The Two Great Commandments

Spring has arrived, and I’m gonna try and articulate a thought that has been marinating in my head for several weeks. 

As a preface, let me say this: I’m a very active Latter-day Saint: church goer, temple attender, tithe payer, the whole 9 yards. I visit teach, I fast, and I serve in my callings. I LOVE my faith. And I love the organization of the church, for so many reasons.

That being said, I had two conversations back in February that are still with me. 

One was at a wedding, and the other was in the living room of a friend in the middle of the night.

I said something in both interactions that I’ve continued to think about, and I want to more fully express the thought here.

It goes like this:

At the end of my life, I don’t want to be evaluated by how many times I was in church, or whether I attended stake conference, or if General Conference was a priority in my life.

I don’t want somebody to look at my "stat sheet" and, if they see “good marks,” conclude that I must have been a good person. 

I find that completely offensive.

The Savior taught that everything hangs on two things: whether I love God, and if I love my neighbor.

I’m not saying that covenants and commandments aren’t important; Christ taught those too, and covenants, commandments, and prophets have made all the difference in my life. But as I think about my own spirituality, the piercing questions I ask myself come from pondering those two great commandments. 

Today, for example, I’m much more concerned about if I’m an ass in my interactions with other people, and if I'm actually looking out for my neighbor. Do I genuinely mourn with someone who is mourning? Have I learned to apologize when I make mistakes or hurt someone else? Do I care about another person’s feelings and perspective as much as my own? Do I try to elevate myself or focus on the contributions of others? Is my life about me, or is it about service? Do I practice honesty and live with integrity? Am I genuine in my interactions with other people? What are my motivations? Do I freely extend love, forgiveness, and compassion to others, recognizing that I desperately need those same things? Do I feed my ego, or do I live with humility?

These are the things I think about.

Questions like these expose how much I lack, and increasingly fill me with deeper gratitude for the Savior.

Christ’s example gives me one towering, upward-climbing ideal after another, and I am eternally grateful for the staggering gift of His atonement. He always inspires me to examine myself, start over, choose love and kindness, apologize, serve, humble myself, forgive, prioritize, recognize my own faults, and keep trying. His virtues are astonishing, demanding, and beautiful. But here's the thing:

His central characteristic is love. 

And at the end of the day, that's what it comes down to for me. 

At the end, I hope my life story reveals a simple woman who tried to LIVE what she believed, even though she was sometimes (frequently) an ass and she constantly fell short.

But even in the falling short,

she trusted in God's grace and found joy.

Easter Sunday

This Holy Week has been a time of reflecting with my tribe. 

Each day as we've read accounts of what happened on those same days anciently, we've filled our "Easter baskets" with tokens of remembrance: a leaf for Palm Sunday (which Claire holds and waves back and forth saying, "Hosanna! Hosanna!"); 

a temple picture that reminds us of Jesus teaching us to prize what is sacred; the piece of red cloth to remind us that He taught about the second coming during that last week---testifying that this wasn't the end, that His work spanned all time, and that He would eventually come again clothed in red; a coin because Judas agreed to betray Christ for 30 pieces of silver; a sacrament cup to remember the atonement and that it is personal; a nail to remind us of that first Good Friday and the crucifixion; 

a little Book of Mormon to remind us that, when in the spirit world, Christ organized missionary efforts so that everyone could share joy; and finally, a blossom for the resurrection, symbolizing that life returns, that death holds no eternal finality---and that ALL sorrow and ALL of the ways we feel broken are bound up and healed in Him. 

(Easter baskets!)

I know Jesus lives. 

No words can adequately articulate the feelings of my heart today, but I am so very grateful.  

(the boys in their Easter ties from their baskets -- and I LOVE! Isaiah's long hair)

(the girls and I sporting matching sandals -- Mia has wanted some ever since I got mine a couple of years ago, so the girls got them in their baskets)

Christ's light, His example, and His love make all the difference, every day, for me. 

(Egg dyeing)

 

(Homemade carrot cake with vanilla bean ice cream)

I am grateful for the peace that only He can give. 

(the flowering cherry in my front yard is killing it right now)

He is my greatest gift. 

I love him so

 After two truly craptastic mothering days (they should fire me!) and some other current stress, I was grateful for the gift of today.

I awoke and texted my sisters, wishing our dad a happy 70th birthday.

I mixed yogurt with chopped fruit and berries and raw oats and nuts as light came in the kitchen windows. That was happy. (And yummy.)

And you know what?

Today, the sun shone. 

Even though it was cold, the sky was blue! (Blessing!)

I took valentine decorations off my mantle and put spring up in its place while listening to the Weepies and Claire requested a Tim McGraw song she loves.

(And yeah, if you're in Utah, I know what you're thinking: there's snow outside. But maybe forsythia and boxwood will encourage the outside world to follow suit.)

Late in the afternoon, the girls and I drove to dad's grave to put some flowers there.

When we got back, they headed out with their dad for a while and I went out on a run as light was slipping from the valley. It was dark by the time I got home.

I mixed cake, lit candles on the mantle, and sat down to do some work.

The kids came home, and while we waited for the cake to come out and then cool off, Claire and I sat on the couch singing "The Wheels on the Bus," and then I whistled various tunes and she'd guess the songs.

We put 4 candles in dad's cake (cuz...70!), sang Happy Birthday, dished it up with ice cream, and read together.

And as I go to sleep tonight, I'll talk with God about how grateful I am for a gentler day: for those bright yellow rays that brought hope and joy, for my children, for the opportunity to learn and try again and apologize, the chance to be humbled and see my faults, and for being able to run and move my body. I'll express gratitude for a warm house and food to eat.

But also, I'll thank God for the blessing of a kind and wise father and friend. 

I love him so.

Tulips in the Sun

Why hello there, lovely!!

These days, I look out my front window and admire these beauties.

I can remember planting them and what I wrote about that here.

And I can feel swelling gratitude in my heart because I know, 

now more than ever,

that God is indeed awake.

Springtime reminds me of that.

If nothing else, life is renewed again and again.

Life goes on.

We can start over and over, and what was dead can be beautiful and vibrant again.  Not only will the grave give up her dead, 
but what is dead in my life, 
my habits, 
my thoughts, 
my hurtful actions, 
my mistakes...

all these can be changed and put to rest and beautiful things can come in their place with change and growth.

It's a miracle.

Early Planting

Every once in a while there is a perfect day.

One where you enjoy nearly every minute, when you feel aware of good things happening, when the ones you love are with you.  When you've worked hard together, played together, talked together, eaten together.

Yesterday was just such a day.

In the morning we did school in the sunshine:

Read our scripture chapter, worked on journaling, played a game of Memory together, worked with Little Miss on her alphabet, phonics workbooks, simple addition and subtraction with Easter candy, reading (covering -uck, -ick, -eck, -ack, -ock, sight words, and then each reading a whole book on their own to me).

Afterward: out into the sunshine.

It was over 70 degrees and delightful.

Every year as I put the early seeds in, I feel a bit anxious.  It almost feels like I'm scattering seeds and just hoping they are going to come up. 

It always feel precarious to me.

(Beets going into the ground)

I wait, anxiously, to see green coming through the ground in a week or so, evidence that something turned out right.

Yesterday I busied myself planting onions as they joyfully romped around the yard, excited by my turning on the sprinkler.

Soon I was hauling out swimsuits and watching them as they ran, the boys with purpose, and the Little Miss more cautiously.  I laid onions out in a row, listening to them giggle and be proud of how high the water was when they went through.

Popsicles and potatoes.

I had little assistants for the potato planting.

They wanted to stick pieces of the potatoes into the ground.

Afterward, we marked each of the potato mounds and I told Isaiah he could get the watering can. He happily went to work.

 (Our popsicle stick markers)

We pulled a large beetle out of the soil for the start of our insect collection: Black with metallic purple on the edges of his body.

 (Peas, beets, salad and green smoothie material)

I had brought out shovels and a hoe for the planting process; they brought out the garden rake, too.

They dug in the dirt, burying each other's legs, generally getting filthy.

The tractors were pulled out.

We went into the front yard and my bleeding hearts took my breath away.

Delicate and beautiful and thriving (that last part makes me happy).

We pruned back the hydrangea.

Cleaned up.

At the end of day we ate together and then read together on the couch.

Little Miss fell asleep, curled up there on the end.

When I went to put her in bed, tho, she woke up -- and ended up keeping me company well into the evening -- long after she should have been asleep.

She followed me as I cleaned and made banana chocolate-chip muffins, talking my ears off, sampling batter, telling me words that rhyme.

It was one of those days that leaves you feeling satisfied, having worked and played and loved and lived and thrived in the most essential and personal and important relationships:

simple pleasures, family, life-sustaining work, and God.

Last evening as I was cleaning up my house at the end of day and testing out the sprinklers -- hearing them tick-tick-tick in the front yard and watching evening light spill eastward, bathing my yard and the mountains in that beautiful golden color -- I came back in the back gate and looked in the cup, watching the beetle attempt a way out.

I'm pretty excited for the fresh vegetables to come.

And I love that my children are learning this process.

Learning to work in the dirt, tend the land, witness the fruit that comes from labor.

 *I so love that his shirt is off (his request) and his little buns are almost hanging out.*

Mud feels good in the fingertips; the earth smells good.

It's as if my spirit knows this is worthwhile and beautiful.

And when my back aches when it's over, I know it was time well spent.

April Morning Snow

I was awakened at 7:51 this morning, my cell ringing next to me on the nightstand.

My dad.

Asking if I'd seen outside.

I pulled back the curtains and saw snow whipping past furiously in the wind.

Looking out across the street toward the mountains, it all looked gray.

Lots of flakes, lots of blustery.

Benji sat on my bed and declared it "a bluish day."

I thought it fitting.

Which is why we're going on our weekly indoor outing today: to the bookstore.

Buy a treat.

Go to the children's area.

Pick a stack of books.

Go into the book nook.

And read away for a while...

This afternoon I'll make something hot for dinner and we'll enjoy the cool feeling while it's here.

Tomorrow it's supposed to be almost 60...just in time for the big Easter hunt and barbeque with cousins.

That's spring here for you.

In some ways, it seems almost fitting.  On that Friday morning a couple millennia ago, something sacred and final took place.  It seems right to have a gray day, because of the tremendous sadness, earth's recognition of the enormous sacrifice just given.  And then, tomorrow's sunshine will lead into Sunday's 70 degrees warm.  As if nature herself is going to testify of the glorious message of the resurrection to follow, that all was not lost, that life returned again -- for all of us.

I rejoice in this.

Bursting to Bloom

Yesterday morning was beautiful.

We jogged out in the 10:00 a.m. sunshine.

I love the way you can feel the world awakening, beginning to stretch, enlivened by sunlight rays.

Before lunch I walked outside to take pictures of spring coming to our yard.

Dwarf Day Lilies

My personal fave: Peonies

Forget-me-nots

Beautiful iris

Cherry tree blossoming

Green ground cover with white little blossoms to come

Bleeding hearts

Hydrangea

Crocus

Budding on trees

Daffodils ready to burst open

Such happy flowers.

I wanted to go out and sit in a chair on the deck and soak some sun myself.

That is therapy!

But Wednesdays are busy, busy days around these parts and it wasn't to be.

Had to shower after the exercise and get off to the activities of the afternoon.

But yesterday morning, and every morning for several days coming now, I will notice blossoms and color begin to paint the landscape, proudly boasting the riches of earth, dark, lush soil, the smell of life and leaping joy.