The Circle of a Woman's Reach

So I'm thinking about the women in my life.
I have so many to be thankful for that tonight
I decided to say it outloud!
THANK YOU TO:
The women I knew as teachers
when I was younger...
Miss Peck, Mrs. Gaye, Mrs Stafford,
Mrs. Franklin, my fourth grade english teacher, who looked like a princess
always smelled good, and made me want to learn how to spell!

Mrs. Dornan, the neighbor who taught me how to macrame,
and the neighbor I ran to in the middle of the night when
I was just 10 years old and found my own mother
swallowing pills to take her own life.
You were soft and warm & always comforted me.

Mrs. Crosby and Mrs. LaHew, also neighbors
who sewed for me--
Mrs.Crosby made me a light green wrap-around skirt,
and Mrs. LaHew sewed a blue and pink plaid skating dress,
just like the one she made for her daughter,
my best friend, Jackie.

Mrs. Bartlett, who always lent me a pencil and paper in school
when I had none. Which was nearly every day of 5th grade.

My Aunt Joyce who taught me to sew my own clothes in eighth grade
and always had a listening ear...I used to wish she was my mom.
Then we moved away from Florida
and away from family.

Gratefully, there were other women
who, for whatever reason,
chose to bless my life--

Sarah Anderson, thank you for caring for me
when my own family asked me to leave the house
with the clothes on my back that snowy February day.
Thank you for sewing me that special dress for the
Valentine's Dance so I could go.
Shirley Carlson, thank you for opening your closet
and pulling out brand new clothes and shoes for me
when I had none.
Rosalie Kieth, thank you for taking me in,
when you had four other children of your own to care for,
and for teaching me scriptures while we stood in line at the grocery store,
and for sharing your Book of Remembrance with the cute little cut-out windows
of all of your friends in it.
SuzAnne Brothers, thank you for letting me sleep in your grandmother's special
iron bed and use her special hand-made quilt with the tiny pink roses on it.
You made me feel special too.
Thank you for teaching me your recipe for cod fish and marinara sauce
with mozzarella cheese.
And for teaching me to clean the house on Mondays.
And washing the floors on my hands and knees--
I still make that recipe, and I still wash my floors that way.

Laurie Madsen,
Thank you for taking me into your family
when my own asked me to leave again because of my faith.
I still make your recipe for cheesegrits and our family prayers
are sweeter when we kneel like your family knelt.

Shelly Sorenson...thank you for being an awesome Visiting Teacher.
For coming to my house when my first baby was born
and encouraging me along.
I was so sad that you died in childbirth.  But I thought of you every time
I went into labor and was reminded to be grateful for the miracle of life.
I miss you.

Karen Barg, I love you.
Thank you so much for giving me a wonderful hug
and saying,
"Congratulations" when I found out I was
pregnant with number three
alot sooner than I wanted to be.
I needed someone to celebrate it with me.
You were that person.

Candy Rice: Thank you so much for going to aerobics with me
and cheering me on to lose that baby weight!!
Just knowing you were going to be at my door
every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
kept me motivated to move my buns!

Dr. Eileen, at St. Joseph's Hospital in Phoenix,
thank you for meeting me and Dean at 7am
every morning for three years
so he could have physical therapy.
Thanks for all the stickers you gave to my other children,
who were sitting patiently waiting.
We put all those stickers in their journals...
well the ones that didn't get stuck on their clothing,
or inside the car windows.

To our sweet neighbors in South Carolina,
Leslie Rufus and Leanna Butler,
thanks for making our very sparse Christmas
a beautiful memory.

Lisa Parry, thank you for being a loving Visiting Teaching Companion.
I learned so much from your dedication.
Thank you for sharing so much of your self with me,
that when I suffered post-partum depression,
I could talk to you about it and not feel judged.
And thank you for teaching the Primary kids my favorite song,
"I'll Walk With You"...in honor of Dean.
Your love helped me so much.

Sister Mathers,
Thanks for meeting us at the hotel,
and driving me around to find a place to live
when we arrived in South Carolina to go to school there.
I'd never met you before and there you were!
Thanks for showing up in the pouring down rain
with a crockpot full of delicious chili when I had
Number Four...even though you weren't my visiting teacher.

Dorn Fox, thank you for that beautiful sweater you bought
me for the baby shower...
your card said the baby had lots of gifts,
and you wanted to do something just for me--
I loved the sweater and I still have that card, twenty years later.

Mary Gwinn, thanks to you, I was able to use my
calligraphy talents to help support my family
while we were in school!
By your word of mouth and your Aunt's bridal shop,
I was always busy!
I still do wedding invites all these years later,
and I always think of you and your sweet family.

Nan, you are more than my friend,
you have become my sister.
Thank you for laughing at me,
crying with me,
praying for me and just being there.
I so needed you.

My SIL, Stacie--
for letting me and my yahoos drive down to Atlanta
every six weeks (during midterms and finals)
and hanging out with you and Keith and the kids.
We loved the eggrolls and the memories!

Dottie, thank you for letting me work with you as
a Midwife Assistant.
You let me love your clients and do something I've always wanted to do.
You were an answer to my prayers.

Stacey Durrant--thank you for that first plate of cookies
you brought over the day we moved into the house on
Coberd*le, and for welcoming us into the ward so warmly.
For sharing your painting tips! And for organizing a wedding reception
in Salt Lake when we knew noone else there!
You are such a generous sister and I am blessed in knowing you.

Dodee...you are a trip!
Thanks for the late night talks,
the early morning walks,
the laughs and giggles and sharing your testimony of
God's love for all of His children
in a thousand different moments.

Kelly McKamey and Tami Lynard, thank you
for coaching me to be the best doula
I can be!  You both have shared all you know
so graciously, I am confident going into births
because I know I've been trained by exceptional women!

Lorna...thank you for seeing in my heart
the quiet emptiness
of missing my son,
and bringing him to me as a surprise!
Noone has ever equaled that joyous gift!
I love you to infinity!

Robyn Baird and Rhonda Cazier--thank you for helping me
get my homestaging business going in Idaho,

and Kelly W. thanks for being my partner in crime now!
We are sisters in every sense of the word. One day, we will
have to go to Las Vegas to see Donny Osmond!

Vicki, thank you for sharing the secret to your happiness:
the Gospel.
It changed my life
and brought all of these fine women into my realm.

 There are several other women who've taken time
out of their lives and reached over to touch mine.
This list is just a small sampling of the good women
in my life who've served and love me so.
Women are good at that.
We are the nurturing souls on this earth,
the ones who weep with us
and for us
and lift us up when we are low.
How we need one another to get thru this life
in joy and sorrow.
I am who I am
because of a multitude of women.
Because of them,
I am a better Wife and Mother,
a better friend and sister.

What about you?  Who is on your Grace-full Women List??

Today's a good day to be thankful.


*this is a re-post from 8/2010

Developing Natural Abilities and Gifts into Talents

Do you have any talents?

When I was younger I wondered if I had any talents.

I wasn’t sure if I did.

My talents weren’t obvious.

As I’ve aged,

I discovered the secret to finding my talents--

that is to cultivate my natural abilities

and nourish them.

One of my natural abilities

is handwriting.

As a young girl,

I used to write my name

over and over and over again,

with different angles, loops, and styles.

Then, years later

my husband was in Chiropractic College,

I had a new baby at home and

didn’t want to work out of the house.

But we needed me to have, at least, a small income.

To say I was not interested in babysitting other people’s kids

is an understatement.

I’d have rather had my eyeballs poked out

one at a time than do that.

The new baby was number four for me,

I just couldn’t take on more kids.

I was already getting through post-partum depression,

and needed a creative outlet too.

I had a friend who began sewing window treatments

To make a little extra,

And another friend who started baking her famous chocolate cakes

For small restaurants in town to bring in some money,

And I thought, I could try something too.

So I went to the local public library

and checked out some books and videos (yes, videos)

on calligraphy and purchased a calligraphy pen and practice paper.

I taught myself how to calligraph each letter,

then words,

and practiced, practiced, practiced!!

A friend of mine had a baby

so as a gift to her,

I offered to do her baby announcements.

From that I got referrals doing wedding announcements,

graduations, work certifications,

you name it.

A business was born that I really enjoyed.

I still have opportunities these 20-some years later

to express that talent and make a little money on the side.

I’m always very interested in listening to others’ stories

about how they developed their natural abilities

into true talents:

Michael McLean, a popular LDS songwriter and musician shared

his experience at a BYU Women’s Conference

that he had submitted his own music to Deseret Book

years before the public heard it.

Many times.

And each time, he was rejected.

And lest you think he took it all in stride,

he generously shared that he’s struggled with depression

most of his life, so it’s not like the rejections were as

water off a duck’s back.

But he continued to develop his talents and passions

and finally someone at Deseret had the good sense to say “Yes”.

Sally DeFord, another renowned composer, songwriter, pianist

shared her beginnings in a Relief Society meeting.

She had grown up in a home where there wasn’t a lot of money.

A neighbor had an old piano they sold to her for twenty-five dollars.

It even had some missing keys.

Still, she loved it and nourished her natural abilities until

she was accepted at BYU’s School of Music.

She shared that once she got there,

she realized that was not where she wanted to be.

She heard music differently than how they taught it

and withdrew.

Still, she continued to develop her talents and as a member of her Stake,

I can tell you, she is THE source for our musical productions,

composing some of the most beautiful hymns I’ve ever heard.

And her website lets you download all of it for Free.

She said the music isn’t hers, she’s just the channel it comes through.

Karen Jones is an Interior Designer.

She just won her 13^th Parade of Homes

“Best Designer” and “People’s Choice” awards

last Fall here in Colorado Springs.

She did not go to school for Interior Design.

Karen has taught small classes to homemakers for years

on how to decorate smartly without a lot of money.

She also shared on a Parade of Homes Tour

I attended, that she looks at lots of magazines and books

about design and decorating to get inspiration for her own work.

She has her own Showroom and truly,

has a loyal following here in Colorado,

as well as clients from coast to coast.

I work for her in her All About Home Showroom.

My good friend Dotti Kirkpatrick is a mother to many.

After having a less-than-good birthing experience

With her first child,

She began looking at homebirths and midwives on her own.

Then after having some positive homebirths,

She bided her time until her eighth child was three years old,

And went to school to become a Certified Professional Midwife.

She is now the busiest Midwife in Colorado,

And women of all ages look to her for her wisdom, strength, and care.

She was my midwife and I have worked alongside her as a Midwife Assistant—

something I had always wanted to do since my own homebirth experiences.

I am inspired by others’ talents—

Whether they have the talent for making a delicious meal,

Or sewing their children’s clothing,

Baking bread,

Floral arranging,

Singing,

Writing,

Playing an instrument,

Or other “less noticeable” talents, like

expressing their beautiful talent of compassion,

a listening ear,

a willing shoulder to be leaned upon,

a kind word when none else are to be found.

Those are talents too.

And just like every other attribute, we humans have,

All the good stuff must be developed and cultivated, nourished

and exercised.

I have also met others who were not willing to share their talents—

There was a man in our ward who was an accomplished pianist.

He played with a city orchestra—he was that good.

Yet, he refused to play piano for Church meetings.

I know a sister who is a lovely painter.

specifically at tole painting—

I recall sitting beside her at a craft night and she shrugged off

the request of help to younger sisters just learning to paint,

saying she wasn’t there for them,

but for herself.

Obviously, her response impressed me,

because that was over 10 years ago

and I remember it clearly.

And never think you're too old to learn something new!

My mother-in-law, Doris went back to school at forty-two years old

and got her Masters' Degree in Library Science and Education.

She taught in a California Middle School until her untimely death.

But she was doing something she loved.

What an inspiration.

I find I am happiest when I get to express my natural abilities,

talents or gifts in any setting, for any person or cause.

The joy I feel is immeasurable.

What about you?

What are your talents and how have you developed them?

What inspires you?

Inspiration...Right here

http://sarager.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-choosing-faith-makes-impact-by.html

Go. Take your Cup. It will be filled.
Promise.
Promise.

Giving Permission to Evolve: a Lesson I Learned in Parenting

When my oldest son was just five years old,
I recall a conversation between the two of us
that went something like this:
"when I was your age, 
I was like this [fill in the blank]
and I think you should be doing this [fill in the blank] too."


To which my little boy responded:
"I'm not like you. I'm my own person, Mom."

At the time, I didn't know what to say back to him.
What I wanted was for him to be the person
I wanted him to be...
I was inexperienced.

Fortunately,
we both grew up.
He is now a man with a wife and a job.
I'm grateful that I didn't do much permanent damage
to his little ego,
that he was stubborn enough
to be true to his inner voice.

The truth is,
he was a really sweet little guy.
If I could have a do-over of his young childhood,
I would so take that and run with it.

The older I get,
the more I realize how important it is for us
as parents to let our children
be the Leaders once in awhile.
I don't always have to know all the right answers
to all the questions.
Frankly,
some questions have many right answers,
we just have to be open-minded to see the possibilities.

It's called Evolution.
We're here on this earth to learn how to live happily.
Not selfishly.
Not My-Way-Or-The-Highway.
and conversely,
Not Walk-All-Over-Me
either.

We're supposed to make mistakes and learn from them.
Supposed to.
And yeah, sometimes we let stupid things block out
common sense,
but most of the time,
we don't.

And it's important to realize that
our kids need permission to live and learn
and not be berated for their mistakes
however small,
or too afraid to admit they've erred
for fear of the consequences.

I am a believer in Love and Logic
in parenting.
Common Sense still needs to be taught though.
And Natural Consequences are great Teachers.
And the foundation for parenting,
in my humble opinion,
is mutual respect.


And before you think I became a parent knowing this,
let me assure you, 
I did not.


Having been raised by wolves,
I had to learn this Mutual-Respect stuff
by trial and error.
I had to Educate my Self...
By looking honestly at my parenting skills,
and reading parenting books,
talking to other parents whom I respected,
asking for divine help at every turn.

I wanted to be a better parent
than the parents I had.

Honestly, once I realized how much I didn't know
and how much mercy I needed for my own
faults and flubs,
I repented and gratefully accepted the fact
that I am capable of change.
Of Evolution.

And with that understanding of my Self,
came the awareness
that I also needed
to acknowledge that
divine character
in my children.
I owe them that much.

So yes,
we are continually evaluating our methods--
somethings work with some kids at some times
and somethings don't...
so we re-evaluate our methods of training
and teaching--
though the principals we're trying to
teach
and learn
remain the same.

I have found
and continue to find evidence
that this approach to life and parenting,
works for my family.
The ability to say to my children,
"Hey did you learn from this experience?
Have you evolved from your previous knowledge
to something higher?"
--has been a blessing for all of us.


What parenting philosophy works in your family?

Where We Went N' What We Did--Rocky Mountain National Park, 2.0

 bag o' omelets for breakfast--always a hit!

 scramblin' around on rocks in her pajamas!

 cuttin' firewood...nevermind that it's already been cut.  that's no reason not to cut it again!

 Blue blue skies

 Spotless bathrooms!  Running Water!  No cobwebs even!  loved. that.

The kids know these trails--

they've been coming since they were babes in backpacks.

They never tire of going.

We're all grateful we live in a beautiful place.

What about you?

What do you love about the place you live?

This Season I'm In --a Gift

A confession:
I've been more of a "blog lurker" lately
than ever before...
peeking in on my favs,
catching up
then dashing out...
I'm in a new season right now--
a full-time working season
and
that's new for me.

I'm learning the ropes at the Interior Design center--
and can I just say,
I love learning new things?!
I do.
When I'm learning,
my mind is alert and active,
shrugging off the dust as it were.

I'm also attending a birth--
probably today
and feel entirely grateful that I get to do
something that turns an ordinary day
into a
Blessed Day.

So I'm moving forward
growing
progressing
testing out what I know
learning things I don't...
and it's all good.

This is My Season to grow.
Muscles stretching,
Vision focused,
Hands busy,
heart engaged.

Today is a Gift that I'm opening
like I'm five years old--
wrapping paper flying
ribbon ripped off--
let's see what's inside!
So keep blogging away
my friends,
I'll be around when I catch my breath!

Do you feel like the season you're in, is a gift to you?

Something I Learned from Cleaning McMansions

My mother and father used to
pack us kids in their old '59 Ford,

I think it was a Rambler,

and say,

"Let's go for a drive."

And we'd be thrilled 

and I mean it,

THRILLED

to go anywhere in the car!

Growing up in Miami,

we always seemed to end up somewhere along

Key Biscayne

looky-looing at beach front mansions...

my mom would be ahhh-ing and ohhh-ing

at their grandeur and say things like,

"Don'tcha wish we lived there?"

Until recently,

I did the same ridiculous thing--

drive by humongous houses and say, 

"Wow, I wonder what they did in the pre-existance

to deserve that kind of blessing?"

Half-wishing I knew the answer to an absurd 

question.

After my wonderful, exciting experience last week
of cleaning a 10,000 square foot McMansion,
I discovered some thing about my Self:
I don't want to be the Mother of a mansion.

I don't want to be in charge of nine bathrooms.
Two full humongous kitchens with marble countertops,
and leaded windows,
Two Deep Freeze fridges and Two side-by-side ranges
and an extra-large grill on the island.

I don't want to be responsible for shoes that are lost
in 7 bedrooms--each room larger than the first
with closets bigger than my current familyroom;
and the floors,
oh heaven help me, the floors--
carpet, tile, wood--
it doesn't even matter,
the time involved in just cleaning the floors
is dreadful.
--and don't even get me started on cleaning those
numberless windows.
ugh.
UGH.
And yes, I realize that if I did live there,
I'd have FT housecleaners too,
but my goodness,
I'd still be in charge of getting it done.

Being invited into a Mc-Mansion as a guest
is wonderful, delightful even
but
after the invitation to clean one--
I find my Self no longer enchanted
by the spectacle.

And that, my friends is a lesson for Me.
I discovered I am a Simple Woman.
I want space for my stuff
space for my yahoo's stuff
and room for guests
and once I have that much space,
I'm good.
And here, the Lord knew it all along.

*Now, some more things I learned last week from my stint as being a housecleaner:
Mrs. Meyers All Purpose Cleaner.
I'm a Mrs. Meyer's Convert.
She is Green and Lovely.
Pair Mrs. Meyers up with
Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser
and you've got a really good team
for tough stains.
And good ol vinegar and water is best and cheapest
for cleaning windows and glass.
Use lint-free, fabric-softener-free cloths to
wipe windows and glass down for a smudge-free
shine.
And for hardwood floors,
I tried and liked Bona Hardwood Floor Cleaners.

So there ya have it--
the stuff I learned from cleaning McMansions.
Good stuff, Maynard.

Rock Shining

I've been too busy having
an "exciting and joyful" life
this week to blog.
Exciting as in "growth in understanding"
and
Joyful as in "learning to be grateful".

The culmination of which is,
rumbling
tumbling
ping-pong-ing
around my noggin
like a rock in a tumbler.

When I sort it all out,
and get it to a shine,
I'll be back to share
where I've been,
what I've learned
and
the joy of having an exciting life.

Cause you know,
that's why we're here--
"men are that they might have joy".

and pie.

lots of really good pie.

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

The discussion amongst bloggers everywhere
revolves around the question:
What kind of Blogger are you?

I heard that a number of times at the
Casual Bloggers Conference last May,
in Sandy, Utah.
I've read it a zillion times on blogs--
believe it or not!

They all say,
Find Your Niche and Claim It!


There are Writer's Blogs
Cooking Blogs
Cupcake Blogs
Tablescape Blogs
Homemaking Blogs
Furniture Re-do Blogs
Homeschooling Blogs
Gardening Blogs
and heaven help me not to forget--
Photography Blogs!
There are as many blogs niches
as there are names in a phonebook!
And I love 'em all, every one!
But what about Me?
Cuz you know,
this is all about Me,
right?

I finally decided what I am--
A Life Blogger.
That's catchy right?

So, what do you blog about?
Oh, me? I'm a life blogger.
Sweet.  I like turtles.

See? Totally works.


I write about my yahoos.
About where I live.
About Seasons--both figuratively and literally.
About births--home and hospital.
About Home Staging and friends.
About my faith and how I live it.
And living and dying.
My crazy family and chickens.
My dog, Oprah.
Our favorite recipes.
How to tangle with your teenager and still laugh.
And my vacuum cleaner, Cinderella. !
No kidding.

That's my life, folks.
And I'm scribbling it down
while I can still remember it all.

Could I be called anything other than
A Life Blogger?
I think not.

What about You??
Find your niche yet??

We're Singin' In the Rain...

Sharing Goodness and Ripples

This past week,
a dear friend came to visit me.
I hadn't seen her in twenty-one years.
That's a long time not to see a friend
and still choke-up when you think of them.

Our friendship began when we were both
juniors in high school,
August 1977--
our families had moved to Charlotte, North Carolina
that previous summer.
Her family came from Gainesville, Georgia
and mine moved from Rock Hill, South Carolina.



My family was there in Charlotte for just one school year
before moving to Denver, Colorado the next summer.
But the friendship that formed between Vicki and I,
has only grown since the very beginning.
Because what she exchanged with me,
changed my life.
Gave me purpose
and hope.
Her family opened their home to me,
I spent many nights around their dinner table,
in their basement playing games,
writing letters to their missionary brother
in Mexico--
a brother I'd never met,
but because they asked, I wrote to him
along with the rest of them.
Her family was not perfect,
they had squabbles and fussed at each other--
but I knew they loved each other,
I could feel the love in that home.
It was such a stark contrast from my parent's home;
I wanted whatever it was that this family had
for myself.

It was their Faith that made them different.
And Vicki shared it with me.
I started asking questions,
then
she asked if I'd want to meet with the "elders"--
I was thinking of old men--
hardly the 19-21 year old young men
that came to the house.
And I listened to their message.
Being raised a Southern Baptist,
I had questions...
tons and tons of questions!
I kept a notebook and wrote all of my questions
down,
so when we met again,
I could write their answers down too.

In just a few months' time,
I had my answers
and felt it was right for me
to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
I told my parents--
my father, an inactive Holy-rollin-Pentecostal
who'd graduated in theology from International Bible College
in San Antonio, Texas
and
my mother, an Baptist only by name.
Their resounding reply was
absolutely, positively,
Not.
And then, they moved me to Denver to
"get away from the Mormons".
They didn't realize that once you cross the
Mississippi
the population of LDS increases exponentially.

It was hard to leave my new friend, Vicki and her family.
They'd been so good to me.
This was long before the days of email
and personal computers
texting
and unlimited long distance.
We wrote to each other
using good old-fashioned paper, envelopes and stamps.

My spiritual journey continued in Denver.
And finally,
after much tribulation,
and prayer and fasting,
my father granted his permission for me to
be baptized into the LDS faith.

There was still much opposition
I faced--
eventually moving out of my parent's home
and into members' homes
while I was still in high school.
But that was eons ago,
and the sting of those events
has faded.
I made my own choices as adulthood
came
and have lived my life on my own terms.

My family knows about Vicki
and her family.
My close friends have heard her name a time or two. Or six.
Whenever I have been asked to speak at a Missionary Fireside,
her name is part of my conversion.
It started with her.
She was just 15 years old,
and it started with her heart
planting the seed in mine.

As we stood on the grounds of the
Denver Temple
yesterday--
she'd never been there before--
I was taking pictures of her
and then she took pictures of me
holding my grandson, The Golden Child,
we both were overcome  with whatever those feelings are
that make tears erupt
and words so useless
and just hugged each other
long and deeply.

What could I say or do or give to her
that would even come close to matching what
she's given to me?
She showed me the path to the Temple
where I have been blessed to be sealed to my family
for Time and All Eternity.
How does one repay that kindness?

Vicki, ever the true southern woman answered,
It's like havin' the best lemonade you've ever tasted,
and wantin' to share it with everyone.  You just can't keep it
to yourself!"
I spent two and half days with her--
driving up and down the Front Range of the Rockies--
a constant conversation
fueling the car
turning miles into more memories--
laughing until our sides ached
with little moments of teary eyes
like good friends share.

She came over and met my family--
the kids knew this was important to me
and each greeted Vicki with respect
and my sweet Dani said as they parted,
"thanks for sharing the Gospel with my mom."
Dani has served a mission
and so has David Scott--
their lives have been blessed
and so have the lives of those they served and taught
in Montreal and New Jersey where they each served.
One good man whom I had the privilege of witnessing
David Scott baptize in Ontario,
in October 2006
is now the Branch President there.
Ripple.
Ripple.
Ripple.

Vicki left today.
I don't know when I'll
see her again.
But she left part of her heart
with me
and I am bent on keeping it.
That is the least
and the best
that I can do.

"The Lord does hear our prayers.

But it is usually through another person

that He answers them."

~Spencer W. Kimball.

NieNie...Lifting where she stands...

I don't know Stephanie Nielsen.  I first heard about her and her husband, soon after I began blogging and after their plane accident.  Now, I see her often in places I didn't expect her--on Oprah and the Today Show for example.  I don't know her, but I love her. 
Nie Nie is a member of the same church I am.  And this video is now available on You Tube.  Take a moment and soak her goodness in...it will make you smile and hug your loved ones much tighter today.

Unemployment to Employed to Employing

IN order to give this post substance,
here's a little background:

In 2006, our family moved to Idaho
with a new job.
We knew we were supposed to move to Idaho
three years before we got the opportunity,
so when the job offer came,
there was no question that we would GO!

Exactly, one year later
we found ourselves unemployed...
along with thousands of others in the
Treasure Valley.
At first I thought it was going to be a
leisurely summer
having Mr. Wonderful home
and didn't sweat the unemployment.

I figured we'd have a few weeks together
and he'd be re-hired before we knew it.

I was wrong.

Summer flew by,
no job.
School started,
no job.
A son's wedding was planned
for December,
"Surely", I thought,
"We'll have a job by Christmas!"--
no. no we didn't.

I set these mental notes--
"by Valentines. By April fools.
By the time our daughter came home from
her mission, in April. By Summer Break."
No. No. No. No.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't difficult.
That I didn't cry in despair...
that I wondered how this was all gonna work out.

Trials come and go,
this is true.
We all know this,
but if you think about it,
what we really wanna know
about our trials
is this:
How bad is it gonna hurt?
right?

Well our Idaho Experience cost us alot,
but we didn't leave empty-handed.
It required all of our savings--
we're so grateful we had it!
But we came away from Idaho with
two new family members...
a daughter-in-love
and a son-in-love.


After a year of sending off resumes
filling out applications,
working part-time,
we knew something had to change.
It was time to go.
When we made the decision to cut our losses
and come back home to Colorado,
the future was up in the air.

We came back home
with heavy hearts.
We'd been through alot since we'd been gone
for two years.
We hoped we'd never forget what we learned
as a family
and as individuals
from our Idaho Experience,
but also,
that we'd recover from our losses.

It sanctified us and we wanted to keep it that way.

It's been almost two years
since we've been home.
Mr. W got a job 3 days after he came looking for one
in Denver.
He just got a promotion.
And guess what he does now?
One of his responsibilities is to
Interview and Hire
new Employees.

Every week
he comes home with a story
or two
about persons he's hired...

One man showed up for temp work
and another man just showed up
unexpected and unannounced,
with him--
Mr. W let them both work that day.

The second man wasn't qualified to
continue to work the next day
and that made us both sad.

But Mr. W knew that look in the man's eyes...
and did what he could--
and his eyes teared up telling me about it.
I was a bit choked up too.

Yesterday,
two women (sisters) came in for interviews--
both are Russian immigrants.
Mr. W told HR to hire them both.
When the younger sister was offerred the job,
she started crying.

Tears are in my own eyes as I write this.
I know that feeling.
We've been there.

Times are hard.
Good people with good hearts
and true work ethics
are unemployed
and day after day
they wonder what's going to happen to them.


We have to be kind
to look beyond our own noses--
beyond the edge of our own sidewalks
and agendas.
A little kindness goes so far.


There are angels in Boise.
They lifted me up
and buoyed my family
when we need the help.
Our faithful hometeacher,
Brother Robertson,
our Bishops--
Philips and Rodgers,
wonderful Visiting Teacher,
Sister Robertson,
and Relief Society President,
Sister Hardy...
along with our dear new friends
the Sylvesters and Frogleys
and so so many others.

Once we got home,
it was our dear friends
here that shouldered our
burdens and helped us see
that things were going to be okay.

All of these
were truly answers to our prayers.
Truly.


We just bought a new sofa set this week.(remember, the dog ate our loveseat?)
As I was paying for it at the store,
I physically felt awful--
nauseas, anxiety--
the sales gal looked at me and asked if I was okay,
I smiled
and said,
"Well, I just haven't spent this kind of money
in a long time because my husband was out of work
awhile back,
and I'm a little nervous about spending money like this."

She answered, "I know. My husband has been out of work for six months and we just don't spend money on anything we don't have to."

Instantly, I saw her in a different light.

Then, to lighten the mood, I said,
"Oh shoot. I bet you're wishing I'd gone for the leather set now, hunh?"

We both laughed.
 I kept her card. I'm writing a nice letter to her boss,
and to her just to go out of my way to thank her and recognize her help.
 Any little kindness helps, right?

Okay, now I'm just rambling.
I'm too lazy to edit this,
so if you're still here
I hope it made sense.

Be kind.  Bottom line.
Be Kind.

Being Real, Living Authentically

Lately, I've been in some discussions
about
Being Real
and what that means
with my family
and my friends.

I like to keep things real.
Not pessimistic.
Not negative.
But real
for sure.

Being real
to me,
means acknowledging
the cloudy rainy days
in my life
as well as the
brilliant blue sky days.

I've been thru enough trials in my life
that I know
NOONE
has a perfect life.

And when I was younger
I didn't know this.
I thought I had an
invisible standard to live up to...
an unspoken rule
that if people really knew the truth--
that my kids,
as much as I love them with all of my heart
and devote every waking minute of my life
to their happiness,



were sometimes chaotic
enough to make me
wanna jump on a bus,
find out what tequila is,
and disappear into the sunset.,
that if I wasn't really June Cleaver,
I wouldn't make the cut.

I didn't want people to know
that my  first marriage
wasn't sunshine and roses.
That's really embarrassing,
to admit that
the person I chose to spend my life with,
didn't feel the same way.
And when I filed for divorce,
it caught alot of people
off guard.

But guess what, chicken butt?
I lived.
And I made better choices.
I knew
what I didn't want.
And I tell my kids all the time that
knowing what you don't want,
is just as important
as knowing what you do.

I believe that when we
give the impression
that we've got it all under effortless control,
or that our lives are just perfect,
we are a huge disservice to others.
Not that we have to wear our troubles
and/or hearts on our sleeves
but for crying-out-loud
be real.
There are people I know
whom I think are waiting for someone to
give them permission to just be real.
Be themselves.

We are here on this earth to learn.
And we only have
each other to learn from,
in this Laboratory of Life.
Don't ya love it when others share their "findings"--
what works and what doesn't?
If I find the cure-all for colic,
moody teenagers,
and
grumpy sweethearts--
it serves me to share it with you too.

Noone wants to spin their wheels
in quicksand
if there's a bridge or another way
to get around
their challenges.

We all have hopes
that pull at our heart strings
and we have all been
sorely disappointed along the
journey
at some point...
we have this much in common,
right?

I have been blessed
in that while I have known
some forms of heartache,
I am a stranger to some others...
I don't know how it feels to lose a child
or a close family member.
I don't know the intimacies of terminal diseases.
I was not born in poverty.
There are maladies I have not been
required to endure
and for that I am grateful.

The trials and adversity I have
known
taught me
compassion for trials
I have not.

We've so much to learn
from each other...
and the *best kindness* we can extend
is to be
real
in whatever it is
we share about ourselves.
To do otherwise
is such a waste of time
and effort
in the lab.
And labs are built to gleen results,
not fake,
pretend
wishy-washy
fairy-tale
wanna-be
coulda
shoulda
woulda
results.

But the real deal.
The facts.
And the fact is this:
Life is a trial.
We are here to be tried and tested
and within the law of free agency
do our best to live the commandments
and learn to keep our promises.
It rains on the just and the unjust.
But just like Sr. Beck says,
--though we may have disappointments in life,
we will not be disappointed in ourselves if we do our best.
(And I'm just gonna assume you're doing the best you can.)

AND
Life is beautiful
and magical
and wonderful
and I am so entirely grateful to be here.

I think it's called Living Authentically.
At least, that's what I'm calling it.



What about you?
What are your thoughts about this???


Authentic:

1. The quality of being genuine or not corrupted from the original.
   

   I hereby certify that this is an authentic copy.










2. Truthfulness of origins, attributions, commitments, sincerity, and intentions.
   

   The painting was not authentic after all; it was just a copy.

Synonyms

• (quality of being genuine): genuineness

Antonyms

• (quality of not being genuine): phoniness; forgery; fakeness; bogosity

Touching Divinity thru Mothering

Spring is the season of Love.

Libraries,
from my hometown
to yours
are filled with authors'
earnest efforts to put on paper
that tender emotion
felt with our hearts.
They come so close,
but still,
the words are only
representative of the feelings.

We, being the offspring of the
God of Love,
pursue love
in all of it's stages--
new love
familial love
self-fulfilling love
healing love...
we crave it in all of its forms.

My favorite songs
are about love...
reminiscing about those feelings
just thinking about it in the past tense--
affects my present tense.

We're drawn to it in all of it's expressions--
whether in a book
or a movie
in a song
on a park bench
at a restaurant
or in a mall--
you know it
when you see it.,
but there's nothing like
feeling it yourself,
is there?

There's a sister in our ward,
a very low-profile sister
who recently adopted a child--
he is perfect.
I mean that.
Perfect.
I watch her with him
and she is in total
complete love with this baby.
I watch her body as she melts into his eyes...
soft around the edges
tenderly touching his hands,
tracing his ears with her delicate fingers
over
and
over.
There is noone else in the room
but the two of them
in her mind.
He has put her under a spell
the way all babies do to their mothers.
His beautiful little face
is the only outward evidence
right now
that he has down-syndrome.
His birth mother,
for whatever reason,
didn't think she could raise
him and give him all that he needs.
And who really knows what causes those
feelings or situations of inadequacy?
I've had friends who've placed their child up for adoption.
Lovely, sweet young women.
I've sat on the edge of their hospital beds
and cried with them...
what a hard thing.
And a beautiful expression of sacrifice.

Children pull us women into the
realm of Great and Noble beings.
Whether you raise all of your children
or
raising another mother's children
or
you use your best judgement
and let another woman raise them--
Love
is in the center of it all.
It has to be.
Motherhood compels us to dig deep into
the quiet corners of our heart
and
find our divinity.
In fact,
Motherhood
shows us
our
divinity.

In the center of Eternal Families
is the Savior.
The heart of eternal families
is the mother.
The strength of eternal families
is the father.

It is a wonderful perfect plan of happiness.

As I was observing that sweet sister
with her little angel boy,
she asked if I could hold him
while she excused herself from the class.
I was grateful she asked;
as I held him and immedately felt that
familiar feeling
I had when I held my own special-needs son
as a baby.
Complete Love radiated from this child.
That's the only word
that describes his little person.
I thanked her for sharing him with me.
And then,
we both teared up and hugged.

My new grandson--
my only grandson--
arrives,
and Granpa goes out to the car
and brings baby inside.
Everyone drops what they're doing
to come see "Baby"--
oh
he just smiles and coos
and we melt into his big blue eyes...
where he holds us hostage for hours.
Each of us wants a turn
to hold him
bond with him--
this lightening rod
of love.

This is why,
when our babies are no longer babies,
that we don't run out of the house screaming
or sneak off in the middle of the night
to the far-reaches of the world
to save our sanity
and our waistlines.
Because in running away from them
we'd leave our hearts behind.

And why,
when they turn into rotten teenagers
who roll their eyes
huff and puff like motorcars
and leave dirty dishes on the counter
and wet towels on the floor
we continue to love them.
Even if it's taking their bedroom door off its hinges--
to teach them a lesson or two.

Because in the beginning,
way back to that first night
when you became their Mother--
you knew you would never be the same
and it was good.

It's Spring time.
I just love that.

Come with me to Holland

Come with me
and visit a new little one,
Nella Cordelia...
Your day will be brighter
and I promise
her Mom will inspire you
for always.

Polynesians, Roadshows and Prophets

Someone else inspired these memories to come flooding today,
so I'm running with it, because, well,
the way my memory comes and goes,
I gotta get this stuff down before
it's gone.

When I joined the LDS Church
I was introduced to what is called
a "Roadshow"--
it's an original theatrical production
put on by members of the Ward--
there's an original script
original music
dance numbers
costumes
backgrounds & stage managing
lighting
the whole she-bang!

And it's all done voluntarily...
that is,
noone is paid to be there.

Each ward produced their own,
even had a budget set aside for it,
and then on a particular weekend,
there was ROADSHOW Weekend--
for two nights,
the productions were performed
in a rotating fashion,
between the different Church buildings in the area
(if you lived in Utah/AZ/Idaho where there are many buildings)
or in the Stake Center
(if you lived anywhere else, where the miles between buildings was too many).

At the end of the performances--
there was a panel of judges who gave awards
much like the Oscars
to the entries...
Best Script (had to have a moral)
Best Music
Best Costumes
Best Scenery
and on and on it went.

The powers that be,
had to cut out the judging part
because egos got injured
and then it became a
"It's just a good experience for us all to share our talents, isn't it?" deal.
And then the fire just blew out of it
years later,
and without the competitive spirit
people lost interest
and the budget for it was put towards other,
more worthy things.

But, that was AFTER
long AFTER
my experience being
called as a Director of the Roadshow
with my husband
and another college couple.

The background on this is important--
we lived in Independence, Missouri.
I was 23 and had 3 kids...one of which was born
during the production phase.
My husband at the time,
was a full-time student at a Chiropractic college
and he worked full-time
and taught Sunday School to the 12 year olds.
I was also on the Releif Society board--
remember "Spiritual Living" teachers?
Yup. That was me.
 !!!busy busy busy!!!

So our ward was Unique
with a capital "U"--
it was 3/4's Polynesian ( Samoan/Tongan/Maori/ Hawaiian)
and the rest were
*haoles.  
I was in the haole group,
in case you're wondering.
Our Sunday meetings were unique
in that half of our meeting was in Samoan
and half was in English--
our prayers
our songs
the sacrament
the talks.
Nearly ALL of our Ward activities
were luaus...cellophane noodles, kahlua pigs, fire dances--
no kidding.
Our Bishop was American Samoan
his wife was from New Zealand.
The Sunday School President
was Brother Talimatasi--
who is actually a Bishop these days,
back there.

Polynesians are passionate people--
if they love you today
they love you forever,
if they don't
your name is "Mud".
I've never been in a ward
not before or since
where Hymns sounded so powerful.
They sang loud enough to raise the roof
off the chapel
and reach heaven's gates.
Our Polynesian ward family
was fun and friendly
and I loved them and was loved by them.


When we were there,
President Kimball was the Prophet then.
I loved him.
His raspy voice,
his twinkly eyes...
it was actually President Kimball
who had dedicated the  Independence Stake Center.

Okay, so
we happened to be a ward
where not everyone was as loved
by the Polynesians as we were...
some haoles were
"mud"...
and when it came time to put together this
Roadshow
we sorta got wind of the all the
"mud people".
There was a division in this sweet ward
that we had been ignorant of up to that point.
Turns out, some of the haoles
didn't understand or approve of some of the cultural differences--
it was a "US vs. THEM" deal.

But ya know,
Ignorance CAN be bliss sometimes.
Our Roadshow team
worked hard--
and there were more than enough like-minded souls
who were just as ignorant to the division as we were,
and before long
we had a fun script
great music
fantastic choreography (altho known for their fire dances, polynesians can really move-it, move-it!)
and the only glitch came when it was time to sew costumes.

The "known seamstress" in the ward
was a haole woman old enough to be my mother,
Sister Mud.
And she called to tell me
that it was against her "better judgement" to sew costumes
for the Roadshow
because of the cultural differences--
which she aptly named
and I can't recall for the life of me
what her beef was??
But, I do remember that I said,
"If it makes you that uncomfortable,
I'll find someone else."

I hung up from her call,
stumped.
I thought for a moment--
about the costumes
the time involved
and the friends I had.
I made up my mind
that I could pull this off
without Sister Mud
and made a few phone calls.
Within an hour
I had 6 seamstresses lined up.
But guess what, chicken-butt?
Sister Mud
called back
apologized
and said she'd do whatever she could.
I just love it when people CTR.

The production was called
"A Step In Time"--
the movie
"Back to the Future" had come out
and was a huge inspiration for us.
Basically,
the story was about music, youth and dancing styles...
going back to the days of bobby socks and cuffed t's
thru the 60s with the bell-bottoms,
70s with disco-balls,
and the 80s with break-dancing and leg warmers.

It was awesome.
We had over 90 people participate in the
dancing scenes--
all of them so dedicated to learning the choreography
and lines
all of it.
We had the highest participation
than any other ward in the Stake.
Even our Bishop played a part.

But wanna hear the BEST PART??

There's two other acts besides the main one--
one is called the Entre' Act
and the other is called the Olio Act.
Each were part of the program to give the different wards
time to change up the sets
between acts
so as not to bore the audience.
The Entre' Act was MY specific assignment.
I recruited two full-time missionaries to
sing a song called
"Spencer"
written by Joseph Grayson and Elder Holgate--
two missionaries I'd met when I was a new convert
in Colorado.
It was a lovely song about Spencer W. Kimball
and the Lord...like a conversation between them.
I'd called then-married-and-living-at-BYU Brother Grayson
and he sent me the music for the show.
The two missionaries practiced and practiced--
it was truly a beautiful song.

So ROADSHOW WEEKEND arrived
and our ward was the last ward to perform.

First up, the Entre' Act with
"Spencer"---
at first, the audience was noisy and bustling...
then
it quieted down.

The audience loved the song.

After the performances that night,
alot of people asked about the "Spencer" song.

The next night--it was a Saturday night--
our ward's production was the talk-of-the-town--
so that when our missionaries took to the stage
you could hear a pin drop.
Silence.
The Spirit was as strong as I'd ever felt it.
Lovely.

Of course, our ward won a few awards...one of which was
BEST CHOREOGRAPHY...totally rocked that.

So here we were feeling so accomplished and relieved that it was done, and was done well.

But that's not the end.

The next morning
before Church,
my phone rang--
it was a member of the Bishopric
asking if I had the sheet music for the
"Spencer" song.
I did and was asked to bring it to Church with me.

The missionaries met me at the chapel door
and I gave them the music.
They said they'd been asked to sing it in the Sacrament meeting.
I thought that was really nice, ya know, of the Bishop to ask for that.

So the meeting began,
in the way of announcements,
our dear Bishop shared with us
the news that
President Kimball had died the night before.
And our sweet Bishop invited our missionaries
to sing the song,
while we reflected on our dear Prophet.


I wish we still did Roadshows.

*The Hawaiian word for a foreigner or a very caucasian person who is not native to the Hawaiian Islands.