One Hundred Years

100 years ago, in 1909, there were under 10,000 cars in the entire country and the average salary earned by a worker was about $750/year. The first long-distance, coast-to-coast phone call would not take place for another 6 years, and it would be almost 45 more years before a television set in every home would become the norm. At that time, no one could even fathom the idea of cell phones, the internet, or DVRs. And, 100 years ago today, the world became a better place, and part of the roots for my little family were sprouted, when Josephine Schofield was born. Josephine is the grandmother of Brad, mother to Brad's mother, Judy, and great-grandmother to Madi, Katie, Lacey and Ben.



Grandma Jo was born in Provo, Utah and spent most of her growing up years in the tiny town of Hiko, Nevada. She had 6 sisters and 1 brother. She and 5 of her sisters shared one bed for many years - 3 at the head and 3 at the foot of the bed. As a girl she woke up at 3:00 am to milk the cows and when she was finished with her morning chores, she would ride her horse to school. She lived through the Great Depression. She taught school in a one-room school house. She married Cornell Stewart in 1932, and together they raised 8 children - 7 daughters and a son. She is a talented seamstress and sewed draperies for many years. She was the Nevada Mother of the Year in 1983. She was widowed over 20 years ago, after watching her husband suffer from cancer. She is a tiny lady, under 5 feet tall, 75 pounds, with a size 3 1/2 shoe. Grandma Jo currently has 57 grandchildren, 143 great-grandchildren, and 49 great-great-grandchildren.


Grandma Jo has loved babies her whole life. As the 2nd oldest in her family, she was around many babies, starting at a young age. She describes the arrival of her mother's fifth child in her personal history:

"As usual, with every new baby, I would not leave the house. I would stick around praying Mama would let me rock the baby to sleep or give it a bath. I remember rocking Alice to sleep. Mama would say to leave her wrapped, because I would be in the screen house where it would be cold, but as soon as Mama would leave the room, I would take her over and lay her on the bed and unwrap her and pick her up and hold her without the blankets on and then lay her down real quick and roll her up again!"

She then went on to raise her own 8 children, and she says that as soon as the babies started to come she went right out and bought a rocking chair. She says, "The greatest joy in my life was when each child was born."

And her tradition of rocking babies continued with grandchildren. Grandma Jo stated in her Nevada Mother of the Year speech in 1983:

"I have fifty grandchildren. They have all been held in my arms and rocked. The other evening at 11:00 pm a 7-year-old grandchild called and said, "Grandma, the babysitter is here. I can't go to sleep. If you could come over and rock me and sing to me, I'd be to sleep in 2 seconds."

Grandma (97) and Ben (8 months) - Katie in background

For many years now Grandma Jo has been knitting special bandages that she donates to our church Humanitarian Center. One of her life's philosophies is to stay busy and work. As she has said, "Be of service every chance you get, and don't dwell on physical pain. Be involved in things. Work usually takes care of any problems you may have come up. If you get busy and work, pretty soon things can be overcome."

pictures of grandma, knitting her bandages - age 97

Grandma Jo has seen a lot of change in her lifetime. I doubt that she knows much about the internet, and she's probably never heard of blogs or facebook. I don't know if she's ever even used a cell phone. Though she isn't well educated about using the tools of the information age, she knows much more than I will ever know. She knows what it was like to go from having to ride around in a horse and buggy to driving in a car. She knows the difference between living in a comfortable, climate-controlled house and having to place wet towels around her baby's crib to keep her cool during the hot desert summers in a home with no air-conditioning. She knows what a miracle it is to be able to go to a doctor and be treated with antibiotics after watching her own mother die from an appendicitis because there was nothing the doctors could do.

And after 100 years, she knows that the simple things in life are what bring joy - these are her words of wisdom she shared with a host from a radio interview yesterday -

Tell your children you love them everyday
Pray every day and read your scriptures
Root beer floats twice a week are a wonderful treat
Trees and nature bring joy
Put God first and all other things will fall into place

(If you are interested in hearing more of that interview, you can listen on cousin Katie Morgan's blog - it's 25 minutes long, but such a treat to hear. You will be be amazed at how witty and alert a 100-year-old can be.)

What does "I love you" mean to a 3-year-old boy?

It was a quiet evening - just me and my baby girl and my baby boy. A rare, quiet evening. Katie has been on a school trip all week. Madi was babysitting and Brad - off on a fishing venture. I was sitting in front of my Mac, perusing my online world with Ben on my lap. He was squirming and begging. "Please mommy, can we go to the park? Please?" He wanted to go to the little park in our neighborhood - just 2 houses away.

I kept giving him reasons why we couldn't go. "Ben, it's almost time to go to sleep . . . It's getting late . . . It's almost dark." The reality - I just didn't feel like going to the park. Lazy, I guess. I wanted to play on the computer, I guess. Plus it was hot outside. Besides, we had just come inside after spending almost an hour enduring the 90+ degree temperature.

I hadn't planned on staying outside when we walked my mom to her car after she stopped by for a few minutes, and I warned Ben of this fact, telling him it was too hot to stay outside. He didn't care, & out we stayed. After spraying the grass with the hose, traversing the sidewalk on scooters, waving to neighbors entering and exiting the neighborhood, and sweeping the gutters along with our driveway and the driveway next door, Ben and Lacey finally decided they were hungry for dinner and wanted to go in.

So when we came inside, in my mind, we were done for the night. I knew Ben wanted to go to the park, but I knew he also needed to eat dinner and that daylight was waning. I figured if I had to, I could remind him of the bobcat sometimes seen looming outside our neighborhood and Ben would definitely give up the "go to the park" idea. Things were going well. It was 7:40 and almost dark. It was just about time to get ready for bed. But then the begging began. I fought the begging for a few minutes, and then contemplated, "why am I resisting this? It's just me and my little kids. I really have no other obligations but being with them right now."

So I said, "OK Ben - let's go to the park, but just for 15 minutes, then it's time for bed."

And his jubilant reply, "OK! Yay!! This means you really love me, mama! Come on Lacey, we're going to the park!"

And you know what - after 15 minutes, Ben said, "I'm ready to go home, mama." Only 15 minutes - doing something I didn't really feel like doing initially - but my little boy went to bed knowing his mama loved him. So simple . . . so why do I make it so difficult sometimes?

Pruning

Don't be sad, tree.
I know you may feel naked and embarrassed, but those limbs had to go.



They were weakened and sagging from that winter storm you were not prepared to handle.

Storms come. They may weaken us in spots.
And then the pruning begins.

The weakened branches have to go.
So don't be sad, tree.

I understand you may not feel like yourself. You don't even look like yourself.
You are probably missing those branches that were a part of you.

Though you don't know it, sometimes the pruning is necessary.
It will help you become yet stronger and more beautiful.

Trust me.

I speak from experience.
Don't be sad, tree.

I'm Ready

Dear readers - this is a blog post that I wrote just prior to leaving for my walk for breast cancer this weekend. I did not get a chance to post it, so I will post it now. I hope to give you a full report of this unbelievable event very soon! This was definitely a life-changing experience!

Tomorrow I leave for my 3-day walk for breast cancer in San Diego. I can hardly believe the day is here. When I started thinking about doing this over the summer, November seemed so far away. Now it is here and I am excited, anxious, and nervous. I have trained for months, and I feel ready. My first long walk of 7.5 miles was exhausting. It left me tired and weary the entire day of that walk. I wondered how I would ever walk even 20 miles in one day. It didn't seem physically possible. Since that time I have built up endurance and strength, and I have walked 18 miles in one day. I have yet to walk 20, but I will do that on Friday and again on Saturday and again on Sunday.

Think of me and thousands of others walking this weekend. It feels great to be a part of something that is positive. I am walking this weekend because I wanted to challenge myself physically, and I am walking because I have never done anything remotely like this before. I am walking in honor of the many women in my life who I love and who I hope never have to walk the path of breast cancer. I am walking in memory of my grandma who is no longer with us, but who was a breast cancer survivor. I am walking for my aunt and my other grandma who are breast cancer survivors. I am walking for my mother and mother-in-law, my daughters, my nieces, my sisters and sisters-in-law, my girlfriends, my blogging buddies. I am walking for the mom at our school who is undergoing chemotherapy right now for breast cancer. I am walking for my friend's mother who died too soon, after a very short fight with a very aggressive form of breast cancer. I am walking because I am thankful for my health and my strength. I will be in awe as I walk alongside breast cancer survivors and patients this weekend. I cannot believe I am doing this, but I am so glad I am. I can hardly wait to share the details of my adventure with you in the weeks to come.

My family has been an unbelievable support to me. There have been many Saturday mornings that I have away from them, walking and walking and walking and walking for hours upon hours. Brad has been whole-heartedly supportive of my desire to do this. He has been my walking companion in the early hours of the morning over the past couple of months, and we have now seen many sunrises together. I look forward to continuing this early-morning ritual!

I am absolutely amazed at the generosity of many who have contributed to help me raise over $2600. My team of 10 women has collectively raised over $30,000! Now that I am ready to leave, I regret not being more proactive and assertive in my fundraising. Next time . . . . I will do more. But as I walk this weekend, I will be forever thankful to the donors (many of whom are faithful blog readers) who have helped make this possible.

One nation, under God

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all."



Today, in a room at our school filled with 150+ children reciting these words together, I felt my emotions unexpectedly and instantaneously rise to the surface. This reaction shocked me a bit. After all, I have said the pledge over a thousand times in my life, and usually haven't reacted this way. As I made sure the lump in my throat didn't materialize to tears, I questioned why I was emotional. Was it because I was hearing the enthusiastic voices of children, reciting these words in a unified chorus? Did the rise in emotion stem from my feelings that our country is more divided than ever - and certainly not "indivisible" at this point in time? Was it the words, "one nation, under God" that got to me? Are we a nation under God? It doesn't feel like it to me. Did emotions surface because I felt proud to be an American at that moment and felt blessed to live in this land? Was it because I was actually contemplating the words I was saying as I said them? In all the many times that I've repeated the pledge of allegiance in years gone by, I have thoughtfully pondered the words that were coming out of my mouth probably only a handful of times. I think that as I reflected on these words this morning, words which I believe to be sacred, all of the above questions played some part in stirring the feelings from within.

I feel so blessed to be an American, to live in this great land of promise. I am thankful for our founding fathers and for their sacrifice and faith that was necessary to build what we enjoy today. I am thankful for and admire American citizens, like my cousins Melanie and Jenny, who stand up for their beliefs and fight to maintain the morals and values that America was built on, even when it is not popular to do so. As I read my cousin Melanie's blog post today, I found myself looking up quotes from leaders of our country's past. Here are 2 of my favorites -

"We have no government armed with power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion... Our constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other." - John Adams

"Every thinking man, when he thinks, realizes that the teachings of the Bible are so interwoven and entwined with our whole civic and social life that it would be literally impossible for us to figure ourselves what that life would be if these standards were removed. We would lose almost all the standards by which we now judge both public and private morals, all the standards towards which we, with more or less resolution, strive to raise ourselves." - Theodore Roosevelt

I, for one, will uphold the standards these men of the past speak of, and I will pass this way of living on to my children. I can live in a world of the "if it makes you happy, do it because that's all that matters" and "anything goes" mentalities, but not partake of such philosophies, myself. I can fill my brain with goodness as I read the scriptures and words from a living prophet. It is not easy, and I believe, will get harder, but it can be done! And I can say the pledge of allegiance, with conviction and honor and thankfulness, making sure that my family helps keep America, at least in some small way, one nation, under God.

Remembering on Patriot Day

This morning we dressed in red, white, and blue in honor of an important day of remembrance for those who lost their lives in the terror attacks of September 11th, 2001 and for the heroes who emerged from this tragedy. As the stories of heroism materialized, and as Americans pulled together, our country was united as it should be. I will never forget the story of Todd Beamer from Flight 93. Such stories remind us of what it truly is to be an American.

Before Lacey headed out the door this morning, I asked her if she knew what happened on that day 7 years ago. I had enough time to give her the 15-second version of the story before I scooted her out the door and off to school. Lacey is 6 1/2 years old and in the first grade. I was 6 months pregnant (almost exactly) on September 11th, 2001, expecting dear Ms. Lacey Grace. I was at home that morning and watched on TV as the horror unfolded. I subsequently discovered the anxiety and trepidation that only an expectant mother can possess. What was I doing? How, how, how could I bring a sweet, innocent baby girl into this atrociousness? I felt, somehow, irresponsible for being pregnant during such an awful time in the world. If this was happening now, what kind of inhumanity was in store for the future? It all seemed so hopeless to me and my pregnant self. Then, a few days later, I looked at my little page-a-day calendar of quotes and found a quote that gave me hope -

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on." ~Carl Sandburg

I decided this quote made a lot of sense, and if God thought the world should go on, then I should do the same. How glad I am that the world did go on, and I have been privileged to witness the happy childhood life of a little girl born just 3 months after September 11th (and I didn't even know about that baby boy who would join us 4 years later.)

Each year our school has a little ceremony on the morning of September 11th for the children. I attended today because Madi had a part in the program. As the ceremony began we observed a moment of silence, then saluted the flag, recited the pledge, and listened to a teacher explain (for just a minute - we have 3 & 4 year olds at the school) about the significance of that day. Then we heard a poem about heroes from some of the older students, honored a few local firefighters (one being a mom at our school), and ended the ceremony as my daughter, Madi, and her friend, Lauren, sang the national anthem. Oh let me tell you, I was a proud mama! The girls sang so beautifully and so respectfully, with their hands over their hearts as they looked to the flag. They were shining examples for all the little people at the school to see.

Sometimes, especially lately, amid the political divisions and ugliness, disaster, and tragedy that I seem to hear about daily, I feel a little like I did that September 11th morning 7 years ago. I find myself wondering what is in store in the years ahead, and it can get frightening. But, today is a good day to remind myself of that quote I discovered back in 2001. I know of plenty of babies who have been born just in the last few months, so I choose to believe that it is still God's opinion that the world should go on! There is much in this world that is right and joyous even in the midst of all that is wrong and tragic. This I do believe!

What a book!

It's been a long time since I've had a book review for you. In fact, my last book review was over a year ago. So - either I don't seem to finish books very often or I only review books that really impress me. Actually, both are true. I have only finished one other of my book club's selections this year. I read "Women of the Silk" and got through part of "My Antonia". Both books were OK, but the book I just finished, "A Thousand Splendid Suns," made quite an impression. It is a remarkable story about 2 women who withstood lives of great trial, violence, and hardship over the past 30 years in Afghanistan. The author does a phenomenal job of developing the characters of Mariam and Laila, and as I read, I felt like I was transported to Afghanistan into their homes and lives. This is the type of book that makes you think again and again about what a great blessing it is to live in the United States, and even beyond that, what an overwhelming blessing it is to be a woman living in the United States. As I was talking to my mom about this book, she confirmed something I already knew; if I were an Afghan woman, I would have been dead long ago. Women's lives, for the most part, are not valued by a great many of the men in Afghanistan, particularly during the time of the Taliban. A woman could be beaten, killed or imprisoned for speaking her mind or for being on a street without a man, or for defending herself against a violent husband. The book outlines some of the laws that were put into place when the Taliban took over the Afghan government in 1996 - can you even imagine this -

singing is forbidden. dancing is forbidden. writing books, watching films, and painting pictures are forbidden. women - you will stay inside your homes at all times. it is not proper for women to wander aimlessly about the streets. cosmetics are forbidden. jewelry is forbidden. you will not speak unless spoken to. you will not, under any circumstances, show your face. you will cover with burqa when outside. if you do not, you will be severely beaten. you will not make eye contact with men. you will not laugh in public. if you do, you will be beaten. you will not paint your nails. if you do, you will lose a finger. girls are forbidden from attending school. women are forbidden from working.

No wonder my mom says I would have been dead a long time ago. She would have been too! Women did have rights in Afghanistan when it was occupied by the Soviet Union. The communists were good for women - the Muslim extremists are not! This book is hard to read at times because of the violence these women face on a daily basis, but as you read about the trials they face, you become more and more inspired and amazed by the quiet inner strength they possess.

I finished this book last Friday and I could think of little else all day. I had to go find the author's website to learn more about Khaled Hosseini and his book. After learning more about the author, I thought about Brad's cousin, Layne Pace who was deployed in Afghanistan for about a year and a half in 2005, flying a helicopter and offering humanitarian service on the side just because he wanted to do more. I spent some time searching the web, refreshing my memory of what he did during his time in Afghanistan. He was instrumental in bringing a young Afghan boy to the US to receive a life-saving heart surgery, which was a highly publicized event. You can read about that inspiring story HERE. Since his return, he has established (along with others) a charitable organization, called the Tao Project, to build an orphanage in Afghanistan for the thousands of children who have been left without parents because of war.

I am so thankful for a kind and loving husband, for my faith, for my home, for my freedom, for my country. I am thankful I can sing and dance, and laugh, and paint my nails, and wear makeup and jewelry, and talk to men, and go to movies, and show my face in public. In fact, I cannot imagine not having such basic freedoms, yet there are many women throughout the world who live without these freedoms every day. So, so hard to understand . . .

Sad face

On the evening of July 3rd, Lacey's face met with the pavement in her first official big time bike wreck, and sadly, the pavement won. I was not there to witness the accident, and I am pretty sure that is a good thing because I think I would have panicked upon seeing the amount of blood that resulted from her injuries.

Lacey had been playing all afternoon at Aimee & Casey's with her cousins Hannah & Jamison, and as it was getting dark. It was time to head back to grandma's house for the night. Aimee was putting her baby girls into the car as she told Lacey & Hannah, who were on their bikes, to wait so she could drive slowly and shine the lights on the road while they rode to grandma's house just a few blocks away. The bigger cousins - Katie & the "J" crew - Jaxon, Jacob, Jeffrey - were there as well. Aimee turned her back & the big kids took off then Hannah & Lacey followed suit.

Lacey is a new bike rider just this year. She has gotten quite proficient & loves the freedom of riding her bike in Woodland. However, the darkening sky, a downhill road with a few pot holes and inexperience were not a good combination. Lacey hit a pot hole while going down hill in the dark & it was all over. Poor Aimee came upon the scene a few moments after it happened to find Lacey's face bloody and swollen & Lacey weak & unable to stand up on her own. One of Jacob's friends was trying to hold her up. Aimee swept Lacey up, trying to comfort her, & took her into a neighbor's house to clean her up & assess the damage. Jacob's friend saw what happened and said Lacey flipped over the front of the bike & did a couple of somersaults before she landed. I believe the bike flipped with her at least once as well.


It is unfortunate that Aimee had to be the one to see the initial wounds & clean up all the blood - which seems to be a lot when the mouth gets cut. I missed all the blood & gore and just had to offer a mama's comfort and an ice pack. These pictures were taken the morning after the sad affair, and though Lacey's lip is a bit swollen, it is practically normal compared to the night before when she looked like she had a major collagen treatment gone awry. I just feel blessed that the injury was not worse because it could have been. She had no scrapes at all on her legs, only on her hands & face, which means that her upper body and head took the brunt of the fall. She was not wearing a helmet & the accident could have ended up being a dental disaster or a more serious head injury. But, thankfully, the injuries were minor. However, Lacey was very self-conscious about her appearance, running to the mirror every few minutes to see if the ice pack was doing its job. She also wanted me to put make up on her wounds over the next few days & I had to convince her that no one would really notice the scrapes on her face.

I tried to impress upon Lacey the importance of following instructions from one who is older & wiser than she. I wanted her to understand that if she had followed Aunt Aimee's initial instructions and waited, she would have been safe as Aunt Aimee's car lighted the way for her. I tried to explain that as we go through life, if we keep the commandments and follow the instructions of our leaders, the teaching of our savior will light the way and we will find safety and peace and will be protected from many dangers that we might otherwise face. I hope that even to a small degree, this lesson was learned.

This weekend

I'm away from kids this weekend - having a girl's weekend at my parents cabin. I am here with my mom, sister Janae, sister-in-law Karla and some of their friends, and on a typical weekend, I am sure I would celebrate every moment of being responsible for me & only me. I have no doubt that on a typical weekend, I would relish the moments of adult conversation, the freedom to read a book for hours if I wanted, and the time to work on all the projects that I never seem to have to time to work on. But, this is not a typical weekend, and this weekend, my natural tendency is to want to be home with Brad and to have my children within view and under my mothering wing as much as possible.

This weekend is not typical because our dear family friends will be laying to rest a sweet and beloved baby daughter, granddaughter, and niece. Last week, one-year-old Camille Waite drowned in a tragic accident at her home. Camille is the daughter of Stephanie (Harris) & Jonathan Waite - granddaughter of Ann & Morgan Harris and our families are lifelong friends. My heart has been heavy as I have contemplated the loss our dear friends are facing. When a tragedy hits so close to home, it is a brutal reminder of our absolute mortality and utter dependence on the Lord for even our very breath, and it makes me want to breathe in my children with every ounce of my being. I have found myself wandering into their rooms late every evening this week (even more so than normal), kneeling by their beds and getting close enough to caress their cheeks and feel their breath on my face. So though I am thankful for the chance to be at the cabin with the girls, away from the heat, this weekend, I would prefer to be tending to the needs of my children - bathing Ben, reading Lacey a story, combing Katie's hair, giving a reluctant Madi a big motherly hug and trying to help her understand that I really am not as much of a nuisance as she thinks I am right now. This weekend, I miss my family more than ever.

As I went visiting teaching this past week, I appreciated a quote from the message in a way that I would have not appreciated it just a week prior -

President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985): "If we looked at mortality as the whole of existence, then pain, sorrow, failure, and short life would be calamity. But if we look upon life as an eternal thing stretching far into the premortal past and on into the eternal post-death future, then all happenings may be put in proper perspective" (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Spencer W. Kimball [2006], 15).

This weekend, my thoughts are with the Harris family - an amazing family, who individually and collectively are strong and faithful. They have rallied together in support of Jonathan and Stephanie - helping them through things no one would ever want to face. Through their faith in Christ's atonement and their firm convictions, they have received strength and comfort to sustain them. Both Stephanie and Lesli share very poignant thoughts and feelings about this experience on their blogs. This weekend, I am thankful for the influence the Harris family has had on my life, and I thank my Heavenly Father for my sweet husband and children.

Farewell April

One sunny April when I was a little girl, our family got the most adorable, lively new beagle puppy, and we named her April Sunshine. We just called her "April", but when she got in trouble, which amounted to probably 85% of the time, she was "April Sunshine". My siblings and I loved April, but she was a naughty girl, and my parents did not enjoy her nearly as much as we did. Her worst antics involved escaping our household and running away, every time the opportunity presented itself. Quite honestly, I am sure that April drove my mom insane, as I heard her mutter "dumb dog" on numerous occasions. April was part of the family long enough to become a fat & chubby soul, and eventually she was given the blessing of moving to some ranch somewhere on the outskirts of town with lots of other beagles where she could roam free and not risk getting smashed by an oncoming car as she nonchalantly trotted down the middle of the road. (now that I think of it - isn't this the story that most parents tell their children when the family dog has to "go away"? I think it is, but I am quite certain that was April's good fortune.)

Just like I loved April Sunshine, I usually enjoy much of the month of April (at least after the 15th). But, just as April Sunshine ended up NOT being all that my family expected her to be, this month has NOT lived up to it's reputation of being basically pleasant. I'll just say it - this year, April has been a complete bust! So I am happy to bid April 2008 farewell. I'm so glad it's over. Nothing earth-shatteringly horrible happened this month, I have just not been my usual jovial self. I have been more contemplative, more introspective, and in a way, more soul-searching this month, and it's been hard. Add in stomach flu for Ben, Katie, and I along with annoying sniffles for Ben, Katie, and I, then mix that with a ruined dance recital costume (for a recital yet to occur) along with the strains of running another school book fair to top off my brooding behavior and you get a bummer month. Good things come from such character-building times, I know, it's just getting through it that is aggravating.

I have been able to draw an analogy between my daily walks & my soul-searching, which gives me strength. Every day I face a couple of really tough hills to walk up, while pushing a 20+ pound kid in a stroller. Every day I expect the walk up the hill to get a little easier, but it never seems to happen. Going up the hills is a lot of work, a lot of effort, and not very much fun. By the time I reach the top of the hill, I am tired, sometimes out of breath, and my muscles complain. But you know what, when I get to the top of the hill, I also feel strong, triumphant and victorious at once again conquering those hills. As I go through times in my life that are difficult in one way or another, I need to think of those times as trudging up a long hill, that eventually will peak and I will have conquered that particular hill. Each hill in life is difficult, and with each hill, comes the eventual feeling of strength and triumph. I know that I will be a better, stronger, and happier person as I conquer each hill.

So - my April demeanor is reflected in the lack of blog entries - 5 to be exact! I have been subscribing to the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" theory when it has come to my blogging. So many times during the month I have thought, I want to update my blog, but then nothing would come to me, and it was as if I had nothing to say. But - now it is on to a new month! I am definitely looking forward to the merry month of May! I am also hoping to get back into a regular blogging habit.

Just for the record, there were, good times mingled in with the difficult ones this past month. I have had some epiphanies that have opened my eyes and helped me realize some important things I need to do as well as soothing tender mercies that have lifted me up and pushed me as I am climbing up this "hill". One of the highlights of the month for me was going to our school's Earth Day celebration last Friday. Each classroom is responsible for different earth-friendly activities that the children can choose to do. After they have all had an opportunity to experience some of the activities, every classroom in the school comes together on the field for a small ceremony. They are invited to remove their shoes & socks to feel the earth beneath their feet. Our director leads the ceremony and asks the children to think about the earth and about all the wonderful blessings that are ours because of this amazing place - from the mountains and oceans to the animals and trees. Then she has them close their eyes and to think of the things of the earth that make them happy and to make a wish for the earth.




At the end of the ceremony, the kids sing our adopted school song - which makes me cry almost every time I hear them sing it. The song is "Listen" by Red Grammar - and I want to share it with you. When the children sing it, they also do the sign language motions to accompany their singing. (the picture above shows some children signing the song). It truly is a beautiful sound and sight. I made a video of most of the pictures my family took in April (which is not many) to go along with the song, so that you can hear it. I hope you enjoy it!

Happy May! :)

Adjusting

only one white shirt in the laundry this week
only about 3 pieces of straggler "bishop" mail in the mailbox
ditto for the phone calls

and - THE longest, hardest, strangest, quietest, emptiest, monotonous Sunday in the history of all Sundays.

Yes, we have begun this process of adjusting . . .

Last Sunday brought strange feelings of displacement and a sense that something was just missing. With all the enthusiasm for a new bishopric, ward members rally behind them & offer their support (as it should be, Brad reminds), but it is hard to be the one replaced, and the human emotions that you know you should repress still come to mind & you want to say "but what about everything Brad has done in the past 4 years & 8 months? In one Sunday, it's as if he never existed." I wish everyone would quit saying things like "I must be ecstatic that Brad is released" and that it must be great to "get my husband back". I know they mean well, but for me, it is just not that way. The emptiness of the day seemed to follow us home, and by 9:00 pm, Brad declared, "it is time to go to bed. It is just time for this day to be over." I couldn't have agreed more!

{As a side note, I know that there are so many struggles in life, and believe me, I know that this struggle is easy compared to others, and it is one for which I should be thankful. And though it could be classified as an "easy" struggle, I also know there is much for me to learn from this experience, and that the Lord is teaching this stubborn soul many things that I need to understand. I recognize that, and maybe it makes things a little easier.}

. . . and, despite the difficult feelings, I cannot leave you on a down note, because there have been some wonderful moments in conjunction with the experience as well. There have been peaceful times in the temple, and experiences that have helped me know that Heavenly Father is mindful of me. There were the sisters in the restroom at church Sunday who caught me in a "bad" moment and hugged me and cried with me. One sister told me, through her tears, how much Brad had done for she & her husband, and that they loved us no matter where we served. Another sister told me that she had similar feelings when her husband was released from a bishopric. Then there was Lesli, who called me on the seemingly endless Sunday, and said, "let's go for a walk". How did she know I needed that probably more than anything else at that very instant? Yesterday I appreciated long conversations with Brad to figure out how to work through this change together as we shared mutual feelings of positive things we can do to fill the void we now feel.

And then there was the article I read just this morning in the November 2007 Ensign. Do you remember these words from President Eyring? I remember hearing this talk in last October's conference, but as the pages of the Ensign unfolded this morning, the words of, "O Remember, Remember" by President Eyring spoke to me, and I knew I needed them in my life right now. I knew it was not an accident that the pages of the Ensign opened right to the words that I needed to hear. In this talk, President Eyring shared how he began to keep a journal during the time his children were small, writing only a few lines each night. The purpose of recording in the journal each day was to answer the question, "Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?" In later years, he provided each of his children with a copy of this journal so that they would know what God had done for their family. Then he shared,

"As I kept at it, something began to happen. As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done. More than gratitude began to grow in my heart. Testimony grew. I became ever more certain that our Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. I felt more gratitude for the softening and refining that come because of the Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ. And I grew more confident that the Holy Ghost can bring all things to our remembrance- even things we did not notice or pay attention to when they happened."

"The point is to urge you to find ways to recognize and remember God's kindness . . . and the challenge to remember has always been the hardest for those who are blessed abundantly. Those who are faithful to God are protected and prospered. That comes as a result of serving God and keeping His commandments. But with those blessings comes the temptation to forget their source. It is easy to begin to feel the blessings were granted not by a loving God on whom we depend but by our own powers. The prophets have repeated this lament over and over."

And he concludes, "Tonight and tomorrow night, you might pray and ponder, asking the questions: Did God send a message that was just for me? Did I see His hand in my life or the lives of my children? I will do that. And then I will find a way to preserve that memory for the day that I, and those that I love, will need to remember how much God loves us and how much we need Him. I testify that He loves us and blesses us, more than most of us have yet recognized. I know that is true, and it brings me joy to remember Him."

So for me, I will take this challenge from one of God's mouthpieces, President Eyring. I want to do this, and I know that it will help fill that gaping emptiness that I have felt these past few weeks. In the past, Lesli has inspired me to start a gratitude journal, and I think I will do that, with this twist - "Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?" Would you like join me in this venture? For me, publicly declaring that I am going to do this increases the chance that I actually will, particularly because I would like to come back to you in 6 months & share how the process is going and how it is affecting my life. No matter what our daily challenges, how healing can it be to reflect on how our lives are touched daily by God? If you would like to join me, you can tell me about it, or not. In six months you can share how your life was affected, or not. I, for one, can't wait to make my first entry, tonight . . . then we can talk about it again, at the end of the summer!

Caution - Transition ahead!

In my True Confessions blog post, you learned all about my distaste for transition, endings, and venturing outside my comfort zone. I eventually work through these things, but not without putting up a fight. Well, this past Sunday, all three were forced upon me, and I had absolutely no control. All I could do was say OK and do my best to keep a stiff upper lip and accept it all. Let's just say, I didn't do so great. The upper lip was far from stiff, and the tears flowed in abundance. I was not prepared for this transition - I knew it would come - just not quite yet, please. But as Brad reminded me, I am not in control. This was very apparent two weeks ago when Brad and I got a visit from the Stake President. As much as I was hoping this was just a little social call to see how things were going with the bishop and his wife, I knew it wasn't. After all, the stake president had never paid a social call to our home in almost 5 years, so why would he start doing so now? No, he came to tell us that changes (oh gasp!) are on the horizon and that a new bishop had been called (why does it bother me that this happens before the old bishop even knows about it? It feels so sneaky in a way - but I guess it's just one of the many things I'll simply never understand). He then told us that Brad would be released a week from that coming Sunday. What?! You mean this is over? You mean I have to go through another transition in my life when this is familiar and comfortable and good? You mean Heavenly Father doesn't want us to do this anymore? He says we're done? Why didn't he tell me about this and why do I feel so sad inside? So I spent a week and a half leading up to the release with a pit in my belly, dealing with sporadic and instantaneous outbursts of emotion, feeling like everything was changing and I didn't want them to because I was happy with the way things were . . .

The very new & very green Bishop Brad - June 1, 2003

A seasoned veteran of "bishopdom" about to be released - Bishop Brad - February 17, 2008

. . . I know that to many, it would seem that we would be relieved and happy to be released from such a weighty and time-consuming position. I am sure that Brad has felt some relief as many burdens rest upon the shoulder of the bishop. Brad also gave up many, many hours to fulfill his responsibilities, and we were without him all during that time. Knowing my reaction to transition, you can imagine that the first year that Brad was bishop was very tough for our family. It took a lot of adjusting and the tears and disappointments, murmurings and feelings of loneliness (mostly from me - a little from the girls) were present for much of that first year. Regardless of the struggles, much joy came to our hearts as we had the opportunity to serve in this capacity.

As we became familiar with all that was required of Brad's new calling, our family eventually fell into a new rhythm of life as the family of the bishop. Then it just became a part of us. It became familiar and we felt blessed as we sacrificed time together. In fact, over the past year, it did not feel like much of a sacrifice at all. As the bishop's family, the calling enters into so much of what you do each day, from what came in the mail to the amount of white shirts washed in the laundry each week to the number of phone calls we received and the way we scheduled our time. If is difficult to completely quantify the amount of time that Brad gave in service during his bishop experience, but I would guess that he spent an average of 13 to 15 hours each week in meetings alone, totaling over 3600 hours. On top of that, add time for tithing settlement each year (probably an additional 15 hours each year), time spent on phone calls, time spent thinking about the calling or time spent reading, preparing, and studying in order to have the inspiration necessary to fulfill the calling. So - though literally thousands of hours were given in this service, the joy and blessings we have received from giving this service cannot be quantified. You just can't calculate the worth of prayers offered on your behalf, or the worth of kindness and service given to you by others as a gesture of thanks. You can't measure the love you develop for those your serve or the love that sustains your family as you go through this experience together. I will immensely miss all that cannot quantified!

Then and Now -

Our family during the first year of the bishop experience - November 1, 2003

Our family - almost 5 years later - February 17, 2008

I have come to the conclusion that my struggle with this transition is the realization that this time of our lives is over. The release is a concrete reminder to me that time passes & life flies by, and chapter by chapter our life stories unfold, and one day, our book about our time on earth will end. When Brad was called, Madi was 7, Katie was 4, Lacey was 1, and Ben wasn't even a thought in our minds. Lacey has never even known what it is like to have her dad sit with her in Sacrament Meeting, except when we left town. Where has the past 5 years gone?

What has happened in our family history in 5 years? To name a few things - a move, growing girls, 4 miscarriages, a new baby boy- turned toddler, a long illness & subsequent passing of my grandmother, lost teeth, trips up the No. California coast, Oregon, Idaho, San Francisco, Hawaii, San Diego, the cabin, Grandma Judy & Granddad's house, Disneyland, Sea World, and Legoland, as well as Washington DC. We have experienced the every day struggles of life - tax seasons, sisters fighting, stress, sickness, tears, school programs and dance recitals, countless hours working on homework, going to dance class, preparing and eating meals, loads of laundry, joy, health, happiness - and much of this with Brad away. And with Brad's release this past Sunday, this chapter is now closed.

So now, whether I want to or not, we start a new chapter. I will work through this transition and this ending, and once again will find a new rhythm of life - one similar to what we had before, but have temporarily forgotten. So I say goodbye to this chapter, knowing that I will miss exchanging smiles with Brad from the stand, and I will miss the words of assurance and love from ward members. I will miss watching my husband lead in such a role, and I will miss hearing his spiritual messages as he speaks from the pulpit. However, I will not miss the hours of his absence from our home, and I will welcome not only his physical presence, but his mental presence as well. Just think of what we can do with those newly found 700+ hours of life we'll have this year - who knows, maybe we'll start going on Sunday afternoon walks again. I think we will have to work very diligently so that we fill those hours with what the Lord wants us to do, rather than with what we want to do, for I feel this new-found time is both precious and sacred. As this new chapter unfolds, I find comfort in the words from one of my favorite hymns (as my poor soul is rarely, rarely still) -

Be Still My Soul -

from verse 1
"leave to the God to order and provide;
In ev'ry change he faithful will remain.

and verse 2
"Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Our Prophet Dear

Today was the funeral of our prophet, the president of our church, Gordon B. Hinckley. It still seems hard to believe that he is gone because he has been at the head of the church as a consistent, loving, uplifting presence for over 12 years. Oh how I will miss him at our General Conference this coming April. I loved listening to President Hinckley speak and always felt motivated and inspired each time I heard him. He encouraged us to be the very best that we can be. He was a voice of optimism and hope and encouraged us to be the same, always moving forward in faith, despite the sadness and wickedness in our world. I marveled at the strength & stamina found in a man in his 80's & 90's, beginning his ministry as the prophet at about 85. His accomplishments and efforts to move the work of the Lord forward are immense. Even though I had never met President Hinckley, I felt I knew him. Each time he spoke he would say "my beloved brothers and sisters", and I knew of his love and testimony of Jesus Christ. As Elder Eyring said at his funeral today, "We are better because of his influence and example."

I know that if I follow the example that President Hinckley has set forth in his own life, I will be a better person in so very many ways. How I have loved this prophet dear.

The BYU website has a beautiful slideshow tribute of President Hinkley, if you haven't had a chance to see it.

Ben Ben Ben

Sometimes we all have to learn things the hard way. In this case, I really hope that Ben has learned that it's best to not stick foreign objects up your nose because caring adults will be sure to stick other foreign objects up your nose in hopes of getting out whatever it was the you put up there to begin with! Here, Uncle Mike & Uncle Jared take their crack at removing the above-mentioned object, but to no avail.

I am not sure when it happened, but on Sunday morning, Ben's nose was as normal as they come and at bed time, I noticed something white way up inside it. What could it be? We did have potatoes & cauliflower for dinner, but it didn't really look like food. It almost looked like a tissue or piece of toilet paper to me. Who knows where it came from and why Ben decided to shove it up his nose - just another one of those mysteries that will perplex my mind for years to come. Multiple attempts to remove the culprit all resulted in failure. I tried suctioning, tweezing, and trying to get Ben to blow, but nothing worked.

We took a visit to the pediatrician's office this morning to see if they could do a better job. They tried suctioning, tweezing, and trying to get Ben to blow, just like I did, only they were much rougher, and caused Ben's nose to bleed. I do believe Ben thought he was being tortured to death. Oh how he screamed & wailed. I thought he was going to pass out. I hated every minute of the experience, and I felt like I was betraying my little guy as I held his hands down as tightly as I could while another nurse held his head & the nurse-practitioner tried to clear Ben's nose. After it bled so much that the nurse-practitioner couldn't see anything, she proclaimed that whatever was in his nose was out now. I found this very hard to believe because I just knew that I would have seen whatever it as that had been camping out in his nose. (my new theory was that it was a piece of a wet wipe. I found a small piece in his crib this morning, so it is certainly possible that he was playing with another piece when he was supposed to be napping!) So, the doc's office felt their work was done, and they sent me on my merry way, trying to convince me that the possible wet wipe was out of his nose. I did not believe them, but left the office, hopeful, yet skeptical. I was convinced the nurse had pushed the object so far up in his nose that it could no longer be seen.

I was right, and as soon as I got home and could take a closer look for myself, I knew that Ben was still carrying around a foreign object in his nose. I had subjected him to pure torture for absolutely nothing. He was so traumatized by the process that after they were "done" at the doc's office, Ben just clung to me & cried quietly. Poor little buddy. I am now hoping that the object will miraculously make its way down Ben's nose & find its way out on its own. If not, I guess we will be going back to the pediatrician to pay another $20 co-pay and inflict Ben to more torture and cruelty. No, wait, I don't think I'll be going back. I think Brad will get to take him the 2nd time around. I have made it through 12 years of parenting without this experience, and I would have been happy to have missed it altogether. Let's just say, I really hope that Ben has learned his lesson, even if it was the hard way!

A year ago today

On December 15th one year ago, the girls & I were in the kitchen getting ready for Lacey's 5th birthday party. It was a Friday, & the girls had a 1/2 day of school, which signaled the start of Christmas break. Lacey's friends were all planning to come to her party later that afternoon. Madi, Katie, & Lacey were at the kitchen table making a poster of Rudolph for our "pin the nose on Rudolph" game. My back was turned & the next thing I knew, I heard a big splat, & Lacey was laying on the hard tile floor, barely moving. She had been up on the table (not sitting in a chair like a good little girl) & she somehow fell backward & hit her head hard! She didn't pass out, but was not exactly coherent either. I held her and hoped and prayed that she would "snap out of it" as her birthday party was just a few hours away. After about 15 minutes, I could tell that she was not herself & was not improving. She seemed to be in a bit of a daze & kept complaining that her head hurt & she didn't feel well. Madi, Katie, & I kept trying to talk to her, hoping she would respond in her normal Lacey style, but she would weakly answer our questions, and was not herself. She was pale & listless.  It was scary! I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital, and she told me she did, so I knew there was trouble. What normal, healthy kid wants to go to the hospital when her birthday party is just hours away?  None that I can think of.

So - I loaded all the kids in the car & off we went to the ER. I was so upset inside, but trying to stay strong for my kids, who were frightened & worried about their sister. (I do not do well when my kids get hurt. I especially don't like hits to the head or choking sounds - they both send me into a bit of  a panic!)  The ER is not far from our home, so it didn't take us long to get there, which was comforting. Because Lacey was a child, they quickly processed her & got her into a bed. In December, the pediatric unit in the ER is pretty full. There are lots of germs & lots of sick kids. Because of this, the hospital would not allow my other kids to go back with Lacey & I. Katie & Madi quietly cried when they heard they had to sit alone in the ER waiting room, taking care of Baby Ben. The hospital asked me if there was someone I could call to come get the other children. Brad was at work & immediately headed over to the hospital, but he was quite a ways away. My parents were out of town, but fortunately, I called my neighbor who was home and kindly came & got the other kids. Ken & Judy were coincidentally on their way into town, which was comforting to know.

Once at the hospital, Lacey got really sick & threw up several times. Then, she fell asleep, which the ER doc said was a good thing. The doc decided she just had a concussion & that she would probably be fine in a couple of hours. So - we waited. We waited for hours. When she didn't seem to improve, the doc ordered an MRI. Thankfully, all was normal & for whatever reason, she was just taking longer than normal to "wake up".  As I listened to the ER doc talk to the parents of a child in a neighboring bed about their child's brain tumor, I felt very thankful to be in the ER with a daughter who just had a mere concussion.

The time for the birthday party came & went. Luckily, we have a guard gate, so I was able to make one phone call and asked the guard to let our guests know the party was canceled. We finally got to take Lacey home that evening, a good 7 hours after we entered the ER. She was somewhat lethargic & not herself for weeks! I will never know the full extent of the injury that day, but there was seriously something about Lacey that changed that day & has never been the same. It is hard to define, and of course, she's still Lacey - but on December 15, 2006, something about her changed.

About the birthday party. . . we rescheduled & had it the next week!

a cell phone camera picture to remember "the day the birthday party was canceled."

Recipe for getting out of a really rotten "funk"

Have you heard of the children's book titled Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? Well, all you have to do is change "Alexander" to "LaRae" and you will know what my day was like a week ago Friday. It's been over a week since that "very bad day", so I guess it's far enough behind me that I can bring myself to talk about it now. It's not that anything earth-shatteringly horrible happened that day. There are a million things that could have happened to make it a much worse day. But still, it was a bad day - your run-of-the-mill really rotten day. It started out decent enough, but by about noon, there was no doubt that this was destined to be a bummer of a day.

The culprit that created this no good day was the big "C" word - contention. I felt like there was a little cloud of contention raining on my house all day long, and it was a very persistent little cloud. Our school had the day off, so my kids were home all day. They apparently didn't know what to do with themselves, so they fought & bickered endlessly. If they weren't fighting with each other, they were fighting with me (and yes, there were times that I fought back!). It was a day that seemed to go on forever and was full of time-outs, threats, consequences, and more fun stuff. On days like this, I feel like I am failing to teach my children such things as -

And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the devil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness. (Mosiah 4:14)

How am I supposed to teach this? I have not figured it out. When I ask my girls how they would suggest I teach this to them, they just tell me, "we're kids and we're supposed to fight." Who told them that? {Can you say "deja vu"? There was a day when I was them & my mom was me! Things don't change all that much, do they?}

Anyway - by the time Brad got home on this very bad day, he found me in a really rotten "funk". It went from bad to worse because when mom's not happy, dad is definitely not happy! By the time the kids went to bed, every girl, including me, had shed an abundance of tears & we were all more than glad to leave this day behind. We were happy to be able to wake up the next morning & start over. (what a blessing this is, really!)

Now, I have been told many times that if you want to forget your own troubles, do something for someone else (& I think for moms, that "someone else" needs to be someone other than your kids - because we do things for them all the time). Anyway - we were very fortunate that our rotten day came on the eve of a stake-planned day of community service with the church. Members of our stake had signed up to perform various acts of service throughout the community during Saturday morning. So, the Wallaces all got up bright & early to be to my former elementary school by 8:00 am to help work in their garden. I put on my yellow shirt & Madi decided that we should all wear yellow shirts.

Look how cute we are spreading our sunshine - thankfully the little cloud of contention dissipated!

There was much work to be done in this garden. It is amazing to see the amount of land that the older elementary schools in the valley are built on - definitely in a day when land was not at a premium. We had the opportunity to help create an area in the garden that was accessible to children in wheelchairs. We also pulled weeds for hours. Though weed-pulling may sound like drudgery, it was actually much-needed therapy for our family. It was the recipe for washing away the feelings from the day before. How rewarding it was to work together to create something worthwhile for someone else.

It is absolutely true that when you are engaged in service, that is the only thing you think about. There was not a moment when I was pulling weeds that I thought about how I am failing to teach my children how to get along. And you know what, there wasn't one moment that my girls fought with each other while they were working in the garden. They look like they are cooperating together right here, don't they!

I especially enjoyed being on the grounds of my former school. My girls were amazed that the school was still standing & in operation - after all, it is REALLY old!

I am so thankful for the really great, productive, energy-filled day that followed my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. If you ever need to get out of a funk like I did, think about what you can do for someone else. I know I will the next time I have a rotten day. In fact, if my kids have a day of fighting like the one I just told you about, I think I will load them in the car & drive around until we find someone who needs our help! That would certainly be better than letting the little cloud of contention rain on us all day!

Time Tug of War

Hi! How are things? It's been a while, I know. Sorry. It's not that I haven't wanted to update my blog, because I have. So what's my problem, you ask? Hard to say, exactly. Just life, I guess. Just figuring out how to budget my time better, I guess. What's that? You want to know why I can't budget my time better when all my girls are in school all day & I only have one little toddler at home. Hmmmm - good question! I think I can blame the clocks in my house. Yes! I am sure they are all against me! They seem to be moving faster than they're supposed to! Have you ever had this problem? If so, maybe you can help me with this little issue. We have to s-l-o-w down these clocks! Whenever it seems that things should slow down, I miraculously find more to occupy my time. It would be nice to learn how to relax a little, wouldn't it?! I fear it's not in my blood - makes me think of a quote from one of Judy's recent blog posts. President Hinckley's quote rings true -

"Our lives become extremely busy. We run from one thing to another. We wear ourselves out in thoughtless pursuit of goals which are largely ephemeral. We are entitled to spend some time with ourselves in introspection, in development, in thinking, meditating, pondering things."

So I must admit, I have way too many ephemeral pursuits and I am wearing myself out, as the quote says. But still - if those clocks would just slow down . . . it might help . . . maybe. Anyway, this past Sunday Brad taught a lesson in church to the women (which I missed!) and this topic was part of the discussion. Well - I should say the lesson included a discussion about "the good things in life (I guess you could say the ephemeral things in life) that take up our time and distract us from the truly great and eternally important things we should be doing." He told me the lesson went really well because he had lots of participation. Well, of course there was an abundance of participation! What woman cannot relate to this idea? When Brad introduced the topic for discussion, one woman immediately piped up and said this was her life, exactly - "time filled up with good things that keep her from the great things". You know there were probably 20 more who thought the exact same thing - she was just the first one to express it. Since I wasn't there to participate during the lesson, I participated at home as we discussed my frustration with the "good" things I do that keep me from the great things. The problem is, the good things are important and do bring me some personal satisfaction and make for a fulfilling earthly life, but they certainly occupy too much of my time and often keep me from the things with an eternal perspective. So now I am trying to sort out - are these things largely ephemeral? Do they have value in the eternal realm?

1. Can we start with laundry? How about cleaning the kitchen & preparing meals and everything else I do around the house. Does a clean house really matter in the eternal scheme of things? Probably not, although I guess it is important to keep a "house of order". There must be some eternal principle I am learning here, right?

2. What about things like taking kids to soccer practices & dance lessons? Again - I am not exactly sure how much eternal significance these things really have. Sure there's some as they help my children gain knowledge, but how much? and is it knowledge they will need in the next life?

3. What about all the shopping I do to keep this household of 6 living, eating, clothed, and functioning? - there's a lot of time eaten up with this category, though I can't wholly ignore it! It seems like someone always needs something. Of course, my trips to Target for necessities often end in perusal of other aisles and items that aren't necessary at all!

4. What about my volunteering on behalf of the school, which feels more like a part-time, unpaid job right now. Does it really matter how many families I motivate to participate in a particular fundraiser? Does it really matter if I coordinate the school book fair, or if I'm the "kindergarten mom" for Lacey's classroom? Eternally? I don't think so. Although, I certainly like being in touch with the pulse of the school, and I like being involved for the sake of my kids.

I am rambling, aren't I? And all you asked is why can't I budget my time better. Sorry - I guess I'm a little sensitive to that question. Everyday I tell myself I am going to do better tomorrow. That counts for something, right?

I do like the fact that in President Hinckley's quote, he doesn't say we should avoid all thing ephemeral. I think he infers that these things are just a natural part of earthly life. I think he is trying to remind us that we need to take the time to be quiet and still & ponder and pray & think and meditate. We need to find the time to focus on things eternal amid all that we do that is so temporal. I'm trying, really I am. Sometimes I just feel like there is this tug of war going on and I am the rope and there are 5 different teams pulling on me - each pulling an arm, a leg, or a head! Who is going to win?