Summer Favorites

After we got back from Montana, we didn't do a whole lot this summer, what with me being tired and sick a whole lot, our budget being fairly well exhausted from one 3,000 mile trip, and Doug working every Friday and Saturday. But we have squeezed in a little fun. A few parting summer shots.

Claire off to join the big kids in the fountains.

Dylan and Clayton cooling off.

Dylan nervously approaching Space Mountain in Daddy's arms.

Keilana, walking through Fantasyland with Rachel and Mimi. Life is good.

Rambling

I'm pretty sure that this baby already hates me. I think I'm sick again. Yesterday we went for a Sunday drive, and I started feeling horrendous on the ride down from the mountains on the very, very curvy road we took home. Motion sickness is a phenomenon I usually only experience when pregnant, so I assumed that was all and as soon as we straightened out I'd be fine. I was still feeling sick until about an hour after we got home. Then I started to feel better, had something to eat and sat down to veg for a while. By the time I went to bed, I had a headache. At 1am, I finally got out of bed and took some Tylenol. It didn't do a thing, and now I was nauseous again, too. At 2am, I finally woke Doug up to ask him to give me a short blessing, just so that I could get enough relief to get some sleep (because even if I'm well-slept, the bone-crushing fatigue doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon--I told you, this baby hates me). By 2:30ish, I was starting to drift in and out because I was feeling a bit less pain. When I woke up at 4, I felt fine and was able to go right back to sleep (other than the occasional, unintentional slap from a sleeping Kylie). I got to sleep in for a while this morning--I didn't get out of bed til nearly 8:20, so that helped. But I'm still vaguely nauseous, and just walking up and down my stairs makes me exhausted. Grrrrr. Usually, by the time the second trimester hits I feel fine. I have discovered, as the symptoms linger on and on, that I really hate being unproductive. No, that's not entirely true. Being unproductive can be quite enjoyable when I feel good, but not getting anything done AND not enjoying myself makes me a bit crazy.

On a completely unrelated note, as I was reading news this morning, I noticed all the news websites had headlines about the VMAs, most of which were accompanied by pictures of Lady Gaga. I'm not very familiar with her--I think I've heard two of her songs. But I assume there's no reason to figure out who she is. If experience has taught me anything, its that people who try so desperately hard to be outlandish, outrageous, different (insert appropriate adjective here) are likely not extraordinary in any way. People who are genuinely that different or extraordinary usually get noticed eventually, despite their best efforts to appear normal.

Good Days

I love these three:

Even though we'll all be really glad when Daddy gets home,

we're doing OK without him.

Usually I think summer holds on too long around here.

Today I was glad it was still with us.

All morning at a friends house,

playing hard on their inflatable waterslide.

Some quiet time with a movie

while baby sister slept.

Then off to the park

for climbing, swinging, sliding,

and sunburns.

Everybody came home filthy, exhausted

and happy.

Kylie was actually excited to go to bed

but when I sat down to rock her

she started looking at me with a confused little face:

"Dada? Dada?"

Two more days,

munchkin.

Real Power

Yesterday, a young father and new Bishop was shot to death in his office between services in an LDS church building in Visalia. The motives of the shooter are still hazy, but what we do know is that very suddenly and unexpectedly, a young mother is now a widow, with six sons to raise, ranging in age from teenager to infant.

Mormons tend to form pretty tight-knit little communities, as one of our fundamental beliefs is the responsibility to care for one another. We usually have large families, so that even far apart little pockets of church members tend to have connections to each other. Consequently, tragedies that happen to "our own" tend to hit us very hard, even if we don't know the individual directly. In this case, being so close to home (indeed, occurring in a ward where we have friends, to an individual my husband knows, and in a building where my mother and father in law usually meet), its left me in tears several times already.

Over the last 24 hours since this horrible event happened, I have pondered what this young mother must be feeling--the shock, anger, and terrible, aching hurt she must be going through. I've thought about how on earth I would find a way forward were I in her unenviable position. I keep feeling like I should do something for her family--but what can I do?

I have prayed for her. I have asked others to do the same.

That is a pretty standard practice for me when it comes to big challenges in the lives of others--ask people, whether they know the individuals involved or not, to offer prayers on their behalf. I once had a conversation with a friend who seemed to think that this practice, while perhaps comforting to the one asking for the prayers, was silly. "I don't get it," he said, "Do you think God will help them more if you get enough people to ask? That seems like a pretty stand-offish parent!"

I do absolutely believe that there are times when the Lord steps in and changes the course of events in someone's life in order to reward the selfless faithfulness of those who were willing to ask, with the faith believe that he can do anything they ask, if its in his will. I think the Lord still whispers to individuals today, "Thy faith hath made thee whole". Certainly as he walked the earth, he could've pulled lepers and blind folk from the crowd at will and made them whole, but in practice what he actually did was heal those who asked to be healed. Through this method, he taught us over and over again, "According to thy faith, be it unto thee." I happen to believe that sometimes he also blesses us according to the faith of those who love us.

But what good are prayers in a situation like this? A husband and father is gone, and we know that no amount of prayer will change that. All that can be healed is the hearts of those who loved him, and it is much more difficult to heal a broken heart than it is to fix unseeing eyes.

I believe, however, that the sincerely offered and truly heartfelt prayer, that is a true expression of love and faith, does change something--that that act of faith does somehow nudge the world a little bit. Many people think its pointless to offer prayers on behalf of people we don't know, people who don't know we're praying for them. I vehemently disagree. I think that when we pray out of true, selfless concern for another, there is a very real, very literal transfer of. . .what? Energy? Power? I can't pin down the specifics, but something tells me there is more to it than we can understand. In the Doctrine and Covenants we are told that "all spirit is matter", its just that its so fine and so pure that we can't see it with our mortal eyes. I believe that faith and love are much more tangible things that we could possibly know on this side of the veil. I believe that when we selflessly exercise our free will on the behalf of someone else, even if it is simply to ask that they be comforted, there is a very real offering that is made--that perhaps a measure of our spirit buoys them somehow. Someday, beyond the veil, I hope to understand all the spiritual physics of how our lives are moved forward and touched by others. For now, I don't care about understanding the mechanics, all I care is that I know that it does work.

Prayer is powerful, when we use it correctly. I believe that not only does Christ offer his comfort when we pray for others, but that something very real and important is relayed from our souls to the souls of those for whom we pray. To dismiss prayer as simply a kind gesture severely underestimates its power and dismisses what is ons of our greatest weapons in the battle for the souls of men. When we offer our hearts to the Lord and to each other in sincere prayer, we are all strengthened, and I think that's because our souls, for a moment, combine, in an amazing way that we may never understand in this life.

My prayer is that God will bless and comfort the Sannar family and the Visalia 2nd ward. They will need much borrowed strength in the difficult days and months ahead. It is our sacred obligation to offer it to them.

Day's End

I love Keilana and Clayton. I really, really do.

Its just that some days it seems like it would be preferable to live on a nuclear submarine than take care of them, and all that implies. Have I mentioned that I'm terribly claustrophobic on land, and when you add being surrounded by water I can barely breathe just thinking about it?

Ah, but I never forget for a second that I love them, and I'm grateful to have them. And by morning, I'll even like them again.

Well, as long as they don't come into my room and start begging for pancakes at 6am.

Obedience and Humility

My oldest daughter is, more often than not, a happy, helpful, obedient child. She tends to attract fan clubs everywhere she goes because she's vibrant and social and loves to please people.

She's also very emotional and has a tendency to be over-the-top when she's upset. The last week or so, every time I've asked her to clean her room I've been met with glaring, stomping and "I don't want to!" My response to this is almost always a very calm, "So? I didn't ask if you wanted to. It needs to be done. Go clean your room." And so she begrudgingly marches up to her room and pouts and whines the whole time she's accomplishing the chore, moving slowly, frequently getting upset, even yelling at her brother a bit.

I don't interrupt this little melodrama. What I've asked her to do, though it seems monumental to her little eyes (and, to be fair, she and her brother can make one heck of a mess in there), is not so big a task it can't be tackled. What she also seems to have forgotten lately is that, usually, when she happily agrees to complete this task, I help her. What could be a long, miserable chore turns into a fun, fairly quick activity with an attentive parent--the only difference is her attitude.

How often do we, as children, approach things our Heavenly parents have asked us to do in this same way? How often do we say, "I don't wanna!!" and stomp our feet and throw our fists? Our temper tantrum doesn't make the right thing any less right, it simply makes us miserable while we're doing it (or even more miserable while we're refusing to do it). We can avoid it (which inevitably leads to more misery down the line) or we can approach it with a displeased if-I-have-t0 attitude, which will make us miserable and resentful of the whole thing. Or we can cheerfully say, "Ok! I can do this!" and have a happy, loving parent at our side, helping the whole time.

Its is easy for us to sit in judgment of others as they act and react to trials or challenges in their lives that we have not ourselves been asked to experience. Sometimes we take for granted that we'd do the right thing if we were in their position, because we usually are obedient when push comes to shove. But the point of the story about David and Bathsheba is not to teach us that David was an awful person or that leaders can fall. Its to remind us that anyone, no matter how good and obedient they have been over the course of their life, can fall into misery and disobedience quickly if humility and self-honesty and the impressions of the Spirit are ignored. David has been promised that he won't languish in misery forever, but the price he'll have to pay is very, very steep. So many of his good deeds and faithful acts are undermined by a single, prideful instance where he failed to be obedient to the Lord's will.

David exercised a great deal more faith throughout most of his life than I can honestly imagine in my own--from his courageous childhood act of walking up to a giant with nothing but a slingshot while grown, trained soldiers cowered in fear, to living in the wilderness to protect himself from a jealous ruler, to governing his people with justice and righteousness. He faced many challenges and trials, made many sacrifices out of a desire to be righteous and obedient, yet that didn't mean he was done. There were still sacrifices to make, challenges to overcome and temptations to conquer. How strongly must the Spirit have warned him, "Look away!" and yet that resistant, human part of him responded "I don't wanna!" If he, so blessed and faithful, could fall so quickly, how much faster then could I slip into undesirable circumstances if I am not constantly vigilant in trying to cultivate the humility to be obedient, no matter what is asked of me?

Life never stops testing us. Difficult things never stop being required of us. Sometimes, it is immediately obvious why we must do something. Sometimes, we never (in this life) know why we were supposed to do something, or not do something. But I know that our lives are blessed when we exercise the faith to believe that whatever the Lord requires is right. It has been amply proved to me that when we are obedient to His commandments and promptings, we are blessed for it, and all things will work together for our good, even if we can't understand how.

The key to a joyful life, regardless of what circumstances we may be in, is to learn to say, not begrudgingly but with a genuinely joyful and grateful heart, "I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord. . .I'll say what you want me to say. . .I'll be what you want me to be".

Sneaking chocolate can be dangerous

This morning I was upstairs at the computer working on my lesson for Relief Society, when my toddler started to cry--and not an angry, get-this-sibling out of my face cry or an irritated I-can't-reach-what-I-want cry. It was that sad, loud, it-really-really-hurts cry. So I went to investigate. I found my crying toddler laying on the floor between the kitchen and the livingroom with her face and shirt covered in Nutella. I turned to examine the cupboard where said Nutella had been hiding, and saw that my white microwave and medium-oak stained cupboards were also covered in Nutella. The outside of the Nutella jar was covered in Nutella--but the lid was on, straight and secure. As frustrated as I was about her nasty bruise and 2 hours of misery (thank goodness it finally occurred to me to give her some Tylenol--she was up all night, so my brain wasn't processing quickly), I was also impressed that before she fell trying to get down from the counter, she managed to open the chocolate by herself and get the lid back on when she was done. Quite crafty for being under 2. If she can learn to keep herself clean and avoid falls, she could be dangerous.