure he left one for you, too.

Eliza: Oh, I found it behind the guitar case. He must know I like playing the guitar.

---------------------------------------------------

Naomi: Who invented Easter?

Me: Reminder of the real reason of Easter, the Resurrection, etc.

Naomi: But, who came up with the idea of the Bunny?

Me: I don't know.

Naomi: Hmmm... It must have been the Bunny's idea.

Has Anyone Seen Chas?

Oh.

Oh dear!

I left him in time-out on the stairs.

(Again.)

Did Longfellow Have Children?

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

---Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Is The Only Difference Between My Life And A Chick Flick...

...A Good Soundtrack?

The coolest music I've heard this week was when Dallin was setting my cell phone's ring tone to The Entertainer. (Depeche Mode was a close second.)

Last week I heard cool music too. It was Matt and Jenny's wedding CD. It's the only cool music we have. We lost the CD once, and went without any cool music for about a year and a half. Then I asked Matt to burn us another one. Now we're hip and happenin' again. I think.

Other than that cool music, we listen to Suzuki, Beethoven's Wig ("..it's very big. It's long and curly and it's white..." see if you can get it to fit to the tune of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony), and CBC talk radio.

I often watch Chick Flicks and think, hmmm... I've got handsome person who loves me, misunderstandings to carry the plot along, kids to drive me crazy, beautiful house, in-laws to laugh at (on both sides), and a minivan. Then the only difference between their life and mine is 50 lbs., a great haircut, and a really good soundtrack. I'm going the wrong direction right now to think about the lbs. The haircut will hopefully come this week. But the soundtrack may be hopeless.

Note picture of our whole house, surround sound, fully automated, high-tech, super-duper, thermo-nuclear stereo system (i.e. boom box for $34 from Future Shop now hiding behind plant on the floor next to the piano.)

I think my life might be as romantic and touching and tragic and happily-ever-after as a good movie with a sound editor on the job.

Why Haven't I Done That Yet?

...because it's not the last minute yet.

Why Do I Do That?

Now that's the question.

Answer #1--Family Home Evening Definitely Goes Better...

...When The Kids Are In Charge Of Their Own Part.

I know it says it in all the manuals. I just never really tried it.

We're now on Week 2 of kid conducting, kid giving lesson, kid inventing/choosing game. (I'll be in charge of the treat, which means it will always be something I don't have to make.)

After 328 Family Home Evenings, 209 of which I wanted to strangle my kids (or my husband), and every time asked myself if this counted toward building family unity, we have now had two very beautiful, somewhat inspirational, mostly cooperative Family Nights.

Yeah for us!

175 ÷ 83 = ?

After 2 days and 8 hours of General Conference, I have 83 things to work on. Insights specific to me. Surprise, surprise, many of them are questions. Things like,

What can I sacrifice?
When I go to the temple am I worshipping or rushing?
What do I focus on consistently? ("We get what we focus on consistently")
What can I learn from my parents before they die?
Am I using my spiritual gifts to navigate toward the blessings of eternity?

But some are just reminders of the same old holes in my life:

Make my prayers full of thanksgiving like President Benson.
Laugh to smooth out life's bumps.
Take inventory of the sacredness of my home.
Make my prayer time "sweet."
Be of one heart and one mind in my marriage.
Be careful not to criticize my children.
Be a student of the scriptures.

Well, there are 83 of them. And there are 175 days until next conference. That gives me about two days to work on each one.

I think that might be within my attention span. So, I've written them on index cards and I'll be diligently shuffling through them until October (I hope.) At least I hope I make it through the first 20. I'll put the most important ones first, in case I run out of steam.


(Dallin was our AV Guy, and successfully got us through all the feed blips with three computers, two speakers and a dozen snaking cords.)

(The Conference Candy game was mostly a success, but I think my children ate more sugar than they do on Halloween.)

(My children reverently listening to the last prayer on Saturday afternoon.)

Is It Too Late In The Season To Prune Grapes?

And does Naomi know how to call 911 if I fall through the trellis onto the patio 12 feet below?

Why Am I Blogging? (Part III)

"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.

"Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.

"Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty—and I am not talking about the process of cleaning the rooms of your teenage children.

"You might say, 'I’m not the creative type. When I sing, I’m always half a tone above or below the note. I cannot draw a line without a ruler. And the only practical use for my homemade bread is as a paperweight or as a doorstop.'

"If that is how you feel, think again, and remember that you are spirit daughters of the most creative Being in the universe. Isn’t it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and eternally compassionate God? Think about it—your spirit body is a masterpiece, created with a beauty, function, and capacity beyond imagination.

"But to what end were we created? We were created with the express purpose and potential of experiencing a fulness of joy. Our birthright—and the purpose of our great voyage on this earth—is to seek and experience eternal happiness. One of the ways we find this is by creating things.

"If you are a mother, you participate with God in His work of creation—not only by providing physical bodies for your children but also by teaching and nurturing them. If you are not a mother now, the creative talents you develop will prepare you for that day, in this life or the next.

"You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.

"What you create doesn’t have to be perfect. So what if the eggs are greasy or the toast is burned? Don’t let fear of failure discourage you. Don’t let the voice of critics paralyze you—whether that voice comes from the outside or the inside.

"If you still feel incapable of creating, start small. Try to see how many smiles you can create, write a letter of appreciation, learn a new skill, identify a space and beautify it.

"Nearly a century and a half ago, President Brigham Young spoke to the Saints of his day. 'There is a great work for the Saints to do,' he said. 'Progress, and improve upon and make beautiful everything around you. Cultivate the earth, and cultivate your minds. Build cities, adorn your habitations, make gardens, orchards, and vineyards, and render the earth so pleasant that when you look upon your labors you may do so with pleasure, and that angels may delight to come and visit your beautiful locations. In the mean time continually seek to adorn your minds with all the graces of the Spirit of Christ.'

"The more you trust and rely upon the Spirit, the greater your capacity to create. That is your opportunity in this life and your destiny in the life to come. Sisters, trust and rely on the Spirit. As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you."

(Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Happiness, Your Heritage)

http://lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-947-37,00.html

Is It Twins?

Shucks. One for the price of one.

Are There Answers?

This Comment was stolen from my cousin's blog, because I couldn't figure out how to find her to ask permission:

Nicola said... [about my cousin]
I love the way that you put things, especially the questions that you have. Honestly I think life would be boring if nobody ever asked questions. Because without questions and choices we could never truly grow.

Questions and Choices. Not Questions and Answers.
Maybe that is the Answer?

What Is Always On The Back Of Your Mind?

http://thepatienceofjod.blogspot.com/2009/04/hmm.html

See yesterday's post for my ubiquitous question.

Is It All Going To Be OK In The End?

The only question that matters.
Everyone reassures.
They don't know either.

What is OK?
When is The End?

It plagues me.
I ignore it.
I despair.
I hope, sometimes.
I wait.

What else can I do?
Is it all enough?
Am I missing the boat?

Where's the barometer?
The news bulletin?
The sound byte?
The bar graph?

The end is so far.
The methods so vague.
The results so crucial.

What's A Roll?

Naomi read in her cousin's blog: "Two Dozen Homemade Rolls."

"What's a roll?" she said.

What's a roll?

It's a bun.

"Oh."

She's completely Canadian now.

Did You Know That When You Said, "I Love You"...

...That It Was The First Kind Thing Anybody Has Said To Me Since We Went Swimming?

Today was a day all about kids. We went swimming. We worked together in the woods making paths. We had our closest friends visiting from out of town. Kids tracked mud and jumped on the trampoline and swung on the swings. They had no chores, no piano practice, no putting away their own messes. They had stories and treats and made lemonade.

But somehow--it's always mysterious to me--it all fell apart. An unknown spark sets off a lasting flame.

It burned until bedtime. And in a bed of tears, she said that no one had been nice to her all day. I reminded her of all the fun they had had. Well then, at least since swimming (three hours ago) nothing good had happened.

I sometimes wonder if the fun stuff makes the fire more likely, or does it just make me madder when it ignites?