Momza Wisdom: Fragile Isn't the Same as Broken

Egg shells.
Heirloom dishes.
Mirrors.
Instruments.
Antique books.
Jewelry.
Museum fine arts.
Plant sprouts.
Flower petals.

What do all of these have in common?
They're all valuable, useful, important things that we come across in life,
sometimes more than we even realize.
They're also Fragile.
 We treat them differently than everyday sturdy things
that we handle, right?

Know what else is fragile?
People.
Men, women, children.
Every size, shape and color.
Relationships can be fragile too.
Health can be fragile: mental and physical.

My awareness of our fragility
became more sensitive recently
after learning about the experiences of some dear friends
who are going through some very big trials.
Some are going through a divorce,
another a serious illness,
a death in the family of another,
a loss of employment in yet another.
And on and on.

One thing I've heard a number of times recently
is the phrase: "I'm broken."
I've been there--
in that emotional state of feeling lost, forgotten, hopeless.
Is it not a Universal experience
for most of the human beings that have ever lived on this planet
and most of those that are here now?

Yes, I've been heart broken.
With time and lots of mending,
restored.
The failure of my first marriage,
the birth of my special needs son--
both times I felt completely damaged into fragments
of who I thought I was and what my life would be.
Understanding came through perspective,
healing followed with time.

There have been other times though,
through deep examination of my own challenges,
the discovery that I am not broken.
I struggle, maybe even weep, lose sleep, and fret,
but a more fitting word is "fragile".
Meaning "handle with care".

Doesn't that sound more accurate?
Handling with care means I slow down a little bit,
examine the pain more closely
looking for the tenderest areas and seek remedies for healing.
Having a mindful approach to my circumstances
creates an inner dialogue that sparks hope in the darkness.
Do what needs to be done,
but invite patience and forgiveness in that space--
maybe for someone else
maybe for my self.

I was talking to a friend who asked my opinion of his actions
in a certain business situation with his nephew,
who had stepped out of line and behaved unprofessionally,
resulting in a loss of business for the family company.
My friend took it as a betrayal and fired the nephew.
There were repercussions within the extended family over this.
I asked one question of my friend:
Was the action of the nephew unforgivable?
My friend thought for a moment and said, "No. Not unforgivable."
"Then, with patience and forgiveness, proceed towards healing.", I told him.

It wasn't even two weeks later
I needed to listen to the same advice myself
within my own family.
Feelings had been deeply hurt and if I let it fester,
the relationship could have become broken.
"But, were the words and actions unforgivable?"
the prompt came front and center to my mind.
Could I forgive and allow time for healing?
Yes, I can do that.
Feelings were raw, emotions tender, the relationship was fragile.
But not broken.

What helps healing come along quicker and completely?
For me it is faith.  Faith to ask Heavenly Father for help.
I believe in Jesus Christ's desire and ability to heal my wounds
because He has done that for me all of my life,
at every turn, you see.
I know there is healing and hope in His love for me.
Turning my pain over to Him and asking to see things clearly,
to be able to move forward and make weak things strong--
in my self, in my loves, in our relationships
is all possible because of His atoning sacrifice made long long ago
in the Garden of Gethsemane.

So, if we're able to look at our reality in the light of
"Fragile Not Broken"
we can see things more clearly, right?

Fragile isn't the same as broken.
Fragile requires extra attention, care, compassion, love, patience, and mercy.
Asking for what you need is important.
And while you are healing whatever it is--
know this:
Fragile things are still useful, valuable, important and worthy.

Opening Up to New Adventures

A new adventure is afoot here in Momza's House.
It began like all our adventures began:
"Heavenly Father, where should we go?"

The job we accepted in Eugene, Oregon turned out to be not-so-good.
The company has had eight new leaders in the 2 years we've been here.
That is loaded with red flags, people.
We had our own reasons for looking at other opportunities--
but that company's flailing about was as good as the others so we started looking.

Mr. W turned his passive looking into agressive searching,
and lo! within a month he had several opportunities come to him.
Two in particular overlapped in the interviewing process,
so he's accepted one--a very good one, here in Oregon--
while he's being interviewed for a better one in Colorado next week.

Now, you know, you have to know that I am praying for Colorado.
It is home afterall.
It's where my Dean is.
Where my mountains are.
I've fasted and prayed for this company twice already,
hoping that this is the best place for us.
And now we wait and we trust.

Goodbyes.

We are the company we keep!

As our Caboose led the way to Brigham Young University-Idaho
three weeks ago,
she still expressed her fears that she's not ready for college,
not ready to be on her own, not ready for "adulthood"...
I love my grown Caboose.
It was hard to let her go too.
A friend reminded me that the thing about Caboose's is that they're just behind us,
if we know where to look.
That's true, hunh?

Moving Day

As we unloaded and put away her things in the new apartment,
feelings were tender as we all felt the newness of the season in front of us.

Helping his sister get set up.

And ending of the family circle it has always been.
The youngest is out of the nest.
It was hard. I can't even pretend it wasn't.

Brotherly love

I have taught her all I can within the walls of my home,
within the reach of my arms.
Now is the season for her to test what she's learned from me
and learn how strong her own abilities serve her needs.
It's been a rough three weeks,
but she's learning and stretching and adjusting
like we all do in new seasons, right?

At General Conference with friends

Just today she sent pics in our family chat
from the LDS Conference Center in Salt Lake City
as she attended with friends.
Look at that smile, people!
My little Caboose is a young woman in the world.


We have just about 44 days left with Boofus
before he leaves for his mission.
He's cramming in as many camp-outs, hunting trips, kayaking and fishing days
as possible before he turns his time and attention to being a full-time missionary for 2 years.
This week, he will prepare to enter the temple for his own endowment.
Another milestone, my friends.
Such gratitude in my soul for his choice to trust and move forward!

Can life be any sweeter than when we ask the heavens,
"Where should I go, Lord?"

The One Where Momza Learns Kayaking

 IN the category of You're Never Too Old to Learn New Things:

I've learned a new passion: kayaking.  I even have my own. I fantasized about owning a kayak since last summer when I saw a woman on a lake in her own kayak at a golden hour dust and thought, "That gal has life figured out."  

That was it for me.  I thought if we still lived in Oregon come summer 2019, I'd have to try it out for myself.

 I love it.  I love everything about it.  The ease of rowing across the water, the scenery of beautiful lakes and shorelines, the solitude and peace...I am smitten.

Mr W and I have gone out on a few different lakes around us--Fall Creek Reservoir in Lowell, Oregon, Woahink Lake in Florence, Oregon, and Fern Ridge Reservoir in Eugene area.  

This is Fall Creek Res. last Saturday.  It was warm and drizzling rain.  We were the absolute only people on the water for at least an hour.  Complete Bliss. I cannot live a life without my kayak. Forever and Ever, Amen.

And Then There Were None

If you've been here since the beginning of 2008,
you know that I have been raising children a long long time
and writing about it--
the good things like moving from Idaho to Colorado Springs to Oregon,
and mission calls and homecomings
weddings and grandbabies
careers and callings
travels and recipes--
I have written all of that and then some!

I used to blog daily for years--those deeply-up-to-my-neck-in-kids years
and I loved it!
I'd get up before the kids on school mornings
and stay up late on summer nights just to get it all down
before I'd forget those moments in the mix of things.

I'm so glad that I did all of that typing and editing and loading pics
that used to take for.ev.er.
It blessed my life then and it continues.
I love looking back over those busy years and recalling them all.
Journaling is a great memory keeper.

It's gotten more and more quiet around here as the last two at home
approached adulthood thru high school.
So I didn't write as much online but kept writing in my personal journal,
because journalling is good for me.

So here I am eleven years later,
the house asleep, it's nearly midnight
and my brain is buzzing such that I need to do a blog dump
so I can let it all go.

First up,

our youngest son, Joseph, has received his mission call.
It was not a straight shot from high school to this moment.
Deciding to serve a two year mission--completely trusting in the process of
where he'd be asked to serve,
moving away from family and friends,
postponing college and career,
and all of the conveniances and habits that accompany his daily life--
including leaving behind a cute young lady he's been dating since last Fall,
and who also happens to be a non-member and doesn't really get why young men do any of this--
well that decision was a hard one to make for Joseph.

And knowing what the sacrifices are,
as parents we couldn't simply insist that he serve.
We encouraged him along, hoping and praying truly that he would make the decision
to go on his own.
A mission is hard. There's not much that is easy about it, so it had to be his choice.
He wanted to go, but wasn't sure if he was ready to trust in the process
or had enough faith that Heavenly Father actually knew him and would place him
exactly where he should be called to serve.
So he vacillated for a few months before finally making the commitment to go.
Once he did, from beginning to end was less than 3 weeks.

He's in Houston, Texas visiting Danielle and her family
as they just returned from living in Saudi Arabia for five years.
His call came last week via email.

His joy is palpable! I've watched this no fewer than 30 times! I love it! We used to live there.  We've only been gone from Colorado two years this month. We are all amazed at his perfect call.
He doesn't leave until November--time enough to get in some fall hunting, which was important to him.  He'll have Christmas in the mission field.

And lastly, The Caboose.  She's heading to Brigham Young University-Idaho in a month.

She and Joseph have made the best kind of friends here in Eugene.  They are loving, fun, and accepting of each other.  Zero drama.  Camp-outs in the mountains, at the beach or lakes, movie-nights, and sunrise hikes.  All of these young people are tightly knit and supportive.  After enduring the depressed environment in Colorado Springs from so many of their classmates' suicides for two full years, my teens needed a break from it all.  It took them awhile, especially Arianna, to heal from the grief that so intensely held her breath that she could barely attend school there.  She says the friends here made her feel like she has permission to be happy again.  The healing continues for both Joseph and Arianna and it seems that's the best part of moving here.

So with the two youngest leaping out of the nest pretty darn soon here--Mr. Wonderful and I are about to become Empty Nesters!  I can't even believe it.  I've been raising children since 1983, since I was 21 years old.  Seven children!  And we've reached the Finish Line of: laundry piles, endless sinks of dirty dishes, meal planning for a family, carpools, curfew watches, bags and bags of groceries and the umpteenth trip to the market to get those groceries, school lunches and PTO meetings, afterschool activities, sleepovers, Church youth activities, looking for the TV remote (and the batteries that always disappeared in them!), shoo-ing kids out the door for church on Sundays and Seminary...I can hardly believe the end is here.

It was a long long Season in Life, but it's finished.  And man, I'm missing it already.

My Last Day of School: Celebrating 31 Years As a Mother of School Children

Pardon my sentimentality today, but it’s a really good day for me! I reached a huge milestone in my Motherhood Career.  This morning at 8am, I dropped off my seventh child-- my youngest off at the curb of her high school, culminating 31 years of getting children to school since September 1988, when I dropped my oldest son, (who’ll be 36 years old this summer) off to kindergarten at Shaw Butte Elementary school in Phoenix, Arizona.

Seven children over three decades—no matter what else was going on in my life, or in the world-- I was in charge of getting them to school for 9 months (and some summer school sessions too—the guilty parties know who they are!) to gain an education.  

My children went to several different schools, in a few different places:  Phoenix, Arizona; Spartanburg, South Carolina; Glendale, Arizona; Colorado Springs, Colorado; Fort Collins, Colorado; Meridian, Idaho; and lastly Eugene, Oregon.  Seven children have had more teachers, more assignments, more lunches, more field trips, more sneakers, backpacks, notebooks, pens and pencils, crayons, markers, posters, Science projects and Book Reports than I can even begin to remember!

When I began this long season in my life, George Bush was President. There have been 4 other US Presidents in the same span as my decades of Motherhood.  Three Republicans and two Democrats. And believe me, it used to be more civil. Nelson Mandela was elected President of South Africa; AIDS was the biggest news on MTV; shoulders pads and big hair was the fashion (for men and women!), Cassette tapes hadn’t been replaced by CD’s yet. VCR’s were the new thing and they were pricey.

Technology was just on the cusp of what it is nowadays: the Hubble telescope had just launched in 1990. Apple, Microsoft, Amazon or Google were still ideas. Laptops and cell phones were a decade away.  Dolly the Sheep had been the first successful cloning.  The Euro was created.  And Operation Desert Storm began in January 1991.  It was the first war that was shared in real time on national TV and I was glued to the television.  I even wrote in my journal the name of the first US military casualty, Airman Michael Scott Speicher, shot down outside of Iraq.  I cried and promised to remember his name.  The kids still had school.

A new gal on TV, Oprah Winfrey with huge hair and earrings you could see from two towns over, was taking over daytime TV talking to mostly everyday people about controversial realities which essentially replaced Phil Donahue—the TV host of my mother’s generation.  Television was changing faster than we could keep up with new channels popping up—whereas there’d been about 5 channels for most of my life, suddenly MTV ushered in a host of others—VH1, HBO for starters—and then all the news channels too—CNN and FOX and more filled up the TV log of programming.  We got the details of OJ Simpson’s wild Bronco ride on LA freeways and the trial afterwards.  We also got the tragic news as it unfolded in Paris the night Princess Diana was killed. And we still had school through all of this—lunches to be made, buses to catch, homework due.

School supplies went from Trapper Keepers, pens and pencils and scratch n’ sniff stickers, to backpacks, laptop computers, n' fancy Scientific calculators.  I’ve lived through several fashion trends too—Reeboks craze, Skechers, Jeansco, Skaterboy, denim skirts, Doc Martins, NIKE-everything, and now Birkenstocks.

I’ve helped make school assignments out of marshmallows, Starburst candies, pixie stix, Legos, and Dixie cups and plates, like alot of other parents.  I can write reports on Madagascar and komodo dragons, Florence Nightingale, Harriet Tubman, Women’s Rights, Abraham Lincoln and Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men—and so much more, at a moment’s notice.

Having so many children gifted me the opportunity to learn alongside them more subjects than I would’ve ever learned just on my own. I've done each grade eight times, people!  First grade through twelth grade--eight times! Their school careers enlarged my world seven times over. I learned more than school topics—I learned about being an Advocate for my child and myself. I learned from writers of books like Wilson Rawls “Where the Red Fern Grows”—a book that I caught my then-8-yo-son reading, one night, as I walked past his bedroom long after bedtime and heard a soft whimper that came from under a blanket where a small flashlight shone.  Lifting the covers, his little tear-filled eyes looked up, “Old Dan died.”   I’d never heard of the book before that moment.  What a sweet memory though.  I love that book.   Reading has become a passion for most of my children, as it has been mine. 

Staying up late creating posters for “tomorrow’s deadline” has stretched my patience as well as my creativity! We can do alot in a crunch these days!  From printing off pictures to creating Power Point presentations, the technology available in our home has made our educational experience so much easier and fuller.  I can say that with a great appreciation and perspective of not having grown up with it. Definitely a game changer. 

Thirty-one years.  That’s a Career.  I don’t know anyone who’s done the same thing-- consistently for 31 years. I mean, I am certain that those people exist; I just don’t know them.  I didn’t even think about it through all of this time either. Reminds me of that old Dunkin Donuts commercial, “Time to make the donuts”.  It hasn’t mattered what else was going on in my life, my family’s life—School was Number One.  Go to school, get an education.  It’s the only thing that can never be taken from you.  

Yesterday I was talking to one of my daughter’s about my sudden 31-year-realization and she said something that is still resonating in me today, “We always knew that education was important. Going to college was an expectation.”   And just last night, another conversation on the edge of my youngest’s bed, she spoke about registering for College classes today for a Fall semester.  Although she is nervous about going to college and the unknowns that are out there yet to be discovered, she said, “I have to go to college so I can have a good Life and not be a dumb-flip.”  Yes, you do, Sis.  Of the seven children, only one will not attend college in his life—Dean, because he has a handicap that will prevent it.  But so far, we are on the right track: all of the gang has gone to college or has plans to attend. Can I just say, without sounding arrogant or hoity-toity, that I am so grateful for this family tradition of ours?

 I was raised by a mother who only finished 10^th grade and a father who could barely read though he graduated high school.  They never spoke of college to me or my brothers. It was not a family tradition where they came from, so it was an Unknown to them too.  Different times, for sure. But I wanted more for myself and my children and education is the way for us.

This morning, at that school curb, as my youngest popped open the car door and said, “I’ll see you in a bit.”—I just had this lump in my throat. Solid emotion.  This is my last day of school.

The Caboose Grew Up!

I Started this blog in 2008. This young woman was in 1st grade, people! 

And now, look at her!

A young woman!

What can I say about her that hasn't been said already?

She's the baby in the family. She owns it. Her older sisters have loved her so well,

and she has learned much from them and their examples to her.

My little Arianna Hope is a product of alot of us--

she's had the advantage of older parents (read: patient and broken-in. See also: tired.)

and siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews since she was in 3rd grade.

She likes the outdoors, vinyl records, book series, travelling, odd memes, llamas,

sloths, pugs (She will own a pug one day named Carl), making gluten-free treats,

and a number of other things that make her unique.

Camping/Hiking at Rocky Mtn National Park is a favorite place for her.

We went even while I was pregnant with her; she has favorite trails there too. 

She and her dad have a strong, funny relationship: he calls her "Woodsen/Woody/Elwood and she calls him "Consuela or Connie".

Halloween, 2006

Meridian, Idaho

Deckers, Colorado

2012

Halloween 2014

Colorado Springs, CO

"Mama, notice the resemblance?"

Her sense of humor is unparalleled in our family.

Her wit is surprising, candid, smart and quick!

She is a fierce defender of the Under Dog.

If she is your friend,

you have a friend for Life.

Arianna has many nicknames in our family, 

the most common is "Bee", but others include: The Beeps, Beebo,

Ari, Beef, Beebopanonymous, and Arianna Soap.

It might just be us, but everyone in our family has nicknames 

given to them by their siblings.

She is a batman fangirl; wears batman onesies to school on Superhero day.

She's played piano for years, and just this Christmas began learning the guitar.

She is also a nutter about our dogs, Kota, our 10 yo black lab

And Zuri, our 5 yr old golden retriever that she likes to dress up on occasion.

Sass.  Pure Sass this one.

Her siblings are her best friends.

These youngest two are almost always together, since they're the last 2 at home.

They are snarky, hilarious, and all else that goes on between brother and sister.

And this is their last year at home together.  

He is leaving for a mission this year and she will be off to college.

I try to imagine what this season would look like--

when the last of the seven children would be flying out of the nest.

It's surreal.

It went faster than I can explain.

*

 She struggled the last 2 years in Colorado Springs with grief and anxiety,

as several classmates took their own lives her freshman and sophomore years.

Moving to Oregon has been healthy for her--

new friendships have grown into strong friendships

that she didn't expect

but truly needed and appreciates.

All of these beautiful young people are her "squad"--

they are together whenever possible

at school, church and play.

  

Speaking from a purely Mom POV,

the healthiest, happiest thing to witness is seeing your child be accepted by her peers,

and in turn accept herself.

When we think back on our Oregon Adventure--

the first thing that will come to mind is that this was a blessing for our daughter.

We came for her.

She is graduating high school next week! 

I can't even believe it!
I'm so excited for her. (And sad for me!)

She has done well in school here--

her favorite classes have been history, government and Pre-Law.

She is heading to Brigham Young University-Idaho--

for her first degree.

She has declared Health Sciences as her major,

planning to get her degree in Public Health and go onto becoming a

Cardiovascular Surgery Technician or Radiologist.

*

She asked me to create and paint her graduation announcements;

after a few mock-ups

this is the one she chose--

those emerald evergreens of Oregon.

 A new season is here, my people.

I have so much more to say.

But we're on the cusp of a new adventure.

Create! Lemon and Blueberries Indoor/Outdoor Wreath Recipe

I love summer and blueberries and lemons!

So I created this refreshing wreath for my home.

It's so easy, anyone can do it!

Here's the Design Recipe:

1 grapevine wreath

2 1/2 - 3" ribbon (I chose wired and un-wired)

1 blueberry bush, separated

1 eucalyptus bush, separated

1 magnolia leaf bush, separated

1 olive leaf bush, separated

1 bag large permanent lemons

1 bag assorted sizes lemons

Step 1: Separate the bush stems from the main stem, using wire cutter and set aside

Step 2: Lay down the magnolia leaves in bunches of 3, going one direction around the wreath. Using a hot glue gun, affix to wreath.

Step 3: Next add the olive branch leaves, affix with hot glue.

Step 4: Make the bow(s) and affix to wreath using floral wire.

Step 5: Prepare the lemons but removing the tiny green stem end and using leftover stems from the leaves, and a dab of hot glue, stick the stem into the opening. Let cool.

Step 5:  Add large lemons.  Place them at the lower curve of the wreath and tuck them in going upwards.  

Step 6: Add the smaller lemons, mostly at the top half, tucking them in and under leaves.

Step 7: Add blueberries in and around the lemons and ribbon.

Step 8: Add the eucalyptus stems in and around the lemons and ribbon.

That's it!

Eight easy steps to creating your own Summer Wreath!

Passing Through Gethsemane

As an artist, inspiration is everywhere.  My eyes and heart tend to find muses based on my moods.

When I was having a particularly tender day last week, I turned towards the gospel of Jesus Christ for relief and came across this passage from Elder Jeffery R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, "The path of salvation always goes through the garden of Gethsemane."

The image above is what came from those words.  Having never been there in person, I relied on pics online for reference--the twisted gnarly branches of the olive trees are beautiful, and their small leaves demand little water to thrive in the desert climate.  What else would I put into my artwork that would tell the story?  A solid rock. To symbolize my Savior, who is my Rock, my Redeemer, who went to that place and atoned for my sins, my sorrows, grief and pain.

Years ago, I went to a women's conference at Brigham Young University with my daughter, Dara.  She was a senior in high school and I wanted time with her alone. Having been to Women's Conference a dozen times or more over the years, I had several experiences planned for the two of us. I wanted to show her the beauty of this conference and why I'd come so often to get my spiritual cup filled and fortified.

The first day of conference, two significant things happened on the first day:  my special needs son, Dean had to be removed from his host home due to a volatile situation.  And my missionary daughter, serving in New York, was in a car accident.

Suddenly, my focus was not on the conference and the daughter with me--but on two other children who were hundreds of miles away, in situations that were serious.

Dara and I kept our schedule to go to the classes we'd chosen, while I was madly texting back and forth with Dean's case manager and Diana's mission health office.  I was physically and emotionally "a hot mess", as my Southern roots declared.

But I was in the right place that day.  In the first class, speaker Elaine Marshall shared her life experience as the mother who lost a treasured son, dying at the age of eight years old.  Grief for his passing held her tightly; her mother heart mourning his absence continually.  Out of concern, her own inspired mother came to her and kindly suggested, "You've spent too much time in Gethsemane. Jesus has already been there for you.  Go find another garden." 

Is that not the most beautifully inspired words of comfort?  "Go find another garden."

It is a wondrous thought to dwell on Gethsemane garden and what went on there when Jesus performed the Atonement.  It was there that He took upon the sins of the world--the indescribable pains of all of God's children collectively--and by doing so, granted us access to forgiveness and grace, mercy and redemption, making it possible for us to continue to evolve as mortal and spiritual beings.

But sometimes, I spend too much time in my own Gethsemane.  It could be said of me, that I set up house there. Always tending to my sorrows and sins, grief and guilt, as if being ever-mindful of them will make me a wise, worthy steward; a responsible woman, mother, wife.  So automatic is my "tending in Gethsemane", that I forget that's it's okay to leave my troubles there and accept the Atonement as it is meant to be accepted and move "onto other gardens".  

What I'm recognizing is how limiting that exercise is--to beat a path to Gethsemane and set up camp there, as it were--to indulge or to punish--my own well-being instead of trusting my cares to the Master Gardener.  It is a matter of timing, perhaps, that I learn how long to linger in that sacred Garden before looking ahead and moving out of it.  I can trust in Him whose garden it is and leave my cares right there in His care.  

As for the crisis of that day--it all shook out to be manageable.  My son moved to a better place and has been there for 5 years.  My missionary daughter got the medical care she needed and finished her mission successfully.   The trip with my daughter did strengthen our relationship and we created sweet memories.

It was never intended that we, as God's children, take up residence in Gethsemane's walled garden; He has greater desires for us than to be prisoners of our mortal bodies and earthly trials.  

That's why He send His son.

There is comfort in Gethsemane--I know I will yet visit there many times over in my life, but I will try to remember that the Savior, the Great Redeemer of all, the One who sanctified that place, both figuratively and genuinely-- He also left that Garden a long time ago.

Words For Life

January is here and I'm wide awake for it.
Ready to claim my place in all of the history books of Me.
If you had asked how my 2018 went,
even a month ago,
I'd have shook my head and said "it was rough".
But that's not the truth.
Not the whole truth, anyway.

Upon further reflection, as I was writing in my personal journal
on New Year's Eve
I started to chronicle my past year
and discovered that alot of really awesome opportunities
were given to me and mine
and I actually had much to be thankful for--
especially the gift of Time.

Whereas I've been working for more than a decade--
part-time, full-time, double-time
in any number of ventures,
2018 was not a Year of Work.
It was more than that--
a year of healing
a year of reconnecting
a year of travel
and discovering that my definition
of Adventure
more closely resembled the definition of
"vacation" (noun. an extended period of recreation, especially spent away from home or in travelling.)
than the true meaning of Adventure altogether.
It means "unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity."
This reality check helps when I am uncomfortable in my current situation--
that is,
living in Eugene, Oregon and missing my Colorado Springs.
We are definitely having an Adventure!
Still, 2018 was good to me.  Better than good, it was also Kind and Giving.
I had time to do alot of things that I haven't had before and that was a true Gift.

My word for 2018 was Patience.
I will claim it as a Win. I was patient when I didn't want to be.
I was patient with the people I love when it wasn't easy.
I was patient with my circumstances.
I was patient with my Heavenly Father, when I couldn't see His view clearly
or understand why, no matter how much I pleaded,
a certain child made a choice that would lead her in an uncertain direction.
But I loved her anyway. I have to claim that. I stepped in when I wanted to step away.
I had three important opportunities to show and exhibit Patience,
and I passed.

Last night, as I was settling down for sleep,
I entertained different feelings for how I wanted to claim a word
for 2019--
I'm going to try some new things this year--
and when I say "new" I mean: I've never done this before,
it's not going to be easy, but I believe I can do it.
The word that came floating to the top of the Word Pile:
REACH.

It applies to all that I hope I can do in 2019:
Reach for my goals,
Reach for stronger family relationships,
Reach for a greater faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Reaching out to serve others along the way too.
Reach deeply for peace and gratitude, come what may.

So there's my word.

In 2007,
during a particularly hard year,
I had a gal over to my house for an Uppercase Living party.
I wasn't in the mood for a party,
but felt somewhat obligated to host this for a friend.
As part of the demonstration,
the Demonstrator gal showed how easy it was to affix the vinyl letters
to the wall.
She let me chose one word among 3 offerings
and I chose "TRANSFORM".
I don't know why I chose that one,
but in that moment, I casually thought I'd just pull it off once the guests
had left the house.
But I didn't.
I left it up there for almost a year.
It was on a livingroom wall that led into my bedroom--
I passed it a zillion times a day and somewhere in there,
I began touching those vinyl letters
as I walked by them,
absorbing, accepting and appreciating
the word, "Transform" into my life.
That word helped me get thru a very hard time.

Words matter.
The words we use make a house in us.
 What's your word of the Year?

New Seasons

October finds me in Eugene, Oregon for the second year.
A year ago today our house sold in Colorado Springs,
and I knew then
that a new chapter had begun in our lives.
We're still writing our story here,
getting to know our way around the city,
find our favorite places,
make new friends ( that has been slower than I thought it would be),
adapt a little more than planned,
but you know, it is what it is.

Mr. W and I see this as a holding pattern for now.
Things are getting shaken up at his business
so there's the feeling of transitions in the air.
Which, btw, is totally OK with us.
He's been fielding calls from recruiters again,
so who knows what the future holds?
It's a new season.

Speaking of which,
Here's a pic of the Caboose--
who, if you've been following this little blog of mine
from the beginning, was just a 2nd grader way back when
and is a senior in high school:

She's growing up!
Sensitive, hilarious wit, stubborn as the day is long, and filling out college applications!

The last little chick in the nest.
My Caboose is about to take flight and leave her old mother behind.
Oh my.
These seasons go by so fast, don't they?!