Into Every Life, Some Sun Must Shine

I awoke this morning to a beautiful sight: rain, fresh and moist, falling gently from the sky. This doesn't happen often in Montana. If it's precipitation, it's usually snow, and trust me, you DON'T want to hear my raw and honest feelings about the relentless snow this year. So whenever the rain comes, I am excited indeed. I immediately put shoes on and go outside. It is about all I can do to refrain from raising my arms to the sky and twirling in circles of delight. No, I don't actually DO this; it's just very tempting. Instead, I generally walk for as long as the rain falls or until I am utterly drenched. I have the walking trail all to myself because Montanans don't go out in the rain. They think they will melt, I suppose, and rain happens so infrequently here, they can afford to stay inside.

As the rain fell so beautifully this morning, I had to go to school to administer two final exams, so I missed the opportunity for a rainy walk, but I WAS able to drive in the rain and hear the pitter patter of drops on my windshield. What glorious noise! I rolled down my window slightly just to feel the mist on my face. As I drove, Barry Manilow sang "I Made It Through the Rain" on the satellite radio (no kidding!), the lyrics celebrating people who make it through the difficult situations in life and move forward with strength to happier times. This caused me to think about the many references to rain in songs, literature, slogans, etc., all of them presenting negative connotations.

"Into every life, some rain must fall."

"It is wise to set aside some money for a rainy day."

"Rainy days and Mondays always get me down."

"After the rain, the rainbow." [like rainbows are in some way better than rain?]

"Raindrops keep fallin' on my head."

And, of course, the above mentioned Manilow song, "I made it through the rain, found myself respected by the other who got rained on too and made it through."

I don't understand any of these metaphors; seriously, what could be more wonderful than rain? It freshens the air, softens the skin, hydrates the earth, and soothes the soul. So I decided to revise these images to make better sense:

"Into every life, some sun must shine."

"It is wise to set aside some money for a sunny day."

"Sunny days and Mondays always get me down."

"After the sun, the sunburn."

"Bright sun keeps shinin' in my eyes."

"I made it through the sunshine, found myself respected by the others who got shined on too and made it through."

Yes. Those make much more sense. At least to me. Maybe what I really need to do is move to Forks, WA and live with the Cullen Family. (Those who don't "get" the Twilight allusion will just need to read the series. You'll love it. I promise!)

Most Definitely from the Male Species

It is often the case in the morning that Seth awakens and climbs the stairs to find me sitting at the dining room table applying my make-up for the day. Yesterday was no different, except this time as he sat on a bar stool in the kitchen eating his cereal, he felt compelled to comment on the process of my make-up application.

Seth: Why do you do that every day?

Me: Because I want to look good.

Seth: Do you think you need to be pretty just because you're a girl?

Me: Well, I like to look good, but I don't know if it's just because I'm a girl.

Seth: Well you already look pretty without all that stuff.

Me: I think I look BETTER wearing make-up.

Seth: You don't look ONE BIT DIFFERENT after you put that stuff on.

Me: Not one bit?

Seth: Well, the only thing I can tell is that your eyes on top look a little purple [Seriously, I don't wear purple eye shadow].

....as I so carefully swirled, tapped, and buffed on my Bare Minerals foundation, he continued on,

Seth: That stuff right there doesn't do a thing. You look exactly the same. You don't look any paler or whiter or shinier [I didn't know that was the goal] than before.

Seth: All that stuff is really a big waste of time.

So yeah, I'm thinking Seth is most definitely from the male species.

Scout Mom Failure

I love being a mother.

I know, as well as I know anything at all, that motherhood was truly my divine destiny. From the moment I first held Luke in my arms 24 years ago until this very day, nothing has been more important to me than my role as a mom. Although I've had varying degrees of success and failure in executing this role, undeniably, my most significant failure is being a Cub Scout Mom. I am utterly incompetent in that role. Seriously.

Now you would think that my immense dislike for scouting and my total incompetence in every part of the program would mean that God would send me mostly girls, but no, I am the mother of just one girl and four amazing sons. I distinctly remember during my last pregnancy, lying on the table for my ultrasound which would reveal whether we were expecting a boy or a girl. As my obstetrician carefully studied the monitor and said, "Hmmm. I see a penis and a scrotum" (sorry, but that's exactly what he said!), the first words out of my mouth were, "Oh no....more Cub Scouts."

I then began to pray earnestly that somehow in the following eight years, the entire scouting program would disappear or, at the very least, that our church would opt out of it. No such luck. Here we are with Seth, age eight, eager to be a Cub Scout. He has been eight since June. Once again, my incompetence as a Cub mom has surfaced in full force. Does Seth have a Wolf book yet? No. Each week, those dedicated leaders ask me to get him a book, and each week, I don't do it. "Why is that?" you may ask. Seriously, I have no idea. There's a store here in town that sells Wolf books. I have the money to buy one. But I don't do it. I wonder if it's subconscious rebellion on my part. I hope not.

Then there's the issue of the uniform. Yes, Seth does have one of those, but it is entirely void of decoration. I sew not a stitch, either by hand or by machine, so how am I supposed to get those dozens of little patches attached to the uniform? Really, how am I supposed to do that? The worst ones are the tiny gold and silver triangles that need to be sewn in a straight row under the uniform pocket. Blah!

It's probably no wonder that we have not yet produced an Eagle Scout. I believe Eli may break that record because his determination and desire are perhaps strong enough to outweigh my lack thereof. As for Seth, and for all the boys really, I hope they can one day grow to forgive me for my total failure as a scout mom and perhaps look instead to the few things I do well. Umm, yeah, I'm really good at editing their school papers, for example. Maybe that will compensate. :-)

Grace

It was my privilege to attend Stake Conference in the Billings Montana East Stake this weekend. Visiting our conference was Elder Dallin H. Oaks from the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Yes, it is a rare occasion that an apostle visits Billings, and yes, everyone was excited. I don't know that we were fully prepared, though, for what his presence would bring to our conference meetings. I know I wasn't. It was not so much the things he said although he spoke plenty of inspiring and uplifting words. It was more his humble presence, his outpouring of love for the people, his humor, his grace.

Luke and I went an hour early in hopes of securing comfortable seats in pews in the chapel rather than sitting on metal folding chairs way back in the cultural hall. No luck there. Even a full hour before the start of the meeting, the chapel was full, and we found ourselves seated half way back in the gym, saving seats for the rest of our family. We were blessed for our efforts, though, as Elder Oaks made his way back to those folding chairs in the gym, walking up and down the rows shaking hands with everyone he possibly could, saying, "Welcome to conference." And welcomed we were, Luke and I, our family, and the rest of the Billings Montana East Stake, as Elder Oaks testified of God's unconditional love for all of his children, of the infinite atonement of the Savior, and of the restoration of his Church in this day.

Grace. Divine love and protection, though unmerited and undeserved, available to all.

P90X (ouch!)

So this is my fourth week of P90X, an intense work-out program based on the theory of muscle confusion. Each day you work a different set of muscles, so the body never plateaus. This week is different from weeks 1 - 3, and I'm feeling the difference. Yoga and Core Synergistics back-to-back were a killer. The good news is that this week, I have Shulamith here to do it with me. It's much more fun than doing it all alone. We're both committed to the full 90-day program, in hopes of having "beach bodies" by summer. :-)

Seth is a great help to me in this program. He watches the people on the TV and points out all the ways that I DON'T look like them as I do the exercises. Lovely.

"Mom, your leg isn't as straight as that girl's is."

"Mom, you need to go faster in those kicks."

"Mom, those people are lifting 25-pound weights, and you only have 8-pound ones."

You can always count on Seth to be perfectly honest. It reminds me of when I recently received the calling of Primary Chorister at church.

Seth's comment: "You're going to be the singing teacher? But Mom, you have a TERRIBLE voice."

P90X. Bring it!!

Going Home

They say one can never go home again. And that is true, I think, at least to some extent. These past three days, I returned to Portland, the place of my birth, for a brief visit with my mother, brother, niece, and long-time friend. I had hoped for rain, but the rain fell only in the night, while it apparently rained beautifully here in Billings two of the days I was away. Still, the green of the Pacific Northwest offered proof that it rains there often, even though I missed it for the most part. And the smell of rain each morning brought back memories of my childhood.

The best part of my visit to the Rose City was time spent (although not enough) catching up with my brother. I don't see him often. Sibling relationships are important; they are the longest ones we have in life, and in my case, he is my only sibling. I enjoyed spending some time with his youngest daughter Katie - age 11, seeing how much she has grown on the outside, but more importantly how much she has matured since we were together last. She and my youngest son, Seth, are the last of the cousins in this generation of our family, and neither is a baby anymore. While it is delightful to watch them grow, there are times when the lyrics of the Abba song "Slippin' Through My Fingers" feel so real:

"Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture,
And save it from the funny tricks of time.
Slipping though my fingers all the time."

Going home. Perhaps one can never go home because time changes just about everything, and nothing is ever quite the same. It was good to be there, though, and I'm glad I went.

Back in Billings for Easter was joyous, mostly because all seven of us were here for church this morning and for Easter dinner. That happens all too infrequently these days with everyone's conflicting work schedules and Shulamith living in Salt Lake City. We only had a few hours before Luke and Isaiah had to go to work, but at least we were together, and I am thankful.

Happy Easter!

Quiet Weekend

We have enjoyed a quiet weekend watching General Conference both Saturday and today. Luke went to Salt Lake City to attend his mission reunion and to visit Shulamith. They both attended the reunion Friday night and both report a fun time. Luke knew practically everyone there, and Shulamith got to meet many of his former companions and mission friends. Yesterday, they attended the afternoon session of Conference and enjoyed that as well. Then they went shopping (one can't visit Shulamith without shopping) and bought new clothes. Fun! Today, Luke flew home and is already back at work at the ranch this evening.

Seth is glad to have him back but terribly distraught about the prospect of Luke going to Indiana this fall. Poor Seth was never properly informed about Luke's intention to go to graduate school after a year home with us. Seth thought he would stay home forever.

In response to Luke's intent to move to Indiana this fall, Seth and I had the following conversation:

Seth: I will NEVER do that.

Me: You mean you'll never move away from home?

Seth: Well, I'll go to college, and then I'll come home. I'll go on a mission, and then I'll come home. And then I will STAY HOME. I will not go to Indiana!

He loves his oldest two siblings so much, and he hates it that he can't have them home all the time. I get it, Seth. I totally get it. I like it better when they're here too!

The Beginning

The idea for this blog came from two people: Trudy and Monica. My friend Trudy creates a newsletter for her family called "The Carey Chronicle." She publishes it monthly and includes articles and pictures about the lives of her and her husband, their four children and their families. I've wanted to do something like that for our family; however, the thought of producing an actual physical document every month seemed overwhelming. I decided something electronic would be more mangable.

Then I was chatting with my sister-in-law, Monica. She mentioned that she writes a blog about her four-year-old daughter Ellery called "WhatEllerySays." At first, I thought of doing something similar just for Seth, but then I combined Trudy's newsletter idea with Monica's blog idea, and this is the result.

Some may wonder why the blog is called ITS LEGS. That is the name, created by Eli, on our vanity licence plate. I asked Eli to think of a word or phrase that used the first letter from each of our first names. He came up with ITS LEGS (Isaiah, Terrianne, Shulamith, Luke, Eli, Gerald, Seth).

So there's a start. I look forward to writing more. --Terrianne