Thoughts on Gratitude

Yesterday, I spent all day cleaning a house with my sister-in-law and my brother, which means a little bit of money for us (yay!).  And since we have been totally inundated with children, my older sister, very awesomely, took all four of our kids home with her after school, including the baby, and kept them overnight.

So last night, Doug and I went out to a nice dinner and the only person I had to feed was myself.  The food was delicious, and I ate too much and didn't regret it.  Then we wandered around a store without chasing, carrying or reprimanding anyone and picked up a couple (very small) things that we didn't "need", and then got some ice cream from Coldstone before heading home and sleeping all night without interruption until whenever we decided to wake up.  Yesterday was a beautiful day (sunny, low 60s--seriously, gorgeous) and last night was sort of glorious--as we drove home well after dark, the Missions were bathed in subtle-yet-somehow-brilliant light from the mostly-full moon.

For a few hours, I felt neither overwhelmed with children nor poor, and I really needed that.  Its been a very long year and a half, hasn't it?

As we drove home, we were talking about leaving the baby for the first time, the fact that she's old enough to do that because she's practically weaned. There's no place in our family for another baby right now, so that leaves me thinking about the reality that I find nearly every form of birth control very, very annoying for different reasons.  Its so terribly inconvenient.  But as I thought about the various couples I know who are thinking about adopting, trying to adopt or have adopted, I remembered how grateful I am that every time I have wanted a baby, all I had to do was decide that I wanted one--I'm quite healthy, and its usually easy for me to get pregnant, and my pregnancies and deliveries were relatively easy and problem-free.  More all the time, I appreciate what a marvelous blessing that is, and one I would gladly put up with the inconveniences of birth control to have.

You see, for my own sake, I always knew I wanted a child.  But growing up in a large family, where I always had many people around me who loved me and helped take care of me (a blessing that I appreciate even more now that I'm an adult), I knew that for the sake of that child, I wanted children--plural.  And even though by the end of this past week, part of me was occasionally tempted to smother my children (I jest-but really-but no-but yes-but no), I am so glad that we have, what it by today's standards, a large family.  I'm grateful for all the joy and richness my children give to my life, and to each other's.  I'm glad that was easy and entirely up to us to decide how many to have and when to have them. Its so heartbreaking and patience-testing to have it up to other people and systems to decide when you can bring your next child home, and a few families have been in my prayers as they try to find that little baby that needs them.

As for myself, I should probably go pick up my kids.  But maybe I should build a fire and do the dishes first.  Surely Gwen wants a little more time with my little *blessings*

Baseball Weather?

We've been getting sunshine and 40 and 50 degree weather this week.  Maybe spring will come early.  The tulips are just starting to poke above the soil--maybe they'll make it in time for Easter this year.

Gwen brought baseball stuff with her yesterday, so Nana and Kylie practiced hitting off the tee,

and playing catch with her.

Not bad for a couple of three-year-olds

(OK, so Nana's still a month shy of the "3" mark, but she's getting close)

 Keira is a very, very confident barefoot walker, but she's still getting used to shoes.

She didn't venture very far in her Crocs.

But she was quite pleased to be outside AND on the ground.

 Kylie tosses "Uncle Gwen" the ball.  She's got a pretty good arm.

 In addition to throwing, Nana practiced fielding some grounders.

She's aggressive.  And who wouldn't be intimidated by those purple jeggings?

They were both masterful at hitting the tee.

The older kids got in on the action

after they got home from school.

But by then I was acting as pitcher--

so no free hand for the camera.

But Dylan got a little piece of a couple of pitches

and Keilana got real hits on the first half-dozen I lobbed to her.

Pretty good for first timers.

Time to sign up for baseball, now that wrestling's over.

Quick Update

So, it occurs to me that we've been here for four months now, and I really haven't said much about what's going on.  I also haven't had a phone, so I haven't told anyone much about what's going on.  I've been great at communication, haven't I?

The kids have been loving school.  I imagine its quite a bit easier, since they only have to learn one language at a time.  That being said, the high school Spanish teacher, Marlene Lodge, has graciously been giving Keilana gratis Spanish lessons after school once a week.  Keilana picks a book to read, writes down any words she doesn't know or anything she doesn't understand and then they talk about the book together.  Mostly, it gives her someone to practice her Spanish with so that she doesn't "lose" too much of it.  I really appreciate Marlene taking the time, and I think its been fun for her--Montana high school students aren't usually real gifted at conversing in Spanish, so its good practice for both of them.

Dylan is in the same Kindergarten class as his cousin Paisley, which is fun, and he seems to have been completely unphased by the move:  his teacher told me a few weeks ago that she was starting him on 2nd grade readers and first grade math because she thought he needed more of a challenge.  And socially things seem to be going well.  Last month, we asked him who he played with at school and he replied, quite cheerily, "I don't know".  And he probably doesn't.  He probably just joins in with whichever wild pack of boys is in closest proximity to him and is quite content.  That's how he rolls. He loves the greater degree of independence he's got to enjoy since coming here--walking home from school with no adult escort thrills him to pieces, and he loves roaming the yard, field and up and down the creek without a parent.  Its been fun to see him so enjoy all the things I loved best about being a child here.

He also is enjoying having so much "boy time".  We signed him up for Little Guy wrestling and, despite not winning a single match, he loves it.  He loves going to practice every day and tussling with all the other boys and being part of the team.  He has very little aggressiveness (we'll see if that changes as he gets older), so the first couple weeks he treated it more like intense play acting than actual wrestling, but he's starting to get the hang of it now and has been having a blast.

Kylie has loved it, too.  She loves being just downstairs from Yaya, and is constantly trying to come up with excuses to go upstairs so she can hang out with her.  Probably her favorite thing has been getting to spend so much time with "Uncle Gwen"--for some reason my sister became "uncle" and no one can convince Kylie otherwise.  Gwen is usually here all day at least once a week doing ambulance coverage, and she's been really fantastic about just taking one or all of our kids now and then, and Kylie loves her and her house.  She's Kylie's sub for auntie Manda, I guess you could say.  She always wants to go to Unlce Gwen's house, or go with her any time she stops by.  Kylie has also become quite the singer lately.  She often will take the kid-size rocking chair and put it smack dab in the middle of the livingroom and then put Doug's mike stand in front of it and sing all kinds of amazing things, regularly declaring that she's a rock star.  Her verbosity knows no bounds, it seems.  This morning, when one of her cousins was being a bit bossy to her, she came to me and said, "Nana won't let me watch the movie with her! She's ruining my life!"  Ah, to be 3 going on 13!

And Keilana.  Oh, Keilana.  The adjustment has been a mixed bag for her.  She's doing very well in school, and has really enjoyed all the art projects, music time, PE and computer lab fun that was missing in California.  She's in the same class with one of her little girl cousins, and since there are only 2 second grades, she sees the other one her age quite a bit during the day, too.  She's made quite a few new friends besides cousins (I still need to have them over to play--we've been pretty much constantly sick at our house all winter, so I haven't been good about that sort of thing), but that being said, she is either at one of her cousins' houses or has a cousin or two over here nearly every weekend.  My little social butterfly loves that.  On the other hand, she's also had the hardest time with the transition--she's mentioned several times missing Mimi and Papa, or Payton, or the street fair or McDermont (and Sister Ashcraft and Sister Hunter and Sister Vega, and the list goes on and on).  We've dealt with a lot of tantrums and hissy fits and arguing and general fussing the last few months.  We're trying to breathe deep and get through it and get it under control.  *sigh*  But she loves being able to get outside and roam around and run--this kids has always loved the outdoors and cold air.

Did I mention that Keilana and Dylan love sledding tremendously?

So soon its on to baseball season and geo cacheing weather, and hopefully no more runny noses, sick tummies and achy bodies.  We've really had quite enough of that.

And Doug and I are doing alright.  I think we're at long last starting to find some footing of some sort, and this last week, we've had a few glimmers of hope on the job front--here's praying that they turn into something more substantial.  Wish us luck.

So that wasn't so quick.

Pondering

My three-year-old is confident, assertive and very, very verbal.  Last week, this combination of traits led an adult member of our household to tell her she was a "bossy pants".  She responded indignantly, "Mommy, I am not a bossy pants! You say I'm not bossy!  Say it right now!!"  The clear contradiction inherent in this statement (and the way it was said) made me laugh (its OK, I haven't damaged her self-esteem any, believe me!).  But as I thought over the incident, I realized that I know many adults who do much the same thing, albeit in a slightly less direct or obvious manner, and I've been guilty of it myself on many occasions.

I was recently told that, in Hebrew, there are no present-tense being verbs to refer to oneself;  such verbiage is applicable only to God.  The Lord declares, "I am", but you cannot--either you were something or you are becoming something.  This is a language rooted in an understanding of Divine perfection and mortal progression.  We are not stagnant, and, more to the point, we are not complete--in nothing is any one of us yet perfect.  Nothing have we truly, thoroughly mastered (from an eternal standpoint) and, much more importantly, in nothing are we beyond hope of redemption and perfection.

The trouble is that far too often there is a wide chasm between our perception of our own behavior, our distance from or proximity to the Lord, and the reality of those things.  Often we so fervently hope to become something, to manifest certain traits or behaviors (or to stop manifesting them), that we convince ourselves that we're already there, or at least farther along than we actually are.

If we have any hope of making meaningful progress, there is much need in our lives for honest, humble self-reflection.  And the only way to do that is make time.  My sister gets out of the house every morning before every one wakes up and goes for an hour-long run;  an hour where no one's diaper needs to be changed, no one needs to be fed, no TV is on, and she can focus wholly and completely on her own thoughts, and where she's at.  My husband talks through his thoughts at length with me.  I write.

I haven't been doing that a lot lately.  Last week I was preparing for my Sunday School class (I got called to be the Gospel Doctrine teacher), and a large part of the lesson focused on the psalm of Nephi.  Nephi expresses so many poignant thoughts in this deeply personal prayer, a meaningful expression of his thoughts and emotions at a very difficult time in his life:  his father has just died, his brothers are trying to kill him, and he is having to step more completely and meaningfully into his role as patriarch, prophet and king to his people.  He exclaims, "O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh;  my soul grieveth because of my iniquities.  I am encompassed about because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me."

That's how I've felt too often when I've stopped to reflect the last year or so.  If I think too hard about what's happened the last couple of years, I still get angry at too many individuals and I don't like being angry, so I have tried not to think about it much instead of trying to work past it.  I get too angry at myself--I should've responded differently to this, I should've been doing more of that--so I just haven't been as prone to reflection as I usually am.

I thought about all this as I read Nephi's thoughts.  His brothers had done little besides cause him trouble since he was a teenager.  This wasn't the first time they'd wanted to kill him, and they'd beat him, tied him up, and exercised various other abuses on him many times in the past.  But with his prophetic perspective, Nephi knew (as good as he, in all reality, certainly was) just how far he was from the Christ-like ideal;  he emphasized over and over again how much he needed the grace of God, how grateful he was for it.  He was wracked with anguish over his brothers, but not because of any great fear for his own safety--he was heartbroken with fear for their temporal and eternal welfare.  For all his troubles, his focus was on gratitude for the love and grace of Christ, for that all-encompassing Atonement that would make him whole, and how he might show that kind of love to the brothers who probably owed him a great debt of gratitude but instead viewed and treated him as a thorn in their side.

"O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever.  I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh. . .my God will give me, if I ask not amiss. . ."  These are the thoughts that Nephi concludes with. He goes over in his mind the great many ways that the Lord has looked after and protected him and his family, he lists many of the privileged blessings that have been bestowed upon him, and he realizes that the Lord gives liberally when we ask in righteousness.

That's what Nephi understood:  that men, even the very best of men, are weak.  People will let us down, they will make mistakes, they will flake out, they will sometimes be selfish, they will often hold our own mistakes and bad choices against us.  We cannot always fully trust and rely on even those we love the most, but the Lord does not fail us, he is never selfish, and he will accept us with open arms even when we have been the very worst version of ourselves.

These are the thoughts that pondering will usually lead us to, because pondering is different than mere thinking.  Pondering is humble, prayerful consideration;  it is thought enhanced by inspiration and the direction of the Spirit.  It will at once lead us to an understanding of just how flawed we are (O wretched man that I am!) and a peaceful reassurance that, through the Atonement, perfection and exaltation are indeed obtainable goals (He hath filled me with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh).  It is a realization that, despite what our pride would have us believe, a call to repentance is an act of great love. Repentance can be a very difficult process, depending on just how far we have gone astray, just how deeply pride has been rooted in our hearts, but it is a simple one. And, hopefully, if we continually apply the Atonement to our lives, we can say with confidence, as Paul did, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith", and have the same comforting knowledge as did Lehi who proclaimed, as his own life came to a close, "The Lord hath redeemed my soul from hell, and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love."

Dylan's perspective

We re-started the Book of Mormon for our family scripture study this year, and a week or so ago we were reading about how the boys' mom started to murmur because she thought they were probably dead when they went to retrieve the brass plates from Laban. We talked about how long it must have taken to walk back to Jerusalem, and the first two attempts at getting the brass plates, etc. Then I explained that it was a long, long time ago, and there wouldn't have been any way for them to check in and let their mom know that they were OK. I said, "They didn't have any phones, or email or Facebook, or even a post office."

Dylan got big, wide eyes, raised his eyebrows and exclaimed, "Yeah, and they wouldn't have had any swim flippers, either!"

I wasn't sure how swim flippers were relevant to their situation, but I agreed. He was right, after all.

I Blinked Again

I peeked around the computer to see what the kids were doing, and Keira was sitting up in the child-size wooden rocking chair (which she had climbed into by herself), rocking happily while drinking from her sippy cup and when she noticed me looking, she unleashed one of those wonderful squinty-eyed, squished nose, open mouth smiles of hers. She looked so grown up.

For a split second I thought, "I'm running out of babies. And I don't think I get anymore for a while." My heart stammered a bit. Couldn't decide if that was a relief or a little heartbreaking.

No matter what I do, they seem to just keep growing up at warp speed.

New Year?

As I logged into blogger the other day to read a few friends' posts, I realized I had one blog post this month, and it was mostly photos.

I haven't written very much the last year. Its not that I haven't tried. But I sit down at the keyboard or with a notebook, and everything gets so jumbled--the exact opposite of what my brain's reaction to a fresh page has always been. Most of the challenges of the last year or two haven't been able to knock me off my feet--with a few rare, momentary exceptions, I've been on a pretty even keel, and usually have remained overall quite optimistic. It never escapes me that whatever challenges we have, we have too many blessings to count, and so we ought to be happy--not complacent in our circumstances, but faithfully cheerful.

But Doug has been unemployed for over a year now. There are things that we genuinely need that keep getting put off. No clear employment prospects are ahead of us, and we still haven't entirely figured out how to make our long-term desires doable, let alone meet immediate needs. I'm grateful that we've been so well taken care of. I'm grateful to be in Montana and with my family, but at the same time I miss my friends so terribly much. Having my phone break on the way here has been a challenge--I've had almost no communication with my friends since we left. The other day, there was something funny I wanted to text message to Emily and I couldn't, and I got a little bummed out. Moving hasn't entirely broken the habit of reading the local news for Tulare county, and disappointments continue to abound.

Its been a strange time for us, emotionally, as some relationships have ended (burying a couple of grandparents), some have had progress being reestablished after long estrangement, and others are (at least temporarily) suspended due to confusion, disappointment or hurt. I hate those kind of self-imposed boundaries, and yet sometimes in life they are necessary for everybody's health and sanity.

The other day, I finally had a mini breakdown. I'm not an overly-emotional person; I don't cry a lot, I don't throw tantrums much, and I'm not really much of a brooder. But I had thought of the third thing-we-need-but-really-can't-afford that day, and then something small went a bit awry (so itty bitty that now I can't even remember what it was) and I started to cry. For about five minutes, I just cried really hard and I wasn't even entirely sure why until I heard myself say, "I just need a break from my life!" (I said this to myself, apparently, as I was alone). I started mumbling about how I hated being the calm one, the balanced one, the chore-accomplishing one, the baths-and-school-and-homework-and-groceries one. The mom.

And when I got to that moment, I pulled myself together and stopped whining. I'm the mom. This is my job. There are people counting on me. I willingly and intentionally took this responsibility on myself when I decided to be a mom. Of course, I didn't know all the details of what that would mean, and no one does, but I knew it wouldn't be easy. For goodness sake, if childbirth doesn't clue you into the fact that motherhood is going to be hard, you're probably a bit too slow to be raising children very well.

I suddenly remembered a conversation a few years ago, where I had said something to Doug about how sometimes I hate the talks that General Authorities give about motherhood, because it just ends up feeling like the whole world is on our shoulders as women, and he smiled wryly and immediately responded, "Well, it is." After I laughed, he added, "But not just yours." We have a Father who loves us, and ultimately he shape us and direct us for good. I am not the last line of defense for my family, and it is always such a relief for very imperfect, flawed and impatient little me to remember that. It changes my focus.

I remember that I am needed by others. That I have made certain covenants, and that those covenants involve a whole lot of responsibility to those around me--first and foremost my husband and children. I haven't been the best wife and mother lately--I can do better. I haven't been the best friend or sister lately--I can be better.

Whatever our troubles, our children our well-fed, well-dressed and have a warm home to come back to at the end of the day. That is so much more than most people in circumstances such as ours can say. And those are not our only blessings, not by a long shot. I need to stop and look around more often and really look. Keilana and Dylan have each grown about an inch and a half in the last couple of months. Keira is starting to walk and saying a few words. Kylie has developed whole new big-word repertoires to converse and entertain with. Life keeps moving, no matter what I do, so its best to jump in and enjoy the little moments. Too often we let life's stresses wrap us up in ourselves, so that we look all day at our loved ones and all the rest of the good folks around us and never see them.

Its a new year, a good a time as any to refocus my energies. What needs have I missed in others because I was so wrapped up in my own little troubles? What have I not seen because I spent so much time worrying about me?

Have I done any good in the world today?