Early Learning

Just now when I sat down and turned on Christmas music to get started on my chores, Kylie turned to the computer when she heard "Silent Night" start playing and told me, "Its baby Jesus!"

That made me smile.

The Little Drummer Boy

Though nothing will ever, ever pass "O Holy Night" on my list of favorite Christmas songs (aside from perhaps Handel's Messiah, is there a more stirring, moving song, anywhere?), "The Little Drummer Boy" is a close second for me.

Perhaps because I am somewhat prone to feelings of smallness or inadequacy, the story of a little boy with nothing but a drum has always resonated with me. Here is this young man, brought before, not just a king, but the king, told to bring his "finest gifts". He feels that he has no gift fit for such a recipient--he is poor and young and has nothing. Nothing but a drum. And its not a piano or a harp or a flute, or some other instrument we generally associate with reverent or worshipful music--nope, this guy is carrying around a snare. And yet he plays his best, offering the only thing he has to give, with all his heart. And then the Christ smiles at him. That's a beautiful, moving story.

It is sometimes easier to recognize other people's gifts than it is to see the value in our own. But the Lord knows us, through and through, inside and out. He knows our capacities, potential, and our limitations. He knows, even better than we do, exactly what we have to offer. Even the simplest gift, no matter how inadequate it may seem to us, is pleasing to him so long as it is offered with a sincere desire to serve and "honor him". We can sit there worrying about how we look next to others with their gifts of gold and expensive ointments, or we can stand confidently and "play [our] best for him". If we do that, I do believe that He smiles at us--that he is pleased and grateful for our efforts. If the Lord is pleased with the gifts we offer, our pride should not stand in the way of us being pleased with them ourselves. He values the devotion and efforts of the girl quietly scribbling in a notebook in the corner just as much as he values the gregarious fellow who's always putting together the best programs and parties.

No one, not even the most righteous and talented and blessed among us, will ever come close to repaying even a fraction of the gift we all were given: "Unto a us a child is born; unto us a son is given. . ." That's what we celebrate. That's why we buy presents and make cookies and decorate trees. Because the Father gave his son, and the son gave his life. Without that, every other gift would be meaningless. With it, every faithful effort is sanctified. In the shadow of the Ultimate Gift, every other gift seems so small. But by faithful exercise of our agency and gifts, we very slowly (line upon line, precept upon precept), work towards eternal exaltation, and a chance to bless countless lives further, to bestow gifts of eternal value. We each have to start somewhere, even if we're too poor and inexperienced to offer anything but a pleasant beat on our little drum.

One of my favorite renditions of this particular song:

Third Tri

The other day, a friend said, "I keep forgetting you're pregnant." That's the third or fourth time someone has said that to me in the last few weeks. And I keep sort of having that problem myself. There's been so much going on the last few months, and this seems to be the laziest baby ever, so I keep "forgetting" a bit myself. Suddenly I'm going to have a baby around here and it will catch me by surprise. So I thought this might help me remember:

(Sorry about the weird picture. I was too lazy to use a real camera, and then Kylie started pulling on my legs while I was taking it).

Today I'm 28 weeks, so exactly 12 weeks til my due date and 14 weeks til the day we plan on inducing (due dates tend to be somewhat meaningless in my longer-than-average-gestation family). I realized when I looked at the big version of this picture that it looks like I'm sticking my belly out, when in fact I just can't stand up much straighter and actually be comfortable. Its been pretty easy for the most part, other than the annoying and ever-present fatigue. She's sitting a lot lower than Kylie did, which means I already waddle quite a bit, but at least she's not poking into my ribs and decreasing my lung capacity yet.

My midwife is awesome and very low-key, and I've been grateful for that: I've only been in for three appointments so far and don't have another one until after Christmas. It is SO tedious to go to the doctor (especially when you have to leave town and consequently block out an entire afternoon to do so), so when I have no history of complications, personally or in my family, and its the fourth baby and seems to be going smoothly, she just has been really relaxed about everything. I'm so glad that a friend recommended her when I got pregnant with Kylie--she's a great find.

So three months to go! Wish us luck--Kylie LOVES babies, but I'm pretty certain she's going to have a hard time with another little girl overthrowing her reign as baby of the house.

Life is good. . .

I've been having trouble getting myself back on track recently (likely because I haven't been trying in the right ways), but three things helped me do that today: its Doug's birthday, so we're going on a date; I got an email from a very old friend; and I gave one of my kiddos a candy cane for the first time this year.

A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a friend's blog where she wrote about the challenge of staying upbeat and focused on the positive in what has felt like a very "heavy" fall.

I knew instantly that she had found the perfect word. Heavy.

In addition to all the trouble in our little neck of the woods, with public lies, personal threats, private hurts, broken trusts, big shakeups, etc, etc, there have been other challenges for us and for people we love: lost jobs (or still no job, despite constant hunting), unexpected illnesses/medical problems, and on top of it all a lingering uncertainty about much of the future. My grandpa (or rather, my grandma's husband--they've only been married 10 years, but they're sealed, so he's grandpa, no?) passed away the day after my grandma's birthday. Because of the ridiculous cost of flying to Montana (especially last minute), I didn't make it home and I felt rather discombobulated to not be with my family as they grieved/celebrated Clark's life and comforted and helped to care for Grandma. A couple weeks later, a woman who was a big part of my childhood passed away--the mother of a girl who was one of my closest friends from first grade all the way to high school graduation. Gaye was only a couple years older than my parents (and actually shares a birthday with my dad), and not having been around the last several years, the news that she was in the hospital was quite a shock to me. At the funeral, my mom approached Dennis, her husband, and expressed how grateful she was for what a great "second mom" Gaye had been to me as I was growing up. He replied, "Oh yeah, I always thought of her as my barefoot daughter." I was comforted by that expression of affection from him, and I was very sad not to be there to express for myself my gratitude for the generosity they had both always shown to me, and to offer to buy him a banana milkshake.

Its just all been a whole lot to process, mentally, emotionally, and in the practical "Now what?" of daily realities. Add to that the general busyness of jobs, callings, three little kids and a tiring (but, thankfully, healthy and uneventful) pregnancy, and the last few months have indeed felt pretty heavy.

But today Doug turns 34, and we decided to go to dinner and a movie tonight (have I mentioned that I LOVE my sister-in-law, who lives a few minutes away and babysits pretty much any time I ask?). That's two months in a row we've managed to make it out on a date. And I love going on dates with my husband, because when we don't have our hands full of children, diaper bags, toys, books and various sticky and/or greasy foodstuffs, I am very much his date: he opens my door for me, he holds my hand, he charms me. I happily and contentedly define myself primarily as a mother, but it is refreshing to be reminded from time to time that there is someone in my life who appreciates all of me--everything I do with and for the kids, and everything else, too. Someone who sees the whole me, and loves me (sometimes, admittedly, in spite of myself). As with most married couples, we probably get more of the worst of each other than anyone else does, but we most certainly get more of the best of each other. And that's why I love him so much--in the long run, we always make each other better. Our marriage is much greater than the sum of its parts.

Hayley, who is the one who lost her mom almost two months ago, sent me a message today in which she apologized to me for not being in better touch. Why would I ever fault her for that? But as I read her brief message, I thought about how every time I see a really great Halloween costume, or eat a bit of Nutella, or see a troop of Girl Scouts, I think of her mom. Nearly every time my little girl wants "the pink one", whatever the "one" is, I think of Hayley. I am grateful for the many memories I have of their family, because years later (and it has been literally years since I spent time with any of them now) they still make me smile. Their kindness still regularly gives my life joy, even though they aren't themselves a regular part of my life anymore.

Last night Doug bought a package of candy canes and I opened it today to give one to Kylie. The first candy cane of the year always makes me think of my dad. Right around this time of the year, he'd come home from Missoula one evening after being at the University or doing some shopping and tell Michael and I (and Eldon, when we were a bit younger), that while he was in town, he'd happened to run into Santa Clause. Santa had asked how we were doing, and Dad always reported that we'd been pretty good kids, and so Santa would send a few candy canes for us and make sure Dad reminded us to get him our Christmas lists. That "Santa candy cane" was usually the first one I got each year. Every time I pull out the first candy cane of the Christmas season, I think of my dad and feel happy all over, because now at 26 I can still picture in my mind, nearly as clearly as I saw it at 5, my dad's young, unwrinkled, mustachioed face, lit up happily as he delighted his children with his story of casual conversation with Santa and a little sugary treat. That has always been one of my favorite memories, but its one that actually means more to me now as an adult, because now I get it--now as a parent, I understand the joy you feel yourself when you can, in such a small and simple way, delight your children and bring a little magic into their lives. There's no feeling quite like that.

So I made a plan today. Some of the activities and treats that I know my kiddos love best, and some new ones I'm hoping they'll love, and where they'll fall in the now-til-Christmas schedule. Because life is full of twists and turns, hard losses, long trials and heavy burdens. But its also full of all kinds of little, wonderful moments: moments that can give us a little smile, a little joy, and consequently a little relief, even if just for a minute, from those trials and burdens. And now as I move a little further down the road of life and finally start to get enough distance to look back a little bit, I understand a better that those little moments are so important, not only for the joy that they give us at the time, but because they still have the power to bring us joy years after they happen. They make us smile, remembering how life has been good, and help us to refocus on the ways in which it still is.

Because it really is. For all its troubles, life is good.

My people

So, since most of the people I see on a daily/weekly basis don't know my family, I get asked a lot of questions about them, or am asked to describe them. I think maybe I'll just start whipping out pictures like this:

"Yeah, they're pretty cool folk. Hardy. They like war games in the woods. In the snow. With their scraggly facial hair and fatigues."

This is actually a shot my sister got her son's 13th (13th?!) birthday party--they all went paintballin'. And, let's face it, in Montana there's just a whole lot of woods and snow to be had, right out the front door. Some days it makes me sad that my kids are missing out on all that great militia training and cold-weather hardiness.

(And click on the link and read my sister's blog about her son. I love that kid. And its nice to know [since I've been gone for more than half his life now] that he's still essentially the same kid he was at 5. Because that kid is awesome).

My thankfuls

Parents: I learned so very much from mine and have been fortunate to be well-loved by them. The older I get, the more I realize I got from my dad: the love of solitude, a notebook and pen, a love for growing things (this arguably came from both sides, but Dad's the true hobbit), the subversive sense of humor. My mom has spent a lot of time and money traveling to visit us wherever we have lived so that my kids really know and adore their Yaya, despite the distance. I know I can depend on them and even as an adult that knowledge and stability lends a great deal of comfort to my life. And Doug's mom and step-dad have been wonderful surrogate parents and friends to me--I genuinely love spending time with them, and I'm well aware that that isn't how a lot of people feel about their in-laws. They are both wonderful grandparents to my kids, and spoil them rotten, as grandparents should. I'm tremendously grateful for the parents in my life.

EVERYBODY ELSE: I have a large and wonderful family, and so does my husband. This makes for quite the circle of love and support. In a world where it is increasingly difficult for people to find one or two individuals in their lives who really love them and can be depended on, Doug and I (and our children) have literally dozens. There are so many brothers, sisters, in-laws, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins, grandparents that give so much joy and friendship to our lives and we love the fun and interesting individuals that each of them is.

Health: Being pregnant always makes me appreciate this one more. My normally awesome immune system goes on vacation while I incubate, and I catch every little bug that goes around. On top of that, everything starts to ache and not work right. It makes me very appreciative of my youth and general good health, which do make the rest of life so much easier to do. With three kids, we have only been to the the ER once, with a resulting few-day stay in the hospital. That's it. Other than that, its only been colds and the occasional flu and then, every once in a great while, an ear infection. That's pretty amazing.

Priesthood Blessings: On the rare occasion that one of the kids is miserable sick, Doug can always give them a blessing, and we have lots of wonderful Priesthood leaders in our lives who are unselfish with their time and happy to help him do so. A few weeks ago, Keilana was at the horrible-fever-rattling-breath-barking cough point and could not sit comfortably, much less sleep. She was given a blessing and, though she still had a miserable night, within an hour her breathing has eased enough that she was able to get some sleep. Similar circumstances have played out many times in our home (or in homes where Doug has been asked to assist) and I'm grateful that that power is a regular part of my life.

For my kids: I'm so grateful for Keilana's sunny temperament and helpful attitude, for the way her zealous excitement makes everything more fun (I'm pretty sure that she is the main reason I like Disneyland). I'm grateful for Dylan's alternative view of the world and his off-beat sense of. . . .everything, constantly making me see things in a way I never would've myself, and usually making me laugh. I'm grateful for Kylie's calm good-naturedness, her natural proclivity for affection and sharing, so that, her tremendous bossiness notwithstanding, she helps to add some calm to our busy home. I'm excited to see who our next daughter will be and how she'll fit with the others. Watching children grow and discover the world is definitely about the most fun and amazing thing I have in my life.

For my husband, and the relationship I have with him: I'm grateful for the way he provides for us, in every sense. Without me having to take a job outside our home, he provides us with a warm home and a good car and lots of good food and plenty of clothes and fun. He listens to the kids, and plays with them and cuddles with them and does everything a good dad should. He serves faithfully as the Priesthood leader in our home and is good at teaching the kids. I'm grateful that he and I are a team, that we're best friends, that we rarely ever miscommunicate, fail to communicate, or disagree on anything of true substance. And he's really, really funny.

There are way too many other things to list--and maybe that's the greatest blessing of all. I have so many things for which to be grateful, that its difficult to even begin to scratch the surface