Broken Heart Invitation

This Life’s Journey

is full of bumps in the road,

unexpected turns come at us without warning

and all of a sudden we’re faced with situations

that we’ve neither anticipated nor prepared for—

how could we, really?

I don’t know about you,

but I have little to nothing in common with someone

whose life has been uncommonly simple

so as to exclude any tragedy or dysfunction.

Don’t sit me next to a mere mortal at a dinner or luncheon.

I’ll be bored to tears, honestly.

Nothing to say, nothing to comment upon.

The depth of such a person leaves me wanting.

I cannot relate to them in any other way but

a shallow one.

Sit me next to a Hero.

Sit me next to Someone whose life has taken a Scenic Route,

And my soul stirs with a fiery interest.

I want to know how they got through,

whatever it is they got through.

My heart searches theirs for depth and breadth,

strength and inspiration.

I’m not talking about the whiny people I know.

The ones who pout and stamp about at the unfairness of life

and can’t get a grip on their own tragic choices.

While they might be interesting for a few moments

after awhile they resemble a burnt firework—

they had their moment to burn brilliantly,

to show their true colors of courage, strength, wisdom and action

yet instead sat back scratching their heads,

looking around for someone or something to

point a finger of blame on.

Those tragic figures leave me wanting

because I want them to finish telling me

the part that answers the questions:

“What happened next?”

“Then, what’d you do?”

And they mostly shrug their shoulders

indicating to me there’s no hero at the end of this story.

No,

sit me by someone whose journey has bounced them around

good and hard and unforgiving;

where they had to dig deep to find their strength,

cultivate their courage,

seek out wisdom on their knees and 

resources in their grasp,

test their faith in all that they know and believe.

I’m on a fact-finding mission.

Having traveled the Scenic Route,

being raised by wolves,

and other life experiences that came at me

like a meteorite’s sonic boom,

I need to know others who’ve survived to tell the tale.

The fact is,

I know more women who would qualify as a member of

The Broken Heart Club

than women who don’t.

My heroes include those who’ve survived many losses—

Husbands

Children

Miscarriages

Divorces

Dysfunctional Parents

Addictions in their families

Their own addictions

Eating Disorders

Depression

Unemployment

To name a few.

They are women of substance

whom I gravitate towards

because they exemplify grace under pressure.

They refuse to simply burn out.

They believe they have more to offer than that…

they have earned the privilege of having

Another Day to Try Again.

Why this blog today?

It’s because of a young mother named Natalie Jones

whose ten year old son, Mitchell, is living moment to moment

because he has a form of Muscular Dystrophy.

As I have read much about their family this week,

about a woman I have never met,

and yet feel a kinship to,

I realized she and I share something in common:

Broken hearts.

She will let go of her son sooner than I have been asked to let go of mine,

and for that grace, I cannot account for—

I am nevertheless

Grateful.

When my special needs son, Dean was very young

a woman approached me in a mall and after noticing his special shoes/braces

asked me what was wrong with him.

After I answered her,

she asked a second question:

“How long do you expect him to live?”

I was barely 24 years old,

it wasn’t a question I had allowed myself to ask yet

and here was a total stranger

putting me to the task.

I replied I didn’t know.

For days afterwards,

her words rang in my head—

“How long do you expect him to live?”

I had no idea.

There was only one place I could think of

to go to and ask my question:

the Temple.

I went inside and quietly prayed

to my Heavenly Father

asking the question:

“How long will I have Dean?”

I waited for the answer,

determined that I wouldn’t leave until I had one.

An answer from the heavens came:

“It doesn’t matter.”

I argued back,

“Yes, oh yes, it does matter. Please tell me how long I will have Dean.”

The quiet spirit whispered again,

“It doesn’t matter.”

I then pleaded in my heart to heaven,

“It DOES. Oh it DOES. Please tell me how long I will have him.”

A warm peaceful feeling entered my heart and a loving voice touched my mind,

“It doesn’t matter how long you have him,

but how much you Love him.”

I knew that was right.

It was the only thing that mattered.

I felt impressed today

to write to this young mother in Utah

and share my heavenly message with her

in these last days of her son’s journey.

I don’t know her.

I’m one of thousands of people who’ve been led to

Her family’s story, really.

But, if my sharing gives her even a moment of peace,

That’s enough.

We travel this earth over and over,

We broken-hearted.

The best servants are the ones

Who know what suffering feels like.

It is our pain that both binds and lifts us.

Have a broken heart?

Come. Sit by me.

 Here's what I know:

God loves broken things.

His Future Wife Will Thank Us

You know we're growing a man over here, right?

At 13 years old,
our Joseph stands at 5'9" tall,
wears a man's size 13 shoe,
30-32" mens jeans...
and he eats, shovels in his food like a lumberjack.

Being the Quartermaster of his Scout Troop--
it's his job to take care of the troop's camping gear and equipment,
as well as make sure each scout is properly outfitted 
for the camping trips they take.
He is often paired with a less-experienced scout,
because he can keep an eye out for them.

Why, just yesterday he was begging us to let him sleep outside overnight,
in the midst of a blizzard.
We told him if he could actually set up a tent in the blowing snow
in the backyard,
he could do it.
I want him to be able to try his wild ideas out
in the safety of our shadows
before he attempts it alone.
He spent sometime outside
in the howling wind and snow
and came in awhile later,
declaring it was "too lonely".

We painted the family room and kitchen over the weekend--
guess who led the way for us?

He was all over it.
Seriously, he taped and painted a good deal of it
with zero complaints.

And this morning before school started,
he and Kent got out the old snowblower
that the two of them repaired last summer--
the snowblower used to belong to Kent's dad
and hadn't worked in many years,
but the two of them printed out a manual for it
and fixed it!
So Kent taught Joseph how to start it up
and use it...
he not only did our driveway and sidewalks,
but did the neighbors too!

This past year,
his dad has taught him how to:
*Replace brakes on the Suburban and the Accent
*Replace a dishwasher
*Hang a new light fixture
*Hang Christmas lights without falling off the roof
* Replace a sink faucet
*Change tires, batteries, and windshield wipers
* Replace furnace filters
*Replace a new thermostat for the heating/cooling system


I figure his future wife might appreciate this stuff...yeah? I sure do.  I'm thinkin' the next thing should be cooking and laundry.

My Valentines

“To you who are parents, I say, show love to your children. You know you love them, but make certain they know it as well. They are so precious. Let them know. Call upon our Heavenly Father for help as you care for their needs each day and as you deal with the challenges which inevitably come with parenthood. You need more than your own wisdom in rearing them.” 
― Thomas S. Monson

My Turn

"God does watch over us and does notice us,

but it is usually through someone else that He meets our needs."

~Spencer W. Kimball

Today was my turn.
I didn't know it ahead of time,
just like the last time
it was my turn...


I was at the mall shopping for a new white Sunday shirt
for my 13 year old son, Joseph
with Mr. Wonderful.
We'd just made our purchase 
and were headed towards to center of the mall
when I heard what I thought was a child's outburst of crying.

Being a mom to many,
I dismissed the cry--
thinking the child's mother would tend 
to whatever the needs were--
and kept walking.

But the crying outbursts kept going
and we were walking towards the cry
instead of away from it.

As we got closer to the escalators and elevators,
it became obvious that the crying was coming
from that area.
I fully expected to see a young mom struggling with her child,
but
that wasn't what I saw at all.

With his back towards me,
I could see a man kneeling over a 
young woman
who appeared to be stuck 
on the top of the escalator--
I thought perhaps a shoelace was caught in it
or other peice of clothing.

People were walking by them
but not stopping to help,
which seemed so odd to me.

Without another thought,
I hurried over to them.
As I looked into the young woman's eyes,
I knew
she was a special needs person.
She couldn't speak, other than the crying and pure panic yell
coming from her very frightened face.
She saw me
and like my own child
reached out for me.

I embraced her,
and softly said words of comfort,
"It's OK. You're OK. I'll help you."

I turned to the man and asked if he were her
"caregiver",
to which he replied, 
"I'm her friend."
Something wasn't right with him either,
so I focused on getting her OFF the still-running escalator
by holding her hands
then under her arms and shoulders
and bringing her to her feet...
which had no shoes on them.

I looked down and saw one shoe
the other was not in sight.
Her face lit up when she saw her one shoe
and I led her over to a bench
and kneeling down,
put her shoe on.

The guy was standing back
allowing me to do all of this for her,
not offering a word to her,
even though it seemed like
she knew him.

Again, I asked,
"Are you here with her day program?"
"I'm her friend." he answered.

I told him to stay by her
while Mr. Wonderful and I went down the escalator to look for her 
other shoe.
We found it at the bottom
along with a water bottle
and took them back to her.

She grabbed the water bottle and drank from it quickly...
she was calming down
and trying to communicate with me,
but I couldn't understand her.

I put her other shoe on,
tidied up her hair with some hairbands that had
fallen off at the escalator,
and about that time
a group of people, that called her by name,
"Audrey"
came by and I felt like it was time to go.

The man said nothing at all to us.
So I don't know what his deal was--
perhaps he was a peer of hers
or perhaps an overwhelmed chaperone.

I directed a mall security guard over to them
so he could make note of her accident
and then we walked away.

It was hard to walk away from her.
As we drove away from the mall parking lot,
I wanted to go back in the mall and find her
and make sure she was really Ok.
But that's just weird, right?

It's now nine hours later
and I'm still a little emotional over it.
I wonder if anyone will tell her mom
what happened to her today.
I wonder if she'll freak out the next time
someone tries to lead her to an escalator,
and they won't know why.
I wonder if I could have done more,
and what would that have been?

She was the best part of my day.
Because she reminded me that
WE are all God's hands
and we all get a turn to serve
if we choose to listen.

Making It Stick: The Lessons We Learn Together

Daisie is a senior in high school.
She is, in fact, my 5th senior so far.
And while I'm not a novice at being the mother of a senior in high school,
I'm still not perfect at this place in life.
Which says something about me, I'm sure,
but thinking on it requires more effort than I am
committed to expending today.
This girl o' mine is complex,
as all other teenage girls are at this age.
She alternately amazes and confuses me.
One day she rises from her basement bedroom
ready for school,
on time,
dressed to the nines,
hair curled and shiny,
happy, alert, and engaging.
The next day
she requires a bit of tugging (aka "yelling" down the stairwell)
to get up and get going.
She rises to the top of the stairs in
what appears to be pj's,
or at the very least,
clothing that looks like they've been slept in--
wrinkly, anyway,
hair pulled back in a ponytail,
no makeup,
and communicating as though
she just rolled out
of the Stone Age.

She also has a job this year.
We encourage and facilitate our seniors to have part-time jobs
to get them ready for the real world of juggling college
and working
while they still have the comfort and support of home.
And yes, it means more work for me
as I drive them back n' forth to work
because we also don't buy our yahoos' cars while they're in HS.
Mainly because we know our yahoo's inability to say to their peers,
"I'm sorry, but I am not allowed to give you a ride in my car. I haven't had my license long enough.
My mother would kill me if I got in an accident and died. You'll have to find another way home,
even though you live across the street from me and you are obviously in despair. No. I cannot help you out."

We know our kids,
because they are just like us
and they would break the "No Passenger for the 1st six months" rule
just like we did, as rotten teenagers.

So we take that situation off the table
by never putting it on there.
Once the yahoos are out of High School,
their social situation changes
and it's a better time for the responsibility of car ownership
and we help them find a good used car to buy
with their very own money.

Ok, SO.
Daisie.
Because she works M-F after school,
her only home chores are dishes on the weekend.
Hey, it STILL takes a family to take care of a family
around here,
even if she is a senior and is working...
everyone contributes where they are able.
This is not a hotel
where our older yahoos simply sleep, shower and sometimes eat at...
unless they're willing and able to pay hotel fees.

Well,
sometimes she wants to skip out on her weekend dishes--
due to plans with friends or whatever,
so she has to find a substitute aka "kid sister or brother who wants 10 bucks"
to do her dishes for her.
And sometimes, no amount of money will buy that substitute dishwasher.
Joseph has been known to say, "Hey. I can't be bought."

This gets tiring, if you're the Momza around here
and waking up to a sink of dirty dishes makes me cranky.

So here's my parenting tip for the day that I'm sharing:
This is what I say:
"Daisie, if you don't do the dishes today,
I will not facilitate your life tomorrow."

In our world,
that means
she ain't going nowhere til' she's done her part.

Testing my resolve on Sunday,
she left pots n' pans in the sink overnight to
"soak"--fyi, I hate that excuse.
And there they were, come Monday morning,
"soaking" in the sink
as she surfaced bright n' shiny,
ready to go to school.
"Do you have people that are coming in later this morning to finish your dishes,
 that I don't know about?" I asked.
Her eyes widened.
We'll leave when the sink is empty." I said.
"Whaaa? Seriously?  I'll be late." She replied.
"Yeah, you will."
{Heavy sigh.}
"Gimme a minute." she said.

Seven minutes later, we are in the car,
on the way to school.
And I was happy.
We didn't dwell on the lesson,
we just chatted about the rest of the day
and got on with it.
I love her. I want her to be happy and enjoy success.
I also want her to keep grounded in family and what it means
to be part of a family.

Some lessons stink on ice.
They're inconveniant and no dang fun at the time.
But seriously,
the lessons will be learned one way or another
and we're both better off learning them sooner than later, right?

We're in this together,
this parenting-child deal.
I've got to keep learning my part
and she's learning hers.
I think we'll come out on the other side of this
A-Okay.

It's Not My Dog

When my oldest daughter was a teenager
she possessed an impressionable heart.
It more resembled a thick absorbent sponge,
soaking up every bit of emotion, concern, despair or worry
that it came upon...
even when it wasn't hers.

If a friend or acquaintance had problems,
girlfriend would let all that negative energy
just wiggle itself down into her bones
until it was good n' wedged.

Doing this isn't healthy.
I saw what was going on with her,
and wanting to give her perspective
I came up with this metaphor.

It is natural and healthy to be concerned about your own dog.
It is your responsibility and privilege to be the dog's guardian.
You will want to be sure to feed your dog and protect your dog.
It's normal to care and even, at appropriate times,
worry about the safety and well-being of your dog.
If your dog suffers and even dies,
you'll be right in mourning over the loss.

However,
it is contrary to worry in the same way over your neighbor's dog.
You can support your neighbor's decision to have a dog,
by being kind to the animal
and being aware of it,
but your responsibility ends there.
Compassionate, Yes.
Consumed, No.

So we coined a phrase when she was younger
based on this little parable:
"It's not my dog."
This phrase has been repeated many times
in our home to reel ourselves back in,
when we need to remember that everyone
has their free agency to choose for themselves.
And we are not in charge of other people's agency.
It is not our privilege nor our responsibility to step-in and
remove our friends' free agency,
even when we think their choices are unwise, foolish or unproductive.
We can give counsel when asked,
we can give support when needed,
but other than that,
it's not our dog to worry about.

What's some advice that you've shared in your family?

A Peek into Sister Johnson's Mission

As I was just sharing with Jen at Denton Sanitorium,
our Sister Missionary has less than a year to go!

I was excited to get our 2013 calendar so I could mark
her countdown on it!

She's doing great, actually.
Her health has returned and though she is freezin' her bum off
in Rochester, New York
thanks to the lake effect snow storms,
she loves what she's doing and who she is serving!

She has a FB page for her mission,
which is so neat because we get to see new pics
all the time of her happy shiny face!

Here's a few new ones:

                 Here's one of Diana and her companion, Sister Green after a service opportunity last fall.

 At at little "tea" party.

  All of those leaves prior to bagging.

 I think this was her "District" of missionaries last Fall.

 She got to run in a marathon on Thanksgiving!

In front of the Palmyra Temple with other sister missionaries.

 Sister Johnson with her current companion, Sister Klepinger. (From Mesa, AZ.)

 Another one from the Turkey Trot.

 Her first day in the New York Rochester Mission...with all of the other new missionaries and her Mission President Christianson and Sister Christianson,at the Sacred Grove.

All of the missionaries currently serving in the Palmyra Visitor's Center.


It brings my motherheart great joy to see pictures of her journey as a missionary,
especially when we don't get to talk to her on the phone again until Mother's Day!
I love her Monday emails and her letters home.
I cannot think of a better experience for my children than to go out into the world
and serve others with their hands and hearts.
Each of my children who have so served, have returned more mature, compassionate,
service-oriented and loving people.

Things I Can't Do Anymore

It's time to reconcile this mind I have with this Granma's body I'm sporting.
A list seems appropriate.

In no particular order, here are the
Things I Can't Do Anymore.
The Things I Shouldn't Do Ever Again.
The Things I Once Did, But Shouldn't Have.
The Things I Wish I Had Done, But Didn't and Now I Can't.
Not to be confused with The Things I Could Never Do, But Still Wish I Could.

 Let's just start with some obvious things:
1. The Trampoline. It's not the jumping, it's the landing. No, not after 7 children.
2. Inline Skating. Toofasttoofasttoofast.
3. Skateboarding.  See #2.
4. Let's just say, Anything on two wheels.
5. Ski. Truth is, I was a novice anyways, back when I could go gliding down an ice-covered mountain on two sticks with curly ends. I had some good runs, had some laughs of sheer amazement that I'd survived the run at all. But seriously, no.
6. Water Ski. Again--two sticks on my feet, water beneath, being pulled 40 mph by a string and prayer.
7. Jump Rope. Not the jumping, but the landing.
8. Amusement rides. Give me a headache. Excite my vertigo.
9. Chinese Fire Drills.
10. Jump off a swing in mid-air.

Less Obvious:

1. High Heels.  Not the Aerosoft ones--those are ugly, granma shoes. No, we're talking Jessica Simpson style. Too tall. Too tight. Too little fat on the bottom of my feet. I can actually feel my feet bones crunch.
2. Boots. Boots look dumb on old women. Unless they're Russian women wearing Russian boots. Or French women wearing Italian boots. Or an old ballerina--she can wear anything with her crumpled-up arthritic feet if she wants, she's earned it.
3. Patterned leg hosiery. Whereas I used to adore the fun and trendy patterns in my youth and young womanhood, it would draw attention to my overly-round calves at this point and that is not my goal.
4. Lace.  There's a fine line between feminine lace and old woman lace.  I have yet to find it.
5. Leggings.
6. Leg warmers.
7. Lacy Leggings.
8. Lacy Leg Warmers.
9. Hair Extensions.  Not that I ever got to try those out, but still, that's a big fat 'No'.
10. Going Blonde. Never did. Never will now.
11. Growing my hair past my shoulders. Hairstylist to the Stars, Jose Eber said it in the 80's and it's still true..over 40 is a "No".
12. Mulitple peircings.  Still have the two I got in 2nd grade and again peirced by my cousins in the 5th grade. Never got more than two, but my window of opportunity is long closed even if I entertained the idea.
13. Tattoos. Never wanted one, but old women shouldn't be coloring on their bodies anyway, unless it's their own name and SS# or home phone#...a thought I have entertained over the past few years.
13. oops. already have 13.
14. Colored eye contacts. Not even for fun.
15. Gold teeth grills.  Ever see an old woman with one?  {shudder}

More Random Things Off the Table:

1. Dating. (BAHAHA!)
2. Eating pasta before bedtime.
3. Or dairy before bedtime.
4. Or donuts before bedtime.
5. Anything after 5pm is a "No Go".
6. Watching the sun rise.  Not unless I happen to be up from #2,#3,#4.
7. All night movie marathons. Or movies that start after 7:30pm.
8. Midnight showings of anything, anywhere.
9. Free Pie Day at IHOP...not that I don't love pie. I just forget to go on Wednesdays--the Free Pie Day.
10. Rappelling off mountains. Not that I ever did it often.

11. Scuba diving.
12. Sky jumping.
13. Parasailing.
14. Bungee jumping.
15. Again, anything with "jumping". See #1 and #7 in first column.
16. Experimenting with my hair.  I just got the most awful haircut--I look like "Moe" from the Three Stooges right now with bangs that are nearly 2 inches long. At this point in my life my hair is kinda important to my self-esteem. And while I am not a beauty queen with a strict regiment, I enjoy curling my bangs when I have them.
17. Bright nail polish. Old woman hands. Good for cuddling babies, drying tears, making buttermilk biscuits, folding laundry, driving kids to lessons...not for "Palisade Pink" on lab-created nails.

18. Long, dangly earrings.  Makes me look like an Afghan Hound. Or Liberace.  Imagine Erma Bombeck and I'm a close doppelganger.
19. Hot Dogs. Even the good ones. eww.
20. Suffer Fools. I have no patience for them.
21. Remembering things without writing them down.
22. Remembering things without writing them down.
23. What? I forgot #23.
24. My Beloved Zumba. Vertigo stinks.
25. Ride in an elevator.  I have to take the stairs sometimes. Vertigo Stinks On Ice.
26. Drive a Stick. It's not that I can't but I don't want to.
27. "Wait to go."  As in, "I'll just wait to go until I get home from Target."
28. Paint a ceiling.
29. Cross-stitch. I useta cross-stitch all the days...now me eyes go crossed looking fer that tiny hole!
20. Ooops. Already did #20.
30. Daydream about "someday". Someday is here.
There's more, of course, there's more. But that's all I can remember today.

What're some things you can't do anymore?

I Wanted to be "Little Debbie" --and other assorted wild fantasies of my youth

Okay,
so where have I been lately?
Right?
Right.

We STILL have yet to commit to a Family Motto for 2013--
I had pretty much settled on
"We Seek After Bacon"
and thought I'd be clever n' just make
BACON an acronym for something ethereal and lovely like
B=Being Kind
A= Academic Exellence
C= Charity towards others
O=Organize Ourselves
N= Nourishing our Testimonies.

Yeah. That was shot down.
Too cheesy, they say.
{shaking my head}
Do these people not understand
that their Mother is the 
Queen of All Things Cheesy?

So. No Motto. Nothing carved in wood yet.

Okay, so back to my title.
Little Debbie.
I'm a girl of the South.
Cut offs, barefeet, midriffs or bathing suit tops
was the uniform of summer.
The only closed toe shoes I ever owned
were the ones I got at Easter--
white patent leather that I used either toothpaste or Comet
to clean the scuff marks off.
I know what fried okra is,
eaten a belly full o' pork rinds n' frog's feet,
picked cucumbers and bell peppers,
stood atop an old Chevy to pick brown bags full of tangerines,
and knew that day that involved a fresh Moonpie with a YooHoo!
 was a good day indeed.
I am a Southerner.
N' I just loved

Little Debbie.
Yeah.
I used to save the boxes the treats came in--
I don't know why...I thought she looked like me
only in a bonnet.
We could be friends.
I actually mail-ordered a Little Debbie Barbie
when I was old enough to pay for it--

as the mother of 5 chi'ren.
No kidding. Little Debbie rocks.

Also,
I saved Aunt Jemima syrup bottles--
the glass ones that came with the cloth aprons on them.
Seriously loved that buttery syrup.
Are you shaking your head now?
I know. It's nuts. But it's true.

Wendy's.
I wanted to know Wendy of Wendy's.
I've seen her now as an adult,
but I really wanted to see her as a kid--
her "Little Debbie" knock-off garb
combined with her Pippi-Longstocking-styled red pigtails.
I mean, yeah, was I the only one who noticed
Wendy was tryin' to look like Little Debbie??
Lotta nerve if you ask me. Lot. Of. Nerve.
Definitely someone I wanted to know
when I was still as ridiculous as I am now,
but not as cheesy.


The fantasies of my youth were not limited to food icons.

(notice my lovely bangs?)

When I was in second grade,
I'd stand in front of my dresser mirror
n' squint my eyes tryin' to imagine what I'd
look like all grown up 
in the sixth grade.
I didn't know about middle schools and high schools then.
I thought once I got to sixth grade
I'd be like, 21 years old.
I really wanted to look like Barbara Eden

of "I Dream of Jeannie"--
or "Twiggy" with her long eyelashes and short hair.
I figured I had a better chance of coming out like Twiggy
than Jeannie,
because my momma could not stand to let my hair grow
even to my shoulders
before she'd get out her sewing scissors and take a whack at my hair.
She was forever-and-ever-amen
trying to give me a "Page Boy" cut.

(notice my "page boy?)

I typically looked like I had used box cutters on my own hair.
More like Twiggy with her "pixie cut"--
one that my mother ALSO tried out on me.
The other thing I had in common with the lovely Brit
was that I was a bean pole.
My momma used to say,
"Stick out your tongue so we can see you."
So of course I had to have a Twiggy lunchbox--
hoping my classmates would also notice the strong resemblance
between me and my fantasical idol.
To my recollection,
noone ever did,
probably because I looked more like
Little Debbie.



But hey, I didn't know my audience.
Clearly they were too young and Batman and Catwoman
were more popular for the crowd I ran with.
Catwoman scared the beans outta me so much,
that I think that was the beginning of my dislike for cats.
Maybe she woulda been better if she'd owned a dress like Little Debbie.
Or ate a moonpie once in awhile.

Where Are The Christians Part Two

As promised, here is the second of five excerpts from the nationally-released book:

Albert Schweitzer once said "One truth stands firm. All that happens in world history rests on something spiritual. If the spiritual is strong, it creates world history. If it is weak, it suffers world history.” Section one of Where are the Christians? takes on the daunting task of providing a concise and compelling history of Christianity to give readers a background of where it all began as a foundation moving forward. To help the reader navigate an otherwise complicated history Shuster divides the 2000 year period into four segments, one for each of the four chapters in section 1.

Chapter 1:  They Were Evangelizers and Builders (up to AD 299)

While some might think Christianity began the day Christ was born, Christianity was long prophesied in the Old Testament. The over two centuries that followed during the Evangelization and Formation Period were defined by seven major categories of events:  persecution of the church, martyrdom of its early leaders, the spreading of the gospel outside of Palestine, the conversion of Paul, the formation of the church, early heresies, and the writing of the New Testament.

Chapter 2:  They were Legitimized and Codified (AD 300-999)

The Legitimacy and Codification Period from AD 300 to 999 was a time for Christianity to continue its global proliferation, while codifying its doctrines and legitimizing its place in religion and politics. This period of Christianity was defined by seven categories of events:  the continuation of persecution and evangelization, increased heresies, doctrinal codification, hierarchy and politics, validation, and the seeds of corruption.

Chapter 3:  They were Corrupted and Divided (1000-1499)

As the Christian Church neared the millennial landmark it began to be faced with significant issues of leadership that would rupture its unity. Although Christianity was still spreading throughout the world, the organization of the Church would be challenged by its integration with the political structure and an increasingly corrupt leadership.  The Corruption and Division period (1000-1499) is marked by four categories of events including doctrinal evolution, church and state integration, corruption and division.

Chapter 4:  They were Reformed and Scattered (1500 to the Present)

The final segment of Christian history covers the year1500 to the present and is called the Reform and Denominational Proliferation Period. During this period individuals came forward to challenge the established Christian Church to reform itself from corruption. This period is marked by five major activities including the carryover of corruption, the emergence of refiners, reformers and restorers, Christian movements and influencers, the propagation of published scripture and the proliferation of denominations.

Modern-day Christians are influenced by the past and are products of their own history. It is a history that produced the best and worst of humanity over a 2,000 year period. Our faith walk today is affected by and reflects these four periods of Christian history. Having a better understanding of where we came from as a Christian people we are now ready for the next leg of our journey to answers the question:  “What is a Christian?”  

Go to www.findyourchristianity.com to watch the book trailer, find out what type of Christian you are, and to order the book.

Growing a New Talent for 2013

Trying  new things makes me happy.

Just the attitude of approaching something I've never done
with an open mind and a willingness to try it
has served me well most of my live long days.

It is in this spirit that I decided to give "painting" a try.
I've never taken painting classes--
unless you count a tole painting class I took in 1986--
and I haveta say, boy can I paint white ducks!
I can, I can.

I love art.
I have often said my ideal vacation would be to spend at least two whole weeks
locked inside the British Museum by myself or with someone equally enthralled
with art in all it's myriad forms,
and do nothing but look at the beautiful works and breathe it all in.

Watercolors especially intrigue me.
I don't know why...haven't set about to ask myself why...
but the way water and color mix and looks so effortless
is soothing to me.

Anyway,
I tested the waters this month
and bought a few little brushes and paints
and small canvasses to give my interest 
a chance to express...
I painted something I love.
Aspens.
In the Fall.
No photos to look at, 
just let my hands follow the patterns I know
so well in the natural beauty of aspens
and this is what came out:

I know it's not brilliant.

But it's a start.

I want to continue to make the most of this New Year

by learning new things...

what are YOU thinking of trying in 2013?

Where Are The Christians?

Sometimes, people come into my life

through the backdoor, so-to-speak.

Meaning, I don't see them coming

or expect the impact that they will make

once I get to know them.

It is in the getting to know them

that I come to wonder how it is

that I am so fortunate and privileged

to have crossed paths with them,

as they exceed my expectations.

Eric Shuster is my backdoor friend.

I first met him through an opportunity wherein

I was assigned to find a Guest Speaker at a special event

and his name was recommended to me.

That was three years ago.

Since that time, I have had the great pleasure 

of coming to know and love him and his beautiful wife, Marilyn

and their family.

As the best friendships are created,

we have been as blessed by this union as they have.

Our daughter Diana was their nanny before her mission,

as they adopted a set of twins and their older brother.

In the process, 

they became her "second parents" and I cannot say 

how much we truly appreciate their great capacity to love

and the profound influence they've had,

and continue to have

upon our family.

*Marilyn and Eric with our Nana on her first trip to the temple.

Eric and Marilyn are lovely, intelligent truth seekers and sharers--

as he shared in his first book, 

"Catholic Roots, Mormon Harvest"

and then 

The Biblical Roots of Mormonism.

Eric's latest offering is here and I am so stinkin' excited to share it here 

with my family and friends!

Here is the thought-provoking introduction to his marvelous work:

"Ponder if you will the state of our world; and in particular the condition of America. Although one can easily argue the United States is still the greatest nation in the world and a country so many desire to come to—even risk their lives to enter into—there is no denying America’s social, moral and spiritual fabric continues to deteriorate at an accelerated pace. For many this is an alarming and discouraging trend.
Now consider the fact that 76% of Americans claim to be Christian, making the United States one of the highest per-capita Christian nations in the world. A nation full of Christians in a deteriorating society? If this indeed be the case then WHERE ARE THE CHRISTIANS? To solve this conundrum author Eric Shuster gives us a book that bears this question as its title with the promise of answers and unique journey for readers.
Where are the Christians? uses the classic format of who, what, where and how to explore Christianity and the dynamics that unite and divide the religion into the unrealized potential it suffers from today (thus the subtitle of the book—the Unrealized Potential of a Divided Religion). The book enlightens readers as to who the Christians are from a historical perspective; what a Christian is from a spiritual perspective; where the Christians are from a behavioral perspective; and how Christianity can be strengthened and more united from a societal perspective. Where are the Christians? examines hundreds of Biblical and scholarly sources, analyzing data from a multitude of studies leading to unique perspectives and solutions to the challenges facing Christianity in the modern era.
Where are the Christians? contains 17 chapters arranged into four sections:
* SECTION 1: WHO ARE THE CHRISTIANS?—a history: 4 chapters providing a concise history of Christianity spread across four distinct periods: Evangelization and Formation, Legitimacy and Codification, Corruption and Division, and Reform and Denominational Proliferation.
* SECTION 2: WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN?—a definition: 4 chapters examining the definition of a Christian from the perspectives of the world, the Bible, landmark religious studies, and what Shuster refers to as Modern Day Pharisees.
* SECTION 3: WHERE ARE THE CHRISTIANS?—a categorization: 5 chapters profiling the five types of modern Christians including a unique and enlightening exercise to help readers understand what type of Christian they are among the five.
* SECTION 4 – HOW IS CHRISTIANITY TO UNITE?—a vision: 4 chapters describing the ways Christians in America can unite into a force for good by focusing on individuals, families, churches and communities.
For the next 4 weeks author Eric Shuster will take us on a tour through each of the four sections of Where are the Christians? providing a glimpse of what the book is all about—the questions it will answer in each chapter, the insights it will provide, and the vision it lays out in bringing together a deeply divided religion into realizing its true potential for America. This is one tour you won’t want to miss!
Go to www.findyourchristianity.com to watch the book trailer, find out what type of Christian you are, and to order the book."

I am honored to have been asked to participate in the release of his new book and enthusiastically encourage
the reading and sharing of it!  Thanks, Eric!

Why, Hello There, New Year!

Seriously?
It's the second week of January
Two Thousand Thirteen?

I feel like I've been in tumbled about in a dryer
these past couple of weeks.

Christmas was wonderful.
All kinds of crazy noise,
busy days
and late nights
hanging out with all of the people who call me
"Momza".

Highlights:
Christmas morning was a blur of smiles and wrapping paper.
Christmas dinner was both turkey and ham and all the fixin'
and intermittent naps by the whole heehaw gang.
Tisha took pictures but I can't find them on this new pc.

That's right.
David Scott came to town and built us a new pc.
I lub it much much.
The old one was being run by degenerate hamsters on wheels
and was about to die at any given "click"...
so all those years when I pitched fits over yet
"another broken computer!#$Q%!"
because of David Scott's determination to find out what makes 'em tick,
finally paid off!
When I reminded him of those days,
he said,
"Hey, I only broke two."

One of the best parts of the holiday was getting to SKYPE
with our missionary, Diana, from New York.
She first visited with everyone in the family,
and then it was my turn.
Her voice cracked when she saw me
and I showed remarkable strength--
inside of my heart
fireworks were exploding
but on the outside,
I smiled and said,
"Ohhhh...there's our girl!"
She and I visited for about 15 minutes
and she had to go.
But then later that night,
she called home and visited with each of us a bit longer.
It was great feeling to hang up and know she is happy doing what she's doing.


New Years' came in like a lamb.
A sleeping lamb.
David Scott & Tisha went home to Meridian, Idaho
and Brad left for Houston the weekend after Christmas.
So by NYE,
we were all tuckered out.
Though we were invited to come and play with friends,
I am pretty sure my bum was tucked into bed by 9:30pm.

Plus, it was really cold here in Colorado for almost all of the holidays--
highs in the teens and lows in the minuses.
Brrr-frickin'-cold!

Dani and her boys stayed here until just this past Wednesday.

Let me just say this:
there's a reason why old women don't have and shouldn't have
children after a certain age.

And just to keep us on our toes,
we had a major water leak that ran
from the laundry room on the main floor
to a bedroom in the basement,
which filled the ceiling with water and the walls in between.

That was an exciting discovery.
Kent was already at work,
so I pretty much turned to friends to walk me through the day
which they totally did!
Thank you, Friends!
So right now,
my washer and dryer are sitting in the family room.
The mainfloor bathroom has been dried out professionally,
the floors have been ripped up,
the drywall is gone,
and the toilet is sitting in the garage.

The ceiling in the basement has been cut open
and professionally dried too.

The good news is really good news:
we'll get it all put back together
for just the cost of our deductible!
I get to pick out new flooring and paint!
I have been wanting to paint both of those rooms,
and now all I have to do is pick the paint and someone else will do it for me!

I think that's pretty cool.

But wait! There's MORE!
More? You say?
Yes, More!
We've been to the laundromat
and Daisie felt like it was a fantastic Field Trip!
She loves the place!
I know. I have been derelict in my mothering duties,
as my 5th child has never been to a laundromat.
Good thing this happened tho,
as she is getting ready to leave for college this year.
I could change the name of my blog to
"The Derelict Mother" over this...
but that sounds like alot of work
and I'm already tired.

Also on the plate today:
Mr Wonderful is having knee replacement therapy today.

It's been a long time coming--
and while I would love to say he's worn his knees out in prayer--
Bahaha!
--the truth is he wore them out by the thousands of miles
he's hiked and skied over the years.

SO. That's 2013 so far.
Well, the highlights anyway.
There's more.
Of course there's more.
Always.
Like one of my more fine mothering-housekeeping moments yesterday
when I used a pair of socks to dust my dresser
just before I put them on my feet.
What?
I shook them out first.
Two birds with one stone.

And we have chosen our 2013 Family Motto
which I will reveal in the next post.

2013 has started off with a Bang!
And I say
BRING IT!