quiet moment

Keira's down for a nap, Kylie is sitting on the floor in front of me building a Lego house, and Doug has come and gone for lunch.  Its snowing outside, and I love how that makes everything looks cleaner and brighter, and makes the world a little quieter.

As I was putting Keira down for her nap she exclaimed, "Book! Book!"  I absolutely love that every single one of my kids, including the barely-4-year-old who can't read and the almost-2-year-old who is just starting to really talk, believe that you absolutely must have a book to go to bed.

Last night, Keira repeatedly said, "Buzz coat! Buzz coat!" at bedtime until I finally broke down and put her bee costume on over her pajamas.  She giggled and went "bbbzzzzzzzz! bbbzzzzzz!" and then laid down with her book and "read" until she fell asleep.  This morning she came into our room, hood on, atennae sticking up, smiling and buzzing.

Before Kylie had been up too long this morning, she has slipped on one of her princess dresses, and so Keira decided she needed to change into her Wonder Woman costume.

Its supposed to snow another 5-8 inches (there's already about 3.5 inches on the ground) in the next 24 hours or so, and tomorrow we'll be hitting double digit negative temperatures, so we'll probably be stuck at home inside all weekend.

That doesn't sound so bad, actually.

Volume

My sister-in-law posted something on Facebook today indicating that it would be nice to have soft-spoken kids.  That would be particularly nice right now, as her husband just started on the graveyard shift at a new job and three of her very loud kids are home all day.  I don't have that specific (and, I'm sure, somewhat pressing) concern, but to some degree I feel her pain.  My older kids get home from school at about 3:30, and once they get home, I never make any real attempt to listen to music, make phone calls, watch TV or videos, or anything else of that matter, because I can't hear any of it.  Just their conversation-level voices are kind of absurdly loud, and the conversations are regularly pierced by yelling, shrieking, stomping, and, in Dylan's case, random high-volume bird calls or dinosaur impressions: "Hey Mom! I can sound like a peregrine falcon!! Reeeeeeeeh! Reeeeeeeh!"

And I'm thinking, "Why are you saying that loud enough to give a presentation to the outdoor group at the zoo?  We're in a tiny livingroom and I'm less than 3 ft from you."  I always knew they were loud, but I tried not to get too uptight about it, because, well, kids are loud, right?  And since said sister-in-laws kids are my nieces and nephews (and other sisters-in-law have kids with this same traits), these little cousins were kids I spent a lot of time around, so the average got skewed in my head, I guess.  A few years ago, people regularly started saying to me (other people who had large families and lots of cousins and ran daycares and all kinds of things like that), "Becky, your kids are really loud."  Mind you, this was never said in a snarky or rude way, usually be said when kids were running around outside, and being loud was perfectly acceptable--it was always stated more as an observation than an expression of irritation or any other such things.

And its true.  There will be 15-20 other kids running around, and mine will be the ones you hear above everybody else.  There are days (living in a small house during a cold winter) when it makes me crazy, but for the most part I've learned to tolerate it on the worst days and embrace it on the good days.  Their loudness is often just a part of the tremendous enthusiasm they have for most things that they do in life, and I love that about them, even if it is a little overwhelming sometimes.

I figure as long as they learn to be quiet when they need to be, when loudness is in appropriate, (and as long as nobody at our house needs to work graveyard) its nothing to be real concerned with.  During Sacrament Meeting, they rarely make any noise at all (the exception being the occasional Keira or Kylie moment--they're still learning), because they know its a reverent place.  During school, Keilana only talks or makes noise when it is appropriate to do, and though Dylan's visiting occasionally gets him a warning, he usually only talks when its his turn, and then at a sane volume.  So if they sound like crazy Banshees at home and any time they're outside, so be it.

(P.S. Any time that Keilana is gone, the volume drops dramatically.  If she's gone all day, the other three will play together all day, rarely getting louder than a dull roar, and even that loud is uncommon.  This does not hold true when Keilana is at home and any one of the other children is removed.  What can I say?  The kid came wriggling, writhing and screaming, and she never got a lot quieter or calmer.)

Droughts and Resolutions

Something I've come to realize and admit to myself more and more the last couple of months is that the last year and a half took their toll on me, spiritually and emotionally.  The unemployment, obviously, but all the other things that went on (or failed to happen) over that time wore me down more than I realized in the middle of it.  I've felt like I've been in a writing drought (not just on my blog, but all of my writing) for more than a year.  Oh sure, there've been a few moments here and there, but for the most part, I just felt like I've had nothing to say--at least coherently and in any meaningful way.  But the writing drought has just been a symptom.  Part of me feels very badly that, after many years, I finally got to be close to a lot of people I had missed so much, only to have them see about the worst adult version of me that has yet existed.

The problem is, once the stress is off (to some degree), you don't automatically snap back to where you were before it hit.  Its like being at about an average fitness level, then getting pregnant and doing nothing and eating a lot of junk.  Even with concerted effort, it takes time to get back to where you were, functioning at the same level you were before.  You don't just hop out of bed and go jog five miles, you have to put in the work.  And I don't think I've been doing a lot of that.  I have felt more impatient, irritable, lazier and unfocused than at any point since becoming a mother, and I've no one to blame but myself.

So my primary resolution is to move forward, and stop looking back so much.  I won't give up reflecting, obviously--it is an important tool, and one too deeply ingrained in my nature to ever remove, anyway--but I refuse to dwell.  I will not focus on what I've lost or failed to do, what I don't have or can't get yet.  I will focus on the task in front of me at the moment, instead of being frustrated that I am not five steps further along.  I will work to be better, but not give up when I fall so short of perfection.

And with that, I will not demand perfection from others, or be frustrated with them over where I think they should be.  I will love people where they're at, and show that love in word and deed.  I will be gentle with people, not just in my interactions with them but in my thoughts about them as well.  I will apply everything I have just said to my children.  I will remind myself that their hands are small and unpracticed, that their spirits are young in this world and they are still learning to recognize and articulate all the feelings and emotions that come with their still rather new little bodies, and I will take a deep breath before I respond.  I will return to being that mom, who on the days when everyone is fighting or whining or crying, starts to sing a silly song and picks up a not-always-completely-willing child and starts to dance, until everyone is laughing hard enough that they've forgotten why they were mad.

My primary resolution can be summed up in these two quotes:

"Think the best of each other, especially of those you say you love.  Assume the good, doubt the bad." ~Jeffery R. Holland

"Our kindness may be the most persuasive argument for that which we believe." ~Gordon B. Hinckley

I have found that simply assuming the best about everyone's intentions with you prevents many disagreements and hurt feelings before they ever occur.  Always interpret things in the best possible manner available to you.  A couple of years ago, a third party relayed to Doug something that a friend had divulged about him.  It was nothing bad or embarrassing, but because of the circumstances it could've possibly been a dicey thing to reveal.  Immediately, Doug and I both assumed that there must've been some good reason this friend felt the need to pass on the information (and, it turns out, there was), but not for a second did we doubt his loyalty, integrity or judgment.  I hope that I can get to a point where I can react as well to everyone else in my life.

I have come to see very clearly the past few years that I would far prefer to assume the best and be proven wrong than to assume the worst and be proven right.

I am a terrible missionary.  Part of that is that, though I've come a long way in making myself at home in company with whom I share a common background and lifestyle, I am still nearly-paralyzed by nervousness and self-consciousness when I step outside those comfortable circles.  Yet there are many in my life who I am quite certain the Lord expects me to be a missionary to, people I do know well and am comfortable with, and I could be a much better missionary if I were more charitable.  It is such a simple thing to be kind, and yet it seems always to be a struggle with those we are closest to. I'm not saying I'm unkind, but I simply don't put as much time and energy into consciously to choosing to serve and reach out as I should.

As I work on improving myself in order to to quench the dust of my little spiritual drought, it should begin to clear up my writing drought, which in turn should help me to better accomplish some of my other, long-term resolutions.  But this is long enough already, so more on that later.

That's my girl

Doug wanted to go for a drive today, but Dylan and Kylie were quite adamant that they were not interested in going for a drive, so I stayed home with the two of them and Keira, and Keilana got on some snow gear and went on an adventure with her dad.  This is the pass west of town, and a bit out of frame, stage left, is a small waterfall that tumbles down the mountain.  They drove up to Discovery Ski resort, so Keilana could see where she'll be starting her skiing lessons two weeks from now.

She needed this today.  This past week, I almost forgot what I love most about Keilana: her adventurous spirit, her wanderlust, how much she loves to go.  She is always on the lookout for a new experience, interesting things to do, places to go, things to eat.  She's been busy right from the start (and when I say "the start", I mean it: she scooted herself up several inches on the little warmer they put her 4-minute-old self on to clean her up in the delivery room--she was ready to go somewhere and didn't sleep more than 40 minutes til about her first birthday, always seeming as though she was afraid she'd miss something if she gave in to fatigue).  If you want to go on a mountain hike, try out a new lake for swimming or fishing, learn a new sport, spend a day traipsing around Disneyland, try that weird new food you've never heard of, or visit a new town, she's your gal.  She'll keep up, she'll giggle, she'll never complain or seem tired and she'll be excited about every second of it.  We've been holed up in a house most of the week, without anything very interesting happening.  That's not her style.

I'm sure she'll have adventures of every sort, and if her current habits are any indication, I'm sure we'll see lots of photos, and hear every last detail about them.

That sounds pretty perfect to me.

Support

In Sunday School today, we talked for a while about fellowshipping, keeping track of each other, and what we can do to show love to people who may be less active or inactive.  A few people pointed out that, ultimately, we have to have our own foundation and drive, our own testimony and tenacity, and I ultimately agree--you don't ride to exaltation on other people's testimonies.  But that doesn't negate the obligation we have to uplift and befriend and nurture those around us (and for the record, I think every person who made one of the comments I referenced would agree whole-heartedly).  My testimony is solid and has been for a very, very long time, but that being said, its impossible to overstate the influence that good friends and conscientious leaders have had on me.

When I was a teenager, my entire family was inactive except for my mom.  I would've kept going even if I felt all alone, but I was much more actively engaged and spiritually fed because of the kind attention, affection and encouragement of people like Brett and Erica Allen, Lynette Mikkelsen, Marci Leishman, Rod Arlint, Judy Best, and dozens of other people who consistently made their love for me known in both large and small ways.

I always appreciated that, but I appreciated it more after living in a different ward for 2 years and never felt in all that time like I was actually a member of the ward or that anyone there really cared one way or another whether I was there or not.  I had a small calling that only required my time once a month, and I still struggled to find the motivation to do it.  It was a large ward, and yet few very people reached out, welcomed us (and at that point in my life, I was still absolutely no good at doing that myself).

In Lindsay, I had the opposite challenge of having either a really big calling or 3-4 smaller callings at the same time the whole time I was there, which would make it really easy to feel like just throwing in the towel because there's no time or energy left.  But I had amazing friends.  I had one of the best bishops anyone could ever ask for:  he was my good friend, a trusted confidante, who knew the youth, who knew what was going on in our program and with our kids as individuals, who used his third hour on one Sunday a month to teach my girls.  I had an amazing counselor who always knew what to do before I asked, who certainly became a sister to me, who loved those girls even more than I did.  So many women (and men) in that ward reached out to me, became my friends and my extended family, and often expressed their love, appreciation, and affection.  In the years that I lived more than a thousand miles from my family, I can say sincerely and with a very full heart that I never lacked for sisters and brothers.  Their love was the fuel that I ran on for years.

So, yes, we ought to have a firm enough foundation, a strong enough conviction in our testimony that we can stand firmly even if we stand alone.  But because that testimony involves a covenant to care for one another, none of us should ever have to stand alone.

The thrill of hope

Weary is a word I've thought about a lot. It brings to mind not just tired, but worn out--worn down. I love Christmas time because it is so often true that at this time of year, like at no other, a weary world chooses to rejoice.

The world is often a discouraging and difficult and ugly place.  In the places that I call "home", there have been multiple violent murders in the last few months.  On the other side of the country, a classroom full of first graders was mowed down by a lunatic with a gun.  Around the world, far more people live under oppression and in war zones than live in peace and liberty.  We all have our various, wearying challenges in life, be they physical ailments, financial trouble, broken relationships or some other such burden.  Life is exhausting.

But yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.  It is the night of our dear Savior's birth. . .he appeared and the soul felt its worth.  That light shines clear and bright anywhere a soul remembers the true definition of charity--not a mere transfer of funds, but a Christlike love, where both giver and receiver are enriched and enlightened.

Too often we make the same mistake that many of Christ's disciples made during his earthly ministry and mortal death--we think that he has failed us because he hasn't removed our earthly troubles, the things that too often weary us.  We forget that he has not come to free us from Ceasar, but from sin and death.  We must still overcome challenges, we must still learn patience and discipline.  We must still learn to turn to him to lighten our load or strengthen our shoulders as we learn to trust that his law is love and his gospel is peace.

The steady downward march of the world is not evidence of the Savior failing or abandoning us--it is fulfillment of prophecy indicating that it is not long yet before his final victory.  Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, and in his name all oppression shall cease.  That time is coming, and in that day only light will remain. But for all the troubles and difficulties, we can choose to live in that light now.

Most epic stories have a similar arc: things start out light and promising, and then troubles and challenges start to come, until before long the world has become terribly dark and frightening, and the main players are all on the verge of losing hope because the task seems impossible.  And then the seemingly impossible happens: good triumphs, evil is defeated, and the world is full of light and joy again.  Instinctually, we know that that is exactly how the real story, the story we're all in, goes:  a baby born, a child raised, with wonderful promise, with great hope.  He teaches amazing doctrine and performs miracles, despite the corrupt and sometimes downright cruel culture around him.  But then comes a moment when it appears to those around him that the evil men have won: their Lord is slain, and the very earth groans and quakes with grief.  How could any good come of this?  How could they go on?  What hope was there left to them? As they weep in grief, confusedly trying to figure out a way forward, suddenly their Lord appears to them--he has risen.  That baby, so full of hope and promise, has become the Resurrected Christ.  He didn't slay the evil men who murdered him, he conquered evil itself.  He conquered death, never to die again, offering us the promise of a life eternal, a life that is always full of light, joy and love.

Remember that in your darkest nights, at times when the world seems daunting and it feels as though hope is foolish: the story has long been written, there is no doubting the outcome.  Good always triumphs, evil always loses and no matter how dark the night, the sun will always rise.  One day, it will never set. Look for the rays of light that point to that perfect day and believe in Good.

Merry Christmas.

Old Habits. . . .

So, there's three or four inches of snow on the ground.  I forgot Kylie's snacks in the car after a trip to the church this afternoon, but didn't realize it until after I'd taken off coats, shoes, etc.

I debated for a few seconds before walking to the car barefoot because it just seemed like too much work to put on boots or shoes again.  Yes, apparently I'd rather put my bare little footsies in the snow than take two minutes to get shoes on.

It may be time to admit that I have a problem.