My Diana's Early Missionary Days

So.
I like starting sentences with "So" because
it feels like I'm just continuing on with a
conversation that started in 2007.

So.
Diana, my sweet missionary girl, has been gone
since August 3rd--
first to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah
for a month,
and then on September 3rd,
she flew to her Mission in Rochester, New York
where she'll be until February 2014.

The days leading up to her departure were busy, busy, busy.
Even the day she popped out of the car
and onto the curb at the MTC,
was a busy day,
no-time-for-cryin'-kinda day.
We smiled, we hugged, we yelled out the car windows
as we drove away,
"WE LOVE YOU, SISTER JOHNSON!"
And then we were outta there,
leaving our girl to begin her own Adventure.
I captialized "Adventure"
because a mission of this sorts
deserves an "A".

We got weekly letters from Nana while she was in the MTC.
We wrote several letters--
she reported that out of all the missionaries in her "zone"
she received more letter than anyone else.
Booyeah!
Well, you know, we have an enormous family
and this ain't the first time we've sent out a missionary,
so we know how important contact from home is to new missionaries.
Plus,
it helps us to not miss her so much.

So.
While she was at the Salt Lake City Airport,
she got to call home.
I didn't sleep the night before...
well, I finally went to bed at 2am
but was lying awake by 5am
waiting for the phone to ring.
So was Mr. Wonderful.
We whispered our excitement
in those early morning hours to one another.

Finally,
RING!! I sprung up like a jack-in-the-box
to grab the phone--
"Nana?! Is that you?"

"Mom?" she answered.

And then, because our throats closed up with emotion,
and eyes filled with tears...
and we forced words to come out.
Words like,
"You sound so good!"
"I have missed you do much!"
"Are ya doin' okay?"
"Do ya need anything?"
"I love you so much."

And the ugliest, most awful thing:
"I only have a few minutes, Mom. There's a long line of missionaries right here
waiting to call home too."
I replied laughing and selfishly, "I don't care." 
Nana said, "Their moms are waiting too. I'll call you on the layover in Detroit, ok?"
So she spent a couple more minutes talking to Joseph and Ari and Dad--she couldn't even wait for us to wake Daisie up, but promised she'd talk to us longer in Detroit.
And that was it.
Over in just minutes.

She did call back about 4-5 hours later
when we got another 20 minutes
to chat.
It was so short. Too short.

We are the biggest boobs on the planet.
I'm sharing that now,
just in case anyone thinks we're this awesomely brave family.
We. Are. Not.
We are sad saps to the nth-degree.
Hearing our girls' voice went right to the soft spots of our hearts.
I was equally teary-eyed and miserable,
and elated and grateful
for the rest of the day.

Later that evening,
the phone rang and it was Sister Christianson,
the Mission President's wife.
She said they'd picked up our girl
and she was "lovely and delightful"
and they're so glad to have her.
N' that Diana was already asleep for the night
after a very long day that began at 4am, Utah-time.

I honestly don't recall anything else she said.
My heart was just relieved to know our girl had arrived safely.

So.
We've been getting emails and letters home every week;
beautiful scripts filled with love and gratitude
and witnesses of faith and growth.
Diana is the happiest I've ever known her to be;
she is serving with a Sister Clark from Texas
as her companion,
whom she loves and adores.
And also a Sister Thomas and another sister from Italy
who is learning to speak english.
Diana is serving at the Church's historic sites
giving tours during the day,
and teaching the gospel in the evening.
She met a small family of three,
that are very humble.
The mother is in a wheelchair,
and has a deteriorating brain.
The first time the sisters went over,
they noticed that the home had just one room--
wherein there is a bed on the floor,
one chair
and one small table.
The mother apologized that the only place to sit
was the floor,
but she herself, had bleached it in anticipation of the sisters visit.
Diana was so touched,
she asked if she and her companion might return over the weekend
to offer service.
Here is a portion of the recent email Diana sent home this week:

Anyways last week we asked if we could serve them...they have NOTHING. So saturday morning sister clark (who I now love and adore) spent 2 hours on our hands and knees cleaning their apartment. Mom it was so bad....so so so bad. It was also so so so humbling. We have so much. By the time we left the house was white again. I have bruises on my knees still from scrubbing the floors just how you taught me to.
I loved this because it is easy to see that my girl is truly serving,
in the most sincere ways,
people in need.
That's what we as parents, hope missions teach our children.
To see beyond the end of their own noses,
and act on their own accord
to do what they can do to help.

She is becoming a Disciple of Christ.

So.
That's how it's been with her gone.
She's busy doing and being
and
I'm at home doing what I always do--
running a household the best I can,
and trying not to miss her so much.

It has been six weeks since we drove over the Rocky Mountains
to drop her off at the "trailhead" of her Adventure...
and until yesterday,
I had not even once,
gone down to the basement to her bedroom.
But yesterday, I was already in the basement putting away
some home staging accessories on a bookcase,
when I looked over at her door.
"It's time", I thought.
SO,
I poked my head inside and walked over to her bed
sat down,
looked around at her photo frames,
wall collages,
and desk all tidied-up.
Nothing out of place.
And then the biggest wall of emotions hit me
square on.
I cried.
O I cried.
I miss her.
This sacrifice of sending our kids out into the world
without us,
and not being able to talk to them but twice a year
is not easy.
I wouldn't have her doing anything else,
truly.
It is SO good for her--
for now and for later.
But, wow.
It is a hard thing.

The other night at the dinner table,
I had had a particularly sappy few moments of missing Nana,
and I turned to my 11 year old, Arianna,
and said,
"YOU do not need to plan on going on a mission. I simply cannot bear the idea of sending you away."
To which my fiesty girl responded: "OH, I'm GOIN'! That's how we escape! You only THINK we're on a Mission! Nana's actually on a vacation."
Yeah. I'm definitely gonna miss this one in 10 more years.

So,
when you see our sweet missionaries in your town,
or if they happen to come to your door,
will you be kind to them?
They have a mother at home
who would give anything to see their smile today
and who is on her knees praying
for their safety and well-being.
You can be the answer to her prayer.

This Doula Has Limits

When I was contacted about being a doula
for that young mom whose husband is deployed
and is due around Thanksgiving--
I met with her;
we talked extensively about her expectations
and ideal homebirth plan
that would include her two young children.
Then just days later,
she changed her mind about a homebirth
stating simply that she didn't care for the way
the midwife interacted with her other children.

I'm guessing the midwife saw what I saw--
two very wiggly little ones with lots of energy to spare.
Even so, I agreed to be a "sibling doula" for them
so the Momma could have them at the birth.
But, the plan changed.
The new plan was to go to a birth center in Denver.
In November.
That's an hour and a half away,
with always the chance of snow during that time of the year.
I said "yes" to the New Plan...
which included me picking the whole family up and driving to the birth center
once Mama was in labor,
tending the little ones during the labor and delivery,
packing Mama and the little ones up two-three hours after the birth,
and then driving back down to the Springs,
unloading the new family at their home
and getting everyone settled in
before I would leave to come home, shower, eat, get some rest,
and then head back within 4-6 hours
to continue on with Post-partum care.

I was on board with all of that.
There was just one more thing I wanted in place--
that another person be at the house
whenever I wasn't in the first 24 hours
to keep watch over Mama and baby.
She insisted that she didn't need anyone else there
in my absence,
that she would just take it easy and all would be well.

I shared experiences where, sadly,
that supervision was not given
and tragic outcomes occurred.
She said she'd think about it n' get back to me.

She did.
She said that because of my concerns,
she was going to get a different doula who would honor her wishes
and her birth plans--
someone who would trust her instincts over their own.

And that kinda stunk on ice.
It's a mix of unfamiliar rejection
and straight-up concern for an ignorant mother.
Aside from my own births (7 of 'em),
one of which resulted in hemorraging to the point of passing out
and having to receive blood,
two hours after a birth;
and attending home births as a midwife assistant,
and attending hospital births as a doula,
I KNOW there is liablity for a caregiver/health professional
to stay with a new mother at least 24-48 hours.
It would be irresponsible to do otherwise.
Just a flat-out dangerous risk I'm unwilling to take.

It may sound like I'm complaining about being replaced
but that's not it--
my limits are
based on training and experience.
And I know that we live in a
"have-it-your-way" culture,
but reason has to trump ego sometimes
for safety.
And the saying "better safe than sorry"
was borne from necessity,
I'm sure.

Doulas are guardians, advocates, encouraging presences
passionate about the miracle of motherhood and birth.
We are partners and educators.
We have a responsibility & commitments to keep childbirth
as safe as possible.
Anything less is unacceptable.

So, if you're a doula
know your limits.
Stand up for them. Abide them.
And if you're thinking about hiring a doula,
learn what a doula's role is in childbirth
and respect her experience and knowledge.
Trust is essential on both sides.
The miracle of birth is just that--
a miracle and demands respect and awareness.
That said,
I love being a Doula!

Riley's New Farm Life AKA My yahoos were traumatized this weekend

So remember when we adopted the best freakin' dog in the world?
Last July, we got a sweet 5 year old golden retreiver named Riley
as a companion dog for our wingnut 3 year old black lab, Dakota.

Well, I'd never adopted an adult dog before,
so I had very little expectations,
but some of them were unrealistic anyway.
Riley had been very well trained--
he would sit when we said "sit"
he'd stay when we said "stay"
and he would come when we called him.
Already,
he was far and way better trained than Dakota.

But, she hated him.
She bit him
harrassed him
growled and snipped at him
all.day.long.
" Jealousy thy name is Dakota."

And, from Day One, Riley dug holes under our fence
to get out of the backyard.
All. the. time.
Our kind neighbors would bring him back
or call us, since our info was on his dog tags.
Not only was it annoying and destructive,
it was dangerous.

Twice he was found trotting down a busy road
one street over from us.
The thought of him being run over by a car
concerned me,
so he ended up inside the house most of the time.
Which ain't no fun for him.

I decided last May to place an ad on Craigslist
for him to be adopted.
The response was tremendous,
for an AKC intact golden retriever with good manners,
just as I knew there would be.
The yahoos revolted and weren't ready to let go of
the Best Dog in the World.
I wasn't either, I admit it.
I love goldens and he's a charmer through n' through.
So I sat on the adoption.

Until last Friday,
as I was pulling up into the driveway
after being gone maybe 15 minutes,
I caught him again escaping the backyard,
headed for who knows where.
And I knew,
I just knew right then,
that it was time to place him for his own good
in a more suitable home.

One of the responders I got was from a gal up in Greeley, Colorado
who, together with her husband owns a land and cattle farm.
She wrote that she already owned 4 goldens and was looking for another male
to breed.
I liked the idea of the farm,
but not so much the breeding.
I don't know why the idea bothered me,
as we've bought all of our dogs from breeders,
except Riley, who had been adopted from a breeder
by his previous owners.
But it did bother me
so I kept looking.
We got many repsonses from families like ours--
they wanted to adopt a sweet mannered golden
to live with them.
But I knew that was not going to be ideal for him--
he didn't really bond with us--
as evidenced by his escaping behavior.
Dakota never left our yard,
even with a gaping hole in the fence
as Riley would leave it.
She is attached to us.
We belong to her and visa versa.

So to put him into the same exact setting
wasn't going to work;
we needed something different.

After alot of careful thought,
I emailed the farmer's wife and asked if she were still interested.
She was excited to meet him,
so we drove 2 hours yesterday up to Greeley
to check out the place.

It was out in the middle of farm country--
they had horses, cows, sheep, pigs
and a zillion rows of corn.
By the house was the large fenced area for her goldens,
and also on the property were two white Great Pyrenees
guarding the place from coyotes,
according to the farmer's wife.

We introduced Riley to her
and of course he won her over.
He is such a gentleman.
Her other breeding dogs were going nuts!
The male was quite defensive--
I think it's because Riley is so much more handsome
than he is,
and he had two females in heat with him,
so he' was protecting his romantic interests, yeah?

This is where our Sunday in the country
proved a bit much for our citified
yahoos:
first, Riley was chasing a horse, who was chasing a cow,
and just as I knew it,
he got kicked in the chin by the horse.
Riley didn't even yelp,
he did learn his lesson though
and got out of the corral ASAP.
The kids were very concerned that their pet just got kicked by a horse,
as they'd never seen anything like that before.
It gets worse though.
While we were down by the feed barn with the sheep,
two little teeny kittens came tumbling out to greet us.
Dara, who is the family pet-lover,
scooped them both up and asked if they were For Sale--
to which the farmer's wife offered them up right then
to us
for Free.
I shook my head and reminded Dara we weren't there for kittens,
and besides, Ari and I are both allergic to cats.
So Dara carried them around for a little bit
until we got to the backporch of the house.
Then she set them down to play.
Riley saw them both,
sniffed them, even licked one,
but went on his way.
Told you, he is the best dog!
The farmer's wife was surprised at how gentle
he was with the kittens
and remarked about it.

So between the porch and the fenced-in dog yard
with the 3 goldens in there,
we had parked our Suburban in the driveway,
so that you couldn't see on the other side of it.
Joseph and Ari were over at the fence,
while Dara, Kent and I were at a table on the porch,
filling out the AKC paperwork and Bill of Sale for Riley.
We had agreed that in exchange for Riley,
instead of money,
we would like a female puppy sired by Riley and
a British cream female there
named Duchess,
to be delivered sometime in 2013.
Just as the paperwork was being signed,
a huge fuss of barking started,
and Joseph yelled out,
"the dogs are eating the kitten!"
Kent and Dara ran over
but in those three seconds,
the dogs had ripped the kitten in peices.
My heart sank.
I looked over the car for Ari
who looked to be in shock, walking to me,
eyes filled with tears.
She couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed.
One of those sweet tiny kittens had waddled over
to the fence,
and a dog grabbed her by the head and pulled her to him,
then another dog came and they did a tug-of-war on the creature
until it was in pieces.
Dara stood there,
waiting by the fence, hoping the farmer's wife would come and
"do something" to help the kitten,
until we called her to come away.
She scooped up the other kitten
and with tears flowing begged me to
let her bring the kitten home with us.
That was hard.
I wanted to. I so wanted to.
But that was not practical for our family.
Our lab, Dakota doesn't like cats,
so what would we do with it?
And we couldn't keep it inside because of allergies.

So I put my arm around her,
and we walked back to the feed barn
where the kittens had tumbled out of,
and she placed the black and white kitten back in a corner.
Immediately,
the kitten jumped over hay bales and feed bags
until she landed next to my feet,
looked up at me and "meowed" with her small blue eyes.
This is too hard, I thought.
Again, Dara picked her up and put her further back into the barn
and we both hurried back to the house,
while Dara just sobbed.
Heavens,
my own heart felt wrenched and eyes teared up.

My kids had never seen nature be so cruel and unforgiving.
The farmer's wife was equally touched,
but she offered just a few words,
"Kittens don't last long on farms, I'm sad to say."

By this time, she needed to go fetch the remains of the kitten
out of the dog pen,
and then, it was time to say our goodbyes to
the best dog in the world--
who I haveta say,
was having the time of his life running around,
exploring all of the different animals and corn rows,
he even licked a toad!
I was looking for a good reason to say "No thanks. We'll just take our dog and go home."
I really was.
But, this trip wasn't about US,
it was about this sweet dog,
so despite the kids' pleas,
we left him there.

Tears flowed on the way home,
and into the evening,
as the kids relived the awful scenes they witnessed
compiled with leaving Riley.
The trip home was emotional to say the least.

I don't know what my expectations were for a breeding kennel set-up...
I was thinking it was like a buncha sweet dogs all hangin' out,
makin' puppies and runnin' around,
happy as larks.
Hunting dogs bred to be hunting dogs,
kept in dog pens,
eatin' kittens,
wasn't even on my radar.
I did tell the farmer's wife that Riley is a housedog, a family dog--
not a penned-up dog,
which she could easily see.

The kids all hung out with us in our room last night,
and we talked about getting a new puppy next year
and what we'll name her and teach her.
And the fact that we'll get to see Riley again;
all happy thoughts.
By bedtime,
we had two girls who needed extra loving
and Ari even got a blessing by Dad to help her sleep away
those scary memories.

We were all a little traumatized.
Life is like that sometimes.
We see things that we shouldn't see,
or wish we hadn't seen
and somehow, I hope,
there's a lesson in this experience that will do my kids
some good.
Maybe it's as cliche as
"life is fragile"
or
"be aware of your surroundings"
or something else I can't think of right now.
But I hope something good comes of it,
whatever it is.

You can bet that Dakota is being loved on a hundred times more,
and she is lovin' it.

{sigh}
I am doing the best I can.
Somedays, though.
Wow.

P.S. Got an email from the farmer's wife this morning; she said, and I quote:
Thank you so very much for riley, he slept with me last night he is sooooo sweet! I am sorry abt the kitten i got angry and it is nobodys fault but the kitten. Thx again

Mondays, Fridays, Doula Days, Thanksgiving Days

It's Friday.
I love Fridays like nobody's business.

Mondays used to be my most favorite day of the week
when the yahoos were younger--
that's when my true appreciation for
school teachers was in full bloom.
I love sending my yahoos off to a secure environment,
less than 5 minutes from the house
for that heavenly 8 hour span of learning.

Now, though, with the brood down to just three yahoos
at home,
Fridays make me happy--
they are such great lead-in days to Saturday.

So I met the prospective doula client--
and her little girls the other day.
This is the gal that is due on Thanksgiving
and will be having a homebirth
without her currently-deployed husband.
I waited until I had a chance to meet with her
to decide if it was a good fit for both of us.
So we met,
we chatted,
and while I doubt she will actually deliver her baby
on her actual due date,
I felt and still feel,
that it is the right thing to do to support this little family
in whatever way I can,
even if it is on Thanksgiving.
Heavens, her husband's career makes it possible
for my family to even have a Thanksgiving, right?
It's the least I can do.

Speaking of Thanksgiving,
the high temp in the Springs today is supposed to hit 65o...
the yahoos actually grabbed their hoodies on the way
to the bus stop--
which is directly across the street from us.
I love that.
I can keep an eye on them from the sofa.
Anyway,
I think I'll drag out my fall decor this weekend
and make some of the goodies I've snagged on Pinterest.
Fall is where it's at, you know.
Fall is
warm soups,
sweaters tied around the waist,
socks,
golds and rusty reds,
cinnamon and nutmeg,
early evenings and football games.
I'm ready.
Bring it!

My PC's having an out-of-body experience

It's truly touch n' go around here.
I haven't been able to post anything
in days and days...
this ancient COMPAQ is about to
float towards the light
and I'll be forced to call
T.O. D. before I know it.

But the Intel Processor heavens
have opened tonight
and poured out some mercy
so that I might
get some blog-worthy thoughts
out into the www-Universe.

I have more to tell than I have time to tell it--
which stinks in a way,
because my brain is, like, ON right now.
But it's almost 11pm
and the Brain Fairy is likely
just at the edge of my fingers
ready to flip the switch on my memory
and leave me hangin' in the dark here.
So, I gotta get ta sputterin'
at lightening speed.

OKAY
First,
our missionary safely arrived in Rochester, New York
late yesterday,
as her Mission President's wife,
Sister This-Woman-Has-A-Mother's-Heart Christianson,
actually CALLED me to let ME know
our girl was there!
I slept like a baby last night,
whereas the past few nights
insomnia was my constant companion.

We even got to talk to our girl
as she had layovers in airports on the way.
Yesterday morning just before 6am
the phone rang!
I picked it up and said,
"Diana?"
"Mom, is that you?"
And then we both cried.
It was so wonderful to hear her voice!
And SO hard to have to hang up after just a few moments.
Ugh.
She's doing great though and is happily excited
to get to work!

Second,
Arianna had a severe reaction to her first set
of immunizations last week.
She actually got the measles.
Head to toe rash,
fever, sore throat, aches and pains,
the whole "it's very rare to have side-effects" deal.
I normally don't have my kids vaccinated
while they are young...
not until they're 20, at least.
But my doc assured me the formulas used today
"are so much safer" blah blah blah
that I gave in at the start of school
to just a few shots.
I wish I hadn't.
She is feeling better,
still not sure if she'll go to school tomorrow though.

Third,
Joseph had his first Cross Country meet today
a Air Academy High School.
Three things that stood out:
1- There was a big pile of fresh bear scat on the trail from the parking lot
to the stadium and I thought, "Cool. Only in Colorado."
2- IN the middle of the meet, while the last group was actually running,
the PA system came on, and played the American Anthem. This prompted
the entire crowd to stand on its' feet, place our hands over our hearts, facing the US flag on the field and wonder what the heck was going on?  So weird, wonderfully American.
3- As I was approaching the bleecher that Joseph was on, a woman in the crowd yelled out, "DAWN!"  I turned to see a familiar face, though I could not, for the life of me, remember her name or where I knew her from! She asked, "When did you guys get back?" I answered, "2008."  "Oh, who are you here for?" STILL not recalling who she was, I pointed and replied, "Joseph."  "Oh, he's so big!" "Where does he go to school?", she asked.  AND THEN, as I told her which school he goes to, I remembered exactly who she was/is--our family even had a nickname for her family: "THE MEAN NEIGHBORS"!  And all I could think of was "The Mean Neighbors! The Mean Neighbors! Must. Get. Away!"  SO I smiled and excused myself with a "heyyyy, it's good to see you, take care."
When I got home, I told Mr W about the chance meeting and he said they were never really mean to US, it was the neighbors on either side of them--one neighbor they tried to kill their collie by throwing chocolate bars over the fence to kill it. (No kidding) and the other they continually harrassed over where their teenagers could park, claiming the asphalt in front of their house was THEIRS and THEIRS alone.  We just kept our distance. Altho' when Joseph was about 3, he did build a catapult in our front yard and launch a few rocks towards "the mean neighbors house". He was 3. The rocks landed on our sidewalk. But, the intent was there.  I just can't believe this lady was so nice to me. I have schizophrenic feelings here about how I reacted...should I have been equally nice once I realized who she was, because she was clearly happy to see me, OR was my instinct to get the heck outta dodge the best one?  I dunno. But it made me laugh later on.
What else?
*I have another doula appointment tomorrow. There's a slight dilemma because the mom is due November 23rd. The day before Thanksgiving. And her husband is deployed. And she has two little ones who will need a little bit of care (that would be me) while she has a home birth.  The timing is crummy though. I'll let you know what I end up doing.
*On Friday, Kelly and I are staging another house in the Broadmoor area. Super excited about that one.
*Mr. W says he's gonna start his own blog: "I Married a Chupacabra"...if he does, I'll definitely share the link.
*September 23rd marks the beginning of Fall...I'm thinking I want to do something special for la familia...any ideas/traditions you wanna share?

Okay, the PC needs some rest. I don't want to use all of it's grace up in one sitting.  Who knows when I'll be able to post again, but I'll take what I can get!
 

Missionary Mom's Waiting Game

It's late morning here in the Springs;
I've already cleaned here
and gone over to a post-partum momma's house
this morning.
I've made phone calls and written emails.

But, like the other years my oldest kids
were off serving missions,
on their P-days
I tried to keep close to the computer
so I could get their emails
hot off the press
a it were.

I walk away and come back
checking my email
over and over
all morning long.
(checked it, nothing yet.)

It's not that I think my sweet Sister Missionary
has something life-changing to share;
even though she is having some amazing experiences;
no really,
all it means to me is that
she is breathing
able to get to a computer
and if all she had to say was
"I'm Alive, Mom"--
as she does in every email
because she knows me so well
and watched me
watch the email with her older brother and sister
when they were missionaries--
if all she had time to write was those 3 words,
it would be enough.

This experience of being a Missionary Mom
is wonderful
but the part that is hardest is not being able
to hear her voice every day.
That is hard,
I"m not gonna even try to fake that I"m ok with that.

I didn't cry when we left her at the MTC,
or on the way home from Utah.
IN fact,
it wasn't until about 6 days ago that I really had a good cry
for missing her
when I was alone in the car one day by myself.
 (checked again, nada)

I mean,
I get why we can't talk to these
newly called missionaries:
they need to focus on the calling and all that.
I get it.
It's the right way to do this.
But man alive,
it's pretty stinkin' hard to do.

Every letter we get from her is overflowing with JOY;
with her companion,
her district,
her testimony and all that she is learning.
It is all we hoped for her and more.

She is training on Temple Square this week
before leaving next Wednesday
for New York.

New York in September.
I've heard it's beautiful.
(checked again, nope.)

So Nana may not even be near a pc today,
because of her training in Salt Lake City.
All I can think of is that it's a good thing
I live on this side of the Rocky Mountains
cuz' ya know...
I'd haveta be restrained from taking a jaunt over to
T-square
hide in the bushes if I had to,
or wear dark sunglasses and a ball cap to hide my appearance,
just so I could get my two eyeballs on my girl.

Yeah.
I know I sound like a loon.
I blame my kids.
They did this to me--
this business of having my heart
float around outside of my body
stinks on ice.

Since I am stuck over here on the east side of the Rockies,
I must wait
and
wait
and
wait
for a little note to pop up and say,
"Hey Momza! I'm Alive!"
(just checked again. nuthin')

This is gonna be a long day.

She Blew Dandelion Wishes

This is my favorite kind of writing to do...
a Birth Story.

I got a text early Friday morning:
"Just a heads up: it's looking like today's the day."
-from Composed Mama A.

I love getting those kinds of texts and phone calls
when a momma is ready to have a baby.

I went ahead and got ready for the day
and got the yahoos off to school,
ran over and checked on
the other Post-partum Momma
I've been working with the past couple of weeks.

Composed Mama A. and I were in constant contact
and she knew to call me when her body said
the time was nigh to go to the hospital.
Three hours later, another text:
"I'm terrible at timing ctx and I'm getting really erratic times,
but the ones I am feeling are long and getting intense.
Do you think we should head to the hospital?"

I responded with a simple, "Yes."
And then quickly finished up what I was doing--
which was making eggs for two little ones
at the other Momma's house,
and headed over to meet Mama A. and Papa M.
I was their doula just over a year ago,
and shared their first birth story over here.
So, I was and still am,
honored
to be asked to attend another birth.

Mama A. was much the same disposition as the first birth--
composed, focused, relaxed.
She didn't move around hardly at all--
content to sit on the bed,
legs to the side,
and quietly breathing
in through her nose
and out through her mouth,
eyes closed,
and a heavenly peaceful look on her face.
It was hard to tell she was in active labor.

IN fact, she was already dilated to 6cm upon arrival at the hospital,
she'd gone through early labor
in the comfort of her own home.

In between contractions,
we would engage in small talk,
but follow her cues
as another wave would present itself
and she calmly let it go through her;
surprising her attending nurse with
her quiet responses and relaxed demeanor,
which perfectly matched the calm August morning.

Mama A. drank some ice water,
took a small bite of a rice cake,
and rested her head back on a pillow
between contractions.
Papa M. ever near her side,
whispered treasured words
for her ears only,
and lightly glided his fingers over her limbs,
to relax and comfort her.
There was never a wasted word between them.
They were thoughtful and respectful of one another
and in every way showed a mutual gratitude
towards the other.

Her labor progressed very quickly,
and we only knew of the increased intensity
when Mama A declared,
after quietly breathing away another wave,
"That was really intense."

I looked at my watch and timed the next few contractions:
they were lasting nearly or just over-- two minutes
and allowing only a 10 second rest between.
Her body was working to capacity.
Just a little over 10 minutes later,
she said what we all love to hear:
"I feel the pressure to push."

I went out and got our attending nurse, Farrell,
to come and check Mama A.'s progress.
At first check,
Farrell determined Mama A's cervix was at an 8--
and two contractions later,
she was checked again
and was complete and ready for delivery!

( I love this part!)

The Doc was just outside the door,
so he just walked right in,
sat down and within just a few minutes,
he was prepping for the delivery.

By this time,
Mama A began to push,
and we were her cheerleaders!
I didn't get the exact count,
but I would say it only took
five good pushes
and Baby girl C. came out
a chubby little thing
at nine pounds, 13 ounces!
Almost ten pounds!
I got out the camera and snapped a few pics,
and then went to the "broiler pan"
while the peds nurses and docs checked her out
and Papa stayed next to Mama
for the rest of the delivery.

All of this happened in less than 3 hours.
Three!

It went by so fast,
that before we knew it,
while Papa went with the Baby to the nursery,
and I sat with Mama A alone in her room,
while she drank some juice,
and recovered awhile.
I asked her about how she was able
to stay so composed--
What did you think about while you were in labor;
while you were breathing?
I asked.

Mama A smiled.
" I imagined blowing
dandelion seeds and wishes for her."

Indeed.

This Week: Doula work, A Birth, A job and A Missionary

If you've been on this earth longer than ten minutes,
you may have learned this truth:
"things don't always go as planned."
True story right there.

The little Momma I was serving as a post-partum doula
is taking a little longer than we thought
as she heals her heart and body.
These things take time, I tell her.
Be patient.
Be positive.
You will feel better soon.

At least half of my time spent with her
is sitting on the edge of her bed
listening.
She will be okay
in time.
****

My special needs son, Dean,
whom we just moved to a new HHP,
is bored as he awaits the paperwork
for a new day program and a job--
so what did he do to help his efforts to find a new job?
He dialed 911 and asked the dispatcher
if he could get a job as a Policeman.
Oh yes he did.

Hearing this at first,
I was embarrassed for him--
and then I just laughed
at his boldness.
That boy wants a job and isn't afraid to ask for one!
Gotta love that!

****
I am sleeping lighter these days
as I am waiting for a special phone call
that will bid me to come to a birth!
I haven't taken any births since my car accident
last November;
but I am ready to get busy again.
I know it will take alot of energy,
but man alive,
is it worth it to experience the
miracle of Life!
There isn't anything else
I can think of that gives me as much joy
as attending a birth!

****

Our letters from Nana have been fantastic!
She is so stinkin' happy at the MTC--
her letter this week was full of excitement
and wishes she could call and tell me all about
her new experiences and new friends.
I admit it,
that's the hardest thing for me too--
I miss talking to her and just catching up together.
{sigh}
Her happiness is mine.

****
And that's it for me tonight.
Just livin' my life and hanging on for the ride.

I'm A Woman, Not a Lawyer

Lately,
I've been listening with what you might call
"different ears"
to the voices of women in my realm of associates...

and they've started to sound the same.

I noticed this when we went to take Diana to the MTC
in Provo, Utah
and we stayed with some wonderfully hospitable friends.

We've known them for as long as they've been married,
which is at least 13 years...

When we first met the Darling Mommy, as I will refer to her--
she was a burst of
positivity
and confidence!
Her purpose was defined and clear:
to be an excellent mother and wife.
All that she did was to magnify that calling,
and because her babies were little,
she created a world of her own
that full and vibrant,
busy and yet grounded.

She has had more babies since then,
even adopted a couple of children
to love and nourish
with the great abundance of her life.

She has made terriffic sacrifices
and her intentions and purposes
are tangible and honorable.

And yet,
over the last couple of years
her confidence in who she is and what she is doing
and HOW she is doing it
has taken a turn.

Due in large part,
from what she has shared with me,
a few women in her neighborhood and ward family
that went out of their way
to make her feel "less than"
and put her in a position
of
defending her Life.

I listened to her lamentations while we were visiting
and I sensed her sorrow,
and looked in earnest for the little light
that I KNOW is still inside of her,
but she is waiting for someone else
to give her permission, almost,
to let it SHINE.

I listened and listened
as she shared the minute details of what
certain young mothers she knows
have weilded against her
in their own insecurities.

And it made me sad.

Noone has the right to make others
feel incompetent or unworthy of praise and appreciation.
Noone.
And women (immature/damaged women, no matter their age)
can be so very hard on other women
in a way that I don't know that men can do to one another
as easily
because women especially seek the approval of other women
in ways men never do of their peers.

We open ourselves up for scrutiny,
evaluation of worth,
in a way,
we almost invite others to judge us,
but inwardly pray that they will be
Kind and Merciful
in their findings.

Women of Faith
are Kind,
and know the need for mercy
and gentleness.
They understand the weight of their words
on the souls of others
and mete out their "judgements"
with great prudence,
for we know that we ourselves,
need
Kindness and Mercy.

I was having my hair done today
by a sweet friend,
with another friend, Nan
and this topic came up again--
that of defending our lives to others...
and I just came to the conclusion
that I am who I am--
doing the best that I know how,
and when I assume the same of others,
my Life is open for more Joy in it.

There is no need to compare
my life,
my choices,
my sins,
my accomplishments,
to others.
I am just a Woman.
I'm not a Lawyer.
I do not need to defend
my every choice
nor should I ever expect that my dear friends
need defend theirs to me.
We are travelling companions in this
Great Journey
and our efforts are most appreciated
and best applied
when we pause to lift another's burdens,
or
to share another's celebrations of success on the way.

To do anything else
is such a waste of energy
and mucks up our own legacies.
In other words,
to judge another harshly
isn't worth what it costs;
not worth the damage our ignorant voices cause,
to the listening ears and heart of another,
or to our own souls.

We are not Lawyers,
We are Women.
And there is no better cause in the world
than for women to support one another
simply for the sake of sisterhood.
We can do so much more
with our talents
when they are used to create and inspire
for the benefit of others.

We women soak up criticism so much quicker
than we allow compliments.
Heavens, we do enough damage to ourselves
don't we?
My challenge to any woman reading these words today
is simple:
The next time you are paid a compliment,
LET IT SOAK INTO YOUR BONES,
Let it drench your heart.
Absorb all the goodness that is there
and let it fill your being.
I have a hard time with this myself,
so perhaps this is more for me
than anyone else.
But I am going to be better about
accepting compliments and keeping them.
We can all do better
to pat ourselves on the back
for all the good we do.

So just like a kindergarten teacher taught my daughter,
Pat yourself on the back and say outloud,
"Tres Bien."

And the second challenge is like unto it:
"DO unto others as you would have others do unto You."
That is,
Give compliments with care,
more freely
more earnestly
to the women around you.
We can do so much good.
Use your voices and your hands
to Lift.

The Culmination of Efforts

At the beginning of the week,
I told the sweet Momma whom I have been working
as a post-partum doula,
that come Friday
she wouldn't need me anymore.

At that moment,
she was skeptical--
she'd been in bed for several weeks
and just could not fathom feeling good enough
to resume her role as wife and mother.

But I knew she would.

I've been cooking and cleaning,
listening and encouraging.
And she's been responding so positively,
so absolutely ready to take her place again,
that yesterday she and I decided that
today will probably be my last day.
In fact,
the plan is that I'm going over
unless
I get a text from her saying otherwise.

I'm kinda hoping I get the text
for that will mean that my job is finished.
And that is a very good thing.

Another "job" of mine has come to an end as well--
Mr W and I were released last night
as Primary teachers for Arianna's class.
It seems we can't have two callings
in a ward where lots of new people have moved into
and want to serve.
So we've been booted out of Primary
so we can continue on as Ward Missionaries.

I cried at the news.

I don't normally cry when being released from a calling.
Most of the time I know it's coming or have even requested it,
but not this time.
I have LOVED teaching these 10 and 11 year olds
this year.
Perhaps it's because we've been reading the Book of Mormon
together--
that alone is such a sweet experience--
or perhaps it's that I have enjoyed teaching with Mr W
and watching him teach too that has made a difference.
Whatever it is,
it's been one of the most favorite callings I have ever had
and I will miss serving those children.

We received an email and a letter from Nana
this week.
She is loving her time at the MTC;
making new friends,
studying the scriptures,
learning the life of a missionary
and loving it!
She also shared that she when she went to buy
a small hymnal,
the clerk asked if she were going to Germany.
and upon opening the book later,
discovered why the question was asked--
it was a German hymnal.
Um no, she isn't going to Germany.
She didn't say so,
but I hope she got to exchange it for English.

It is so wonderful to hear the joy in her letters home!
To see the rewards and blessings come from
a much-concerted effort to be there
doing what she's doing!

I appreciate the opportunities I have had
to
serve
to
teach
to
love...
that's the sweet-meat of Life.

post-script: just minutes after publishing this I got the text! She doesn't need me!! YAY!

Father's Blessings & the First Day of School

Today is officially the end of Summer.

I'm upstairs in the loft listening to the children
who are in the diningroom
eating their breakfast--
spoons clanking against the cereal bowls
small chatter that I can't quite make out,
they're fully-dressed and ready to go
an hour before the bus comes.

They're a little bit excited.

Mr Wonderful gave them each a
Father's Blessing
on Monday night.
I listened intently as the blessing was pronounced,
for impressions I might also receive
on my heart and mind
to better help the children
in school, at home, in Life.

It is always a sweet experience
when Dad lays his hands upon the children's heads
and the Holy Ghost whispers the blessings
specific to each child's needs and talents.

I am grateful for these priesthood moments in our home.

It gives the children confidence as they go towards a new school year
that Heavenly Father is aware of them,
reassures them of His love for them,
and the guidance from heaven is theirs
for the asking.
It gives me comfort too of course.

Sending my children out into the world
unaccompanied
is not easy,
in fact, there are moments when
I ponder homeschooling them
for safety reasons alone.
So having Dad give the children blessings
is as much for me sometimes
as it is for them.

The yahoos are ready
and their backpacks are by the door,
filled with clean, new spiral notebooks,
crayola markers with all the caps on them (!),
highlighters and index cards,
and hand sanitizer to boot!
(My generation of kids must've had terribly germy hands.
All we ever used was DIAL soap.)

Fall is in the air this morning,
a lazy haze is rising against the base of Pikes Peak,
and the high temperature today is supposed to top out at
74o.
I am right where I want to be this very moment.
Perfect weather for the first day of school, yeah?

Post-partum Doula: Mothering a Mother

I could blog about a dozen other things in my life right now,
but I'm most focused this morning
on what I've been doing recently
that is more unusual.

Week before last,
a long-time friend of our family's called me
and asked for my help.
His wife had recently suffered a difficult pregnancy,
which was mostly alot of hyperemesis
and which sadly ended in a miscarriage,
then compounded by a very traumatic recovery.

They needed someone they trusted to come over
and care for her,
and for their other children.
I have been a post-partum doula before,
but always there has been a newborn in the house.
This would be different.

I was so glad they called,
but it was the day before we left for Utah
to take Nana to the MTC,
so I promised I'd get over there
as soon as I returned.

When I finally got over there last Friday,
Momma was in bed.
She was struggling with a slow recovery,
her physical and emotional states were
paralleled...
I had said a prayer before I went over,
that I would be able to discern her needs and meet them
and help her exactly where she needed help.

She hadn't been out of bed in many days
other than to the hospital.
She hadn't showered or visited with her other children
in many days.
She felt, she said, overwhelmed.

So, I listened to her.
I sat on her bed and just listened to this lovely sister
share her journey as long as she wanted me to listen.
Then,
I got busy.
I gathered her little chickens in the kitchen
and we made a plan to get their chores done,
with me working alongside them.
Encouraging them,
praising them,
listening to them too.
Children worry about their parents,
but I don't know that adults slow down to listen
to those worries.
Their concerned faces started to lift with hope
as I expressed my positive declarations
that their momma was going to get better n' better
every day as we all work together and do our part.

I brought my own cd player and
put on some calming instrumental hymns
in the kitchen.
The children were attentive and eager to help
as we cleaned and then made a delicious lunch together.

I made the Momma a healthy green smoothie and a small salad.
She hadn't had an appetite in a long time, I was told.
Within a few minutes,
an empty salad bowl was given back to me
with a request for "more salad please."

An hour later,
Momma decided to get in the shower.
That was a big deal.
And I offered to help her come into the livingroom
and sit with her kids,
while I spiffed up her room,
n' changed her sheets.
She took me up on the offer.

The children treated their momma like a china doll
when she came into the livingroom.
 It was interesting to watch them,
as they took seats in the room,
unsure how to talk to her or if they could sit by her,
but they were so happy to be with her,
that just thinking about their faces
makes my own eyes tear up.

Mothers are the heart of the home.

As I finished up,
and it was time to go,
I felt satisfied that the day had ended in good results.
Momma was feeling better.

Over the weekend,
the Dad called to tell me of the tremendous progress
his sweetheart was making and how grateful they were
for my contribution to that.

At those moments,
I want to deflect the attention like teflon.
I'm not comfortable with it.
Grateful though, definitely.

Yesterday, I arrived to find the kids more animated--
Momma was coming around and it did their hearts good.

So we cleaned,
we cooked,
there was even dancing in the kitchen!
I left with a crockpot dinner on the counter for later,
and my thoughts continued to settle upon the great calling
of Motherhood.

It occurred to me,
as I was standing at another mother's kitchen sink,
washing her family's dishes,
that my menial task,
that of washing dishes,
was helping another woman's heart to heal.
We mothers need to be mothered sometimes,
it is true.
We need soft shoulders,
listening, compassionate ears,
safe warm hands to lift our burdens with us
and all of us are capable of doing even simple things
to bless one another.

I know this to be true.

Duck and Take Cover!

The Highlights:

We took Diana over to the Provo MTC earlier this week. We got to see David Scott and Tisha too, as they drove down from Boise.  I took some pics and will post them soon.

Began working as a Post-partum Doula yesterday for a sweet momma.

Another house that Kelly and I staged, SOLD this week. I am not exactly sure about how many days it was on the market, but it was around 2 weeks.

Joseph hiked up to the summit of Pikes Peak last night with his scoutmaster, deacon's quorum advisor and all of the other Young Men in the ward that could go.  They left last night at 5pm and their goal was to hit the summit at daybreak this morning.  I am betting a very tired 12 year old man-boy will arrive by noon today and sleep the rest of the day away.

Daisie got a job working at an Assisted Living Center close by us.  She will be on the housekeeping crew, which I think is excellent training for her. She is super stoked about earning money.

Today, we are moving Dean down to the Springs from northern Colorado. It is a day that I have been praying for and he is very excited for as well. 

The yahoos start school next Wednesday n' I can hardly believe Summer 2012 is over. I went to Hobby Lobby a couple of weeks ago and the Fall stuff was already out as well as Christmas!  I admit it, I'm ready for my favorite season to come.

And that's it for now.

Two More Days!

I have one thing on my mind today
and that's that we only have two more days
with Diana at home
before she leaves for her mission.

She has been working up until yesterday,
but she promised each of the younger yahoos
that she'd take each of them on a "date"
with her,
alone
before she left.

Last night
was the Boofus' date.
She let him choose the restaurant--
Qdobas,
and he even showered--
which as you may or may not,
has gone against his
"Saturday-night-showers-only-in-the-summer"
standards.
And, as he lifted his armpit for me to smell,
he wore his lady-killin-AXE body spray.

And off they went.

This morning,
it's The Caboose's turn.
She chose to go to breakfast
for her sister-date.

Then, she has one last date with Daisie--
I haven't heard the details yet
but those two both love sushi,
so I'd bet that's in the plan.

I walked into Diana's room late afternoon,
to find her sprawled across her bed--
clothing and suitcases everywhere,
drawers open wide,
laundry everywhere--
and there she was
doing
nothing.

She's feeling the crunch, I think.
Trying to squeeze in the last bits of
"civilian life"
before we leave on Sunday for the MTC
in Provo.
She'll be set-apart early Sunday morning,
and I get to be her "companion"
until Wednesday morning's drop-off.

School Shopping Vs. Real Life

It's that time again.
The dreaded season of
School Shopping Lists
or as I think of it
"Let's throw money away like it's nuthin'."

I don't know why I must buy 24 wood pencils,
because my kids don't use them.
They prefer, and we buy,
mechanical ones.
Same goes for the 12 pack of eraser tips.
Three yellow highlighters,
One orange highlighter,
One blue highlighter,
3 red pens,
n' two black sharpies.

But ya know what gets me?
I mean,
really annoys me?

The "must-have" protractor and compass.
Sure, they're cheap.
It's not that--
it's that the kids spend about ten minutes
ever using them in 6th grade
and never again.
But we have to buy another one
every. stinkin'. year.
Perhaps other kids hold onto theirs
and pass 'em down to the next of kin,
but my yahoos
lose them
about 20 minutes after they use them.

But every year,
they are on The List.

Other things on The List?
Baggies.
Why?
I want to know why kids need to
bring baggies to school.

I can't recall my yahoos bringing home
50 baggies of something during the year,
can you?

When I was a kid,
The List was short:

Two #2 pencils.

One blue ball-point pen.

1 pack 100-count notebook paper.

1 Blue three-ring binder.

1 pack of index cards.

We didn't have backpacks,
we did have bungee cord things
to bundle our books together
for the walks to and from school.

We used brown paper sacks
or newspaper comics
to make our own book covers.

As for clothing,
well growing up in Miami,
the list was equally short:
sneakers (sandals were the preferred footwear,
but one had to have sneakers for PE),
a pair of white socks for those PE sneakers,
a PE uniform as such:

 

just like those.

And as far as I can recall,

that was it.

Elementary Girls weren't allowed to wear pants

unless it was 60o outside.

I was thrilled to be able to buy pants (not jeans)

in 7th grade!

Jeans were unacceptable for girls back in the day,

until we moved to South Carolina my sophomore year

and I finally bought my first pair of jeans then!

It was a big deal.

When I think about how little we brought with us to school,

I am amazed at the generation I grew up in

and the wonderful accomplishments that came from that era.

I wonder if Bill Gates still has his compass and protractor?

 

The Makings of a Disciple

See that happy smiling girl?
That's a girl whose life is in motion.
Her cogs are turning and she's showing no sign of
slowing down.

This was her day to go to the Temple
for the first time.
At the end,
I turned to her and asked,
"Was it worth what it cost to be here?"
Smiling ear-to-ear,
she nodded agreeably.
Yes.
It is.
It is always worth what it cost to come to the temple.

We have another 8 days with her,
and she is cramming as much as possible into these days.
I sat in her room Saturday,
and together we packed her suitcases,
with Daisie and Bee yammering away
and dancing around;

alternately laughing our guts out,
and trying to
stay.on.task.
Times to remember, for sure.

Yesterday was her opportunity to speak in Church,
and share her thoughts and feelings about
what it is to be a
"Disciple"...a Servant.
I had one of those moments
where I was astonished that this
refined, passionate, articulate young woman
could possibly be the same
pig-headed, rebellious, hormonally-challenged teenager
that used to roll her eyes and deflect my admonitions
like teflon.

She was eloquent, thoughtful, and powerful
at the same time
funny and still humble.
My favorite part of her testimony was:
"I am a member of this Church,
because I need God. I need Him."
And the next favorite was when she challenged us all
to be better at sharing the Gospel that has blessed our lives
and not to be selfish about it.
"Too many people say it's too hard to share something so close to their hearts. 
I'm here to tell you that's selfish.  I am so grateful for the two 15 year old girls who opened their mouths and shared what they knew with my mom and that she held on. Because of them, we have an eternal family."

She said more than anything,
she prayed for the Spirit to be with her
and the message He wanted her to share
would come through.
It was evident and powerful,
and if if that was any indication,
she is going to make her
Mission President
a grateful man.

I feel impressed to also share something else she said,
when she acknowledged that she "hasn't been a goody-two-shoe girl"
and that she has "needed and felt the power of the Atonement of Christ."
And what I want to say is that perhaps that is the greatest testimony
any of us can ever offer;
that Christ is real and that He loves us,
He is our Redeemer and because of His Atoning sacrifice,
we can overcome our weaknesses & temptations,
be comforted in our sorrows and grief,
and while we are still imperfect,
He is there for us.
That, to me, is the greatest part of the "Good News".

I want to acknowledge my Savior's love for me;
as I have been blessed with the responsibility of being a mother to many,
I have needed His constant guidance
when I wasn't sure what to do with all of these yahoos
at different ages--
from birth to young adulthood,
try as I might,
I did not come to motherhood knowing what I know
by accident or my own efforts alone.
When my teens, especially, have caused my heart to ache,
I knew only to hold on with both hands
and kneel on both knees in prayer
and listen for the Spirit to tell me
"what next".

The answer has always been the same:
Love them. 
Pull them in closer. 
Live the Gospel, happily, 
so they can see the difference it makes in
your life. 

That's it.

Someone texted me recently and said something along the lines of
"You must be doing something right, as this is number 3 kiddo leaving on a mission!"
I replied:
"I think my children have learned that their mother doesn't have all the answers.  They realized they need God."

Indeed.
I have a firm testimony that if
parents provide for all of their children's needs,
there is no room for God. 
Parents have got to get out of the way, so-to-speak,
so that their children can come to know
their Heavenly Father and His ways.

So holding on with both hands,
but not providing everything--
it's a tricky deal to balance
but it can be done.
IN fact,
it has to be done
because we're all mortal beings,
and eventually we're gonna die.
The lessons have to be learned
eventually, right?

So Diana's lessons have been learned.
She has travelled the way thus far,
and come to the realization
that it is because of the love of her family
and friends
and most importantly, the love and grace
of her Savior,
that she has been invited to serve a mission
in His name and for His sake.
The makings of a Disciple.

Oh these next few days are gonna be over before we know it!




 

Let The Games Begin

We're minus two weeks away
from a big deal around here
as Diana becomes
"Sister Johnson"
for the next 18 months.

The lead-up to this has been
crazy busy--
she's cancelled her phone plan,
cancelled her car insurance
because she sold her little beater car,
n' packing up her personal things
and finishing up her last week at work.

We went to the temple,
she and I
the other night.
It was a Do-Over from the night before
because we both forgot our recommends.
Wednesday night
we hurried to beat Denver's rush hour traffic
(so,much,traffic!)
and Diana quickly tried on a new temple dress,
bought it for the mission,
then we finally got into to the temple.
The weight of the cares of the world
were thankfully restrained
at the temple doors
and I was grateful to have left them there.


I have enjoyed being her audience
through her evolution
from being a self-absorbed young adult
to her surrendering bits and pieces of her self
to the Lord.
It has been exhilarating and humbling
for all of us.

It reminds me of the athletes and their families
and coaches
who are preparing for the world's Olympic Games--
they have been preparing for most of their lives
for the days and weeks ahead.
Time and Sacrifice are essential for a few moments
of performance--
with just milliseconds making the difference
between
Gold, Silver and Bronze
and then the legacy is set in stone
as they take their place on the winner's stand,
and their mothers and fathers and coaches
all breathe a collective sigh of relief
feeling their efforts have been rewarded.

I am equal parts
anxious and nauseas
as I contemplate sending my daughter
into the world
with a black name tag.
I pray she will be loved.
She will be cared for.
She will be safe and healthy.
I pray our efforts bless her life
and those that she is going to serve.
That in 18 months' time,
her legacy will be one of
a devoted loving servant
as she directs others hearts and eyes to
Christ.
That's when we'll breathe our collective sigh of relief
and feel our efforts rewarded.

Oh, this is gonna be good!

My Nod to a New Season

Although we are in the dead of a temperature-record-breaking summer,
there is a new season going on in our house.

As schedules have clashed and meshed
over and over again,
there is no fall-out.
No scrambling around to fill the gaps.

I don't have to worry about
whose at home to watch the "babies"
anymore.
Each of the kids are fine to be alone
for several hours
if need be.

Take yesterday for example:
Diana went with me to the Denver temple
which is an hour away from our house.
The Caboose stayed to help tend the kids that Diana
nannies for at their home,
with a couple of other girls from Church,
and made plans for someone else to bring her home.
She actually had dinner with one of the girls' family.
It was so nice to just drive away knowing she'd be fine
once they dropped her off at home,
until Dad got home from work.

 Joseph, who worked alongside me all day
while I was staging a home,
was fine to be left alone for the rest of the afternoon
until Dad came home and they went out to dinner,
then came home and mowed the yard,
puttered around the garage and in general
took care of things while I was gone.

Dara is still off to Girls' Camp,
and yes, it's fully supervised by adults,
but I haven't had a moment's worth of worry
for her well-being and safety.

And the others are grown-ups and have been for some time now.
David Scott will be 29 next month--
I worry about him in different ways, ya know?
Not whether he has food to eat or clean underwear.

Anyway, this new Season I'm in is awesome.
I read blogs where moms are still scraping cheerios off the floor,
changing messy diapers,
hauling kidling accessories around,
and I feel
relief.
Done.

That is not my life anymore.
I still have 6 more years of schooling left--
1 more year of 6th grade,
2 years of middle school
and 4 years of high school left.
I know that adds up to 7
but it's really just 6 more years of school.

Yesterday morning,
The Caboose came out of her room,
fully dressed for the day,
wearing mascara and lip gloss
proclaiming that middle school was going to be great
now that she can wear a little make-up.
I remember feeling that way
when I was finally allowed to wear make-up.
Honestly, though I was allowed to,
I never really got into it.
Took too much time, ya know?
I still don't wear much.
But she's happy and excited to be growing up.

Remember when Joseph got into wearing "Axe" products
last year?
His daily showers washed away all traces of
stinky boy smell.
Yeah.
It's Thursday today,
n' as far as I know
he hasn't showered since Sunday.
"It's Summer, Mom. Noone showers in the Summer."
Ugh.
Really? Where does he get these ideas?
He is now the tallest kid at home,
passing all of his sisters up,
at 5'7 1/2" tall.
I have half an inch on him today.
Given that he is growing like a kudzu vine,
I won't be surprised if he passes me up by noon time today.
He'll be 13 in November.
He wears Size 12 in mens shoes.
I'm reasonably hopeful that once school starts in
two and half weeks (ACK!)
and there's girls in his daily life whom he isn't related to,
that his hygiene habits will kick in again.
There is good and bad on both sides of that.
Having the reputation of "pig pen" isn't good.
But having the attention of girls isn't much better.
Ahhh the smell of a new hormonal season
is just around the corner.

I loved being a new mommy,
and wax nostalgic when I see new babies,
like at the Chiropractor's office yesterday--
a new mommy with a 10 day old babe in her arms--
totally warmed my heart,
and I laugh when Dani shares the hi-jinx of her boys
in Texas...
Two year old Garrett put a dinosaur costume on 11 month old Isaac
when Dani wasn't looking
and she snapped a smiley-faced Isaac picture n' shared it on Facebook.
I love those fun moments.
Ahh the blessing of being a Gramza, ya know?

Anyway,
the point is
Life takes turns and goes around corners
you don't expect it to.
The seasons change faster than you think they can
and before you know it,
instead of buying diapers and wipes for the one millionth time,
you're buying Bonne Bell lip gloss and mascara,
Axe shampoo and body wash.

So perhaps you think you'll never miss the Baby Aisle,
and you might not,
but just the other day,
when I was shopping alone,
I walked down that aisle of Johnson and Johnson's baby lotion,
Beechnut Bananas,
LUVS newborn diapers,
and Gerbers hard biscuits,
reminiscing about my earlier seasons in life
and smiled at the memories.

Ketchup

The Family News:

*Dani is surviving her experiences so far in Texas. They are moved into a new house and a new ward. She is learning that everything is spread out and a trip to town in less than an hour is rare. She has a "bug guy" and finally got her mail key yesterday. The bug guy is a big deal, in case you don't know that about Texas.  Bugs es no bueno.

*Daisie is at Girls Camp. I assume she is having a fantastic time, as I've not heard otherwise.

*Joseph went to Scout Camp last week, where he rec'd 5 merit badges and a sunburn.

*Arianna has been going with Diana nearly everyday for the past few weeks, while she nannies a set a 18 month old twins and a 2 year-old.  It's been really good for her.

*Diana went thru the Temple for the first time last Saturday. We took pics and all, so there will be more to that soon. It was wonderful.

*Found a home for Dean here in Colorado Springs! We're in the paperwork process of moving him down here!  Yea!

*David Scott and Tisha in Meridian, ID will be meeting us in Utah when we take Diana there to the MTC week after next.


What I've been up to:

*Staging Homes: All of the homes Kelly and I have staged this summer, have already sold. We've been working on another one this week--should finish it today.
*The heat this summer has been unreal.  Is it rotten to say I'm ready for Fall already?
*My favorite Primary lesson that I've taught this summer, was last week's lesson on Moroni and the Title of Liberty.  I even made my own title of liberty on muslin and used it in my lesson. More on that later. It was pretty dang cool.
*I've been driving a brand new Dodge Caravan a little over a week now, while my Sub is in the repair shop, and I am totally dreading the day when I haveta give it back.
*Meeting with my awesome attorney regarding the settlement of my November car accident. The fact that the two words "awesome" and "attorney" are in the same sentence, next to each other, is not a typo.
*Still going to my Chiro twice a week.
*Got my eyes checked out by a specialist and I'm getting some new prism lenses because my peripheral vision is "wavy" and a bit off.  That was quite an experience.
* Missing my grandsons in Texas...alot whole lot.
* I met with the college counselor last week to get enrolled for Fall. How stinkin' cool is that?!
*My sweet friend, Nan, showed up at my house on Monday, took two spoons out of my kitchen drawer, bid me to follow her to her car outside, where she had a bag of melted german chocolate marshmallows, and she serenaded me with Reba McIntire's "Is there life out there?" in the car.  I love her!
*Yesterday afternoon, Diana and I decided to go up to Denver to go to the Deseret bookstore, then to the Beehive Distribution Center to get some things she needs, and then do some service in the Temple.  We got her a missionary journal at the store, then headed over to the BDC, to find it was closed. THEN, as we were parking at the temple, she realized she'd forgotten her temple recommend. Oh how she apologized over n over, but it wasn't a big deal. We listened to a new CD she got, called "The Work" by the Nashville Tribute Band, on the way home. (so good!)  When we got home, she picked up some things on the dining table that I had set out for her before we left, and discovered that my temple recommend was under them on the table.  I had no idea! We laughed a good one at that.  We're going to try again this afternoon to go to the Temple.

*I have two doctor appointments this morning, then over to the house we're staging, and then to the Temple and back for Mutual tonight.  Gonna be a busy day!

*Oh! Diana's mission farewell is this Sunday!  She enters the MTC August 8th.

Girls Camp Letter

As is common every summer,
it's time for Girls Camp.
And once again,
I have been invited, as all parents are,
to write a personal letter
to my teenage daughter
which will be hand-delivered to her
during a special part of Camp
called
"The Solo Experience."

I have written to date,
about 15 personal letters
to my daughters
as each of them have gone
in the past 11 years.
I try my best to write uplifting,
honest, inspired letters
to my girls each time.

To my surprise,
I found out this week,
that my girls
have actually saved theirs.

So, Daisie leaves for Camp
next Monday
and I sat down to write again
this lazy July afternoon
some words that might
do some good.

I asked her if I could share some of my words here,
because when I start out to write something,
I usually wing it
and when something comes together
that ends up inspiring me too,
I have to wonder if the inspiration
is, well,
inspired. 

So here goes:
-->

July 2012

Dear Dara,

I imagine you're wondering what on earth I could write to you in this “solo” letter that could be any different from anything else I've said or written before. The truth is, while I've learned a few things since last year, the basics or the foundation of my knowledge is pretty much the same:

The Gospel is true. Joseph Smith was a Prophet. The Book of Mormon is divine, as is the Priesthood and President Monson is a our Prophet today.

How we choose to weave those truths into our daily lives largely depends on where we're at in life.

I have found that the older I get, the more I lean into those truths to guide my choices. And I don't know what that looks like to you. My weaknesses are many, but hopefully my strengths are greater.

That's my goal anyway. Life is quite challenging; the gospel makes it easier. If there's an easier way to live life and be happy, I don't know what it is. I've never seen anyone do that—live an easier way and be happier.

And that's what makes the Gospel worth whatever it costs to live it. The boundaries we adhere to, set by our Standards, guard and keeps us safe from sin. Not always safe from the tragedies of mortality—sickness, death still afflict Latter-Day Saints..because we're mortals living in a temporal, fallible world.

But what the Gospel Standards protect us from is Spiritual Death, Spiritual corruption, Sins that separate or distract us from our Heavenly Father and His Son. Which is worse than physical death.

So I cling to the Savior for safety. One of my favorite hymns is “Come Thou Font”--especially the line that says, “bind my wandering heart to thee”. Because I am safer, happier, more peace-filled when I am doing what Christ would have me do. I want to be His. Belong to Him. It is as simple as that. Anything that forces me to look another way, is usually not good or worth it.

In Alma, when Captain Moroni saw his people, the Nephites threatened with war, led by Amalickiah, he tore his coat and wrote on it “In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives and our children” and fastened it upon a pole and waved it high so everyone could see it. And “crying with a loud voice, saying: Behold, whosoever will maintain this title upon the land, let them come forth in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a covenant that they will maintain their rights, and their religion, that the Lord God may bless them. And it came to pass that when Moroni had proclaimed these words, behold, the people came running...”

I LOVE those last four words...”the people came running”. Can you guess why? Can you put yourself in their place—their liberty was being threatened again,and instead of hanging their heads and saying to themselves, “What? Again? Why do we have to do this over and over? Why doesn't God fight our battles for us?” Instead of being discouraged and giving up and quitting, walking away from their land or giving up their faith, the Nephites looked to their inspired Leader for guidance and came running to make covenants. I would like to think that you would have been one of those faithful Nephites—that you would've stopped whatever you were doing, thrown down whatever was in your hands, and ran to Moroni's beckoned call to say, “Count Me In. I'm here. I'll never leave. I 'll never walk away or deny my faith.”

This life is not balanced. There is no such thing as “fair” in this life. Sometimes it just doesn't make a lick of sense. The Savior came into the world to bring Justice and Mercy—it is HE who makes things “fair” in the end. His love is profound and eternal. He knows the beginning to the end. We can trust in His Love, His Way to guide us. There isn't another way to be happy in this life. There just isn't.

Moroni knew that. Alma knew that. Joseph Smith came to know that and the world has never been the same since April 1830.

From the moment I learned these things myself, my life changed the course it was on and has never been the same. As we're preparing to take Diana to the temple tomorrow, I know my prayers have been heard and answered. I know that Father in Heaven loves me and my family. That's You, too.

As you approach your senior year in high school, determine to make this your best year yet. Work hard to get the results you want and are capable of getting. You will never regret working hard at learning. It just isn't possible. Lean into your faith for sustenance and courage to keep going. There isn't another way. And when you truly learn this and apply it in your daily life, you will see the rewards come to fruition. Just as I will see tomorrow, in Diana's countenance, when she presents her self at the Temple doors to make her own sacred covenants, as she reaches one step closer to binding her heart to His, and moves forward to begin the consecration of her own life on her mission. That will be a blessing for her as well as mine.

If you want happiness in this life, Keep your eyes on the Savior. Follow His footsteps. Keep your ears tuned into the Prophets and listen to the Spirit. Use your hands to serve others. Open your heart to the scriptures—read them over and over and over again. The Book of Mormon is amazing—it has never been the same book twice to read. Everytime I open its pages, I find a different message that lifts and inspires me...to keep running to the Lord.

I love you, Daisie. I do. We'll get through these rough waters and come out on the other side just fine.

I want only happiness for you. Show us what you can do. We are your greatest cheerleaders.

Have a great day at Camp Joseph. See you when you get home.

Love, Momza

****

I want to say that each time I take the time

to write a letter to my children,

it benefits both of us.

I am reminded of the unique-ness of each child--

their strengths and their challenges.

It is good to focus just on them and put into words

my love for them.

I highly recommend this practice

and encourage you to take a moment 

and write down your feelings for your children.

In asking Dara why she keeps my letters,

she replied simply,

"So I can remember your words, Mom."

So there ya go...