Of Rocks and Families

Ever have one of those weeks

Where so much happened in just a matter of days,

You wondered how that amount of living

Could’ve fit into a small space of time?

Well, that’s how I feel…

And here’s how it went:

A little over two weeks ago,

Mr. Wonderful answered to jury duty.

He came home that first day

Hoping he wouldn’t have to return the next.

But he did.

And his company in Aurora, Colorado

Was not happy about his missing work.

But he had no choice, as you know

If you’ve ever been chosen for jury duty.

Then, on Day Two,

Mr W came home a somber man.

He said,

“I’ll never discuss this case with you,

Even after it’s over.”

When I guessed at which high profile case

Was currently in the papers,

His reply was,

“You can’t ask me that.”

Then I knew I was right.

But I didn’t ask him about it.

Instead, I pulled him in close and said,

“Be a blessing to that family.”

It was a criminal case involving the

Horrible murder of a special-needs young man

By two positively evil people,

whom this young man trusted as friends.

Because special-needs beings are so

Trusting and naïve,

They give trust where none is deserved.

The impact of Mr W’s call to the jury would impact our family

In more than financial ways.

So much more.

Since I knew I would need to work some through this,

I met up with a gal I know a little bit from church

Who owns a house cleaning service

And was offered a job on the spot

In Albertsons, no less.

Then I got really sick,

And couldn’t start until this past Wednesday.

But she was patient,

And happy to have me on board.

So I began on Wednesday

To clean other people’s houses.

The shoe was on the other foot

For me.

See, I’ve had housecleaners over the years,

But I’ve never cleaned professionally before.

This was a new experience!

I was as excited about trying something new,

As I was about earning a little extra cash

While Mr W was on the jury.

In the past three days,

I’ve cleaned mansions on hillsides,

And a historic mansion in downtown Colorado Springs.

I’ve mopped floors for executives,

And Air Force Colonels,

Historians,

Ministers,

And working mothers.

Some homes are right outta

House Beautiful,

With fantastic views and gilded-gold-everythings

And some are just namby-pamby-mish-mashed

ordinary homes.

But, I felt privileged to be invited inside.

To wash and wax,

To fold and tuck,

To serve,

Even if it was for my own gain,

It still blessed my life.

The one thing all of those houses

Have in common is this:
Family.

Old photos, framed with care,

Of grand parents

And new photos of
families, weddings, grandbabies

Of days gone by,

all carefully displayed.

Letters and notes stuck on fridges

And nightstands,

Of “I love you-s”…

From little ones’ crayons

To big ones’ cursive.

So easy to see where hearts are knit together.

So affirming to me of the strength that is

Found in Family.

Whereas  Mr. Wonderful spent 14 days

Listening to testimonies of degradation

And violence that two men learned

In their families,

And how that life experience led them to the

Choices they’ve made,

Ruining their own lives,

Impacting an innocent family—

I was out in the world

Experiencing another kind of

Familial Love.

Mr W said that the victim’s father sat in the courtroom

every minute of every day for the entirety.

Even when the victim’s brother had to leave the courtroom

in frustration and fury,

and the victim’s mother had to leave with her grief-drenched heart

so as to avoid hearing the details of her son’s gruesome last moments.

The father stayed.

He sat there
and he listened
and he looked
at the evidence,
every bit of it.
Can you even imagine?

Mr. W met the father one morning in the hallway—

Just the two of them there,

The father smiled at Mr W. and said

“Good Morning.”

Mr. W. said he felt the Spirit wash over him,

“You’re here to bring comfort to him.”

Leaving no doubt in his heart that he was

where he was supposed to be.

No matter the financial burden that our family

might endure.

This was meant to be.

This past week was a long one.

Mr W did not discuss the case with me

until today, guarding my heart

because I am the mother of a special-needs son.

Today, the defendant was sentenced to

Two consecutive Life sentences

Plus 32 years.

No parole. Ever.

Guilty on 7 counts.

The defendant’s family wept openly.

The defendant stood alone in his sin.

The victim’s family wept openly too.

For their boy.

For justice fought for and won.

And Mr W wept to himself.

The weight of the moment was not lost on him

or the rest of the jury.

And now, we’re left to see if we can spit-shine

The dust off the experiences we’ve had this week…

Mr. W says he learned that the fight between Good vs. Evil is real—

And it’s not just “out there”

Its in our backyard.

And the Prophets are right and true—

There’s a battle going on for the souls of men,

And those battles start in the Family.

And I learned that it’s good to get out of my little

Cocooned world.

To try a new skill,

And not be ashamed to scrub toilets,

Or wax floors of total strangers--
that work is work and is good for us all.

Joseph asked me on Wednesday night if

I am a “maid”.

“I guess so.” I said.

Right about that time,

The phone rang, and it was my longtime friend and home staging partner,

Kelly.

She asked how my first day went.

“I am beat! It’s like speed-cleaning!” I replied.

Then she asked if I wanted another job.
So my maid-days were short-lived.

I’ll be working with Karen Jones at her brand new

All About Home Interior Design Center.

My dream job.

Total Apple Pie for me.

I start Monday.

So our rocks have been tumbled about,

Smoothing out the rough spots of ignorance,

Knocking off the high bumps of pride,

Polishing our Spirits in knowledge.

We see things differently today

than we did just 14 days ago.
I hope we're never the same.

That's Just What We Do, Right?--a Birth Story

I have tons of pictures from our camping trip--
it was,
as my yahoos like to say,
Epic.


And as I was uploading said pics on Saturday morning,
there was a disturbance in the Force,
such that, I didn't finish.
I'd just gotten out of the shower,
dressed,
hair still wet,
and honestly, I was poking around
not gettin' a darn thing done.

Camping wears me out a bit,
so I get pokey afterwards.
We were set to go to Elitches in Denver
for the day,
and honestly, I was hoping we could postpone it
til next weekend.
Instead of getting ready to go,
I was on my bahooey at the pc
putting together a blog for a
Celebration of the 15th Anniversary of
 The Family: A Proclamation to the World.
I'd just finished it,
when the phone rang--
it was my cohort-in-crime, Nan
wanting to know if I'd be interested in
being a doula at a hospital birth
for a mutual friend (M.) of ours'
daughter-in-love (Mama Joy*)...
whose due date was August 24th.
Heck yeah! I'm in!
Right then, she got another call--
"Hold on a sec, I've been waiting for this call." she says.
She's gone for a couple of minutes,
returns and says,
"That was M.--
it seems Mama Joy's water has broken.
Can you go over right now?"

I grabbed my shoes,
ran a comb thru my still-damp hair,
and thought to bring my scrubs and doula stuff,
just. in. case.

I picked up Nan on the way,
cuz I didn't know Mama Joy's address and Nan didn't either
but knew how to get there.
When we arrive,
Mama Joy is fretful--
red nose, watery eyes, trembly lips...
I gave this new acquaintance a good hug
and assured her that things will be okay.

After just a few questions,
it sounded certain that her membranes had spontaneously ruptured--
she'd made a call to her hospital and they told her to come in
of course.
Mama Joy hadn't packed her hospital bags yet...
thinking she still had two weeks,
so we quickly came up with a necessity list of things to grab,
and also made a call to see if she could get a
priesthood blessing before leaving--
and within minutes two dear friends were over
to do just that.
Mama Joy was calm afterwards,
as was her young husband, Papa J.

I met them at the hospital
and after a bit of time in the triage,
she was admitted and given a room.
She wasn't having any good quality contractions,
the doctor had already prescribed pitocin
within the hour
if labor didn't progress.
So we took a stroll down the halls
and within 35 minutes,
her ctx were three minutes apart!
YES!!

Mama Joy's goal was an un-medicated birth...
and let me say,
she was awesome!
She'd not taken a single birthing class,
but listened to every direction and counsel I gave her
and acted in every way
with purpose and focus.
Her sweetheart was exactly the same--
he learned to breathe with her,
massage her,
comfort her with encouraging words
after some coaching from me,
I found him to be a wonderful helper for
Mama Joy.
For 20 minutes of every hour,
she had to be on the fetal monitor...
but as soon as she could get off that,
she was moving--
walking the halls
in the shower
in the jacuzzi
standing at a high counter, leaning over it,
while Papa J did hip compressions,
swaying her side to side
helping that little baby move down.
When she had to be in bed,
I used aromatherapy lotion,
tranquil mint
to rub her feet which she loved
and was able to relax so much
that it looked like she was sleeping
between contractions!
We kept her hydrated so well
that she didn't have to have an IV...
tho she did have a hep-lock just in case.

When she was showing signs of transition,
(trembling, vomiting, change in emotion)--
the nurse checked and she was 9 cm dilated!!!
YES!
Within minutes she was complete!
YES YES YES!!!
She got a nice
"rest and be thankful" phase--
where her body stopped contracting for a few minutes.
At that time,
I coached her on what to do next
to bring the baby down
and how to push for the delivery.

She did it exactly as I said,
and twenty minutes later,
she delivered a perfect seven pound
baby boy!

The nurse staff was awesome,
and we all worked together so well.
I loved it
and they did too.
Mama Joy and Papa J. declared,
"we couldn't have done it without you!"--
but they could've and
they would've done it just fine,
ya know?

After family arrived
a few hours later,
hugs went all around
and it was time to go.
As the family was expressing gratitude
for my time and service,
I smiled and said,
"Isn't that what we do?"

I went home a happy doula.

I love what I do.
And to have the opportunity to be a part of a sacred event,
a birth,
is as much a blessing for me
as it was for them.

What lingers for me, even today is this:
I didn't wake up yesterday morning
planning to be at a total strangers'
birth...
that was a total gift
to me.
ya know?
We all have talents and abilities
to bless other people's lives--
I have been on the receiving end many times,
and to be able to pay it forward
to step up with just a moment's notice
is one way I can express my talents in purity
and truly feel those warm fuzzies way deep inside.

And get this!!
This morning, my Nana called--
she's in California visiting.
She doesn't have her own car,
but she wanted to go to church.
So she called a meetinghouse,
and whomever answered the phone

picked her up
took her to church
and another family took her back to the hotel
afterwards
and offered their services to her while she's in California--
a meal,
a place to stay,
a ride to the airport next week...
whatever she needed...
because as they said to her,
"That's just what we do."

Yes,
Yes it is.

*Mama Joy is not her real name. But she was a Joy to me!)

Distance for Davis: Lift Where You Stand

I don't live in Utah.
But, I have friends who live there.
And those friends,
have friends...
Together, we can do as
President Uchtdorff counsels--
to lift where we stand.

http://www.daviscoxfundraiser.com/p/about-davis.html

An Example of Compassion

There's a news story going around that really touched my heart.


Obama isn't in it.
Neither is Health Reform or the Job Market.
It's not about money at all.

It's about
Compassion.
--and Young Women.

The US Women's under-17 Soccer Team
went to Costa Rica to play in a tournament--
a championship tournament,
and their first game was against
Haiti.
Hait's team is made up of homeless young women.
Newly-orphaned young women--
due to the earthquake that has ravaged
their tiny island
and killed over 200,000 people.
Their people.

The Americans were surprised that the Haitian team
was even coming,
so they decided to do something to help these young women
before they left the US.
They organized fundraisers and hygeine-kit drives
so they could present each Haitian player with a backpack
full of necessities.

It was an emotional game--
the Americans arrived to Costa Rica
well-rested and prepared;
while the Haitian team arrived
as weary survivors.

The game was won by the Americans.
But it wasn't a sweet victory of 9-0...
this is what happened, according to Bree, the goalie:

"It definitely wasn't a good feeling," Bree recounted as the final whistle sounded. "Nobody was thinking about the game."

And now no one who saw it end will ever forget it.

"When the [final] whistle blew," Bree recalled, "I walked to midfield with my teammates to shake hands with the Haitian team, and as I did I looked downfield and saw their goalie was laying on the ground, crying."

The emotion of everything toppled Alexandra Coby. (the Haitian goalie)

Coby's coach was the first to reach her side. Bree was the second. Bree's teammates were in tow.

"We started walking to her. Her coach helped her up," Bree said, "and I opened my arms and hugged her.

"She was crying and I started crying," Bree said. "And all my teammates began crying.

"Nobody spoke any French," Bree said of Haiti's native language. "We communicated with a nod and a smile."

Bree said it didn't last more than a minute and a half. But there is no doubt they all will carry the moment for the rest of their lives."


The rest of the story is that the US girls spent a few more hours with the Haitian girls during the tournament (which the US won) and gave them the backpacks of compassion.

We live in a world of much turmoil, but stories like these lift my heart in hope.

We can make a difference. 

We do make a difference when we extend ourselves to others.

And that effort is never wasted. 

I'm a Mormon

Last week my mother's husband died.
Since I never lived with the man,
in fact, only met him twice
I don't define him as
stepfather.

I don't have a relationship with my mother either.
For reasons not appropropriate to share,
she and I have never ever ever been close.
Not since I was nine years old.

Our relationship really went down hill when,
at 16 years old,
I made the decision to join the LDS Church.
My family was so against it,
I was literally kicked out of the house
with the clothes on my back.
I was a senior in high school.

Months later,
my parents had a change of heart
and they, along with my 4 brothers
were also baptized into the LDS church.
But shortly after,
my parents' feelings got hurt
and that was that.
My parents backed out as fast as they came in.
But I didn't.
And because I didn't,
I was asked to leave the home again.

It wasn't awful.
I lived with some remarkably loving families
in the Church--
and I learned so much in a short amount of time
from the Mothers of those households--
on how to run a home
how to cook (cheese grits-- yum!)
how to sew,
how to use a soft voice...
and many other things.
So my time in their homes
at their sides
in their circles of prayer
was a blessing.

It's been almost 32 years
since I made that decision
and have never once
not even once
regretted it.
The LDS Church is my family.
No matter where I've lived in 32 years
when I walk into a Chapel
I am home.
The members welcome and
love us into
their fold,
teach my children,
bring in meals when I'm sick,
pray with us,
rejoice with us,
share our burdens.
I don't know how other people
get thru their trials without this kind of support--
I'm not that strong.

So when my mother's husband was sent home
to die,
his needs exceeded her abilities.
And after many years of silence,
she emailed me and asked if I could
contact the church for her
to receive some help with her husband.

At first,
I was angry.
Angry...
I didn't want to ask  the Church
in her area to help her.
Not after what she'd put me through
all these years--
constant persecution for being a member,
rejecting me
rejecting my children
it was just too much.

Then my heart softened
and I looked up the contact information
for the Church in her small Texas town
and sent it to her
with the message:
If they can help, they will.
I knew that to be true.
That's just what my people do.

She made the call
and the floodgates opened...
members came in and blessed her life,
like I knew they would.
They buoyed my mother up
through this difficult time.

I looked up airfare prices--
too little notice= too expensive,
so I didn't go.

The ward there took care
and stepped-up in ways
that has overwhelmed
my mother
and my brothers
and their wives
as well as the other relatives--
none of whom are LDS.

In speaking with two of my brothers last night,
they spoke of their humility
and gratitude for a young Bishop
who presided over the funeral--
he'd never even met my mother or family
until Sunday night.
My brothers said how completely in awe
they felt as they witnessed
kindness after kindness
from the members of the ward
who visited the home with dishes
and dishes of food
and words of comfort
and love.
One of my brothers said,
"Every time the doorbell rang,
we just looked at each other
wondering how could they keep coming?
We're not used to being treated like that."

Another brother said,
talking of the Chapel mortuary,
"You'd think there'd been more people for J.--
he'd lived there his whole life--
but maybe some were already dead, ya know?
The chapel was filled with Mormons though. I've never been hugged so much in my life.  And of all these men in suits and ties, you could pick out the Mormon men--there's just something different about 'em--know what I mean?"

Yeah, I do. It's called the Holy Priesthood.

A few minutes later, into our conversation, he said,
"I don't know what you did, Dawn, or who you called, but having the Mormons there, MADE it. They just knew what they were doing, and carried the whole thing off."

"I didn't make any calls. I didn't do anything. I gave mom their number and stepped back." I said.

That's all I had to do.

"People's lives were changed, Dawn. I'm not the same person I was. The Bishop took to me, and we're gonna keep in touch."

I took the opportunity to tell my brother that I am so glad the Mormons in that little town were exactly like the Mormons in the town I live in now. And I asked him, "Can you see why I've been a member all these years and raised my kids in it?  Can you see why now?"

"Yeah.  I love you Dawn."

"Tell Mom I love her."

Being Willing = Being Blessed

Earlier this week, a member of our Bishopric called.
Said he wanted to meet with me
a little before Church Sunday.
Was I willing to meet with him? he asked.
My first question was,
"Am I being released?"
Released in the LDS faith means that whatever calling (job)
you currently serve in (for free)
you are no longer going to be asked to serve in.
I had two callings (jobs) already:
Stake Singles Representative
and
Relief Society (women's auxillary) Birthday Girl!--I pass out candy to the women whose bdays are that week.  A very undemanding calling.
Well, it wasn't to be released from either of those,
but to extend another calling to me.
I asked if he couldn't just tell me over the phone
and save us both time.
Nope, he said.  Which would've been HIGHLY unusual if he did.
He did say, "Oh this is a great calling though."

Great calling?
Is there such a one?
My fav calling has been serving in the Temple--
no meetings, no budget, no personalities.
We did that for 2 years in Denver and loved LOVED it!
But that's not a calling extended by a member of your Bishopric...
so left alone with my thoughts,
I pondered what would be a "GREAT CALLING"
in the ward?

Hmmmm...
I've done nearly everything a woman can do in the Church--
Primary...check
YW...check
Library...check
Scouts....check
Missionary...check
Sunday School...check
Relief Society...check check check.
Any of them great?  YES.
Any of them I would want to do again?  Yes.
Some I wouldn't?  Oh yeah.
Any I would decline?  No.
I would accept whatever was asked of me.

So we went a little early
and waited to meet with Bro. M.
As he extends the call to me to be
the Activity Girls' Assistant,
working with my own 8 year old and
41 other young girls ages 8-11,
I smiled.
I've had this one before too
and I enjoyed it.
It's been 10 years ago tho, so it'll be fun.
The Caboose will be thrilled, I thought.

So Bro M. presents my name for sustaining
and noone else apparently wanted the calling,
because the vote was unanimously YES.
Whew!
I'm just kidding. It was yes, but I have no idea if anyone would've opposed it.

SOOO are ya still with me?  There is a point to this, I promise!

Sooo, I'm sitting in Sacrament
thinking about this calling
wondering "why me? why now?"--
not in a sad way,
but in a reflective way--
And then a feeling comes over me with the thought:
This new calling will result in a tangible blessing for my family.
And the details are there,
but I am not ready to share them yet.
But I will when it's time.

I find it interesting that when I am willing to serve
where I am needed,
Heavenly Father sends me opportunities
I would not have otherwise.