PS

Looking at old pictures can also be a little depressing.

Who is this stud?!

And who is this skinny little girl he married??!

What ever happened to those two, I wonder????

A Word of Advice. . .

to my mommy friends whose children are even younger than mine:  take lots of photos of your children in their better (and not so great moments).  Because someday that baby/2 year old is going to be a 4 or 5 year old (or worse yet, a teenager!) and his or her cuteness will have peaked, while their ability to make you so furiously irritated you can hardly control yourself will have steadily increased.

Keilana has a unique ability to push my buttons.  Always has--far more than her brother and her still very new sister.  Her drama queen tendencies are difficult for me to be patient with and there will be days like today where, if I weren't a principled person, would just want to beat the snot out of her.  And then I take a deep breath, sit down and look at some pictures, and see something like this:

or this:


Or this:
Or this:
Or this:
Or this:
Or this:
Or this: (Yup, that's little Ahni next to her)
(I have literally thousands more I'd like to share, but you get the idea).  And suddenly I remember.  Suddenly all the wonder and joy comes flooding back and I remember why I love being a mom so very, very much.  Why I love my children so much.  Why I love my oldest daughter specifically more than I can ever express (though I frequently, helplessly try).  I remember that for all the trouble she gives me, all the headaches she causes, if I had to boil her down to a brief description, I'd say she's joyfully exuberant, completely bursting with life.  And I wouldn't have her any other way.

Sanctity and Sadness

Last night, I came across some news that saddened, sickened and totally deflated me.  There are visceral types of anger and sadness that animate us--strong, superficial reactions that make us want to scream or hurl things against a wall.  Then there are reactions deep in your heart--feeling as though your heart has sunk into your stomach, where your outward action is minimal or nonexistent because the body simply has no way to express what the spirit feels.

There is a show on HBO called Big Love, about a polygamous family in Utah.  The existence of the show itself I find to be a minor annoyance that really does not affect me or my life.  However, this week, the episode will, it is widely rumored, contain portions of the LDS temple ceremony and this week's TV Guide features a photo of one of the cast members in full temple robes.  I felt a bit angry, but mostly sick and sad, when I read this.

Right off the bat, let me make one thing absolutely, unequivocally clear: I am ashamed of absolutely nothing that goes on in the temple; I am not in any way embarrassed by any of the covenants I have made.  I believe that in the temple, and the work done therein, there is to be found a peace, a love, a knowledge that can be found nowhere else on earth.  I stand fast by the promises that I have made, and no amount of mockery or persecution or judgement from the world will ever make me turn away from those things.  I believe that the is temple quite literally the house of the Lord on the earth--the only place, besides perhaps a truly righteous home, where His spirit can dwell fully.  I am always happy to tell people that I am one of those Mormons who goes to one of those "mysterious" temples and to bear my testimony of the beautiful, eternal truths tied to these marvelous buildings.  These things being blasted before the world doesn't make me sick because I'm embarrassed by them.  It makes me sick because I hold them sacred.

How do you explain that to a society that not only holds little to nothing sacred, but has largely abandoned the idea of sanctity altogether?  My surety in the truthfulness of the Gospel has at times been mistaken once or twice for arrogance by those who know no such confidence--those who know only the haughty, self-indulgence of worldly confidence.  Its not about me, its not that I'm right--its that I was fortunate enough to be raised with the truth and have received multiple witnesses from the Spirit.  I realize that to many this relegates me to "religious nut" status, or a well meaning individual who is simply confusing strong emotions with something else.  I accepted that long ago, because there is no way to adequately describe the workings of the Spirit to someone who has never felt them.  Yes, it employs my emotional faculties and my intellectual ones, but it is unique and distinct from either.  I once heard a General Authority use the analogy of trying to tell someone what the Spirit feels like as trying to describe the taste of salt without using the word "salty".  Unless you have tasted it, there's no adequate description.

I know these things are true.  I know the temple is a place of sacred instruction and great love.  That is a testimony from which I cannot be shaken.  The evidences in my life have been too great to deny.  Will I tell you what they are?  Not here.  But not because I am ashamed--if you come to me in sincerity, willing to listen with a heart that appreciates their deeply personal and profoundly spiritual nature, I'd be happy to.  But if you simply want to mock or demean my intelligence, rationality, or truths that I hold sacred, I'm not interested.  Nothing you can ever say or do will cause me to change my mind.  Not because I've been indoctrinated to fear the wrath of an angry God, but because I know all too well the power, peace and beauty of His eternal love.

"For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. . . ."

Oh, it is ON! On like Donkey Kong!

I have a texting problem.  I enjoy this form of communication a great deal (especially with my iPhone, where it is so easy to text).  Kindon and I like to text--it is a habit we developed while I was serving in my previous calling.  One of us would text the other to ask a question/pass on some info, and it would quickly evolve into a battle of wits--who could ridiculify or sarcasticate the other the best.  Or sometimes we'd just have a conversation.

Yesterday, he texted to let me know that Angie had had her baby (their sixth).  Little Ava Meik, weighing in at 9lbs, 10 oz.  Most of Angie's babies were around this size--they breed big babies, but little people (kind of like Christa, come to think of it).  So today he he texts me to inform me that he thinks we should set up a sumo match between Kylie and Ava.  I am SO there.  Stay tuned. . . . .

Daily Dose

Getting big. . .outgrowing her 3-6 month clothes soon. . .

Just like her brother and sister, she is a very "serious face" sleeper

Forgive the strange angles and blur.  She is fascinated by the camera, so I have to be sneaky about taking pictures with it when she's smiling, lest she notice it and stop smiling in favor of her "studying" face. :)

Why I Love My Husband, pt. 3

(Although I think I deleted pt. 2 when I actually intended to delete a different post).

Seriously, is there anything that makes you fall more in love with your husband than those moments when you realize all over again what a good father he is?

I took Keilana to a primary activity this past Saturday.  Doug was still in bed when I left (he had a late night), but I left Dylan--awake and roaming the house unrestricted in his PJs--with him anyway.  When I got back about 20-30 minutes later, Dylan was nowhere to be found.  I headed up the stairs and what do I see?  Dylan is all snuggled up in the bed with Doug, watching Kung Fu Panda on the computer.  The funniest thing.  And he had been asking all week to watch Kung Fu Panda in bed with Daddy.  

Later that day, we were over at Katy's house, and Doug and Dylan started doing their Kung Fu moves in her livingroom, wrestling and stomping and pushing each other around.  I told Katy that this is why my mattress will not survive to its warranty date--it is as much wrestling arena as it is bed.

Yesterday when I picked Keilana up from school, she asked if she could call Daddy.  I gave her my phone so she could ask to stop by and see him at his office, but alas! he didn't answer.  She was heartbroken.  She misses him when he's gone a full work day!  Even better, one day we called and he didn't answer, but then called back a few minutes later to tell us he was there.  Between the kids and the outside noises, I didn't hear my cell phone.  When we got home and I saw that he called, I called him back and he was very, very disappointed that we'd already made it home and he missed us, because he wanted to see the kids.

Ever heard the country song, "Stealing Cinderella"?  If you like sappy stuff (even if you are a closet sap, not wanting to people to know about your sappiness), I would recommend it.  Its about a woman who's getting married and Daddy having a hard time with it because he still sees his little girl who's playing Cinderella.  Doug has forbade me to listen to it when he's around because it makes him cry.  I'm sure he'll be thrilled that I've told you all that.

I am so grateful to have the father for my children that I always wanted them to have.  He is actively involved in their lives, affectionate, playful, emotional, supportive.  Keilana always shows her outfit to Daddy in the morning before she leaves for school just because she knows that he'll tell her she's pretty.  Dylan approaches him with gleeful punches after he's given his cursory welcome home hug, because he knows Daddy will play with him.  

Doug has blessed all of our babies.  He has given Keilana a father's blessing and administered to both of them when sick.  He takes me to the temple and teaches his kids true principles.  More importantly, he shows them true principles.

What's not to love about that?

Definitions

I don't like it when people lose their temper or get extremely agitated and then say something rude or hurtful, even if said statement is true, that they know others are thinking and then say something like, "Well, at least I had the guts to say it!"  or "Well, you didn't have the courage to say anything."

Courage, in this particular circumstance, would be saying something that needed to be said even though it may be uncomfortable or painful for the hearer, because after thoughtful consideration you have concluded that not saying it will cause more damage.  Its saying such a thing honestly and directly, for the hearer's benefit (because you know they need to have it pointed out to them), without malice, self-righteousness or condemnation.  Its saying it because you feel that its the best path to better understanding and righteousness in the long run, and you have decided that you are willing and able to accept the consequences (whatever they may be) immediately.

Shouting something angrily (that may in fact need to be said) because you're so ticked off or frustrated that you just can't hold it any more isn't courage.  That's not you humbly acknowledging that there may be some negative consequences that you're willing to accept in pursuit of the greater good.  That's you losing your temper or patience and saying "to hell with the consequences" because you've lost your ability for self-restraint.

Courage doesn't always roar.  More often than we realize it is a bold but nevertheless soft and gentle voice.