God is Good.

I sat there at the table with my friends. Eating and socializing. Not really thinking much about the past weekend yet. I was actually finally somewhat free of the weight that had been pulling me down for several long days that felt more like months. I listened lightly to the speaker, nothing really standing out from any other meeting. Then Geri stood up and began to talk. I don’t know what her real message was about, something about Ammon and the missionaries. My heart began to beat faster. And harder. I heard each scripture she quoted with new ears, with a new meaning. Suddenly, the well known stories of missionaries became deeply and profoundly all about ME! And this trip to Texas. And all the feelings. I felt like Alice falling deep into the hole towards Wonderland. Most of what was around me began to disappear and I heard the words of the scriptures and the pounding of my heart in my ears. Words about a journey and about love and about eternity. I couldn’t even understand what I was feeling, only I became aware that I was crying. I noticed the concerned look of my dear friend and quickly wiped away a tear. But it kept coming. And coming and coming and coming. The tears pouring down my face. My emotions erupted to the surface, still not understanding what was happening. And then. I knew. It was absolutely undeniable that I was going to Texas. That this was more than a good idea, more than a good job, more than a whim. This was a direction from God. My feelings were uncontrollable. I excused myself so as not to cause a scene and just barely made it into the bathroom before a sob burst from deep within my heart, my very soul was changed. An understanding coming that God loved me and cared about me and has a plan for me. And suddenly, all turmoil settled and I was filled with a joy that can only be experienced, never fully described. A pure, celestial joy. The kind of joy that opens your cells and shouts Hosanna. I think the word is transcendent. I laughed and I cried. I tried to analyze it, but there was nothing in my experience of this life yet to describe it. I felt heaven. Closer than I ever had, at least up to that point. And then I felt love. Pure love. I felt so much love it broke out of my body. It almost hurt.  My chest, my shoulders. The shift, the change, the...relief! I caught the tiniest glimpse into Heaven. Not with my eyes, not with any physical senses, just with my soul. I felt love for those dear friends in the other room. The women who had changed me and taught me and tutored me and mentored me and loved me. I loved them. I love them. With every piece of me. I was so grateful for them!! And that love  transcended time and space. And I knew with certainty that I would see them again in Heaven. No matter what happened in this life, we had an unbreakable bond that would connect us.

It was at that moment I could think of my family. I could never fully comprehend how heart broken my mom was and would be. I could never feel what Karen felt as I moved away.  I can’t fathom that experience of pain. But I knew--With no question. Knowledge--that this was good. That, BECAUSE of the Gospel, and BECAUSE of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, it would be ok. They could mend with HIS love. If they could feel what I felt even for a moment, it could be ok.

I had never in my life felt so much emotion and so much joy and so much love. No, not even the first time I held my very own babies. It was a sacred and marvelous experience. Indescribable, but real and memorable and certain. I thought it was all just about taking this job and moving to Texas. I thought it was about me being ok to spread my wings when my mom wanted me to stay. I thought it was just a learning experience. I thought it was a nice blessing to have a strong confirmation. I never could have imagined how much those few moments would affect the rest of my life. I never would have thought that my mom could die just a few weeks after moving away. I never could have imagined my life without her. I was supposed to be the one who cared for her as she aged. She was supposed to take the kids for a week or two every summer. I relied on her so much. For everything. Everything...

...That night on the couch in the foyer of the church, crying my eyes out with joy and anticipation and a little bit of fear. I didn’t realize how it would change my every single day. The way I view everything in life, even life itself is changed. It’s somehow clearer, more real. I miss my mom. I miss her more than I let myself know. But there is such a peace. There is such comfort. There is such hope and joy. God is good. God is real. He is real, He is love, He is joy. God is good.

The Clouds Parted for Me.

Every year in the first week or two of August, there is a meteor shower called the Perseid Meteor Shower. It’s pretty amazing and I have stayed up several different years to see the acclaimed display of stars hurling through the sky.  I haven’t attempted to stay up for the past several years because, well, my wedding, pregnancies, new babies etc. have somehow taken precedence. (Imagine that.)

But this year, everything lined up perfectly and my little brother was staying at my house so he was able to stay with my sleeping babies while my husband and I snuck out to the canyon for a few hours. We didn’t go out too far because we wanted to stay close to home, but we found a little spot, spread out the blanket, and laid down hoping to see something amazing.

What we saw instead, was a lot of clouds. Thin clouds, but just enough to cover the whole sky where we were looking. I was so sad. How many times have I come out to see something spectacular, and instead, witness basically nothing!? Probably 6 or 7. I sighed, totally bummed. There was also a lot of light pollution since we weren't far enough out of the city. I thought about just going home. But, really? I want to see a light show!! So. We laid there for just a minute, then I thought to pray.

“Heavenly Father, this is a little thing, and it’s ok if it’s not in Thy plan. But we are here to see the majesty of Thy creations and we’d really like to see some shooting stars. Could you please just part the clouds for us for a little bit so we can see before we go back home? I would really appreciate it, Thanks so much.”

And suddenly, the clouds began to move. Not a lot. Not more than a usual little whispy movements. But within about 10 minutes, the sky above us was completely clear and we had a perfect view into the heavenly night sky. I looked around and noticed the cloud cover was still around, thicker into the canyon and lighter over the city, but there was just a hole for us. Just so we could look straight up and see.

I was amazed. I was humbled. I was confused. I was grateful. Non-believers may mock, but I know what I experienced! What confused me though, was WHY? I thought of the world. (It’s easy to think of all of God’s creations when you take a few moments to think of the universe.) I mean, He is coordinating all the planets and stars and even making this meteor shower a light show instead of complete earth destruction. But more than that, there are thousands, millions maybe of His children crying up to Him at any minute. There were people that night in deep financial stress. There were parents kneeling by the bedside of their beloved, dying child, there were people struggling for life. There were people lost and hungry and crying and dying and barely surviving and some thriving, but needing direction. Why would the God of Heaven and Earth bend his ear to a perfectly healthy, happy child who just wanted some entertainment? How does He listen when somebody just wants to find their keys so they are not late to work? How does it all happen? And why? Why should we pray for little things? I don’t know. I don’t know all the answers. What I DO know, though, is that God is real and that He hears and answers every, single prayer. Every, single time.

Parting the clouds for me, was extremely kind and generous and we WERE able to see at least a few shooting stars. It was a nice night. But something bigger happened for me that night. Something I will never forget. My Father in Heaven showed me how much he cares and loves me. He told me I was special and important no matter what I wanted or what else was going on in the world. He will part the clouds for me. I will part the Sea for me. In a simple act of grace, He encouraged me to reach for the stars. (Or rather, watch the stars and reach for my goals.) He will make the way possible to accomplish anything in this world!

With God, all things truly are possible. I have been spending the last few weeks trying to understand that experience and I guess it may be something I work on my entire life. But, looking at my life, I know I have divine intervention. God can help me to know how to raise and care for my beautiful children. He knows what I need to get the rent paid. He knows what I should do to make loads of money, way beyond just paycheck to paycheck. He knows what I need to do to be healthy. He can part any cloud that stands in my way: traffic, lack of knowledge, difficult relationships, tragedies, self-doubt, lost keys, death, ANYthing. God says, “Prove me now herewith, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” He shows us this again and again with the blessings poured out upon us. And sometimes gives us incredible reminders of what He will do for us.

With God, all things are possible. And I am trying to live my life to show it.

I commit to write again.

Hello anybody. I haven’t written for a couple of months. I made a commitment at one time to write because I’ve got so much inside me that I’ve just GOT to get out. And I wrote. I wrote about 7 or 8 posts. And had a lot more traffic than I really expected. I mean, I thought I’d have maybe my parents, maybe my siblings read my post. But on one of my early posts, I got over 150 views. That may not sound like a lot to a blogger, but to me, it was a lot of people who knew personal things about me. And, frankly, I was scared. Excited too, but mostly scared. I thought it was cool and I wrote a few more. Then one day somebody that I hadn’t talked to in several months mentioned my blog to me.

I was really surprised.

And.
I was scared. I felt too vulnerable and scared to write any more. I made up lots and lots of excuses to stop writing. And DEFINITELY to stop sharing. I didn’t want anybody to know THAT part. Or THIS wasn’t important enough for somebody to read about. It all turned into what readers would think. Besides, I was "too busy". So at first, I stopped writing altogether. Then I missed it too much and returned to my journal. Well, that fire is back inside me and I’ve just got to do something about it. So I’m sitting here tonight, blogging.

See, I LOVE life. I love it passionately and thoroughly. I have 2 little kids right now that bring me more joy than I can express. And I have these moments...These incredible, time stopping moments that are just pure heaven. I love my husband so much that in those rare moments that I get upset, I worry that maybe I’m making something up. Then I am proved that it really is that good. I experience miracles. I have seen clouds part and I have seen people healed. I live a different life than many people. But I want to share it. I want to show everybody in the world the good that is possible!!

Please don’t misunderstand and think that everything in my life is perfect. Or that I have everything together! I am a basketcase sometimes. But. I usually learn from those moments(---That was the original intention of this blog--to share the aftereffects of those crazy moments.)

I’ve got passion inside me and I just want to shout it out to the world. I’m not really as funny as I want to be. My posts are not just for entertainment. More than anything, they are for me. (hence the surprise that people were actually reading!)  But I also have an intention to inspire and uplift -and just be completely real. I’m human. And I’ve got some major faults that sometimes get in my way and hold me down.  I also have a gift for seeing and creating good. Anyway, this is just my public declaration that I will start writing again. And I will write if I have 6 views or 60,000. Because this is part of me.

It is very very hard for me sometimes to let people see all of me when I don’t know all of them. I’ve always hoped for equal reciprocation in a relationship. But I’m to a point in my life that I just can’t care about it. So. Here’s to more blogging. (If I had a glass of sparkling cider, I would tip it to you. Whoever YOU are. :) )

Why I Don't Watch the News

So I went to my neighbors the other day and she asked if I had heard about the tragedy of the firefighters. I had, I had seen it on facebook, but didn't know the details.

So we I logged onto a local news site and was, again, shocked at what I saw. A boy drowned in Lake Powell. A woman in Cirq de Sole died during performance. Police looking for suspect in home robbery. One Dead, one injured in Motorcycle crash on I-15. Mother charged with neglect of 2 year old.

My heart started racing. I thought of my babies. I thought of my husband. He drives home every single day. What if he got in an accident. I can't believe that lady died during the show! What terror! On the side bars were pictures of international calamities and wars. And then, there's always those few breaks from it all "Best of DownTown Abbey" and "Celebrity Maternity Styles" What is wrong with us!? We feed our minds on so much garbage! It's incredible to me sometimes.

I wish there was a way for me to know more about what is happening in my world than watching the news because, honestly, it just gives me nightmares. I KNOW there are terrible, tragic things happening all around me. But I also know there are magical, beautiful things happening all around me. I know there is evil, but I choose to focus on the good. I believe that people are mostly good. I honestly do. I say hello to strangers. When I watch the news, everybody becomes a perpetrator. I fear. That's what the news is today. Fear. Anything to get your heart racing, to make you question, to get you to say "WHA-" and stop midsentence to find out the story. It IS catchy! But it's also sick. And I don't want to think about living in a sick world.

Here's another thing. That headline "One DEAD in motorcycle crash." I read things like that and I feel no respect for that person's life! If that were MY family member, I would prefer euphemisms. Not that everything needs to be "Politically correct" (Another topic entirely) But the purpose of that title was to make you gasp and read more. There was no feeling for the family of the victim. If it is newsworthy, or if the purpose of the article 

And when there is a tragedy, a newsworthy happening, like tornadoes, floods, even bombs should probably be reported, but there needs to be respect. But there is none. Photographers find the most bloody, graphic shots they can get. There is very little EVER mentioned about the good deeds done, the people saved, the optimistic ones who can find hope, the miracles. Those things are not reported. I saw a clip a few weeks ago where the reporter was interviewing a man that had had some shrapnel hit his head. It was not a bad wound, but it bled down his face. They did not wipe it off for the interview. The man was clearly no longer in danger, and in any other circumstance would have found something to wipe his face on. But, for the sake of news, they let the blood run down his face till it was almost dry.

Bushwacked!

So I decided to trim the bushes at my apartment this week. I have a little spot of garden and grass in front of my kitchen window that I like to call my own. In the garden, there is a big bush that happens to sit directly in front of the sprinkler head. Silly design if you ask me. But because of it, my grass and flowers get no water! If it were my own house, I'd take the bush out all together. But, it's not. So I did the next best thing. I grabbed my bush clippers and went at it. I didn't have a plan, I have never trimmed a bush before, I just had the clippers. Even though my intentions in cutting were to clear it from the sprinkler in the back, I started in the front since the bush has also overgrown into the grass. I just looked at the bush and started clipping. I clipped a couple of small little leaves with just a couple branches when I looked down at the bottom of the bush. I thought to myself, if I just clip that larger branch, I will save myself a lot of time.  So clip clip. And another clip, clip. I stood back to look at my work....um...ooops!!

It looked awful. Terrible. There were no leaves in front on the bottom of the bush. Instead all I saw were sharply cut angles glaring back up at me. I realized my mistake too late. I checked around me to make sure no landlord or angry neighbors were coming to get me. I tried to cover it up, but it wasn't working.  What should I do? Well, there wasn't much I could do.  I tried to weave the remaining leaves and branches down a little. I looked at the branches I had just cut, they sat poised like mini javelins, aimed and ready to fire.  I began to trim them downward so they weren't quite so hideous. I trimmed a little slower this time. I stepped back and took it in. Ok, so it was a hack job.

Oh well.

And that's the lesson! Oh well! I did the best I could. There was nothing I could do to replace those quickly snipped branches. It is going to take all summer to grow back and won't look good again until next spring. I could pity myself. I could avoid my neighbors and just hope they don't notice (Or at least say anything.) I could save some money to try to plant a new bush. Or. I could just learn my lesson. And move on. Next year, I'll know better. I'll start in the back, work to the sides, then carefully trim up--not whack off-- the front, growing branches. Oh, and I'll probably do it much earlier in the year so growing leaves will easily cover up any mistakes. But so often in life we make a quick decision, and it ends up being the wrong one. Oh well! This is all summed up in the over used cliche of "Don't sweat the small stuff."

You want WHAT??

I have just recently come across a heavenly food known as quinoa. I love it! I think it is just incredible--It's more versatile than soy! (No, I'm not a vegetarian, and I don't eat soy, it was just a comparison. Anyway) I use it for cereals, I replace the ground beef in tacos, the meat in spaghetti sauce, I add it to salads and desserts and anything else I can think of. It's not the taste I love--I usually try to cover it up anyway, it's the texture I think. It's just soo yummy! Anyway- This post isn't even about that. But! It's good. So try it.

Quinoa, for those of you who don't know like I didn't, quinoa looks like little bird seeds before it's cooked. The first time I tried it, I had about 3 cups of the stuff in a clear plastic bag and tied tight with a twisty tie (you know, from Winco). My 2 year old found it and was fascinated by it. He wanted to squish it and poke holes in the bag. We explored it a little, learned about it, and I have since cooked it, as mentioned, for many different meals.

I never thought much about it, but quinoa is a weird word--especially to a 2 year old. There is another weird word in our language that I bet you had never thought about when you heard quinoa!  I hadn't either. Until my sweet boy accidentally pointed it out to me.  We were looking for a snack one day and, observant as he is, saw the fruit on the counter. Excitedly he told me "I. want. Quinoa." ---interruption here: My boy has the cutest little voice and is still learning to put all his words together so often his sentences are quite choppy. I love to listen to him talk!--- I was surprised. "You want quinoa?"  I was hoping maybe he had started to appreciate the delicacy I had found. So I happily got out the  plain quinoa while scanning my brain of what to prepare with it.

"What do you want with your quinoa, bud?" I asked enthusiastically. He looked at my container. He looked at me.

"No. I. want. quinoa."

"Buddy, this is quinoa. What do you want with it?"

"No, mom. Hold me, I show you."

I think it's so cute when he says that. So I picked him up as he directed me towards the fruit bowl on the counter. He pointed his little finger, "Quinoa."

I had a random mix of tomatoes, avocados, pears, and a few fuzzy little green fruits called KIWIS!

I laughed out loud. I took the kiwi and confirmed that THAT is what he wanted.  I took the kiwi and cut in in half. Then I took the bowl of quinoa and showed it to him. "Kiweeee?" Yeah, Kiwi. There is a HUGE difference in kiwi and quinoa.

It was a funny minute, but it made me think. How often do we miscommunicate with just one syllable? That's on kind of a grander scale, but relating directly to my little boy, how much of the English language sounds so similar? It was an obvious reminder of how much he is still trying to learn. I mean, in less than 30 months, he has learned to do EVERYTHING. Walk, talk, eat, grow, get dressed, figure out computers, brush his teeth, play, etc. He is still just a tiny little baby, just barely learning to talk! Sometimes I forget how tiny he is. Have you ever tried to learn a language? There's a lot to think about!   This moment gave me insight again on how hard his little brain is always working! Just to talk takes incredible concentration sometimes. It was a funny little lesson to remind me that, even though he communicates with me pretty well and I usually know what he wants, he is still just a little baby! So be patient with your little babies, they've got a lot to figure out!

I was ruining my child!

This post is about another experience I had awhile back, about 8 or 9 months ago I guess. A little background about my babies. Ryan didn’t sleep through the night until he was 23 months old. There were many nights when my sweetheart and I were up all night rocking and soothing and crying. We would cry as much as he did sometimes. Then we learned to take turns. We gained some sanity. Then things got a little better, but still, never sleeping through the whole night. It was very hard. I thought it was just Ryan. I thought I was alone and would never sleep again. We have since found the answers and life has been blissfully better, but it took a long time. It was hard. Looking back now, I really have no idea how we were able to keep our sanity. I can’t imagine not sleeping again. Anyway, surprisingly, after Katelyn was born, things got a lot better. He was able to go to sleep with only some soothing and even started sleeping through the night occasionally. When Katelyn was born, EVERYTHING about her was different from Ryan, but a significant difference was her sleeping. She would sleep 5 or 6 hours right away. She would eat well, nap well, and sleep in the night. It was incredible! I loved having a baby that I knew would go to sleep!! I didn’t worry about her sleep schedule, I just took it for granted. With her being such a good sleeper and Ryan learning to be so much better, things were definitely looking up! I was happy and rested. 

Then...things started to change. Ryan took a dip in his full night’s sleeps and naps were getting harder and harder. We had cycled a little with him before, so it was a little frustrating, but what was really getting to me was Kate! My little sleepy baby wasn’t sleeping anymore! She started waking up several times a night wanting to nurse and cuddle. I was getting tired. But what was even more difficult was putting her to sleep. I would go through the whole night time routine, get her all ready, put her in the crib, pat her to sleep and try to sneak out the door. As soon as I started to leave her cribside, she would cry. Then it got even worse as she would cry and fuss and scream before I even put her down. One time, for several days, she was especially fussy. It was just so tiring and so frustrating. The second I would put her down on her back in the crib, she would wake up and flail and cry. 


The inner turmoil in my mind was so great I couldn’t think straight. It was all my fault!! I was ruining another child! It wasn’t just Ryan’s personality that gave him a hard time, it was ME! I couldn’t handle it! The thought of 2 more years of never sleeping was so exhausting! What was I doing WRONG!! What was wrong with me! I thought it was Ryan, but since Katelyn had started out a good sleeper, the evidence was crystal clear: it was a flaw in my parenting! Why wouldn’t she sleep?! I was soo tired! What was the problem?! After the third night of agony, I was just beside myself! I was so angry and tired and frustrated and GUILTY. More than the fatigue or any lack of sleep, the GUILT of it all was tearing me apart!! That night my sweet husband finally took my crying baby from my weak arms and eventually rocked her to sleep. I went to bed alone. I was tired and angry and frustrated and alone. What had I done wrong to my babies?!? What did I not know that everybody else seemed to understand? I had RUINED another baby. (yeah, those were my thoughts. It was a very difficult night.) As I had for weeks with Katelyn and almost two years for Ryan, I prayed again. Frustration clouded my thoughts. Finally, my emotions boiled down and I was still inside. Tired, but still. Somehow the anger was gone and I could think.  I thought of my day. I thought of my kids. I thought of Katelyn. Then I realized she hadn’t had a dirty diaper in 3 days. The last 3 days of extreme fussiness!! I drifted to sleep.

The next morning, felt much better than yesterday or the day before. No real explanation, I just felt better inside. We went about our morning like usual, then Katelyn let out this really strange, painful cry and a little toot. I remembered my realizations (revelations) from the night before. My poor baby had a bad stomach ache and had for several days! I tried to lay her on her back and work on her tummy (Tummy massage--it’s magic, I know some awesome tricks!)  I massaged her through the fussiness and then put her in our kitchen sink for a bath. She was in the bath for a long time. Suddenly, she let out that strange cry and started grunting. I won’t go into details, but after much work on her part, and some help from me, she finally passed a very hard stool. It made her little bottom bleed and she cried. I got her out of the bath and dried, but then it happened again- more hard stool, a little more bleeding. I put her back in the sink to help comfort and soothe her. She stayed in the bath another 20 minutes or so. When she was ready to get out, I picked her up and she cracked and popped all the way down her back. (Like chiropractic adjustment kind of popping.) Lots of pops. I took her over to get dressed and when I put her on her back, she didn’t squirm for the first time in days. Apparently she'd had a backache too! I got her all ready and my little princess fell sound asleep! Blissful, deep, restful sleep! And she didn’t cry at all! I felt so happy. 

The whole thing was quite an experience for me. I felt bad that she had been in so much pain, but glad it was over. I felt bad that I didn’t know it, but grateful for the lessons I had learned.  I realized I had been so caught up in the frustration and guilt, that I hadn’t taken time to be quiet and listen for answers. I jumped to the conclusion that I was obviously the problem and that there was nothing I could do. I just needed to find somebody ELSE who knew the answer and could tell me. My GUILT had completely blocked me from receiving revelation. Projecting my fear into the future --my fear of years of never sleeping, fears of “ruining” my child, fear of being a bad mom--had kept me from finding ANY peace IN the moment. I really had not been THAT exhausted when I had tried to rock my baby to sleep. But the thoughts of how long this would go on was more consuming than anything I had physically felt. I was angry at myself. I was angry and my innocent baby. I was angry at everyone else who seemed to know more than me but were keeping this valuable information to themselves. Then, in a moment of quiet reflection, I found answers that had always available to me.

After realizing that there really was a problem- and there really was a solution- and that it wasn’t all my fault- and that I could really know what is best for my children- and being humbled by having my desperate prayers answered, I have been a lot more patient. I am more patient with myself, my kids, and with other people. The hardest part of those few days was not the crying baby, it was the awful, destructive thoughts going on in my head! I didn’t ruin my child! It wasn’t really all my fault. I wasn’t a bad mom. And nobody was purposefully keeping parenting secrets from me! I had to listen carefully to my heart and I found answers!

That’s what it was for Katelyn. With Ryan, I had to keep searching. I talked with friends, but I also prayed a lot. I had found answers for both my children’s sleeping problems! For Katelyn, it was a simple answer. For Ryan, it took a little more work. I researched and read whatever I could, I consulted with friends. But, always, I checked with my heart to know what he really needed. What works for one child doesn’t work with every child. Eventually, a good friend gave me a book and about 10 days later, our lives changed completely as our son FINALLY started sleeping through the night and napping regularly.

I was so grateful for those 3 days that were so hard for me because it led me to seek answers. And, although I would NEVER want it again, and part of me wishes I had found answers earlier, I learned so much about patience and being present with Ryan, that I’m grateful for that time too. As mothers, we have divine stewardship over our children and a gift and responsibility to know their needs. Sometimes guilt and frustration can get in the way, but when we are able to put that aside, when we seek sincerely, answers will come. I have experienced this so many times, I just can’t deny it!