Thursday Inspiration

I wholeheartedly believe that love is never wasted, 

which is probably why I loved this quote when I read it a while back. 

I don't know who said it, but it resonates with me.

"don't cross oceans for people 

who wouldn't cross a puddle for you.

No, do it.

Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. 

No conditions attached, no wondering whether or 

not they're worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. 

Life and love isn't about what you gain, 

it's about what you give."

Also, Claire Elizabeth was lying down next to me in my bed this morning as I worked, 

trying hard to figure out how to snap her fingers. 

I got the pleasure of hearing her first successful snap.

"Mom, I did it!"

(#lifegoals)

Thresholds

 (my grandparents, when they came to the hospital and met the boys for the first time)

It's funny...I wrote that post about my grandpa last night.

Today, I got a text from my aunt saying that he's unresponsive.

It appears his time to go is just around the corner.

This afternoon, the girls and I were driving home from my gal's dance class.

I had a quiet song of Shawn Colvin's playing on repeat in the car.

The sky was overcast, the windows were down, and I found myself feeling rather wistful, maybe even a little sad.

My grandpa's 91st birthday is next week, and the date of my father's death, his son, is this weekend.

Seems kind of funny that all of this is brushing so close to each other.

Two years ago tonight, I was sitting in the front room in the dark, talking on the phone with a dear friend of mine---incidentally, a cancer surgeon.  

I was updating him on my dad's condition and, as I recall, shed some tears as I talked with him about my tender feelings for my dad.

While I was talking, my son came up and sat down in the chair with me and fell asleep.

When I look at these photographs of that night, two years ago today, I remember the emotion that was wrapped up in that whole experience.

It was exhausting.

As you approach the inevitable threshold, everything inside of you wants to hold on to every available second.

But, at the same time, when you watch somebody that you love suffer like that, you also find yourself praying for their release.

You want their pain to be over. 

You want them to be able to fly.

You want them to be strong and capable.

You want them to laugh again.

Sometimes I can't figure out how it happened that I got to be in my thirties.

And somewhere along the way, I had four children.

I know I was here for all of it, but this ride keeps getting faster and faster.

(Our family, 12 days before my dad's death, just following his last recital)

I suppose as you approach goodbyes with people that you love, one of the beautiful things you also feel is a huge weighing of all the ways they influenced you---the gifts they gave you, what they taught you, how they loved you, and how their love has become a literal force in your life.  Years later, you still turn around and see them in how you do things, how you think about things, traditions you continue, jokes you shared, expressions native to them, things that you appreciate.  Their fingerprints are still everywhere.  You still hear their voice in your mind and heart.

And another thing?  It's a beautiful process because it has opened my eyes to appreciating time in a new way---all the small moments, people to share them with, the simple patterns and traditions that shape my family and my life, because there's an awareness that these things won't always be.  

What is left in my heart will stay, but the incidental experiences are enjoyed, and then gone.

When I think about these things, it's really hard for me to not get an overwhelming sense of how precious the experience is, how quickly it all goes, and gratitude.

Lots of gratitude.

Toasting

Last night we rang in the New Year 

with a candlelight dinner.

I pulled out my grandmother's cream china and one of the blood-red tablecloths from my dad's collection.  

I made one of the kids' favorite meals along with "Christmas juice" -- Sprite mixed with Cran-Raspberry juice concentrate.

I put three lit candles in the middle of the table 

and more candles glimmered softly on the mantle.  

We toasted like crazy...

to the new year (Isaiah),

to something super happy happening for each one of us in the new year (me),

to parents (Mia),

to the new Star Wars movie coming out (Benji),

to having a house (Mia),

to warmth (Benji),

to getting a good kiss this year (me),

to life (Mia).

You get the idea.

The toasting was probably my favorite thing.

We also talked about things from last year, and Mia said something that I thought was profound.

"I've learned that hard things happen, 

but you just have to wait and get through it."

Yup.

You get through amid the tears and hard times.

But friends and good food and laughter and bubbly make the going easier.

They sho do, yo.

No doubt.

Baptism Day

My boys were baptized today.

What will I remember?

The way they kind of tottered in that funny way they do when they walked up to get confirmed because they get embarrassed and shy when lots of people are watching them.

I'll remember sitting back behind them, watching them talk with their dad, cherishing the love that I witnessed between the three of them.  Filled me with both joy and sadness, a kind of achy beauty.

I'll remember watching Grandpa, and listening to his voice, as he baptized them.

I'll remember the love I felt as we all gathered together afterwards -- at this strange time where we are kind of two separate entities at this point, but it didn't feel like two sides.

I'll remember Benji's wet head as he snuggled up next to me on the church pew.

I'll remember talking to the four boys from our ward who were baptized -- about campfires and the Holy Ghost.  The Holy Ghost enlightens us in many ways, but I chose to focus on three for the children today.

They identified for me that a fire gives both warmth and light, two things I was hoping they would point out.

I talked about how the Holy Ghost is like a fire -- that He will bring light where there is darkness in your life.  Those times when you don't know what the answer is or what decision to make or where to go or the moments (or years) you feel lost.

He also, like a fire, brings warmth -- those moments of peace, comfort, joy and love.

I also asked them, "What happens when you get too close to a fire?"

They responded that you get burned.

So then I said, "Okay, you're right, but what about before you actually get burned, but you're too close?  What will happen?"

We talked about how you will become uncomfortable, and that this is also the Spirit's role.  When you come too close to something that you shouldn't be doing, or if you are in a place that you shouldn't be, or going to make a choice that isn't a good one, the Spirit will allow you to feel uncomfortable.

I will remember the way that Carol Wilson, our Primary President, talked to the kids about seeing all the people that came to be there with them, on this special day.  And then, quite emotional, she encouraged them to think of others, beyond the veil, who would be in attendance.  I thought of my sweet Dad, and know he wouldn't have missed it for anything.  The gospel truth is deep into his bones, and he loves these boys.

I'll think of my two sons -- flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone, fresh and clean, in their Sunday suits -- bright, energetic, happy.

I will think about going to dinner with my boys last night. 

It is hardly ever just me and them, alone.  

We got to talk about why baptism is important, about it being their first covenant they are making with God.  

We talked about making mistakes -- about how I make lots of mistakes every single day.  

But then -- and I rejoice in this -- because God knew that, He provided the Savior for all of us, and we ask for repentance, every day, as we review the day and we try to do better.

We talked about working to create your own relationship with God.

Just tonight, after I had gotten really mad at them (yup -- mistakes every day -- right here!), I went into my room for a little bit, and I was so irritated.  Then, I went back to their room and Benji was still awake.  I sat down and rubbed his head and told him I was sorry for losing my temper and that I loved him.  And he said, "I just said my prayers, Mom, and I asked to be forgiven for not listening."

I was proud of him.

Gosh.  

If I could count the ways that I am not very good at listening, sometimes, to what I know in my heart, it would be a very long list.

But I suppose that I can say that I'm trying.

I hope they see me trying.

And that I'm walking the same road that they are walking -- that we are all trying.

I hope they know how much I love them.

And when I talk with them about my faith -- and the gratitude I feel for the Savior and the gospel, I hope they know that it is in my heart.

That I hope that same light and conviction fills their hearts and minds one day, too.

And that, today,

I am so proud of them for the choice they made.

Hurray! Hurray! You're Two Months Old Today!!!!

November 11, 2006 - Two Months Old

Week 1:

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Week 9: