The Word of God

As I was folding laundry on Thursday night, Mia came in to talk to me, as she often does before she falls asleep.

Most of the time, I shoo her back into bed, because I am ready for quiet and for some personal time.

Sometimes I am not even very nice about my shooing.

But.

Last Thursday, as I tucked her back in bed, I saw that the Book of Mormon that I received when I was baptized at 8 years old was next to her pillow.

I told her I wanted to take that one back to my room, because that book has a special place in my heart.  The book, yes.  Definitely yes.  But I was referring to that specific copy.

I told her that I have such a warm feeling when I heft that book, and even just when I see it.

And I told her why.

Because that is where I became acquainted with God, where my testimony happened, where the Spirit confirmed to me the beauty of the doctrines of the gospel.

It happened within those pages, of that particular book.

It happened as a little girl and young woman, in my bedroom at night---reading, marking, thinking about those words and pondering.

When I go to that place in my memory, it is warm.  Peaceful.  Quiet.  Deliberate.  Strengthening.

She asked me if I would read her some of the things I had written in the margins.

Out of bed she came.

We went back to my room, and really just sat and looked at the book, and Mia tried to read a few words.

I had the chance to tell her that spending time with the word of God takes it down into your heart. And that the Holy Ghost had brought me peace because of what I know from the scriptures.  As I was talking with her, I thought of this talk, which is a favorite.  It always prompts me to consider the blessings in my life as a result of the word of God.

I told Mia that I wasn't afraid when Poppi died, because of what I learned in the scriptures.

When I have questions or don't know what to do, or hit obstacles in my life, I have found peace because of what I know from the scriptures.

That it was in the scriptures that I gained a testimony of the validity of a Heavenly Father, and where my love for the Savior happened.

Where it began, where it took root, where it was nourished.

In Lehi's vision, the word of God led people to the tree, to the fruit that was the love of God -- to feasting and rejoicing in that wholeness.

I have felt that for myself.

I read Mia Moroni's promise, where he says that, "...by the power of the Holy Ghost, ye may know the truth of all things."

I told her that if she chooses to spend time with the word of God, the Holy Ghost will also confirm these things to her.

I told her that my testimony of the gospel, and them, are my most cherished blessings.

And then, lying next to her (by this time I had tucked her back in), I sang her the words of a primary song that have been a favorite since I was a child.  Perhaps they are so dear to me because of my feelings for the scriptures.

"I love to read the holy scriptures, and every time I do, 

I feel the spirit start to grow within my heart---

A testimony that they're true.

Search, ponder, and pray---

Are the things that I must do.

The Spirit will guide,

And deep inside,

I'll know the scriptures are true.

So prayerfully I'll read the scriptures

Each day my whole life through.

I'll come to understand.

I'll heed the Lord's command

And live as He would have me do.

Search, ponder, and pray---

Are the things that I must do.

The Spirit will guide,

And deep inside,

I'll know the scriptures are true."

I find myself hoping that my children will have a love of the scriptures, that the word of God will nourish and sustain them.  

I have found solace, comfort, faith, direction, counsel, nudgings to repent, peace, admonition, courage, doctrine, application of principles, teaching, revelation, joy, knowledge, conviction, and truth there.

Beautiful does not even begin to describe it, but it is a beautiful thing---

a glorious gift from God.

Evening Swinging

Just a few short days back we came home one evening from dinner at Papa's house.

We walked into the backyard and hunted for the woodpecker we could hear from somewhere up high.

We spotted him and took turns watching -- and chuckling.

The kids and I have heard him for weeks now.

It was evening, and that light always leaves me spellbound.

She wanted to swing.

I swung her back and forth and snapped away.

I remembered how much I use to love to swing, propelling higher and higher into the air.

The way it literally felt as tho I could actually soar, as tho all dreams were within my grasp, as tho the world was a simple place.

I remember the way my stomach would drop as I headed down from peaking up there in the blue.

I watched this cute little face, back and forth.

Smiling, giggling.

Knowing that everything is before her.

Understanding, now, that this time will pass all too fast.

I want her to enjoy this magical time of childhood.

And I'm enjoying it, too.

So much, sometimes, it makes my heart even ache (or feel it might break).

I suppose that's the other side of love.

I watch her quietly, knowing that these are the moments that mean something.

That I can tuck these types of seconds away in my heart for safe keeping, for company when I need to remember something truly wonderful.

Sunday Evening

(my nephew, Soren)

 Yesterday around dinner time, I was at my sister's house.  It was cold and windy out, but there was a warm glow within.  We had gathered together as a large family for my nephew's ordination to the Aaronic priesthood.  (Read more about the priesthood in general here.)

While waiting for the bishop to arrive, we sang hymns.  I love singing with that group...they are a bunch of rich singers,and I feel the conviction from their very hearts.

As we began with In Humility, Our Savior, and finished with Redeemer of Israel (two of my favorite hymns), my emotions were very tender.  I felt the spirit so strongly, and felt as though I was witnessing a moment of truth and love and togetherness because of our faith.

I watched the men in our family gather round and ordain Soren to the office of a deacon.  I couldn't help but feel such gratitude and love for what was happening, and a deep spirit of thanksgiving for the worthy men in my life who I can turn to.  I salute them for their goodness and for the strength of their faith.  I feel protected and safe in their care.  I have felt so blessed by the priesthood throughout my life and been strengthened by God's power, by feeling of His awareness and care.

I couldn't help but be reminded of this talk, which has remained one of my favorites over the past few years.  When you have some time, click on over for a few minutes of inspirational reading and study.  As a friend of mine said after it was given, "This talk just felt like a big hug to all of Heavenly Father's daughters."  

We are not LESS because we do not hold the responsibilities of the priesthood.  Our calling is no less important, is equal in every way, is both ennobling and stunning, and is a complement and counterpart to the priesthood.  I know this.

Elder Scott talks with the men of the church about honoring the priesthood, and then places special emphasis on using it to bless Heavenly Father's daughters.  He reflects on woman as being the supreme creation of God.

Even thinking about it now, I want Soren to know how much the priesthood has blessed my life, how excited I am for it to guide his growth, teach him about service, and aid him in blessing others.  The priesthood is here to BLESS.  This is another thing I am so sure of.

I'm so proud of him.

I'm grateful for the goodness I see (and feel) in him.

What Little Boys Know How To Do

If you don't know what this is, you probably don't (or didn't) have any boys.

I can't tell you how often I have to clean up pee from around the base of the toilet seat or along the rim or against the back.

It means you've missed out on that glorious (ahem), several-times-a-week experience.

It means you haven't had to be by them on occasion and remind them (more than once even!) during a single urinating session, to pay attention to what they're doing.

But if you haven't had a boy, it means you've also missed the chance of a lifetime, beyond the toilet seat lovely.

I would have missed their enthusiasm for life, their endless imagination for adventure, their general zest for life.

I would have missed their throaty giggling, tackling, wrestling.

I could have missed out on having lions as members of the household.

Kings and queens and princesses at court.

Knights and Superman and Darth Vader and wizards.

Pocketknives.

Cowboy boots with cutoffs.

Mud with wild abandon.

My legs wouldn't have been a ramp for cars.

I wouldn't have had such a fantastic kitchen partner.

I would not have been able to be a part of the simmered down end of day, when they talk to you about what's in their heart or on their mind.

I would have missed out on being their number 1 for awhile.

I would have missed the opportunity to teach them about womanhood and motherhood and their general view of the world.

I would have missed some simply hilarious conversations.

I would not have realized how different girls and boys are, from the very beginning.

I would have missed the tenderness of their hearts, and their ability to make you feel like you are the most amazing person that walks the earth.

Like yesterday.

I was working with Benji on one of his workbooks.

You had to read the word and identify the picture that went with it and then cross out that picture.

The word was "Nan," referring to a girl.

He decided to cross her out (incidentally, his favorite objects such as the alligator or the astronaut or the bat and the rat got circled because he didn't want to draw a line through them).

He told me, "I don't like her.  I like you.  And Mia.  You guys are so beautiful.  REALLY beautiful."

Awwwh.

He's pumped with testosterone, but he melts my heart.

And then this afternoon.

We went this morning to a homeschool friends Friday Fun, where the kids had a science class, a music time class, and P.E. 

Afterward, we had lunch at Papa's and headed to the university to go and look at a large pendulum, swaying in the science building.  We meandered back across campus and made our way to the bookstore.  We chose treats, went down and read books, and then came home.

I made mint brownies yesterday (and ate way more than I should have!) and sent Isaiah to the neighbor's with some.

I watched from the window as my little guy took his time walking over.  Watched how he followed everything I'd asked him to do. 

Couldn't help but think about how sweet he is and how much I love him.

When he was headed back I came away from the window, not wanting him to feel like I'd been watching him the entire time.  I turned into the kitchen when I watched the bottom door handle turn and I knew he was coming in.

He said, "She said, 'Thank you,' Mom." 

I asked him about the exchange and what had happened.

Then as he was going to run outside he said to me, "I bet Benji and Mia are wondering what happened to me," kind of laughing as he said it, and shut the door just as I said,

"Thank you, Isaiah."

He opened the door again and said, "You're welcome."

I watched him run out the door, across the deck, and head out into the backyard.

I couldn't help chuckling to myself, which reminded me of Marilla in the kitchen in Anne of Green Gables.  Anne runs out of the kitchen, frantic about something, and Marilla laughs to herself in that scratchy way that is so heartwarming.

You have these moments where the love you feel could burst through you.

Where the reality of what a privilege it is to be here with them, right now, sinks in yet again.

Little boys know how to steal their Mama's heart.

Snippets from Yesterday

Yesterday I was in a frenzy making a pile to go to our local charitable donations center.

It feels so good to know I'm going to shed a few clutter pounds.

Late in the afternoon, before leaving up to our friends' ranch in the mountains for dinner and a group family home evening, I gathered the kids around me to read stories.  When Benji heard we were going to read he said something like, "I've been waiting for this."  This kid is so spunky but often surprises me with his sweet spirit and tenderness just below the surface.

On our way up the canyon, Isaiah came out with this, "Did you know that when Jesus was put on the cross, Mary was right there?"  And then he asked, "Why did they put Him on the cross?"  We turned down the music and talked about how it was to fulfill prophecy, that prophets thousands of years before knew He was going to come, and knew how He would die.  He could have died another way, but this was how it was foretold to happen.

Then, last night, after eating a meal, we gathered around to have a gospel discussion.  After that, my favorite thing happened.  We sang three Christmas carols together.  We were a mix of folks -- in age, background, vocation, personality.  A cattle farmer.  An entrepreneur with a young, thriving business.  A boutique/home decor store owner and her husband who serviced furnaces before he retired.  A business manager.  An accountant.  A professional musician.  Mothers and fathers and big kids and little kids and babies and grandkids.  But everyone? Friends.  Some there could carry a tune, others would say that music isn't their strong suit.  I sat by my neighbor who grew up on a ranch.  He's been a cowboy all his life.  Wears cowboy boots and wranglers every day.  Can think of ways to use and re-use things over and over, and will give you the shirt off his back.  I'd never heard him sing before.  It was a lovely thing to sit and hear all of us together.  I felt something then.  It was sweet and gentle, unifying, and strong.  I knew what we were singing was true, but I was touched by the sense of brotherhood and love that was so tangible in the air.

We got home late.

Pajamas, teeth brushed, stories, scriptures, prayer.

I went and tucked in sweet little Miss.

She wanted me to sing her a song and cried until I slipped back into her room.

I sat on her bed and sang her a lullaby I learned from my sister, singing it with her daughter and her guitar.

Then I went in to check on my boys.  They were still awake, one about to slip into Neverland for the night.

I sang them the same lullaby.  My favorite lines?

"It's time to kick off your walkin' shoes," and "Dream that you have wings to fly."

Then I whispered that they were nincumpoops, a word I recently taught them that they find quite amusing.

"Ya little nincumpoops."

To which Isaiah responded, "You're a BIG nincumpoop."

And I said, "You're the stinkiest nincumpoop."

(Giggles.)

I walked out.

And then stuck my head back in and said, "Pee-yoooooo!"

(Eruption of giggles.)

Sometimes I enjoy them so much.

Feel so aware that this time is magical.

Gotta Love Monday

Monday morning.

You know how it started at my house?

Heard my baby and went to get her. Came back with the baby to nurse.

Walked into the bathroom and started to come back out.

Double take at the floor.

Whooooooooa.

What is that?

Answer:

A big, big pile of poop. On my carpet. A foot and a half outside the bathroom.

Huh-uh.

What?

What?

Sometimes I super love being a mom.