Today

Today is Sarah's and Glen's anniversary and Stan's birthday. And two days past Christmas. Today Kent flew home. I went to Dan's and Amy's Sacrament meeting today and heard President Monson speak. Their ward has been his home ward for 50 years and still is. He's rarely there as he travels so much. I drove down with Jenny and back to moms and dad's when church was over. Today was sunny but with an inversion layer like most of the days this week.

It's good to be beyond Christmas and into the little lag that the end of December is before the new year comes. We sang Christmas songs still in church this afternoon, and that's okay - all invoking images of the Savior and bringing the Spirit. And now I'm ready to put away Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Silent Night. Tomorrow we put away mom's Christmas tree and decorations.

I realized today that the days are growing longer. About one week we are now on the other side of the shortest day of the year. I remember the last two Februarys looking up so to speak and noticing the afternoons lengthening, evening light, and being surprised. I will again in a couple of months I think. I've spot-checked myself a couple of times today, helped myself look at the here and now, the very present, and be in awe.
---
Abbie at Temple Square

Christmas Morning

Of course I'm up before the elves! Before the hubub starts. Before we are

~ up way too early wishing we were still "nestled all snug in our beds"
~ grabbing for coats and "warm woolen mittens"
~ in the car driving 20 minutes to Scott's house with "jack frost nippin' at our nose"
~ "rockin' around the Christmas tree"
~ oohing and aahing along with the "tiny tots with their eyes all aglow"

I'm loving these moments alone.

Christmas: I got modeling clay one year; new dresses, hot rollers, a tape recorder other times. Scriptures the Christmas before I married the first time, and a cedar chest for starting out my new life. A backpack from my children the year I went back to college at 40.  A KitchenAid. Photo albums. Wind chimes and Peter Cottontail books. A Scrabble Dictionary. Too many things to name across the years, and not one (thinking about it) more precious than the other. These are not the things that come to mind first this morning - the presents. It's the Savior and family I'm thinking of.



It's Christmas today. Right now! In a little while I'll be with the kids around the tree. It'll be fun and noisy and last about an hour. It always is, it always does. We'll eat a big breakfast. It's tradition and there's magic in it! But before that, first and above all and lastingly I thank God for the gift of His Son. Most precious to God the Father is His Son and He gave him to the earth, on the road to Gethsemane. In awe I celebrate this, privately, this morning.

Wonderful Nights and Days

In no particular order, our evening at Temple Square to see the lights. These are the best of pics from two cameras. Every picture I took of the boys close up were lame because I"m still getting used to my camera's night shots function.

Clockwise from left: Dan, Andrew, Erin, Jen, Abbie, Landon, Joseph


Jen


Abbie


The day before Christmas - I'm up and at this early enough that day seems far still, yet for my sister in New Zealand, Christmas has come and she's probably having a nap or sitting up to a delicious Christmas dinner. I'm assuming she may be at someone else's home today. Her blog will show the details I hope . . . that's a plug for you, sis. Yet here I am in my jammies still and the day (before Christmas) is dark.

I'm so stunned by the gorgeous lights we saw last night. Snow fell lightly on hundreds and hundreds of folks, among whom we were, walking around Temple Square. Our own babies all had pink cheeks and noses. Surely this is a Christmas tradition. Kent didn't come last night - he's sick. Sicker than me. He sighed when we talked quietly this morning about us coming on vacation and getting sick. I'm a couple of days ahead of him and still coughing and hacking.

Not (like the joyous Christmas lights) pretty.

Presents are wrapped. Food is bought. Christmas Eve dinner tonight at Grandma and Grandpa's with most of the kids. There's cooking to do! Me and mom together. Potatoes. Ham. Salads in the fridge. Jen'll make slush. Amy and Dan bring green beans. Treats everywhere, and dessert. Another Christmas tradition.

I'm counting the days til I have to go home, ticking them off on my fingers and wishing there weren't so few - I miss my friends there and my routine and my own bed, but oh these are wonderful times!
----
Brady and Santa

Adventures

It's the weekend! Five days here - how did that happen? It's going by fast, a blur sort of now. I did rest this afternoon - on the couch in front of "Montana" with Errol Flynn - if that's even how you spell his name. He's wonderful, gorgeous and daring but he didn't hold my attention long.

Earlier today I got my hair colored and cut. I have bangs! Since 2005 I haven't had bangs. I keep flipping them around while I write... anyway, I saw my grand kids at Hale's at lunch time before the haircut



and, happily, Laura; and of course Erin and Amy - when I drove into the cul-de-sac and parked in front of Sandra's house they were standing on a snow mound at the top of Laura's driveway launching their children into my sister's back yard on light sleds. Yesterday Landon ran into the basketball pole head on after his mother sent him down the hill, oops! Erin was horrified and Landon has a goose egg or, today anyway, a bruise. Luckily he wasn't concussed and there was no blood. This morning Laura comes zooming out of her driveway in the car waving and grinning at us all. Heavens, the kids - including my adult children - were togged in snowsuits and boots and beanies and there I am standing on snow crust on Sandra's sidewalk in Birkenstocks and a V-neck T-shirt holding my coat and my purse. I so couldn't help the kids sled. They showed off for me a bit and we went in for lunch.

Back to Laura: I ended up with a few Christmas presents things she's bought here and there in the back seat of the parents' Fit - don't tell her kids. She ceased whizzing around the cul-de-sac in the car when she saw me (and the parked Fit) and promptly offloaded more things into the back of it. "Bye," she shouted, off to buy more. These come on home with me to mom's. in a while.

I took mom on an errand for groceries late this afternoon and, well, to a little place she's been eying for months in our small downtown with a ceramic dog that sits in the window year round: A black and white Jack Russell terrier.



To buy that dog for dad.  She handed the owner a $100, but not before haggling with him a bit (proud of you, mom!) for $10 off that high price. Erm, no, said the owner.

"How much is that doggy in the window?" (Can you picture it?)



We both could've growled at him but she paid the price.

It got dark so fast after we left our house and as we made our way into town - I can hardly believe we were in traffic at dinnertime in total dark with only a fingernail moon, shopping! Doing girl things. In the freezing cold! (My coat on, still in Birks.) In the inversion layer during rush hour. Keeping secrets and buying distilled water and Bush's baked beans and cold cereal at Kroger. Fun. Even mom thought so! Course, she wasn't driving.

Tonight I get Kent from the airport very, very, VERY late. Midnight. His plane is on time - which is something, since Georgia all day has been wet and bitterly cold and the planes all day have been delayed. He's managed a lot this week executing his real job and pulling things together at the house to come. Last night he watered plants and downloaded a computer file I wanted him to bring, which involved him buying a flash drive the day before; of coursed finished packing; and who knows what he ate for dinner, all with a headache. He's been carrying that around much of the week. Here I am sneezing with a cold in my nose code i' by doze, and he's packing a headache. He's packing Mucinex and Allergy Relief besides.

This is all. I got up so early this morning I'm wobbly. Need a nap before I drive this night. And dinner, which mom is getting out now and which I smell. I think meat loaf.

Cold tonight

It seemed warmer all day with the sun out, though the high was 41 degrees. Had a great day, got a very lot done! I've seen a lot of the family. Had lunch with the kids and got to play with the grandkids again this evening at Dan's and Amy's. Now I've got a scratchy throat and the idea I might be heading for the inevitable c o l d. Christmas vacation usually incudes me getting sick - don't want it and don't want to pass a sore throat on to the grandkids or my parents or Kent . . . see how it goes in the next 24 hours. We drive to Idaho Saturday - sure don't want Kent's parents to be sick. The Neti pot worked wonders for my sinuses tonight - I came home from being with the kids and flushed out my nose with saline solution. Counterattack on lurking bacteria which may cause an upper respiratory infection. Don't want it. Lots of water tonight; the Neti pot; honey for my throat; and going to bed. Oh, and prayer.

Here

Three days here. It's busy. Busy! And I HAVE been bouncing from pillar to post. Last night I babysat Dan's and Amy's boys while the kids went to Dan's company Christmas party. Prepared, set on the table for the boys and cleaned up noodles and red sauce and corn. Cleaned up the boys, too. Then watched "Happy Feet" while we wrestled, or the other way around. I bathed the boys, then we watched "Happy Feet" some more - it was being recorded while on another channel the Jazz game was also being recorded. Quite the multi-tasking family. Anyway, bathed the boys which involved coaxing them to even come, getting the water temp just right, begging them to keep the water in the bathtub while they made waterfalls with cups, drying myself when they didn't keep the water in the bathtub, scrubbing one and getting him out and dressed, then the other and keeping an eye on the one while I did the other, since alone and untended one is much the more dangerous than two in the same spot. Dressed, combed hair and cuddled them both and watched the end of "Happy Feet," then prayed and put them to bed. Dozed under an afghan in front of House Hunters and Paula's Cookie Swap til the kids got home, then drove twenty minutes to mom's house and my bedroom in the basement.

I've been waking at 2:00 a.m. every day - comparable to 4:00 at home, my normal get up time - and wedging myself deep into the covers and commanding myself to sleep. Getting up near 4:00 though anyway, and to bed around 10:00. I'm eating a tad more than I do at home but burning far more calories. Stairs everywhere! Yesterday afternoon's meal at Red Lobster helped me out not at all in the calorie department; it's 4:41 a.m. according to the computer clock right this minute where I'm working and I haven't eaten a morsel since 1:00 yesterday when I put the last Walt's Fried Shrimp in my mouth. I was stuffed. A virtual stuffed flounder! I enjoyed fried shrimp and shrimp scampi and shrimp Alfredo, a trio platter, and wanted not another thing more all day. Mom made meat loaf later in the day, but no. The noodles and red sauce at Amy's - not. Not a Christmas cookie or chocolate drop. Just water. I'm not even hungry here and now.

I've been able to get to the computer at the beginnings and ends of the days, but not during. Too much to do and too many places to go. I've driven Dad's Fit up and down I-15 through slow-downs and speed-ups in the dark and daylight in construction, and not, because when you have no home and no vacuuming to do or a bathroom to clean or Seminary to prepare and you've paid for a steep-priced ticket to leave all that behind and you're committed to picking up where you left off with everybody on June 17th when you left here last, this is what you do. I've seen all my grandkids (that are coming) and their parents, and even their aunts and uncles on the others side. I've visited with Laura already, though she's going a mile a minute. Mom and I have been shopping - to buy toys for a toy box for when the grandkids (well, GREAT-grandkids for her) come; two trips, one for the toy box one day and one for the toys another. With mom I don't hustle. Or with dad for that matter. We've been to Costco. (Not hustling; meandering.) I've been up the hill to Laura's and Sandra's already lots, and in one hour am headed over to Laura's - yes, one hour - to help her decorate her Christmas tree. 6:00 a.m. I've been the other direction to Dan's and Amy's twice - only just discovered I-80 East is completed and slick and fast and the way to go. I-15 northbound on the other hand is narrowed to one lane just south of Mom and Dad's house. Yesterday with Dad driving us home from Red Lobster in the Pilot we slowed to a crawl, then a complete stop and were an hour going perhaps five miles. One lane only for the length of a few blocks finally, then free! And in two shakes of a rabbit's tail, home. ONE LANE on 1-15. ONE hour. Dad turned on Johnny Mathis and Nat King Cole CDs and I practiced my patience in the back seat and learned, newly, surrender. All part of the vacation package.

It's off to Laura's this morning and later to lunch with Erin and babies

"I'm in Utah, Abbie"


and Dan and Amy and babies and hopefully Scott. During Dan's lunch hour, so somewhere near his work. More driving the Fit far. Don't know how the afternoon will go. With some luck, a nap.  More later. :)

Pillar to Post

Scott and I talked last night about so many cool things. Afterwards I told him what time I was landing at the airport Monday and he said, what! I didn’t know you’re getting here this soon. Well yeah – so I can hang out with you. He’s got a few days off work ahead, luckily. With Dan and Amy and their kids and Scott all looking forward to me coming, Erin and Mike and the kids arriving the day after I do, Laura watching for me to walk in the front door, and mom and dad anxious to have me stay, it’ll be for a couple of days like I’ve popped into a pinball machine.

I vacation here but it’s really home; I’m the guest however instead of the mom. It’s very upside down. Used to be not; used to be Kent and I had a house with spare bedrooms, Sunday dinner, a Christmas tree and a couch the size of a semi, and the family came to us. I miss us hanging around the kitchen table or piled on the couch watching tv. I’m the guest now, and room is made “in the inn” for me. Meals are at other family tables and their Christmas tree is my Christmas tree. A living room couch for a sleepover, or a bed in the basement or second story, keeps me smack in the middle – right in the heart of – my big little family. I do have an entire bedroom at mom and dad’s where my stuff belongs, but me myself? For a couple of days I’ll be bouncing from pillar to post.

Scott 2007

Mending

I perched in a patch of sunlight
On the arm of a comfy chair,
On the arm of the chair with the sun in my lap
And Kent’s suit pants, his darkest pair;
Eying a needle and yarn,
As dark as his pants were black;
Eying the fabric, the weave and the nap,
Eying a nasty tear.

I sewed while the sun filtered in.
Just two wobbly stitches I plied,
Two stitches too wobbly were all that I took
In Kent’s pants with a hole gaping wide.
Now a needle and thread I can ply!
Oh, I sew like nobody can.
Here I pause and hold up the pants for a look,
Then muttering, set them aside.

This is going to be tricky, I thought
And stared at the pants, and then stood.
I stood on the spot with my needle and yarn
Thinking, these have just GOT to look good.
Now I never have mended, not ever.
Well - I never have darned is the thing.
And I had not a clue who could teach me to darn –
But, wait! The Internet could!

I went to my PC and Googled,
Mostly surfing. Well yeah, taking stock.
Mostly surfing for links that will tell me a bit,
And some pretty much put me in shock:
“Take a needle, some yarn, and a light bulb . . .”
Well right there you can see I’m all done.
But I clicked into one and discovered that it
Was for darning a knitted sock.

It’s not a darn sock I am mending -
It’s a tear in my husband’s good suit!
It’s a tear! It’s a hole. It’s a rip, it’s a flap.
It’s now a darn nuisance, to boot.
Eying the yarn and the needle,
Spying the unsuitable spot,
Smoothing the fabric and gathering the gap,
I finger the threads so minute.

And squint in the slant of sunlight
At stitches I’m now trying to snip.
At stitches I set in their place - just a few –
In a row in the cloth near the rip.
Pretending I’ve done it forever,
And though I do wobble a bit,
I knit the yarn under and over and through
In cloth the new stitches can grip.

This job is the work of a mender
And I bend fairly close in the light.
I bend in the chair with the sun in my glance,
Careful to get the job right.
Feeling I’ve done it forever,
I clip the yarn close to the knot;
Now looking quite good - darn near perfect - these pants
Will hang in the closet tonight.

Adventures in Normal

I study and re-read Alma chapters 12-14; venture into 15 before I put the Book of Mormon away just before bedtime last night. The story of Alma and Amulek's encounter with Zeezrom in Ammonihah: Satan has hold of the hearts of the people up the ladder right to the chief judge of the land. Zeezrom is a prominent attorney in the community, known for craftiness and his ability to stir up contention in groups of people (so lawyers in town will have jobs and receive fees). There are a few righteous here, enough that when Alma preaches these are strengthened. Other few hesitate hearing Alma's words, then Amulek witnesses identically - the coming of the Christ; resurrection and standing before the bar of God to be judged; men are judged by their thoughts, beliefs, words, and works - and they are astonished and do believe. But just a few - the whopping majority are enraged. They're reviling our laws! Individuals whom Satan has had hold of in his comfortable grip for decades. These become mob-like, powerful to destroy, and they bend to it.

They carted the the prophets, bound, to prison, threatening and cursing savagely.

Cast out the men in the crowd who believed their words; hurled abuses and rocks, and these fled.

Built a huge fire.

Gathered the families of those who believed and bodily cast them into the fire. Women and children and the elderly.

Gathered the scriptures wherever they were and burned them.

Brought Alma and Amulek to the scene and forced them to watch.

Amulek, less used to the consequences of strenuous missionary work than his companion, and horrified, blurts out let us stretch forth our hands and exercise the power of God which is in us, and save them from the flames!

I sure would've. I'd've tried. I'd've probably melted down right then and there . . . now I'm teaching the story in Seminary and have the kids' attention. Their eyes are wide and looking, some heads bent over their scriptures. Alma responds (and think of the trust): The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand; for behold the Lord receiveth them up unto himself in glory; and he doth suffer that they may do this thing, or that the people may do this thing unto them, according to the hardness of their hearts, that the judgments which he shall exercise upon them in his wrath may be just; and the blood of the innocent shall stand as a witness against them, yeah, and cry mightily against them at the last day.

I considered a thing last night and this morning, an image I remember from Revelation where I ended teaching in the New Testament six months ago. Chapter 6, verses 9-11. John the Beloved receiving a vision of the last days, an angel opening the fifth of seven seals. And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held: And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth? And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellowservants also and their brethren, that should be killed as the were, should be fulfilled.



I've not forgotten it; thought about it in light of the fiery martyrdom of these believers in Ammonihah.

Which occurred 81 years before Christ's birth, here in America. Prophets had been categorically martyred up to now, men the Lord sent to his vineyard time and again: (Matthew 21:33-36) Hear another parable: There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country:  And when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it. And the husbandmen took his servants, and beat one, and killed another, and stoned another. Again, he sent other servants more than the first: and they did unto them likewise.

After Christ lived and died . . .

(Matthew 21: 37-39) But last of all he sent unto them his son, saying, They will reverence my son. But when the husbandmen saw the son, they said among themselves, This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and let us seize on his inheritance. And they caught him, and cast him out of the vineyard, and slew him.

. . . his apostles and other believers, becoming fewer as Satan's strange works revived around them, were tortured and killed. Crucified. Boiled in oil. Fed to lions. These centuries later in 1844 the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were imprisoned with two other Mormon leaders on false charges, and murdered in the jail by an anti-Mormon mob. Of this event John Taylor, one present in the jail and only wounded, wrote: and their innocent blood, with the innocent blood of all the martyrs under the altar that John saw, will cry unto the Lord of Hosts til he avenges that blood on the earth. (D&C 135:7)

We had big adventures this morning in Seminary. Learning about prophets and power. Faith to believe! Believers and martyrs, vision, vengeance and the Lord's own wisdom. Altars; their sacred symbolism, anciently and in vision - where they were found then, and what used for; and where they are found now (Do we have altars on the earth today? The students shake their heads, probably not . . .) - yes, in the holiest of places on this earth, literally, where we may bring a sacrifice of our broken heart and contrite spirit before the Lord, "wedding" ourselves, sealing ourselves His by commitment and obedience.

"They're sacred," Anna commented.

All in a day's work in the Gospel of Jesus Christ - Adventures in Normal.

Reoriented

I attended a training broadcast at the church this morning on teaching. Some of the hour and a half was spent on four points needed in good teacher orientation. I didn't have a head start that way three years ago when I agreed to teach Seminary - it's taken time and work to figure out what's most important and how to do it.

"As a new teacher, did I set goals?" I wrote in my notebook.

"We're not after having more entertaining classes," said Elder Osguthorpe, the General Sunday School President who instructed us. "We're after helping people live the gospel." (I wrote that down.) "I am a model, or [my] class is a model," I wrote after hearing him ask if the youth in the church know how to themselves teach lessons and conduct classes and give talks. He told the story of a fifteen year-old young man in the Congo who gave a talk in Sacrament meeting that was the best by a youth he had EVER heard in his life. He teared up while he said that the youth started by reciting a scripture, then bore testimony of it. He recited another scripture and reference, and explained it and bore his testimony of it. Again with a third, then tied them together. He went to close the talk but couldn't as he exclaimed he needed to once more bear witness to the first principle; then the second. The depth of his testimony was astounding for a teenager.

"What am I going to do to inspire and implant change in my students?" I wrote.

"We are not to fill the class time with content, but the hearts of the students with the desire to change." Teach key doctrine, invite to action, and promise blessings," said Elder Osguthorpe. He was quoting Elder Bednar, and the rest of the training was on this. "A lesson is [sadly] often 40 minutes of what does this key doctrine or that key doctrine mean . . . with rarely time left to offer an invitation to the students to act, and almost never a focus on blessings that will come." He showed us how to put all three parts into any lesson or study of the scriptures.

"Impact as I teach comes from considering what I invite the students to do, and the assurance of blessings in their lives," I wrote. (Scribbled. There was so much.) "In preparing my lesson look for ways I can help students WANT more of whatever the key doctrine is!"

The stakes are high - lives are at stake. "Draw on the Holy Ghost to know what you'll need for the students - you'll be led," said Elder Osguthorpe. Save someone's life. President Monson has extended an invitation to Quorum members, saying, "Ask yourselves, 'Have I rescued anyone recently?' Here is a ringing invitation for me to prepare, then close the lesson manual (content) and teach keeping my understanding open to the spirit and my heart on the students. Watching for change in them. I don't have anything written in my notebook tonight that guarantees me making a difference. Saving their lives. It's work. I haven't been doing it very well I think. Well enough, but now I have goals and a new direction.
----
Sibs 2007

A few little things

Anybody read this book?



It looks like a simple little story. I'm in the mood for something simple.

Kent's in Volume 6 of the "History of the Church" and I'm halfway through "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle." Riveting, both. Really. They're each hefty though - I'm ready to lighten up. Give me a recommendation . . . help!
----
Check out the little saying on this page. It came to me - journaling's always the hardest to get right and I'm happy with it.

Garrett, 2008

Equanimity

Here is Stacy Julian.

A picture of her from her blog. She's very cool - she's filled with light, creative, emotional and very on the ball. I've linked to her post "Control and Coming Apart" where she tells about being in a yoga class and one day crying uncontrollably. She didn't want to come apart but here she was, in front of everybody . . .

"This cry wasn’t a cry I was comfortable with on any level, because it felt like it was actually leaking something that I was ready to leak. It was me admitting that this yoga experience wasn’t about confirming everything I already know to be true. This yoga experience is going to teach me new things that perhaps I’m not willing to admit I need to learn."

"Each week’s meditation + practice + diet + questions (she writes) has a theme: presence, vitality, equanimity, restoration, centering, and finally triumph. Here's an excerpt from this week’s chapter on equanimity."

"There is famous quote by the theologian Reinhold Neibuhr that says "God, give us the grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things which should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other." When we become centered enough, we have the ability to accept the things we cannot change and are able to instantly and humbly admit that our willpower and ego are ultimately powerless over most of the realities in our lives. There are innumerable things we cannot change – the rude salesclerk, the traffic, the flu. Rather than fighting, it is so much simpler to just accept that we aren’t in control of these things. Then we can turn our energy toward something more proactive, such as changing the things we can. Equanimity is the art of meeting life as it meets you – calmly, without drama or fuss. This is the way out of frustration and into the light. Living in the light, there is a brightness and a creativity very much like that of a child. The light leads us back to our naturalness. But you don’t get to the light by fighting or wrestling for control. An inner revolution is not about taking control. Control has no real healthy place in our lives, and only robs us of our serenity. We think we change things by taking charge, by grabbing the bull by the horns. But if you think about it, grabbing the bull by the horns would be a crazy thing to do. We change by finding equanimity and learning to relax right in the middle of conflict-filled moments."

I like that.

She finishes: "I am one who generally does okay relinquishing control over rude people, traffic and sickness — but . . . I most definitely like to control the flow of the day and my own productivity. In other words, I like to go with the flow as long as the flow is something I control."

"I *think* I am going to learn how to NOT control the flow and still be happily engaged with it."
----
Very cool. It's like what Jen and me remind each other of once in a while: Don't make demands on the moment; watch and see what happens. Well I do. I try. I give off my best excuse that I'm an oldest child when I get demanding with the tenors at choir practice. I did it last night. Change things by taking charge; took the bull by the horns. And in Seminary on Tuesday at the end of class, took those five kids by the scruff and shook, then declared to Kent at breakfast in tears that kids are stupid. Stupid. He patted my arm as I sputtered into my cereal spoon, coming apart.

I wasn't mean at choir practice or at Seminary. I'm not mean. I was controlling. Sigh. I am that. . . love . . . control . . . demands . . . it's tricky being "happily engaged" in the flow of the moment and learning like Stacy says "how to NOT control the flow." If control has no real healthy place in our lives and only robs us of our serenity, let me have no part of it. (Little by little, line upon line.) I can think of a couple of ways that help me meet life with equanimity as it comes. And I mean it:  be still and wait; and be grateful. I waited, finally, on my tenors while they struggled, waited and thanked them in my pea-sized heart for their big effort; I gathered my Seminary children in my arms one by one as they left Tuesday saying, "thank you for being here," and "I love you."

I want to know and live things that perhaps I’m not willing to admit I need to learn. "God give me the grace. . . the courage . . . and the wisdom."

Ya' think?

I was swiping spots off the bathroom mirror thinking about being home alone. I'm really used to it and don't consider regularly how I do not hear the sound of my voice at all most days. Do not have noises around me. Am not running a mile a minute. I notice such only when I get to or have to. You know, sit in a room with three and four year-olds or Relief Society sisters, or put the last part of a full meal on for company, or talk long on the phone - that. Though that's not the point. I was swiping spots off the bathroom mirror thinking about how I 

 think 

think 

think.

I do go on and on. It's friendly. I write books sometimes - the first few sentences only. I make shortlists. I talk to the plants, furniture, the mailbox, you name it. In fantasies I give entire discussions to supposed audiences: talking from the pulpit in church, wrapping up a huge class, hosting my own cooking show from my kitchen! I hum lots and sing always. Never out loud, and whatever the choir's working on lately. All parts. I draft my journal routinely and do manage to get that on the computer. I pretend I'm telling stories to my grandchildren on my lap. Once there was . . . um . . . a little white fish . They want me to tell more when I stop.

I review scriptures in long stretches, wondering what it was like to live, say, in David's time, and Saul's. Saul lived beautifully in the beginning and died a gruesome death. I think about it. Most in that time may have; it wrenches me. Why did I get born to this time . . . I consider sin, and choosing right, and where that all leads. Globally and personally. I fret about our times, the planet,  the Lord's kingdom, government, how I should spend my day, what I have to give. And do I have energy, and when (if) not . . . how could I be so uncareful growing old? I jump on plans of action in my mind.

I get mad and go off sometimes inside. Stupidity! Someone or something acting moronic. But I'm as likely to pray I love you I love you when it's family and friends I'm imagining: Nieces - you're fabulous grown ups! Beautiful! (Can I say it any better? Sure - out loud and in person, right?) Kids - life would never ever be the same without you in it. Ditto for spouses and children who I adore. You're my forever! Be good . . .   Kent - I love you, thank you for working all day for us, come home safe . . .  Brothers. Yes! Darn, you're funny - crack me up! And good looking, and you love me. Sisters - the best! You're my very best friends. Mom and Dad - of course! I love you so much, miss being there. I'm coming!  . . .

(Oooh - Mom and Dad) I'm bringing summer clothes for Christmas. And my fan. Your house is hot. Mine is not;  it's 69 degrees in here right this minute because the heat's off and I've put on three layers and long sleeves and socks and am bundled and happy. I love, love staying with you - and I'll be way hot. I'll close the vent in the bedroom. Kent'll have to because he's tall and still he'll have to stand on a chair. I'll just go barefoot; or go out on the porch for a good shiver. That'll work. If there's snow it'll be best . . . oooh, if there's snow Temple Square will be gorgeous the night the kids and I are there! And cold!!!! I'll need mittens and my white cap Regina's mother-in-law crocheted for me a couple of years ago and my coat with fur on the hood . . . and, ick, traffic will be awful. Traffic . . . the hill - I'll have to go slow coming down from the house, not skid in the Pilot. Hm, the Fit. Dad's letting us drive the Fit. He said the Pilot, though, when we drive to Idaho. Better, more comfortable. Lucky. I wonder if it has separate temperature controls like the Avalon? Then my side of the car can be air conditioned when Kent turns on the heat . . .

See?
----

Landon in corn field, October 2008

Pixels and Papers

I learned to make plaid digi-scrap paper from photographs. Each of these two is from this photo:



And this one is from:

It's simple. I thought creating papers like this took designers painstaking hours. I'm wrong - it's moving pixels around. Proves that when you know how or see a thing done, what looks complicated isn't always.

Now what'll I use these for? Dunno.