My friend Patty tells me her sweet mother always said, "There's nothing as "over" as Christmas.
How true.
I so vividly remember the first weekend I began shopping and wrapping this year. It was still a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, and I put on some lovely Christmas music (I believe it was Josh Groban). For me, the season had begun! Even my kids complained, "Mom, it's still November!" I didn't care. It's my absolute favorite time of year, and I wasn't about to wrap Christmas presents without Christmas music. I attributed my early start to the fact that we had three new people join our family this year, a nearly 50% increase. I would certainly need more time.
As November faded and December arrived, I was already in full swing. The tree was up. The house was decorated. The lists were made. The shopping was under way. As the days flew by, one after the other, and I watched Seth move the mouse in our Christmas countdown calendar, I was okay until the mouse reached the final row beginning with December 20th. At that point, I began to feel much like the Grinch. "I've got to stop Christmas from coming!" I thought. Not because I don't like it. Not because my heart is two sizes too small like the Grinch's (at least I hope not), but because as Patty's mother so eloquently points out:
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas.
And I didn't want it to be over. I wanted to slow down time those final few days in order to stretch out the joy just a little longer. What if we simply didn't move the mouse? Would that work? Obviously not.
Christmas came and went. Just like that. It was lovely, by the way. We had a houseful of people most of the week, constant coming and going, the normal last-minute shopping, plenty of cooking and eating with no regard for calories or fat grams. Still, in all the bustle, some quiet moments found their way. On Christmas Eve, before opening our traditional one gift each, Gerald and I read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, and Mathew offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of the Savior and for the blessings of family. It was quiet for just a moment, even with all ten of us in the same room. Christmas morning, we waited with anxious delight for Seth to ascend the stairs and find his "Santa" gifts, an electric scooter and a new fish to replace Orange-head, who died a couple weeks ago.
And then, as quickly as it came, it was over. Early this morning, Shulamith and Matt got into their car to begin the long drive back to Utah. This afternoon, Désirée and Luke and Evelyn boarded an airplane bound for Texas. We get to keep Isaiah for another week, thanks heavens! Tomorrow, I will take down the mouse calendar, along with the tree and other decorations and pack them safely away for another year. I will try not to cry. Isaiah is still here. And Lindsey is in town this week as well. Both these things will help tremendously. I will try hard not to cry.
Generally speaking, January is my very least favorite month. It's still so cold, but Christmas is over. It's much easier to tolerate the bitter cold when Christmas is coming. I find myself thinking about the curse of the witch in Narnia, which made it always winter but never Christmas. How wretched! January feels so long. This year, however, I get to go to Utah and spend six days with Shulamith while Matt is in New York. I'm thinking January won't be so bad after all.
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas, and yet, the new year is rich with opportunity. Who knows what is in store for each of us. Two thousand ten brought us two weddings and three new family members. I doubt 2011 can measure up to that, but you never know.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas Is Still Wonderful As Long As You're in Love
Once upon a time in a park on a swing way back in December 2009, a dashing young man proposed marriage to a beautiful young girl. That was a whole year ago. About six weeks later, they were married.
Since then, they have lived the first ten months of "happily ever after," but they had one regret. They wanted to get a picture in the park where they got engaged. As the anniversary of their engagement approached, the young man had an idea. What if they went back to that swing and took a mom with them to take a picture. This idea grew into another wonderful surprise.
So the young man and his beautiful bride, along with her mom, set out for the park. It was very cold, and they had to climb over mounds of snow just to reach the correct swing. The girl sat down on the cold swing, and the young man knelt down in the snow as if to simulate last year's proposal, only this time, he pulled out a box with yet another ring, a stunning blue topaz set in silver. He asked her to stay married to him forever. It was very romantic! The girl was overcome with surprise, and the mom (who was in on the secret all along) photographed the whole event.
Overcome with excitement, the girl shoved the ring onto her right ring finger because, of course, she wears her wedding ring on her left hand. Everything seemed perfect...at least for a while. But then..
A crisis occurred. Oh no! (Warning: if you only like happy stories, you should stop reading now. Remember, you were warned!)
The young man went home to play videogames with the girl's brothers, and the girl and her mom headed out to shop for Christmas groceries. With loaded shopping carts, they proceeded to the check-out when the girl attempted to remove the ring. It wouldn't budge. Not at all. Apparently, her right ring finger is slightly larger than her left. The finger had swollen up below the ring, and the harder she pulled, the more swollen it became. They arrived home and tried every online technique to remove rings: she elevated her hand above her heart for an hour. The young man iced her finger and applied cream, oil, and butter. He even tried wrapping dental floss around her finger to make it small enough to pull off the ring.
Nothing worked.
By now it was11:00 p.m., and it was obvious we would need to find someone to cut off the ring. The girl was very sad. Her beautiful new ring would need to be cut off her finger. We called the fire department, and the nice firefighters told us to come right over. Even they tried to remove the ring without cutting it, but to no avail. They used their "ring cutter" and cut off the ring.
I'm trying to find a way to make this story end happily. What can I say? That the ring can be repaired once they get back to Utah where the young man bought it? Indeed, it can! That Christmas is still wonderful even when slightly unfortunate things happen? Indeed, it is. Most importantly, that the young man and his bride are still madly in love despite this incident? Indeed, they are!
Since then, they have lived the first ten months of "happily ever after," but they had one regret. They wanted to get a picture in the park where they got engaged. As the anniversary of their engagement approached, the young man had an idea. What if they went back to that swing and took a mom with them to take a picture. This idea grew into another wonderful surprise.
So the young man and his beautiful bride, along with her mom, set out for the park. It was very cold, and they had to climb over mounds of snow just to reach the correct swing. The girl sat down on the cold swing, and the young man knelt down in the snow as if to simulate last year's proposal, only this time, he pulled out a box with yet another ring, a stunning blue topaz set in silver. He asked her to stay married to him forever. It was very romantic! The girl was overcome with surprise, and the mom (who was in on the secret all along) photographed the whole event.
Overcome with excitement, the girl shoved the ring onto her right ring finger because, of course, she wears her wedding ring on her left hand. Everything seemed perfect...at least for a while. But then..A crisis occurred. Oh no! (Warning: if you only like happy stories, you should stop reading now. Remember, you were warned!)
The young man went home to play videogames with the girl's brothers, and the girl and her mom headed out to shop for Christmas groceries. With loaded shopping carts, they proceeded to the check-out when the girl attempted to remove the ring. It wouldn't budge. Not at all. Apparently, her right ring finger is slightly larger than her left. The finger had swollen up below the ring, and the harder she pulled, the more swollen it became. They arrived home and tried every online technique to remove rings: she elevated her hand above her heart for an hour. The young man iced her finger and applied cream, oil, and butter. He even tried wrapping dental floss around her finger to make it small enough to pull off the ring.Nothing worked.
By now it was11:00 p.m., and it was obvious we would need to find someone to cut off the ring. The girl was very sad. Her beautiful new ring would need to be cut off her finger. We called the fire department, and the nice firefighters told us to come right over. Even they tried to remove the ring without cutting it, but to no avail. They used their "ring cutter" and cut off the ring.I'm trying to find a way to make this story end happily. What can I say? That the ring can be repaired once they get back to Utah where the young man bought it? Indeed, it can! That Christmas is still wonderful even when slightly unfortunate things happen? Indeed, it is. Most importantly, that the young man and his bride are still madly in love despite this incident? Indeed, they are!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Seth, Loose Teeth, and Safe Airplane Travel
Everyone loves to hear children around age six or seven sing the song "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth." If visits from the tooth fairy aren't exciting enough, visits from the tooth fairy around Christmas time must be the epitome of excitement for young children. Seth, at the mature age of ten, is obviously past that point; however, he's at another milestone in the ongoing process of replacing "baby" teeth with permanent ones. When kids get to be ten or eleven, it seems like every baby tooth they have left in their mouths becomes loose, all at the same time. I distinctly remember this situation with Luke. Nervous mom that I was (am?), I couldn't imagine it was normal for one kid to have that many loose teeth at the same time. Panicked, I called the dentist, who graciously reassured me that children are supposed to lose their teeth. I knew that. But all at once?!? Apparently so. Luke's situation was perfectly normal, and it's the exact situation in which Seth finds himself now.
As he was pointing out to me all these teeth at varying degrees of looseness and speculating about how much money he might receive, I casually mentioned that the tooth fairy is likely very busy in December, what with Christmas and all. Okay, okay, so why would the tooth fairy be any busier around Christmas than at any other time? I don't know. Trust me, it sounded good when I said it. Poor Seth had to wait three weeks last time he lost a tooth. There's something about being the fifth child in the family that causes that tooth fairy to be awfully slow and forgetful. I just wanted him to be prepared. His response: "If I don't get lots and lots of money for all these loose teeth, I want nothing more to do with the tooth fairy!"
Did you hear that, Tooth Fairy? The kid is serious.
This entire conversation occurred as we flew between Indiana and Denver this afternoon. Next topic: the safety of air travel. Upon descending into Denver, we experienced a bit of turbulence, not a lot and not bad, but a little. Seth hasn't flown that much, so the turbulence caused him some concern.
Seth: What if this plane crashes?
Me: The plane is not going to crash. You don't have to worry.
Seth: But what if it does?
Me: Seth, if I thought there was any reasonable chance at all that this plane would crash, I would not take you on it. Because you are very important.
Seth: No Mom, you are more important than me.
Me: Seth, that is just not true.
Seth: Mom! Yes, it is. I am just a kid, but you are the mother of five children. If I die, you still have four left. But if you die, none of us would have a mother. You are much more important.
Oh, my precious baby boy! Your logic is lovely, but in this case, you couldn't be more wrong.
Wishing everyone plenty of loose teeth followed by regular visits from the tooth fairy, and safe holiday travel, whether by plane or otherwise.
As he was pointing out to me all these teeth at varying degrees of looseness and speculating about how much money he might receive, I casually mentioned that the tooth fairy is likely very busy in December, what with Christmas and all. Okay, okay, so why would the tooth fairy be any busier around Christmas than at any other time? I don't know. Trust me, it sounded good when I said it. Poor Seth had to wait three weeks last time he lost a tooth. There's something about being the fifth child in the family that causes that tooth fairy to be awfully slow and forgetful. I just wanted him to be prepared. His response: "If I don't get lots and lots of money for all these loose teeth, I want nothing more to do with the tooth fairy!"
Did you hear that, Tooth Fairy? The kid is serious.
This entire conversation occurred as we flew between Indiana and Denver this afternoon. Next topic: the safety of air travel. Upon descending into Denver, we experienced a bit of turbulence, not a lot and not bad, but a little. Seth hasn't flown that much, so the turbulence caused him some concern.
Seth: What if this plane crashes?
Me: The plane is not going to crash. You don't have to worry.
Seth: But what if it does?
Me: Seth, if I thought there was any reasonable chance at all that this plane would crash, I would not take you on it. Because you are very important.
Seth: No Mom, you are more important than me.
Me: Seth, that is just not true.
Seth: Mom! Yes, it is. I am just a kid, but you are the mother of five children. If I die, you still have four left. But if you die, none of us would have a mother. You are much more important.
Oh, my precious baby boy! Your logic is lovely, but in this case, you couldn't be more wrong.
Wishing everyone plenty of loose teeth followed by regular visits from the tooth fairy, and safe holiday travel, whether by plane or otherwise.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
A Weary World Rejoices
I dearly love the Christmas season. The words from the familiar carol "It's the most wonderful time of the year" don't begin to express how I feel about it. I love every part of Christmas, and I am not alone. Something about this season brings out the best in folks. We smile more. We think of our neighbors instead of ourselves. We cut each other a little more slack. We're more tolerant. We're kinder.
Those of us who are Christians attribute this to our feelings about the Savior and our desire to celebrate His miraculous birth. But even those with no religious faith are affected by this magical time of year. My father, for example, was not religious. I don't even know if he believed in God. He might have, but I can't be sure. He had no use whatsoever for organized religion. However, he was a good man, a good man who became better at Christmas. I have fond memories of shopping with him for gifts for my mom when I was a little girl. We would pass by the Salvation Army bell ringers, and he would always donate whatever spare cash he had. "Why do you give them your money," I asked. He told me about the good work of the folks at the Salvation Army. He said when he and his co-workers were fighting fires in the middle of cold winter nights, Salvation Army workers would be there with hot coffee and sandwiches for the fire fighters. "Never pass by one of those bell ringers without donating," he instructed me. And I don't. To this day, I can't walk by a Salvation Army bell ringer without digging for all the change in my purse.
Historians tell us that the Savior was likely born in the spring. Nevertheless, we unite with Christians worldwide to celebrate his birth in the deepest, darkest month of December; at least in this hemisphere it's deep and dark, and that is my only reference point. I find much symbolism connected to this time of year. With short days, long nights, and freezing temperatures, what causes us to rejoice with such gladness in this season? Certainly not the weather in Billings, Montana! I haven't been warm since October. And no, I don't enjoy slipping around on frozen roads every time I try to walk or drive anywhere. Yet, we celebrate.
Out of the darkness, comes the light. Out of the cold, comes the warmth. Out of the pain and suffering, comes the one "Risen with healing in His wings."
Rejoice in this unique time of year. Smile an extra smile. Pardon the driver who cuts you off in traffic. Give one more hug to your children as they head off to school. Drop some change in the Salvation Army bell ringer's kettle. Love fully.
"Hark now hear the angels sing
A new king born today.
And we will live forever more
Because of Christmas Day."
Those of us who are Christians attribute this to our feelings about the Savior and our desire to celebrate His miraculous birth. But even those with no religious faith are affected by this magical time of year. My father, for example, was not religious. I don't even know if he believed in God. He might have, but I can't be sure. He had no use whatsoever for organized religion. However, he was a good man, a good man who became better at Christmas. I have fond memories of shopping with him for gifts for my mom when I was a little girl. We would pass by the Salvation Army bell ringers, and he would always donate whatever spare cash he had. "Why do you give them your money," I asked. He told me about the good work of the folks at the Salvation Army. He said when he and his co-workers were fighting fires in the middle of cold winter nights, Salvation Army workers would be there with hot coffee and sandwiches for the fire fighters. "Never pass by one of those bell ringers without donating," he instructed me. And I don't. To this day, I can't walk by a Salvation Army bell ringer without digging for all the change in my purse.
Historians tell us that the Savior was likely born in the spring. Nevertheless, we unite with Christians worldwide to celebrate his birth in the deepest, darkest month of December; at least in this hemisphere it's deep and dark, and that is my only reference point. I find much symbolism connected to this time of year. With short days, long nights, and freezing temperatures, what causes us to rejoice with such gladness in this season? Certainly not the weather in Billings, Montana! I haven't been warm since October. And no, I don't enjoy slipping around on frozen roads every time I try to walk or drive anywhere. Yet, we celebrate.
Out of the darkness, comes the light. Out of the cold, comes the warmth. Out of the pain and suffering, comes the one "Risen with healing in His wings."
Rejoice in this unique time of year. Smile an extra smile. Pardon the driver who cuts you off in traffic. Give one more hug to your children as they head off to school. Drop some change in the Salvation Army bell ringer's kettle. Love fully.
"Hark now hear the angels sing
A new king born today.
And we will live forever more
Because of Christmas Day."
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Remembering Gifts
In this season of gift-giving, it is natural to think about the many gifts in our lives. We remember the excitement of special Christmas gifts from childhood. The earliest one I remember is a doll called "Baby First Step." I wanted her more than anything, and I remember running down the stairs on Christmas morning to find her 'walking' across the living room to greet me. Santa had remembered. As time went on, dolls were replaced by make-up, jewelry and clothes. I remember getting a flower pot that blossomed with an array of different colored lipsticks. I felt so grown up. (Yes, there was a time when I actually longed to be older).
As a parent, I remember the joy of so many magical Christmas mornings; nothing is sweeter than the delight in our children's faces when they are caught entirely by surprise. One such Christmas, we surprised Luke and Shulamith with a trip. We were to leave only a few hours after opening our gifts. As they opened various travel items, one by one, they were first curious, then baffled, then hesitant, and ultimately stunned that we were really boarding an airplane later that day, bound for Disneyland. What fun! Then there was the year we gave 8-year-old Eli his own Desert Tortoise. He stood over the tank, speechless, his jaw dropped and his mouth wide open. It was priceless. Almost as priceless as the year Isaiah got his first hand-held video-game console, the Nintendo Game Boy Color. W00t!
This year, as always, I've thoroughly enjoyed shopping for my children. I've also reflected on other gifts such as the love of family and the atonement of the Savior, those gifts that are more important than tangible items. In addition, especially these past few days, I've contemplated the gift of friendship and its significance in my life. I've written many times in this blog about my two closest friends, Lindsey and Celeste. You can read about them here. And here. You can even see their pretty pictures. But as you know, neither of them lives in Billings anymore.
When Celeste moved to San Antonio 2-1/2 years ago, I cried hard. When Lindsey moved to Rexburg last summer, I cried harder. Because then they were both gone. My two best friends. I felt terribly alone. To clarify, it's not that I don't know other people. I do. I am acquainted with many lovely folks from around my life: from school, from church, from book group, from Seth's activities. But they are not "close friends," you know, the kind you can call at the last minute to watch your child, or the kind you can spend hours with just talking because you never run out of things to say. Or the kind you can trust with your whole soul because you know they would never betray you. I didn't have any of those friends left....
Except for one. Her name is Mandy. And I'm pretty sure Mandy curses the days my other two friends left town, because she, single-handedly, has been left with the burden of being my only close friend in Billings. And let me tell you, it hasn't been an easy job. Every time I need a favor, I call Mandy. Why? Because I truly can't think of anyone else to call. Why do I need so many favors? I'm not sure. Lately, it seems like I can't handle life on my own. Let me give you a few examples.
1. I needed a place to ship my Christmas packages, so my family wouldn't inadvertently receive them and discover their Christmas presents. Mandy, could I please have my packages shipped to your house? Of course!
2. I needed a baby-sitter for Seth's stupid goldfish, Mr. Orange-head Fisher, when we went to Utah for Thanksgiving. He won this thing two months ago at Saturday Live. Honestly, what goldfish lives for two whole months? I thought the one thing goldfish knew how to do was die. But no, Mr. Fisher is still swimming around alive and well. Mandy, could you please keep this fish at your house for five days and feed him while we're in Utah? Of course!
3. I needed someone to push my car out of the snow in front of Mandy's house after a fun evening together. Mandy, I'm stuck! Can you come outside in the freezing cold and help me push my car out of the snow? Of course!
4. I need someone to come take a family snapshot to send with our Christmas cards once Shulamith, Mathew, Isaiah, Luke, Desiree, and Evelyn arrive on Tuesday the 20th. Mandy, I'm sure you have nothing better to do four days before Christmas, so could you come over and take a picture of all of us? Of course!
What next??? I don't know. But if I were Mandy, I'd be hiding in my house, screening my phone calls.
Gifts. I am thankful for all of them, the magical memories from childhood; the joy on my own children's faces years later; and especially--the gift of my close friends, the two who have moved away, and the one who is still here.
Remembering Gifts.
As a parent, I remember the joy of so many magical Christmas mornings; nothing is sweeter than the delight in our children's faces when they are caught entirely by surprise. One such Christmas, we surprised Luke and Shulamith with a trip. We were to leave only a few hours after opening our gifts. As they opened various travel items, one by one, they were first curious, then baffled, then hesitant, and ultimately stunned that we were really boarding an airplane later that day, bound for Disneyland. What fun! Then there was the year we gave 8-year-old Eli his own Desert Tortoise. He stood over the tank, speechless, his jaw dropped and his mouth wide open. It was priceless. Almost as priceless as the year Isaiah got his first hand-held video-game console, the Nintendo Game Boy Color. W00t!
This year, as always, I've thoroughly enjoyed shopping for my children. I've also reflected on other gifts such as the love of family and the atonement of the Savior, those gifts that are more important than tangible items. In addition, especially these past few days, I've contemplated the gift of friendship and its significance in my life. I've written many times in this blog about my two closest friends, Lindsey and Celeste. You can read about them here. And here. You can even see their pretty pictures. But as you know, neither of them lives in Billings anymore.
When Celeste moved to San Antonio 2-1/2 years ago, I cried hard. When Lindsey moved to Rexburg last summer, I cried harder. Because then they were both gone. My two best friends. I felt terribly alone. To clarify, it's not that I don't know other people. I do. I am acquainted with many lovely folks from around my life: from school, from church, from book group, from Seth's activities. But they are not "close friends," you know, the kind you can call at the last minute to watch your child, or the kind you can spend hours with just talking because you never run out of things to say. Or the kind you can trust with your whole soul because you know they would never betray you. I didn't have any of those friends left....
Except for one. Her name is Mandy. And I'm pretty sure Mandy curses the days my other two friends left town, because she, single-handedly, has been left with the burden of being my only close friend in Billings. And let me tell you, it hasn't been an easy job. Every time I need a favor, I call Mandy. Why? Because I truly can't think of anyone else to call. Why do I need so many favors? I'm not sure. Lately, it seems like I can't handle life on my own. Let me give you a few examples.
1. I needed a place to ship my Christmas packages, so my family wouldn't inadvertently receive them and discover their Christmas presents. Mandy, could I please have my packages shipped to your house? Of course!
2. I needed a baby-sitter for Seth's stupid goldfish, Mr. Orange-head Fisher, when we went to Utah for Thanksgiving. He won this thing two months ago at Saturday Live. Honestly, what goldfish lives for two whole months? I thought the one thing goldfish knew how to do was die. But no, Mr. Fisher is still swimming around alive and well. Mandy, could you please keep this fish at your house for five days and feed him while we're in Utah? Of course!
3. I needed someone to push my car out of the snow in front of Mandy's house after a fun evening together. Mandy, I'm stuck! Can you come outside in the freezing cold and help me push my car out of the snow? Of course!
4. I need someone to come take a family snapshot to send with our Christmas cards once Shulamith, Mathew, Isaiah, Luke, Desiree, and Evelyn arrive on Tuesday the 20th. Mandy, I'm sure you have nothing better to do four days before Christmas, so could you come over and take a picture of all of us? Of course!
What next??? I don't know. But if I were Mandy, I'd be hiding in my house, screening my phone calls.
Gifts. I am thankful for all of them, the magical memories from childhood; the joy on my own children's faces years later; and especially--the gift of my close friends, the two who have moved away, and the one who is still here.
Remembering Gifts.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Our First Guest Post!
I have published this blog for nearly two years. This is my 160th post. In all that time, I have never included a guest post, written by someone other than myself. To be honest, it's never occurred to me to invite others to submit writing. Until now, I guess I figured I am prolific enough (160 posts in under two years!) that I don't really need guest writers.
Then I read an article by Rebecca. She is the pastor of the Congregational United Church of Christ in Buena Vista, CO. She is also my friend of the past 20 years. We met as young married couples in a little town in Oregon back in the day. I had two very young children; she had none...yet. It was a good time. Today, our relationship revolves mainly around Facebook Scrabble, where she slaughters me game after game after game. Recently, she must have decided it wasn't enough to win one game at a time, so she added a second. Great!
On the surface, we Mormons don't seem to be very ecumenical. In reality, our church joins regularly with Christians all over the world to provide service and humanitarian aid wherever it is needed. Locally, though, in our own communities, we tend to stay to ourselves. I'm not entirely sure why that is although I have some speculations. Regardless, I can't think of a better season to be ecumenical than this one, when Christians across the globe unite to celebrate the birth of the babe born in Bethlehem, the child who would bring tidings of peace to a troubled world, who would provide the perfect example of a love purer than what our human minds can comprehend, and whose ultimate sacrifice would make possible immorality and eternal life for all.
It is in that spirit that I share Rebecca's article. I was delighted by it. I think you will be too.
From Pastor Rebecca....
As I sit down to write, I shake off a chill from a cold and windy walk with the dogs. It is a day that can’t decide whether to shine or to allow a snow storm to visit from over the mountains. I have made a cup of tea, put on another sweater, gotten out the seriously-warm slippers and given profuse thanks to God for the person who invented this wonderful thing called flannel-lined jeans!The seasons are definitely a-changin’. We can’t fool ourselves into thinking that it might just get warm enough in the middle of the afternoon to sit on the porch for a few minutes with a book and watch the neighbors ride by on bicycles. Or, to hop on the horses for an hour and pretend it’s summer. When it’s 6:15 and we’ve already eaten dinner and wonder if it’s just a little too early to go to bed—that’s when you know we’re in a new season!
This time of year has a character all its own, doesn’t it? The Ancient Celts hailed this time from Samhain on Oct 31st to Yule on December 20-23 as the new year, and a sacred time all its own. It was a time of preparation for winter, of bringing in the animals and plants; of gathering around the hearth as a family; cooking and baking for the upcoming festivals. The short days and long evenings engendered a sense of deepening, of introspection. More time was spent reading poetry aloud, singing around the fire, telling stories. Folks were inside, together.
How do you welcome this time of year? How do you make it a “sacred season,” where the opportunity presents itself to be more introspective, to “go inside” more—both physically and thoughtfully? What do you do as a family “around the fire” so to speak? (around the computer?)
Life will be filled with concerts, programs, parties and special worship experiences. This season you will find the opportunity to sing, laugh, cry, eat, pray, and love (sounds like a book title!). Relish this season. Let it be a “deep time”—a time for reflection and thanksgiving, as well as a time for fun and celebration. Let it be a time to remember; a thin time when God and the saints are especially near. To give thanks for those who have passed through the veil; to remember those who need family and warmth and a place to come. To give as graciously as we are given, in God’s ever-abundant economy.
Out of darkness comes The Light. The days are short; the dark nights are long. It is a rich time, full of meaning and possibility. The Light of the World is waiting to be born—in us, in our hearts, in our world—Advent is just around the corner. Come, Lord Jesus.
Blessings, Rebecca
Monday, November 29, 2010
Just About Perfect
The question circulating around today is "How was your Thanksgiving weekend?" My answer: "It was just about perfect." Obviously, we can't achieve absolute perfection in this earthly experience; there are glitches. People don't always behave the way we think they should. We don't always behave the way we think we should. Life happens. Circumstances beyond our control change our plans, slow us down, force us to be flexible even when we don't want to be.
Even so, my Thanksgiving weekend was just about perfect.
The day before we left, the weather (one of those lovely circumstances that is beyond our control) seemed to deteriorate by the second. The forecast was for snowy, icy conditions in Billings, Bozeman, Idaho Falls, and Salt Lake City. Those of you familiar with this trip will understand that this is basically the entire route! All day people tried to scare me out of going. At least that's how it seemed. It could have been that they were just warning me to be cautious. Maybe they weren't really trying to talk me out of making the trip. Maybe it just seemed that way. In any case, by evening, I was ready to shoot the next person who asked me if we had 4-wheel drive. Because we don't. And there was no way I could just magically get it in the next 24 hours. And we were going, regardless. Two of my children were in Salt Lake City waiting for us. Bad weather or not, WE WERE GOING!
We prepared as thoroughly as we knew how, packing plenty of food and water, warm clothing, blankets, tire chains, even stuff to put on the ground for traction in case we needed to dig ourselves out of a snowy ditch. Wrapped in blankets, encouraged by Eli's sincere prayer for our safety, we left Billings at 5:15 am. By the time we passed Laurel, the temperature outside was -18. Nevertheless, we were on our way. Roads through Montana were mostly okay; Idaho was a different story. Fourteen hours later, we pulled into the parking lot of Isaiah's dorm where Shulamith met us. We made it!
How was my Thanksgiving weekend? It was just about perfect.
Thursday, we sank happily into R & R mode. Shulamith and Matt needed to go celebrate Thanksgiving with Matt's family. Eli and Seth stayed in Isaiah's dorm, and the three of them bonded over video-games. Gerald and I stayed at Shulamith and Matt's apartment and bonded over "Prison Break," my latest TV addiction (thank you very much, streaming Netflix).
Yep, just about perfect.
Then came Black Friday. Black Friday is seriously more important to me than Thanksgiving itself. It's a tradition that goes back a very long time, way back to when my grandma was alive. Shulamith and I have been doing Black Friday shopping together for at least the past 10 years, maybe more. This was our first year spending it in Salt Lake City, and it may very well be the best Black Friday we've ever had. I am not kidding. It was amazing. We began at Target where we warmed ourselves with cups of Starbuck's hot chocolate as we took full advantage of the many door-buster sales. After that we hit two different malls (not even possible in Billings!) where, one by one, we crossed off items from our Christmas shopping lists. Wow! Then, as is tradition, we treated ourselves to one item just for us: beautiful new boots from Macy's. Too tired to take another step, we met Matt at Cheesecake Factory for lunch at around 2:00.
How was my Black Friday? It was just about perfect.
Saturday was the day to cook Thanksgiving dinner. A couple of unnamed individuals (whose initials are E-L-I and S-E-T-H) had doubted that we could even make a good Thanksgiving dinner in Shulamith and Matt's tiny kitchen, but we proved them both wrong. We roasted a small turkey stuffed with delicious herb dressing, mashed potatoes by hand, and even made gravy from scratch. Complemented by pumpkin and banana cream pies from Marie Calendar's, the whole dinner was way YUM!
How was my Thanksgiving? It was just about perfect.
Even with the love of family all around (only Luke and Desiree and Evelyn were missing), there were the normal glitches, the stuff we remember through the years, the stuff we laugh about, the stuff that makes us human. One of those fun glitches occurred just as we were about to put the turkey into the oven. It occurred to me that maybe Shulamith didn't have the string I needed to tie around the bird in order to keep the wings tight, so the meat would not dry out. I was right. She didn't have string. Time to improvise. While she didn't have any string, she did have a string bikini top which she had never worn; she bought it for the bottoms, to wear with a more modest tankini top. Ha, what luck! We were able to pull that string right out of that bikini top and tie it right around that turkey.
Glitch #2 involved a research paper that needed to be written. As many of you know, I am a writing instructor. I teach folks how to write research papers. What do you think is the first rule of writing a good research paper? Yep, don't wait until the last minute and attempt to do it all in one sitting. Good papers need time to breathe. Authors need time to step away from their early drafts, so they can return with fresh eyes and fresh perspectives. No matter how many times I teach this concept, many of my students don't seem to believe me, AND APPARENTLY, NEITHER DO MY OWN CHILDREN! Eli had a 4-page research paper due Monday, and as of Saturday, he hadn't even begun. Well, that's not entirely true. He had identified his sources, but that's it.
Mom and sister to the rescue! We gave him note cards and instructed him to begin searching his sources for notes to use in the paper. Five note cards would be done before we would feed him Thanksgiving dinner. We're tough, yeah? Note cards complete, Shulamith helped him organize them around a solid thesis statement, and he was ready to make an outline. Finally, around 7 pm, he began to draft. Several of us went to a movie, but Eli stayed home and worked, along with Matt who also had homework. By the time we returned, 1/4 of the paper was written, a good enough start that we felt confident Eli could finish it on the ride home Sunday. That he did, reference page and all.
Glitches aside, my Thanksgiving weekend was just about perfect. Except for one thing. I missed seeing Lindsey not once, but in both directions. Driving down on Wednesday, the roads through Rexburg were too awful to attempt to navigate, so we were forced to take an alternate route. Coming back Sunday, I was determined to see her, so we did go through Rexburg, only it took us so long to get there that she was already headed to church. Ack! So I have this to say to the weather:
Dear Weather,
I am serious. You'd better lighten up on all this snow business by Christmas. Lindsey needs to come to Billings between Christmas and New Year's. She misses her family. They miss her. I miss her. This is not a joke. I am counting on you.
Love, Terrianne
How was my Thanksgiving weekend?
It was just about perfect.
Even so, my Thanksgiving weekend was just about perfect.
The day before we left, the weather (one of those lovely circumstances that is beyond our control) seemed to deteriorate by the second. The forecast was for snowy, icy conditions in Billings, Bozeman, Idaho Falls, and Salt Lake City. Those of you familiar with this trip will understand that this is basically the entire route! All day people tried to scare me out of going. At least that's how it seemed. It could have been that they were just warning me to be cautious. Maybe they weren't really trying to talk me out of making the trip. Maybe it just seemed that way. In any case, by evening, I was ready to shoot the next person who asked me if we had 4-wheel drive. Because we don't. And there was no way I could just magically get it in the next 24 hours. And we were going, regardless. Two of my children were in Salt Lake City waiting for us. Bad weather or not, WE WERE GOING!
We prepared as thoroughly as we knew how, packing plenty of food and water, warm clothing, blankets, tire chains, even stuff to put on the ground for traction in case we needed to dig ourselves out of a snowy ditch. Wrapped in blankets, encouraged by Eli's sincere prayer for our safety, we left Billings at 5:15 am. By the time we passed Laurel, the temperature outside was -18. Nevertheless, we were on our way. Roads through Montana were mostly okay; Idaho was a different story. Fourteen hours later, we pulled into the parking lot of Isaiah's dorm where Shulamith met us. We made it!
How was my Thanksgiving weekend? It was just about perfect.
Thursday, we sank happily into R & R mode. Shulamith and Matt needed to go celebrate Thanksgiving with Matt's family. Eli and Seth stayed in Isaiah's dorm, and the three of them bonded over video-games. Gerald and I stayed at Shulamith and Matt's apartment and bonded over "Prison Break," my latest TV addiction (thank you very much, streaming Netflix).
Yep, just about perfect.
Then came Black Friday. Black Friday is seriously more important to me than Thanksgiving itself. It's a tradition that goes back a very long time, way back to when my grandma was alive. Shulamith and I have been doing Black Friday shopping together for at least the past 10 years, maybe more. This was our first year spending it in Salt Lake City, and it may very well be the best Black Friday we've ever had. I am not kidding. It was amazing. We began at Target where we warmed ourselves with cups of Starbuck's hot chocolate as we took full advantage of the many door-buster sales. After that we hit two different malls (not even possible in Billings!) where, one by one, we crossed off items from our Christmas shopping lists. Wow! Then, as is tradition, we treated ourselves to one item just for us: beautiful new boots from Macy's. Too tired to take another step, we met Matt at Cheesecake Factory for lunch at around 2:00.
How was my Black Friday? It was just about perfect.
Saturday was the day to cook Thanksgiving dinner. A couple of unnamed individuals (whose initials are E-L-I and S-E-T-H) had doubted that we could even make a good Thanksgiving dinner in Shulamith and Matt's tiny kitchen, but we proved them both wrong. We roasted a small turkey stuffed with delicious herb dressing, mashed potatoes by hand, and even made gravy from scratch. Complemented by pumpkin and banana cream pies from Marie Calendar's, the whole dinner was way YUM!
How was my Thanksgiving? It was just about perfect.
Even with the love of family all around (only Luke and Desiree and Evelyn were missing), there were the normal glitches, the stuff we remember through the years, the stuff we laugh about, the stuff that makes us human. One of those fun glitches occurred just as we were about to put the turkey into the oven. It occurred to me that maybe Shulamith didn't have the string I needed to tie around the bird in order to keep the wings tight, so the meat would not dry out. I was right. She didn't have string. Time to improvise. While she didn't have any string, she did have a string bikini top which she had never worn; she bought it for the bottoms, to wear with a more modest tankini top. Ha, what luck! We were able to pull that string right out of that bikini top and tie it right around that turkey.
Glitch #2 involved a research paper that needed to be written. As many of you know, I am a writing instructor. I teach folks how to write research papers. What do you think is the first rule of writing a good research paper? Yep, don't wait until the last minute and attempt to do it all in one sitting. Good papers need time to breathe. Authors need time to step away from their early drafts, so they can return with fresh eyes and fresh perspectives. No matter how many times I teach this concept, many of my students don't seem to believe me, AND APPARENTLY, NEITHER DO MY OWN CHILDREN! Eli had a 4-page research paper due Monday, and as of Saturday, he hadn't even begun. Well, that's not entirely true. He had identified his sources, but that's it.
Mom and sister to the rescue! We gave him note cards and instructed him to begin searching his sources for notes to use in the paper. Five note cards would be done before we would feed him Thanksgiving dinner. We're tough, yeah? Note cards complete, Shulamith helped him organize them around a solid thesis statement, and he was ready to make an outline. Finally, around 7 pm, he began to draft. Several of us went to a movie, but Eli stayed home and worked, along with Matt who also had homework. By the time we returned, 1/4 of the paper was written, a good enough start that we felt confident Eli could finish it on the ride home Sunday. That he did, reference page and all.
Glitches aside, my Thanksgiving weekend was just about perfect. Except for one thing. I missed seeing Lindsey not once, but in both directions. Driving down on Wednesday, the roads through Rexburg were too awful to attempt to navigate, so we were forced to take an alternate route. Coming back Sunday, I was determined to see her, so we did go through Rexburg, only it took us so long to get there that she was already headed to church. Ack! So I have this to say to the weather:
Dear Weather,
I am serious. You'd better lighten up on all this snow business by Christmas. Lindsey needs to come to Billings between Christmas and New Year's. She misses her family. They miss her. I miss her. This is not a joke. I am counting on you.
Love, Terrianne
How was my Thanksgiving weekend?
It was just about perfect.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thankful for -8 degrees (This is not a joke)
A few of my Facebook friends have been posting things they're thankful for each day during November in honor of Thanksgiving. I have not done that, but I think it's a great idea. Among the many things my friends are thankful for are health, children, mobility, freedom, Heavenly Father's love, snow, employment, the Gospel, cars that run, good food, and family. I have very thankful friends! A couple of them have mentioned to me recently, either directly or indirectly, that it's better to embrace our circumstances, whatever they are, and find the joy in them, rather than complaining about what we have no power to change. I'm a bit of a complainer, myself. I often wonder about the early saints who walked across the plains, enduring incredible hardship in search of religious freedom. History tells us they never murmured. They never complained. I've often thought, "Seriously? Were these real human beings?" I also tend to worry about worst-case scenarios rather than expecting the best. My experience is that if something can go wrong, it will, so it's better to be emotionally prepared for the worst.
Today, though, I'm attempting to follow the counsel of some of my more optimistic friends and to embrace my circumstances, especially those I have no power to alter. One of those would be the weather. Friday after school, I stayed on the West End of town to Christmas shop. By the time I was ready to drive home, snow was falling in near blizzard style, the roads were icy, and traffic was ridiculous. I stopped by Gerald's office downtown, and it still took me a full hour to get up to the Heights from there, a 10-minute drive typically. I was very scared. A native Oregonian and 11-year Washington resident, I don't like to drive on icy roads. However, in retrospect, there is much to embrace and to be grateful for. Yes, it took a long time to get home. But all that time was spent in a warm car with lovely Christmas music playing. I wasn't ever cold. And though I felt out of control several times (like every time I tried to stop, go, or turn), I did not wreck my new red car, and I made it home safely to my children.
When we awoke Saturday morning, the temperature was -8. It had snowed all through the night. About 1/2-foot of fresh snow lay on the ground, with more coming. It was the perfect day to set up our tree and decorate for Christmas. Normally, I don't do that until right after Thanksgiving, but this year we will be in Utah all weekend, so I wanted it done ahead of time. How often do we get to decorate for Christmas with snow falling outside? It added much to the experience. I would have preferred to just stay in all day and not to brave the sub-zero temps, but Eli was performing with his community youth choir in the afternoon, and we couldn't miss that. It was very windy, making -8 feel more like -20, but we bundled up as best we could and headed out. Again thankful for our warm van and for Gerald's expert snow driving ability and for the fact that I, myself, didn't have to drive, we attended Eli's performance. It was so good. His choir sang three songs, all lovely Christmas carols, as entertainment for a craft bazaar. We stopped for groceries on the way home to our warm, comfortable house. I am thankful for both food and heat!
Now we face another challenge, driving to Salt Lake City on Wednesday in weather conditions that show no signs of any real improvement. It could be a terribly long day. The trip usually takes around nine hours, but the forecasted icy roads and strong winds could easily add several more. So how do I embrace this experience and find ways to be thankful? There are lots of ways. First, we have two children living in Salt Lake City, and the joy of being with them will make any travel challenges totally worth it. Second, we have as much time as we need. There will be no need to hurry. Technology has blessed us with several items that make long-distance driving so much easier than in years passed, especially with kids. Seth will have his DSI, a hand-held video-game console. He will also have a personal DVD player, so he can watch movies, and every time he runs out of movies, we can simply stop by another Redbox and rent more. Eli will have a laptop, so he can work on a research paper that is due right after we get back. My Pandora Christmas radio station is all set up to provide us with beautiful music. Then there are the more primitive travel conveniences like a cooler full of junk food and pop to provide us comfort on the way. Oh, and I'll probably also bring an old-fashioned book to read, not sure which one yet, but something.
Lastly, even if it is only briefly (depending on weather conditions), I will get to stop in Rexburg and hug Lindsey and her kids. I miss them more than you know. I can't wait!
It's gonna be great. It is. We are going regardless, so we may as well embrace the experience and find the joy, right?
Thankful for -8 degrees! (And if you'd like to pray for our safe travels, we'd be ever so thankful for that as well.)
Today, though, I'm attempting to follow the counsel of some of my more optimistic friends and to embrace my circumstances, especially those I have no power to alter. One of those would be the weather. Friday after school, I stayed on the West End of town to Christmas shop. By the time I was ready to drive home, snow was falling in near blizzard style, the roads were icy, and traffic was ridiculous. I stopped by Gerald's office downtown, and it still took me a full hour to get up to the Heights from there, a 10-minute drive typically. I was very scared. A native Oregonian and 11-year Washington resident, I don't like to drive on icy roads. However, in retrospect, there is much to embrace and to be grateful for. Yes, it took a long time to get home. But all that time was spent in a warm car with lovely Christmas music playing. I wasn't ever cold. And though I felt out of control several times (like every time I tried to stop, go, or turn), I did not wreck my new red car, and I made it home safely to my children.
When we awoke Saturday morning, the temperature was -8. It had snowed all through the night. About 1/2-foot of fresh snow lay on the ground, with more coming. It was the perfect day to set up our tree and decorate for Christmas. Normally, I don't do that until right after Thanksgiving, but this year we will be in Utah all weekend, so I wanted it done ahead of time. How often do we get to decorate for Christmas with snow falling outside? It added much to the experience. I would have preferred to just stay in all day and not to brave the sub-zero temps, but Eli was performing with his community youth choir in the afternoon, and we couldn't miss that. It was very windy, making -8 feel more like -20, but we bundled up as best we could and headed out. Again thankful for our warm van and for Gerald's expert snow driving ability and for the fact that I, myself, didn't have to drive, we attended Eli's performance. It was so good. His choir sang three songs, all lovely Christmas carols, as entertainment for a craft bazaar. We stopped for groceries on the way home to our warm, comfortable house. I am thankful for both food and heat!
Now we face another challenge, driving to Salt Lake City on Wednesday in weather conditions that show no signs of any real improvement. It could be a terribly long day. The trip usually takes around nine hours, but the forecasted icy roads and strong winds could easily add several more. So how do I embrace this experience and find ways to be thankful? There are lots of ways. First, we have two children living in Salt Lake City, and the joy of being with them will make any travel challenges totally worth it. Second, we have as much time as we need. There will be no need to hurry. Technology has blessed us with several items that make long-distance driving so much easier than in years passed, especially with kids. Seth will have his DSI, a hand-held video-game console. He will also have a personal DVD player, so he can watch movies, and every time he runs out of movies, we can simply stop by another Redbox and rent more. Eli will have a laptop, so he can work on a research paper that is due right after we get back. My Pandora Christmas radio station is all set up to provide us with beautiful music. Then there are the more primitive travel conveniences like a cooler full of junk food and pop to provide us comfort on the way. Oh, and I'll probably also bring an old-fashioned book to read, not sure which one yet, but something.
Lastly, even if it is only briefly (depending on weather conditions), I will get to stop in Rexburg and hug Lindsey and her kids. I miss them more than you know. I can't wait!
It's gonna be great. It is. We are going regardless, so we may as well embrace the experience and find the joy, right?
Thankful for -8 degrees! (And if you'd like to pray for our safe travels, we'd be ever so thankful for that as well.)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Failure to Launch or You Can't Lie Forever
It's no secret that I am a total wimp mom. I don't even try to hide it. I have a terrible time as, one by one, my children grow up and leave for college, missions, and marriage. I grieve each time. Over and over. It never gets easier. Here's the thing. I like my children, and I prefer it when they're here. Life is better in every way. When I'm feeling particularly melancholy, I wonder if the best three years of my life have already passed, the three years after Seth was born and before Luke left for college. It was the only time I had all five kids living at home at the same time, and it was heavenly.
Each day, one section at a time, Eli and I together work on his application to BYU-Idaho. The priority deadline is December 1, and we will easily have all the sections submitted by that date. I'm trying hard to embrace this process; really I am. Because it will not happen again until it's Seth's turn. And yet, in the war of bittersweet experiences, the bitter is winning mightily. What am I going to do without Eli?
Moreover, what am I going to do when sometime in the distant future, we are faced with that ominous empty nest? Turns out, I may never have to find out.
Seth (after getting the mail and realizing there was nothing for him): Ugh, no mail for me. Mail for you. Mail for Dad. Mail for Eli. Mail for Luke, AND HE DOESN'T EVEN LIVE HERE! Nobody ever sends me letters.
Me: Seriously Seth, most of the letters I get in snail mail are just bills, and trust me, those are not terribly thrilling. They mean I have to send people money.
Seth: That's why I'm never going to be a parent.
Me: Well, Seth, you will still have bills even if you are not a parent. You will have to pay for your house and your food. And your utilities.
Seth: Not if I just stay with you forever I won't.
Failure to launch?? Perhaps!
And it's no secret that I have serious age issues. I am terrified of growing older, and since I really feel about 30, I just lie my way through life. I lie about birth dates and graduation dates. I lie about my kids' ages. I even lie about my mother's age occasionally. In my defense, age is the only thing I lie about. The rest of my life is pretty transparent. The truth is I'm boring enough that there's really not much to hide. But if you ask me about my age or anything remotely related to it, you should probably expect to be deceived.
I have been lying to Seth about my age his entire life. As his math skills have developed, this has become incresingly problematic. "Mom, you can't be 35 because Luke is 25. That would mean you had a baby when you were 10." Lately, he's been obsessed with finding out my real age, which will never happen of course, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He knows my file cabinet has a section that contains all our birth certificates, but the cabinet is stored way up high in my closet.
Seth: Mom, could you take down the file cabinet, so I can see my birth certificate. I want to prove that I really was born on June 14th.
Me: No, Seth. It's covered up with wrapped Christmas presents. I'm not going to get it down. You'll have to take my word for it. You were born June 14, 2000.
Seth: But if I could find your birth certificate up there, I would finally have proof of exactly how old you are.
Me: Not a chance, Seth.
Seth: Well, Mom, just so you know. When you pass away, I'm going to go right up and get that file cabinet, so I will know once and for all how old you were. You can't lie forever.
Each day, one section at a time, Eli and I together work on his application to BYU-Idaho. The priority deadline is December 1, and we will easily have all the sections submitted by that date. I'm trying hard to embrace this process; really I am. Because it will not happen again until it's Seth's turn. And yet, in the war of bittersweet experiences, the bitter is winning mightily. What am I going to do without Eli?
Moreover, what am I going to do when sometime in the distant future, we are faced with that ominous empty nest? Turns out, I may never have to find out.
Seth (after getting the mail and realizing there was nothing for him): Ugh, no mail for me. Mail for you. Mail for Dad. Mail for Eli. Mail for Luke, AND HE DOESN'T EVEN LIVE HERE! Nobody ever sends me letters.
Me: Seriously Seth, most of the letters I get in snail mail are just bills, and trust me, those are not terribly thrilling. They mean I have to send people money.
Seth: That's why I'm never going to be a parent.
Me: Well, Seth, you will still have bills even if you are not a parent. You will have to pay for your house and your food. And your utilities.
Seth: Not if I just stay with you forever I won't.
Failure to launch?? Perhaps!
And it's no secret that I have serious age issues. I am terrified of growing older, and since I really feel about 30, I just lie my way through life. I lie about birth dates and graduation dates. I lie about my kids' ages. I even lie about my mother's age occasionally. In my defense, age is the only thing I lie about. The rest of my life is pretty transparent. The truth is I'm boring enough that there's really not much to hide. But if you ask me about my age or anything remotely related to it, you should probably expect to be deceived.
I have been lying to Seth about my age his entire life. As his math skills have developed, this has become incresingly problematic. "Mom, you can't be 35 because Luke is 25. That would mean you had a baby when you were 10." Lately, he's been obsessed with finding out my real age, which will never happen of course, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He knows my file cabinet has a section that contains all our birth certificates, but the cabinet is stored way up high in my closet.
Seth: Mom, could you take down the file cabinet, so I can see my birth certificate. I want to prove that I really was born on June 14th.
Me: No, Seth. It's covered up with wrapped Christmas presents. I'm not going to get it down. You'll have to take my word for it. You were born June 14, 2000.
Seth: But if I could find your birth certificate up there, I would finally have proof of exactly how old you are.
Me: Not a chance, Seth.
Seth: Well, Mom, just so you know. When you pass away, I'm going to go right up and get that file cabinet, so I will know once and for all how old you were. You can't lie forever.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Can You Say "Shop-ping"?
When young children are first learning to talk, most parents start with the obvious: "Can you say Mom-my?" or "Can you say Dad-dy?" However, when Shulamith was born, I jumped straight to the important stuff.
"Can you say Shop-ping?"
She was a fast learner indeed. Together, we have been shopping through life ever since. The entire Christmas season is positively glorious for an avid shopper like me; I have the perfect excuse to shop for everyone I love all at the same time. One of our most favorite shopping days is Black Friday, the day following Thanksgiving. Generally, I don't begin serious Christmas shopping until Black Friday, which is more than just a shopping day for Shulamith and me; it is an event. We get up at the crack of dawn (amazing for two people who like to sleep in as much as we do, but worth it this one day each year) and head out, stopping at Starbuck's first for hot chocolate and pastries. Then, coupons in hand, energized by the excitement, we hit the stores with a systematic plan to accomplish all we've set out to do. We stop only for good food (Cinnabon is a must!), and we go till we're entirely worn out, usually mid-to-late afternoon. At that point we go home for long, luxurious naps and then get up and eat Thanksgiving leftovers before heading out to an evening movie. Now you tell me...how could a day get any better?
This year, however, will be slightly different. Gerald, Eli, Seth, and I are driving to Salt Lake City for Thanksgiving weekend, so we won't be here in Billings on Black Friday. Yes, there are many more shopping options in SLC, which is wonderful. The only problem is that the State of Utah has this unfortunate little annoyance called sales tax. As a native Oregonian and a current Montana resident, I don't much enjoy paying sales tax. If the bargain is really really good, I'll do it, like last summer when were shopping in Park City, and I got four pairs of super nice pants at Gap, all for under $32. That was a good enough sale to warrant paying the tax. Or if there's something really lovely that I can't find in Billings (Hello, Nordstrom!), then I'll break down and pay. Usually, though, I'll wait until I'm back home where I can shop tax free.
Knowing we'd be in Utah this year on Black Friday, I decided to start shopping early right here in Billings, and I have made substantial progress. I can't be certain without adding everything up on the lists in my phone, but I'd be willing to bet that I'm about half done. Half done on November 12!? What's more, everything I've purchased is already wrapped and ready to go under the tree, which we will set up just before we leave for Utah. Ah, ah, ah, how I love Christmas! Black Friday will still be amazing; I have no doubt. I will help Shulamith with her shopping, while keeping my eyes peeled for that incredible deal that makes paying sales tax worth it.
So enjoy the start of this beautiful season, of which shopping for gifts is only one small part. Keep in mind the reason we shop for, give, and receive gifts at this time: the perfect, selfless gift that was given to all of us so long ago.
"Can you say Shop-ping?"
She was a fast learner indeed. Together, we have been shopping through life ever since. The entire Christmas season is positively glorious for an avid shopper like me; I have the perfect excuse to shop for everyone I love all at the same time. One of our most favorite shopping days is Black Friday, the day following Thanksgiving. Generally, I don't begin serious Christmas shopping until Black Friday, which is more than just a shopping day for Shulamith and me; it is an event. We get up at the crack of dawn (amazing for two people who like to sleep in as much as we do, but worth it this one day each year) and head out, stopping at Starbuck's first for hot chocolate and pastries. Then, coupons in hand, energized by the excitement, we hit the stores with a systematic plan to accomplish all we've set out to do. We stop only for good food (Cinnabon is a must!), and we go till we're entirely worn out, usually mid-to-late afternoon. At that point we go home for long, luxurious naps and then get up and eat Thanksgiving leftovers before heading out to an evening movie. Now you tell me...how could a day get any better?
This year, however, will be slightly different. Gerald, Eli, Seth, and I are driving to Salt Lake City for Thanksgiving weekend, so we won't be here in Billings on Black Friday. Yes, there are many more shopping options in SLC, which is wonderful. The only problem is that the State of Utah has this unfortunate little annoyance called sales tax. As a native Oregonian and a current Montana resident, I don't much enjoy paying sales tax. If the bargain is really really good, I'll do it, like last summer when were shopping in Park City, and I got four pairs of super nice pants at Gap, all for under $32. That was a good enough sale to warrant paying the tax. Or if there's something really lovely that I can't find in Billings (Hello, Nordstrom!), then I'll break down and pay. Usually, though, I'll wait until I'm back home where I can shop tax free.
Knowing we'd be in Utah this year on Black Friday, I decided to start shopping early right here in Billings, and I have made substantial progress. I can't be certain without adding everything up on the lists in my phone, but I'd be willing to bet that I'm about half done. Half done on November 12!? What's more, everything I've purchased is already wrapped and ready to go under the tree, which we will set up just before we leave for Utah. Ah, ah, ah, how I love Christmas! Black Friday will still be amazing; I have no doubt. I will help Shulamith with her shopping, while keeping my eyes peeled for that incredible deal that makes paying sales tax worth it.
So enjoy the start of this beautiful season, of which shopping for gifts is only one small part. Keep in mind the reason we shop for, give, and receive gifts at this time: the perfect, selfless gift that was given to all of us so long ago.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Back on the P90X Wagon: Fighting the Fear
In March of 2009, so going on two years ago, Lindsey, Shulamith, and I bought a work-out program called P90X, which involves a series of daily routines on DVDs. I have written about this previously both here and here; however, the last time I wrote about it was in May of 2009, so I figured it was time for another update. After the first 90 days, the maintenance plan involves doing the routines just 3 - 4 times a week rather than daily. I completed the first 90 days faithfully (only missing a day or two in the entire three months) and then began the maintenance plan which progressed fairly well. By the start of 2010, I had the added motivation of Shulamith's upcoming wedding to keep me dedicated. By spring, we were planning our Costa Rica trip, and the thought of wearing a bathing suit every day was, again, plenty of motivation to keep me on the P90X wagon. That was this past August.
Then we came home.
And for some reason, I just didn't get started again. I don't know why. I really have no idea. What I do know is that as the days passed, then weeks, then two whole months (!), it became progressively harder to put in a DVD and push "play." I would stare at my pile of disks sitting on my nightstand and think to myself, "I have got to get going on this." But I wouldn't do it. I made all sorts of plans and promises to myself, but nothing worked. Days went by. And weeks. And two months. My frustration increased, and so did my fear. It became a psychological block and not a fun one.
But what was I so afraid of?
Did I think I wouldn't be able to do it this time? It's hard. Did I think it would hurt too much? It does. I don't know. I only know that for several weeks, I stared at those DVDs, knowing what I had to do, but not doing it. Yes, I still walked my regular 4 miles nearly every day. Yes, I still stuck (or mostly stuck) to my eating plan. And, no, I haven't gained any weight (thank goodness!). Still, I need P90X for strength training and for cardio, and also because when I'm doing it, I can eat a whole lot more of the foods I like without gaining weight. Win, win, win!
What changed? Let me tell you about it. Last Tuesday was a lovely day, pure and simple. Do you ever have really good days like that? When everything feels right? When troubles seem far away? When you know deep down inside that life is good, very very good? Well, that's how last Tuesday was for me. Classes at MSUB were canceled for election day, so I had the entire day off. I got up and walked my 4 miles first thing, so that was done. Endorphins flowing, I had energy to help Gerald shampoo the carpets throughout our house. Oh, what a difference that makes! Then I took a glorious nap. Mmmm! Before he left for work, Gerald went to the store and bought some tape, so I could spend the rest of the afternoon wrapping Christmas presents. Now you should know there is hardly anything I'd rather do than wrap Christmas presents, hardly anything at all. I put on Josh Groban's Christmas CD and wrapped for about an hour. Seth came home, and we went out for fast food. Could this day get any better?
Maybe it could have, but it didn't. At 6:00 p.m. as polls closed on the east coast, election returns began to filter in. My lovely day began to seriously deteriorate. By 8:00 p.m. as I watched the CNN map bleed a nasty red across our dear nation, I decided anything would be better than enduring any more of that.
Even P90X!
I turned off my TV, carried my computer downstairs, changed into my workout clothes, and put in the Core Synergistics DVD. And I did it. Was it hard? Very. Did it hurt? Lots. But I finished it, the entire hour, all the way through the squat run, the steam engine, the Dreya roll, and the superman/banana. My plan is to do P90X three times a week, and so far this week, I have succeeded. Thursday I did shoulders & arms, and yesterday I did Cardio.
Thanks to some very scary election returns, I'm officially back on the P90X wagon; yes I am!
Then we came home.
And for some reason, I just didn't get started again. I don't know why. I really have no idea. What I do know is that as the days passed, then weeks, then two whole months (!), it became progressively harder to put in a DVD and push "play." I would stare at my pile of disks sitting on my nightstand and think to myself, "I have got to get going on this." But I wouldn't do it. I made all sorts of plans and promises to myself, but nothing worked. Days went by. And weeks. And two months. My frustration increased, and so did my fear. It became a psychological block and not a fun one.
But what was I so afraid of?
Did I think I wouldn't be able to do it this time? It's hard. Did I think it would hurt too much? It does. I don't know. I only know that for several weeks, I stared at those DVDs, knowing what I had to do, but not doing it. Yes, I still walked my regular 4 miles nearly every day. Yes, I still stuck (or mostly stuck) to my eating plan. And, no, I haven't gained any weight (thank goodness!). Still, I need P90X for strength training and for cardio, and also because when I'm doing it, I can eat a whole lot more of the foods I like without gaining weight. Win, win, win!
What changed? Let me tell you about it. Last Tuesday was a lovely day, pure and simple. Do you ever have really good days like that? When everything feels right? When troubles seem far away? When you know deep down inside that life is good, very very good? Well, that's how last Tuesday was for me. Classes at MSUB were canceled for election day, so I had the entire day off. I got up and walked my 4 miles first thing, so that was done. Endorphins flowing, I had energy to help Gerald shampoo the carpets throughout our house. Oh, what a difference that makes! Then I took a glorious nap. Mmmm! Before he left for work, Gerald went to the store and bought some tape, so I could spend the rest of the afternoon wrapping Christmas presents. Now you should know there is hardly anything I'd rather do than wrap Christmas presents, hardly anything at all. I put on Josh Groban's Christmas CD and wrapped for about an hour. Seth came home, and we went out for fast food. Could this day get any better?
Maybe it could have, but it didn't. At 6:00 p.m. as polls closed on the east coast, election returns began to filter in. My lovely day began to seriously deteriorate. By 8:00 p.m. as I watched the CNN map bleed a nasty red across our dear nation, I decided anything would be better than enduring any more of that.
Even P90X!
I turned off my TV, carried my computer downstairs, changed into my workout clothes, and put in the Core Synergistics DVD. And I did it. Was it hard? Very. Did it hurt? Lots. But I finished it, the entire hour, all the way through the squat run, the steam engine, the Dreya roll, and the superman/banana. My plan is to do P90X three times a week, and so far this week, I have succeeded. Thursday I did shoulders & arms, and yesterday I did Cardio.
Thanks to some very scary election returns, I'm officially back on the P90X wagon; yes I am!
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Better Than the Best Halloween of My Whole Life
Seth and I had a bit of a disagreement over what I should title this post. I wanted to call it "The Halloween That Never Ends" (sort of like "The Song That Never Ends"). He insisted instead that I call it "Better Than the Best Halloween of My Whole Life," relating to my last year's Halloween blog post. Ironically, Seth's reason for thinking this was the best Halloween ever is that it lasted five days. I'm not kidding. When I was a kid, Halloween was one day: October 31st. That was it. Not this year. Halloween 2010 went on and on and on. For five days.First, Wednesday night was the carnival and trick-or-treating at MSU-Billings, where I teach. It was a fun party. Seth loved trick-or-treating through the dorms. What a perfect way to get lots of candy quickly and stay nice and warm.
Thursday night was a Halloween-themed Cub Scout Pack Meeting. Can I just tell you right now that Cub Scout Pack Meetings are like Chinese Water Torture. Enough said.
Friday night was the carnival at Seth's school. This is most certainly an annual tradition for us. We have attended all six years we've lived in Billings, our first year when Eli was in 6th grade and Seth was just four. This year, it only took Seth three tries to win the cake walk. Perhaps his luck is changing? He participated in all the other activities as well, and we ended the evening at the book fair, where he showed me many "wishes" for Christmas.
Saturday night was trunk-or-treat at our church. We combined with another ward, so it was a big event. A costume parade, chili cook-off, games, and of course trunk-or-treat rounded out the evening. I got to sit with Jared and Kim (see Jared, you made it into the blog AGAIN!), which was a lovely treat for me. I miss them now that they've moved out of our ward.
Are you tired of Halloween yet? But wait... We can't forget "Halloween proper" Sunday night. This year, Seth and his friend Tommy begged Natalie and me to let them go by themselves. I was a little wary, but with some strict rules, we finally agreed. Seth took Gerald's phone, so we could communicate. We let them go up and down Tommy's street, checking in with Natalie regularly. Then we let them go up and down our street, checking in with me. They thought they were pretty cool. About the time they finished, Eli arrived home with five of his friends, all seniors in high school, dressed in costumes carrying pillow cases full of candy. I'll resist commenting on 17-year-olds trick-or-treating.
So the Halloween that never ends finally ended. Thank heavens! For this fairly non-Halloween mom, it was a long week. But today, oh today, I happily took down all the orange and black decorations and put up the few Thanksgiving decorations I have. I put on some Christmas music and began wrapping presents. Pure delight. Let the season begin!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Meaningless Stats
Both Luke and Isaiah are currently enrolled in statistics classes. I took a stats class once, but that was in my undergrad program, so 20+ years ago. I remember a few things: the mean, the mode, and the median. If I remember correctly, the mean is the average of a group of numbers, the mode is the number that occurs most often in a series of numbers, and the median is the middle number when you list a series of numbers from lowest to highest. Does that sound right? That's how I remember it anyway.
I was thinking about statistics last week when I was joyously overwhelmed by the 40 birthday greetings I received on Facebook. Wow! Prior to Facebook, I'm not sure I knew 40 people, let alone knew them well enough that they would wish me happy birthday. It was quite delightful actually, as the day went on, and the greetings kept pouring in. I began to think about statistics. For example, from how many different states did these greetings come? Or, how many years have I known the various people who greeted me in honor of my birthday? How many were males and how many were females? Not that this makes any difference really in the grand scheme of things, but it was fun to consider the statistics. If you're curious, read on.
Location
I received birthday greetings on Facebook from nine different states. Oregon (my birthplace) tied with Montana, my current state of residence. Ten greetings came from Oregon: Tom, Nancy S., Janice, Diane, Julie, Cindy, Elisa, Guy, Shelly, and Steffany. From Montana came another ten greetings: Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared and Teresa. Washington placed third with seven greetings: Cathy, Sherrie, Silvia, Monica, Vi, Melody, and Audrey. Utah placed a distant fourth with four greetings: Hillary, Tiffany, Patty, and Melinda. Three greetings came from Colorado: Rebecca, Susie, and Ruth Ann. Two came from Idaho: Lindsey and Rachael, and I received one greeting each from Texas (Celeste), Arizona (Nancy F.), Massachusetts (Karen), and Wisconsin (Clara).
Awards
The award for the birthday greeting from the person I've known longest goes to my brother Tom, whom I have known since I was 2 years old when he was born. On the other side, there was a 3-way tie for the greeting from the person I've known for the shortest period of time. Nancy F., Steffany, and Clara are Facebook friends whom I've not yet had the pleasure to meet in person. I say "not yet," because I sincerely hope to be able to meet all of them at some point in the future. Teresa just commented on this completed post saying, "Happy Birthday late. Do you have a category for that?" so she wins the award for the latest greeting, ten days after my birthday. My first greeting of the day came from Kaycee. Teresa also wins for the greeting that came from a location nearest to my house; she lives right around the corner. Well, maybe she ties with Natalie? Hmm. The greeting from farthest away came from Karen in Massachusetts.
Gender
The women far surpassed the men this time. Four of my 40 greetings were from men: Tom, Jared, Vern, and Guy. All the rest were from women.
Time Period
Next, I divided my birthday greetings by the time period in my life when I first met these people. I received nine greetings from friends/relatives from childhood: Shelly, Guy, Elisa, Ruth Ann, Cindy, Julie, Janice, Nancy S., and Tom. Seven greetings came from people I've known 20 - 30 years: Patty, Rebecca, Diane, Sherrie, Audrey, Monica, and Vi. Six greetings came from people I've known 10 - 20 years: Tiffany, Melody, Silvia, Cathy, Melinda, and Susie. But the winner in this category was the group of people I've met in just the past 10 years, with a whopping 18 greetings: Celeste, Rachael, Lindsey, Hillary, Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared, Karen, Clara, Steffany, Nancy F., and Teresa.
So thank you very much, Mark Zuckerberg. This may very well seem like the most meaningless blog post I've ever written, but really, when you think about it, it isn't meaningless at all. I am richly blessed with a diverse and interestingly wonderful group of friends, and thanks to Facebook, I can connect with them at will. I am grateful.
Meaningless stats? Perhaps. But the people are far from meaningless. They are cherished.
I was thinking about statistics last week when I was joyously overwhelmed by the 40 birthday greetings I received on Facebook. Wow! Prior to Facebook, I'm not sure I knew 40 people, let alone knew them well enough that they would wish me happy birthday. It was quite delightful actually, as the day went on, and the greetings kept pouring in. I began to think about statistics. For example, from how many different states did these greetings come? Or, how many years have I known the various people who greeted me in honor of my birthday? How many were males and how many were females? Not that this makes any difference really in the grand scheme of things, but it was fun to consider the statistics. If you're curious, read on.
Location
I received birthday greetings on Facebook from nine different states. Oregon (my birthplace) tied with Montana, my current state of residence. Ten greetings came from Oregon: Tom, Nancy S., Janice, Diane, Julie, Cindy, Elisa, Guy, Shelly, and Steffany. From Montana came another ten greetings: Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared and Teresa. Washington placed third with seven greetings: Cathy, Sherrie, Silvia, Monica, Vi, Melody, and Audrey. Utah placed a distant fourth with four greetings: Hillary, Tiffany, Patty, and Melinda. Three greetings came from Colorado: Rebecca, Susie, and Ruth Ann. Two came from Idaho: Lindsey and Rachael, and I received one greeting each from Texas (Celeste), Arizona (Nancy F.), Massachusetts (Karen), and Wisconsin (Clara).
Awards
The award for the birthday greeting from the person I've known longest goes to my brother Tom, whom I have known since I was 2 years old when he was born. On the other side, there was a 3-way tie for the greeting from the person I've known for the shortest period of time. Nancy F., Steffany, and Clara are Facebook friends whom I've not yet had the pleasure to meet in person. I say "not yet," because I sincerely hope to be able to meet all of them at some point in the future. Teresa just commented on this completed post saying, "Happy Birthday late. Do you have a category for that?" so she wins the award for the latest greeting, ten days after my birthday. My first greeting of the day came from Kaycee. Teresa also wins for the greeting that came from a location nearest to my house; she lives right around the corner. Well, maybe she ties with Natalie? Hmm. The greeting from farthest away came from Karen in Massachusetts.
Gender
The women far surpassed the men this time. Four of my 40 greetings were from men: Tom, Jared, Vern, and Guy. All the rest were from women.
Time Period
Next, I divided my birthday greetings by the time period in my life when I first met these people. I received nine greetings from friends/relatives from childhood: Shelly, Guy, Elisa, Ruth Ann, Cindy, Julie, Janice, Nancy S., and Tom. Seven greetings came from people I've known 20 - 30 years: Patty, Rebecca, Diane, Sherrie, Audrey, Monica, and Vi. Six greetings came from people I've known 10 - 20 years: Tiffany, Melody, Silvia, Cathy, Melinda, and Susie. But the winner in this category was the group of people I've met in just the past 10 years, with a whopping 18 greetings: Celeste, Rachael, Lindsey, Hillary, Vern, Kaycee, Jody, Sandra, Natalie, Mandy, Annette, Colette, Jared, Karen, Clara, Steffany, Nancy F., and Teresa.
So thank you very much, Mark Zuckerberg. This may very well seem like the most meaningless blog post I've ever written, but really, when you think about it, it isn't meaningless at all. I am richly blessed with a diverse and interestingly wonderful group of friends, and thanks to Facebook, I can connect with them at will. I am grateful.
Meaningless stats? Perhaps. But the people are far from meaningless. They are cherished.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
More Girls!
I always wanted more girls. When Shulamith was born, she was only our second child, so I had no idea she would be our one and only daughter. I figured that since we already had one of each, we'd surely have some more of each, right?
We have been blessed with four amazing sons; I could spend this entire post raving about any one of them, but yeah, I always thought it would be fun to have some more girls as well. When it became clear that wouldn't happen, I remember telling Shulamith not to worry because one day her brothers would marry, and then we'd have lots more girls. Back then, that day seemed far into the future, but now, that day is here (well, it has begun, at least. It will be a while still, I hope, before the younger three bring us more girls).
Désirée graciously offered her home to us, so we wouldn't need to rent a motel. Little did we know that she meant not just her home, but her bed! We slept in her comfortable bed, while she slept on an air mattress, which might have been okay, except it had sustained serious injury and deflated progressively through the course of each night, leaving Désirée to sleep essentially on the hard floor. Poor Désirée!
Oh, and speaking of the many things I'm not good at, let's add Skip-Bo to the list. Okay, let's be honest; I'm not good at any game, well except maybe cribbage, but that's really the only one. My one and only prior experience playing Skip-Bo was over a year ago when Lindsey and I went to Texas to visit Celeste. And they totally cheated. Totally. So how was I supposed to learn to play a game when my two best friends were cheating the entire time? Exactly.
Perhaps the best highlight of our weekend was getting to play with little Evelyn. Shulamith and I both love children, and this little girl is quite adorable. She showed us her toys, played hide-and-seek with us, and told us many important things. She is very smart.
W00t! (Yes, Gerald, those are zeros not O's. You can relax.)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Another Thing I'm Not Good At
We have already established a plethora of things I'm not good at. Let's review. I don't cook well. I can't sew, knit, crochet, or do crafts of any sort. I can't draw or paint. I can't sing. My handwriting is abysmal. I'm not an athlete or a musician. I have no idea about gardening, auto mechanics, or interior design. I am both directionally and technologically challenged, which means I can't find my way to most locations whether physical or virtual.
Indeed, my skill set is woefully limited.
And guess what? In the past two days I've discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I know what you're thinking: Could there really be anything else? But yes, oh yes, there is.
I am really, really, really not good at being sick. Really. The problem is, I have so little experience with it. I am almost never sick. I attribute that good fortune to having five children who, over the years, have coughed, sneezed, and puked on me enough times that my immunity to illness is nearly 100%.
You'll notice I said "nearly." It's obviously not quite 100%. On Sunday I came down with the nastiest little virus. I can't remember ever feeling this ill. I went to church because we were teaching the poetry of Isaiah in our Sunday School class, and ooooh how I love the poetry of Isaiah, but I came home immediately afterward and went straight to bed. Without going into the disgusting details, let's just say that between stomach issues, a raging headache, a fever, and an aching body, I was quite out of sorts. I seriously don't know how people who get sick regularly do it. I whined and whined, but my temperature just climbed higher and my body just ached more. It was a sad night.
Then came Monday. In most jobs, when you're sick, you can call in, and someone else will somehow do your work. That is not the case with my job. I can call in, yes, but it means my students, who paid tuition, will not have the class they paid for. I might have stayed home yesterday regardless, except I'm already canceling class this coming Monday when I'll be in Indiana. So I dragged myself out of bed, and without touching my hair or make-up (now you know how sick I was), I pulled on some sweats and went to school. I instructed my students to keep their distance, and they happily obliged. Between classes, I slept in my car. No kidding. I set my phone alarm for my next class and passed out in the back seat of my little car.
Yep, I positively suck at being sick. And it transcends the physical. Keep in mind my chronic anxiety disorder that tends to specify itself to fear of fatal disease. I'm not sure I've ever blogged about this specifically, but anyone who knows me well knows all about this. Those of you who don't, well let's just say that I've wasted a goodly amount of time in my short life worrying uncontrollably over various fatal diseases that, in the moment, I'm certain I have. In reality, I'm the healthiest person I know; however, I've been emphatically convinced on countless occasions that I have any number of terminal diseases.
So you can only imagine what happens to my delicate psyche when I really do get sick. Uh huh. Exactly. Since I happened to have a backache along with all the other above-mentioned symptoms (really, every muscle in my body ached, including my back), I decided I must have kidney cancer. Because that makes perfect sense, right? You see, anxiety is never rational. If it were rational, it wouldn't be anxiety. So not only was my body sick, but my mind was raging out of control with thoughts of leaving my children without a mother! Help!
I can write this today because I am both physically and mentally recovered. Well, mostly recovered. I still feel weak, not quite my energetic self, but better than yesterday and oh so much a better than the day before. This morning as I was getting ready for school, Gerald remarked, "You're putting on make-up. That's a good sign." Yes, good.
And so, dear friends, we have discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I totally suck at being sick. I'm sure we'll discover more. Stay tuned.
Indeed, my skill set is woefully limited.
And guess what? In the past two days I've discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I know what you're thinking: Could there really be anything else? But yes, oh yes, there is.
I am really, really, really not good at being sick. Really. The problem is, I have so little experience with it. I am almost never sick. I attribute that good fortune to having five children who, over the years, have coughed, sneezed, and puked on me enough times that my immunity to illness is nearly 100%.
You'll notice I said "nearly." It's obviously not quite 100%. On Sunday I came down with the nastiest little virus. I can't remember ever feeling this ill. I went to church because we were teaching the poetry of Isaiah in our Sunday School class, and ooooh how I love the poetry of Isaiah, but I came home immediately afterward and went straight to bed. Without going into the disgusting details, let's just say that between stomach issues, a raging headache, a fever, and an aching body, I was quite out of sorts. I seriously don't know how people who get sick regularly do it. I whined and whined, but my temperature just climbed higher and my body just ached more. It was a sad night.
Then came Monday. In most jobs, when you're sick, you can call in, and someone else will somehow do your work. That is not the case with my job. I can call in, yes, but it means my students, who paid tuition, will not have the class they paid for. I might have stayed home yesterday regardless, except I'm already canceling class this coming Monday when I'll be in Indiana. So I dragged myself out of bed, and without touching my hair or make-up (now you know how sick I was), I pulled on some sweats and went to school. I instructed my students to keep their distance, and they happily obliged. Between classes, I slept in my car. No kidding. I set my phone alarm for my next class and passed out in the back seat of my little car.
Yep, I positively suck at being sick. And it transcends the physical. Keep in mind my chronic anxiety disorder that tends to specify itself to fear of fatal disease. I'm not sure I've ever blogged about this specifically, but anyone who knows me well knows all about this. Those of you who don't, well let's just say that I've wasted a goodly amount of time in my short life worrying uncontrollably over various fatal diseases that, in the moment, I'm certain I have. In reality, I'm the healthiest person I know; however, I've been emphatically convinced on countless occasions that I have any number of terminal diseases.
So you can only imagine what happens to my delicate psyche when I really do get sick. Uh huh. Exactly. Since I happened to have a backache along with all the other above-mentioned symptoms (really, every muscle in my body ached, including my back), I decided I must have kidney cancer. Because that makes perfect sense, right? You see, anxiety is never rational. If it were rational, it wouldn't be anxiety. So not only was my body sick, but my mind was raging out of control with thoughts of leaving my children without a mother! Help!
I can write this today because I am both physically and mentally recovered. Well, mostly recovered. I still feel weak, not quite my energetic self, but better than yesterday and oh so much a better than the day before. This morning as I was getting ready for school, Gerald remarked, "You're putting on make-up. That's a good sign." Yes, good.
And so, dear friends, we have discovered yet another thing I totally suck at. I totally suck at being sick. I'm sure we'll discover more. Stay tuned.
Friday, October 15, 2010
A Fierce Mom
Before I became a mother, I declared that I wanted strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children. On several occasions since making that declaration, Gerald has reminded me of it. When each of our kids went through the temper tantrum stage, (you know, when they're somewhere between ages 2 and 3, and they so desperately want to do everything for themselves but can't possibly, and they know exactly what they want all the time only it changes second to second, and life becomes so frustrating and overwhelming that their only solution is to throw themselves down on the floor and kick and scream), Gerald would again remind me of my declaration. I wanted strong-willed, independent kids.Now that our youngest is ten, it's easy for me to watch a three-year-old's fit with pure delight. "Wow," I think to myself. "What a beautiful tantrum!" I mean really, the child is demonstrating perfectly age-appropriate emotional development. Parents should rejoice! However, when I, myself, was the parent, the one carrying my child out of a store, my arms tightly circling his waist, his arms and legs flailing with every scream, well let's just say I didn't find it quite so "beautiful." As judgmental onlookers scowled at me with expressions of disgust, I wanted to throw myself down in a tantrum. I felt at times like the worst mom in the whole world. "Why can't I control this child?" I would ask. "You said you wanted strong-willed, independent children," Gerald would remind me. "And that is exactly what you got."
Thank goodness!
With wills of their own and the confidence to express their feelings without fear of punishment, they grew from tantruming toddlers into independent children and teens who had the courage to say no when faced with all sorts of undesirable temptations. Woo hoo! I couldn't be more proud. Yet, there is a flip side. With such independent spirits, they also felt able to make their own way in the world sooner than many kids do. I've observed families where the children stay close to home after graduating from high school. Many even continue to live at home as they attend college, work, or prepare for missions.
Not my children.
Each of them, one right after the other, made college plans early, worked hard through the summer following graduation, and took off immediately in the fall to begin the next chapter in their lives far away from home. Luke went to Whitman College, about five hours from Mt. Vernon. Both Shulamith and Isaiah went to Westminster, nine hours from Billings. Now we have Eli, who was my baby for seven years until we were blessed with Seth. The photo on this post is the one that will appear in the yearbook as his senior picture. Following his older siblings' example, he too feels ready to strike out on his own. On Oct. 23rd he will take the ACT exam, the first step in the application process for admission to BYU-Idaho in Rexburg, five hours away. Not only that, but Eli is also planning to submit his mission papers as soon as he can before turning 19 in March 2012. That is only 17 months from now, in case you're wondering.
Strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children. That's what I asked for, and that's what I got. I am thankful. I am so proud of each one of them, yet it pulls mightily at my heartstrings when they leave home at barely 18. I grieve every time. Over and over. A friend of mine, an older lady with no children of her own, once remarked: "Terrianne is a fierce mom." I have never felt more complimented. A fierce mom. Yes. Motherhood is not my sole vocation. I do some other things. I teach English classes. I exercise. I read. I shop. I travel. I socialize. I try to figure out new ways to look younger and thinner. I write a blog. However, none of these activities is remotely close in significance to my role as a mother. Nothing I do is more important, and nothing brings me more joy.
As I watch Eli prepare for next year, and I remember so clearly when he was Seth's age and we first moved to Billings, I wonder if I might alter my parenting strategy in some way, so when the time comes, Seth might stay home a little longer. Selfish? I know, but the thought has certainly crossed my mind. It's probably too late, though. At age 10, Seth already shows signs of being just like the others. He threw his share of toddler tantrums, and he now has no fear of expressing his opinions whether solicited or not. He's obviously not ready to face the world on his own, but he grows more independent every day.
"A fierce mom of strong-willed, independent, free-thinking children." You can put that on my tombstone when I die....that is, as long as you promise not to also put my birth date, unless you lie by at least 15 years. Glad we got that straight. Whew!
Friday, October 8, 2010
You're gonna name her what??
I have always liked unusual names. I always thought it would be cool to go through school and never meet another person with your same name. So I always assumed I would give my children very unusual names. Then, 25 years ago when we were expecting Luke, I read an article that shifted my view somewhat. The article claimed that while girls who grow up with highly unusual names do just fine, boys struggle. They are often made fun of; they feel like they don't fit in. They have low self-esteem. Yikes! This article was enough to scare me. I'd hate to burden my sons with self-esteem issues just to satisfy my own desires.
But, as you know, we had a boy first, a wonderful son. At some point during the pregnancy, I thought we ought to have a boy's name picked out, and my favorite soap opera at the time was General Hospital. A dashing young character on the show, wild and daring and romantic, was named Luke Spencer. I decided Luke would be a good name for a boy (since I had been sufficiently scared out of choosing an unusual name and possibly scarring my child for life), and Gerald was good with Luke too. As an aside, I watch GH only very rarely these days, but Luke Spencer is still there, and he's even hotter now than he was 25 years ago. People thought we chose the name Luke because it was Biblical, but no; it was really just from a soap opera.
During both pregnancies, when people asked about names and we told them a girl would be Shulamith, they nearly always responded with something like, "You're gonna name her what??" We would assure them that it's very easy to pronounce and that once they got used to it, they would see that it's the most beautiful name in the world. Because you have to admit, it really is. So long as people don't try to shorten it (Grrrr!). Then it loses all its beauty.
Okay, so you might be wondering what prompted this particular rant today. It was my 1:15 Tues./Thurs section of WRIT 101. This particular course, while available to all, tends to attract mainly pre-nursing students, and that field is still predominantly female. In any given section of this course, I generally have say 18 women and maybe 3 men. In this particular section, that is exactly the case. Since it's early in the semester, I'm still struggling to learn the names of all my students. I have a lot. It takes a while. I'm pretty sure, however, that in this class, I will never succeed. Why? Let me just tell you a few of the names of the students in this class: Misty, Molly, Holly, Kylie, Kaylee, Ashley (2), Lindsey, Shelly, Staci, Lacey, Jamie, Katie, Kristie, and Kelsey. I'm dead serious. Oh yes, there's also a Jessica and a Samantha, and those two names I already know, but the others....it's positively hopeless! We all know that teachers who care learn their students' names. And I care. I really do. But I truly don't think I'm capable in this case. Fortunately, they are all very good-natured people who seem to think my struggle is quite entertaining.
My point is this. You may not want to choose your next daughter's name from the book 13,000 Unusual Baby Names (although I highly recommend it), but you might want to steer away from the names that end in the long-e sound. They have become an epidemic. I'm afraid that once she's past elementary school, your daughter will become one of the masses; no teacher will ever know her name again! Just a friendly warning. The ultimate decision is, of course, yours. And by the way, if I were to do over again, I'd definitely use my wonderful book to find better boys' names for my sons. I have a friend whose sons are named Crispin and Tavnir, and both are happy well-adjusted people with no adverse effects that I can see. I think the article I read was a bunch of nonsense.
Happy baby naming!
Okay, so you might be wondering what prompted this particular rant today. It was my 1:15 Tues./Thurs section of WRIT 101. This particular course, while available to all, tends to attract mainly pre-nursing students, and that field is still predominantly female. In any given section of this course, I generally have say 18 women and maybe 3 men. In this particular section, that is exactly the case. Since it's early in the semester, I'm still struggling to learn the names of all my students. I have a lot. It takes a while. I'm pretty sure, however, that in this class, I will never succeed. Why? Let me just tell you a few of the names of the students in this class: Misty, Molly, Holly, Kylie, Kaylee, Ashley (2), Lindsey, Shelly, Staci, Lacey, Jamie, Katie, Kristie, and Kelsey. I'm dead serious. Oh yes, there's also a Jessica and a Samantha, and those two names I already know, but the others....it's positively hopeless! We all know that teachers who care learn their students' names. And I care. I really do. But I truly don't think I'm capable in this case. Fortunately, they are all very good-natured people who seem to think my struggle is quite entertaining.
My point is this. You may not want to choose your next daughter's name from the book 13,000 Unusual Baby Names (although I highly recommend it), but you might want to steer away from the names that end in the long-e sound. They have become an epidemic. I'm afraid that once she's past elementary school, your daughter will become one of the masses; no teacher will ever know her name again! Just a friendly warning. The ultimate decision is, of course, yours. And by the way, if I were to do over again, I'd definitely use my wonderful book to find better boys' names for my sons. I have a friend whose sons are named Crispin and Tavnir, and both are happy well-adjusted people with no adverse effects that I can see. I think the article I read was a bunch of nonsense.
Happy baby naming!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference
One of my favorite essays is by Robert Fulghum and titled "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." I used to have it on a poster displayed in Seth's room until he decided he was way too old and sophisticated for such a "baby" wall hanging. It speaks of the very basic social decencies taught to 5-year-olds that, if embraced by all humankind, would undoubtedly transform the world. This past weekend was the semi-annual General Conference of my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As I listened to the conference talks, it occurred to me that right now, at this exact moment in my life, I could rephrase the title of Fulghum's essay to say
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.
These are the things I learned:
Every individual is loved and important. Helpers are just as important as leaders. When we sacrifice in order to send our children on missions or to college, the blessings are great for both us and them.
Missionaries are needed everywhere. I should be preparing and saving now for two decades down the road when, as circumstances allow, I might be in a position to serve a full time mission. As an aside, I think that is a wonderful idea, except they really need to stop referring to these people as "senior" missionary couples. I'm pretty sure that even 20 years from now, I won't be too excited to be called a "senior." Nevertheless, I should be preparing!
As a parent, I am the most significant role model for my children, certainly the two teens and the 10-year-old, but perhaps even the two young adults to some extent. Being someone's primary role model is serious business. I should model nothing that I would not wish them to emulate. Wow.
The commandments are for my protection, not my restriction. They allow me to safely navigate my way though this earthly probation, unable to be caught by the temptations and snares that are everywhere.
Trees are like airplanes. And they are also like us. When trees experience adverse conditions, their growth slows down a bit. When airplanes experience turbulence, wise pilots slow down a bit until the turbulence has passed. When we experience periods of stress, sometimes it's best to slow down the pace of our lives a bit until the stress has passed. In stillness, we can be assured that, despite adversity, we are in the constant care of a loving Heavenly Father.
There are two lines of communication between us and our Father in Heaven, one personal and one through church leadership. We are entitled to both, and we need both.
Gratitude is always the best attitude.
I learned many other things as well, but these are the ones I remember most clearly.
Kindergarten was no doubt great, but All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.
These are the things I learned:
Every individual is loved and important. Helpers are just as important as leaders. When we sacrifice in order to send our children on missions or to college, the blessings are great for both us and them.
Missionaries are needed everywhere. I should be preparing and saving now for two decades down the road when, as circumstances allow, I might be in a position to serve a full time mission. As an aside, I think that is a wonderful idea, except they really need to stop referring to these people as "senior" missionary couples. I'm pretty sure that even 20 years from now, I won't be too excited to be called a "senior." Nevertheless, I should be preparing!
As a parent, I am the most significant role model for my children, certainly the two teens and the 10-year-old, but perhaps even the two young adults to some extent. Being someone's primary role model is serious business. I should model nothing that I would not wish them to emulate. Wow.
The commandments are for my protection, not my restriction. They allow me to safely navigate my way though this earthly probation, unable to be caught by the temptations and snares that are everywhere.
Trees are like airplanes. And they are also like us. When trees experience adverse conditions, their growth slows down a bit. When airplanes experience turbulence, wise pilots slow down a bit until the turbulence has passed. When we experience periods of stress, sometimes it's best to slow down the pace of our lives a bit until the stress has passed. In stillness, we can be assured that, despite adversity, we are in the constant care of a loving Heavenly Father.
There are two lines of communication between us and our Father in Heaven, one personal and one through church leadership. We are entitled to both, and we need both.
Gratitude is always the best attitude.
I learned many other things as well, but these are the ones I remember most clearly.
Kindergarten was no doubt great, but All I Really Need to Know I Learned in General Conference.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Fall Fab Fun!
Last weekend, I spent a fabulous fall weekend in Rexburg, Idaho with several of my favorite people. It began Friday at 12:30 when I got out of class and began the 5-1/2 hour drive. You should know that driving is very low on my list of favorite things to do. More accurately, it doesn't even make the list. I do not like to drive. I've been spoiled over the years because Gerald does 99% of the driving on all our road trips. Thank heavens! I especially don't like to drive when I'm not sure where I'm going. Have I mentioned that I'm directionally challenged? Well, I am. I have no clue about north, south, east, or west (Isn't north up, like toward the sky?), and I find maps to be wholly incomprehensible. They pretty much resemble a bunch of Ramen Noodles on a page. The route to Rexburg from Billings is anything but direct. There are all sort of twists and turns, new highways to look for, etc. Gerald typed out clear and specific directions, but I still called him several times to make certain I was on track. I have been lost far too many times to ever trust myself.
Stopping only briefly in Bozeman to get food, I arrived in Rexburg around 6:00 p.m. My welcoming committee was comprised of Emma and Jase, waiting outside in the driveway with giant hugs. Mmmmm, I didn't realize quite how much I missed them until we were together again. As expected, it took a bit of time before Hanna would hang with me, but by the next day we were BFFs once again. In fact, in her quest for independence, she decided that only I was allowed to change her diapers and dress her. I loved that, by the way. She is fast approaching age 2 (just a couple more weeks), and how beautifully she has begun to express her will and let the world know that she has opinions too. She is absolutely perfect. Also perfect is 4-year-old Jase, who, among other things, reads like a 2nd grader. I'm not exaggerating. He was most excited to show off his new tattoo, something from Star Wars maybe? I can't remember. And lovely Emma was as sweet, smart, and beautiful as always.
About an hour later, Shulamith and Matt arrived. We snuck Lindsey out the door (so Hanna wouldn't notice) and headed out to dinner. At this point I need to express my huge appreciation to David, who spent much of his weekend home with the kids, while Shulamith and Matt and I took Lindsey out to play: restaurants, shopping, a movie, etc. What a good husband and father. What a good friend. Thank you, David. I used to be able to reciprocate when you guys lived in Billings. Not sure how I'll do that now.
Yes, it was a fabulous weekend, and of course, it came all too soon to an end. Shulamith and Matt and I intended to leave Rexburg at 1:00 when Lindsey and family went to church and go our separate directions, but we instead went to Jack in the Box and stayed for nearly two hours talking and eating. Should I really admit what I ate there? How do greasy deep-fried tacos, mozzarella sticks, and funnel cake sound? Uh huh, it was that good. The drive home was more enjoyable than the drive there because I bought a cord to connect the auxiliary port in my car to my phone so I could listen to my Pandora stations. If you haven't yet tried Pandora Radio, you really should. What could be better than a station that plays only your favorite songs and others like them, one after the other?
I arrived home at exactly 8:00 p.m. just in time to watch the season premieres of "Desperate Housewives" and "Brothers & Sisters." At commercial breaks, I caught up with both Eli and Seth and met Seth's new pet, a goldfish he won at Saturday Live. His name: Orange-head Fisher. Seth calls him Mr. Fisher for short.
Fall Fab Fun. It was simply amazing.
Stopping only briefly in Bozeman to get food, I arrived in Rexburg around 6:00 p.m. My welcoming committee was comprised of Emma and Jase, waiting outside in the driveway with giant hugs. Mmmmm, I didn't realize quite how much I missed them until we were together again. As expected, it took a bit of time before Hanna would hang with me, but by the next day we were BFFs once again. In fact, in her quest for independence, she decided that only I was allowed to change her diapers and dress her. I loved that, by the way. She is fast approaching age 2 (just a couple more weeks), and how beautifully she has begun to express her will and let the world know that she has opinions too. She is absolutely perfect. Also perfect is 4-year-old Jase, who, among other things, reads like a 2nd grader. I'm not exaggerating. He was most excited to show off his new tattoo, something from Star Wars maybe? I can't remember. And lovely Emma was as sweet, smart, and beautiful as always.
About an hour later, Shulamith and Matt arrived. We snuck Lindsey out the door (so Hanna wouldn't notice) and headed out to dinner. At this point I need to express my huge appreciation to David, who spent much of his weekend home with the kids, while Shulamith and Matt and I took Lindsey out to play: restaurants, shopping, a movie, etc. What a good husband and father. What a good friend. Thank you, David. I used to be able to reciprocate when you guys lived in Billings. Not sure how I'll do that now.
Yes, it was a fabulous weekend, and of course, it came all too soon to an end. Shulamith and Matt and I intended to leave Rexburg at 1:00 when Lindsey and family went to church and go our separate directions, but we instead went to Jack in the Box and stayed for nearly two hours talking and eating. Should I really admit what I ate there? How do greasy deep-fried tacos, mozzarella sticks, and funnel cake sound? Uh huh, it was that good. The drive home was more enjoyable than the drive there because I bought a cord to connect the auxiliary port in my car to my phone so I could listen to my Pandora stations. If you haven't yet tried Pandora Radio, you really should. What could be better than a station that plays only your favorite songs and others like them, one after the other?
I arrived home at exactly 8:00 p.m. just in time to watch the season premieres of "Desperate Housewives" and "Brothers & Sisters." At commercial breaks, I caught up with both Eli and Seth and met Seth's new pet, a goldfish he won at Saturday Live. His name: Orange-head Fisher. Seth calls him Mr. Fisher for short.
Fall Fab Fun. It was simply amazing.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
On Becoming a Young Man and Getting Married
Here are the latest two in the ongoing series of insightful thoughts from 10-year-old Seth:
"Mom! I just have to memorize all these Articles of Faith. If I don't, I'll never make it out of Senior Primary. I will never be a Young Man."
...later that day...
Seth: By the way, Mom, I don't think I'll ever get married.
Me: Why do you say that, Seth?
Seth: Because girls are just too hard,......especially YOU!
"Mom! I just have to memorize all these Articles of Faith. If I don't, I'll never make it out of Senior Primary. I will never be a Young Man."
...later that day...
Seth: By the way, Mom, I don't think I'll ever get married.
Me: Why do you say that, Seth?
Seth: Because girls are just too hard,......especially YOU!
Friday, September 24, 2010
Is it today yet?
This has seriously been the longest week in history. I can't remember a week that d-r-a-g-g-e-d by quite as slowly as this one did. Why? Today, as soon as my classes are over, I will jump in my car and drive to Rexburg, Idaho. Ordinarily, this would not be all that thrilling. What is in Rexburg other than BYU-Idaho? Not that much.
Except.
Perhaps you remember that about two months ago, Lindsey and her family moved away from Billings. Where did they move? Yep, to Rexburg. Suddenly, this little town became high on my list of interesting places. So even though I really don't like to drive such distances (about 5-1/2 hours) by myself, and even though I'm a little tired because I was too excited last night to sleep (duh!), I'm counting on adrenalin to keep me going as I drive this afternoon.
Waiting in Rexburg will be Lindsey, David, Emma, Jase, and Hanna. When they left Billings, little Hanna was just starting to like me. It took her 15 months, but we were actually starting to be friends. For the record, it wasn't just me. Hanna spent the first year of her life pretty much hating everyone who wasn't her mom. I'm guessing that after two months, she will have forgotten all about me, and we'll have to start all over, but that's okay. I know my friends Emma and Jase will remember. Oh how I can't wait to snuggle with them!
But it gets even better than this.
Also traveling this afternoon from the opposite direction will be Shulamith and Matt. If our timing works out, we should all arrive in Rexburg at about dinner time. Woo hoo! What will we do this weekend? I can't say for sure. Probably spend some time at McDonald's. The kids can play there, and more importantly, Lindsey and I need the nostalgia of McDonald's. We wouldn't feel like we'd been together if we didn't go there at least once. And then, there must be a mall somewhere near Rexburg, right? I don't know what else. Plenty of restaurant meals. Maybe a movie? We'll see.
It really doesn't matter what we do. If I can be with Lindsey and her kids, along with Shulamith and Matt, all in the same weekend, I truly need nothing more. Well, I could use Celeste, but I guess life can't be perfect.
Okay, it's almost time to go. Let me tell you one more funny thing first. When Lindsey was telling her kids about our visit, she said: "Terrianne is coming today, and also Shulamith and Matt. Do you remember Matt?"
Jase replied, "Yes. He used to be my friend when we lived in Billings. I haven't seen him since we moved from Billings. He is going to be so surprised about my tattoo!"
Indeed he will Jase! We all will.
Is it today yet?
YES IT IS!
Except.
Perhaps you remember that about two months ago, Lindsey and her family moved away from Billings. Where did they move? Yep, to Rexburg. Suddenly, this little town became high on my list of interesting places. So even though I really don't like to drive such distances (about 5-1/2 hours) by myself, and even though I'm a little tired because I was too excited last night to sleep (duh!), I'm counting on adrenalin to keep me going as I drive this afternoon.
Waiting in Rexburg will be Lindsey, David, Emma, Jase, and Hanna. When they left Billings, little Hanna was just starting to like me. It took her 15 months, but we were actually starting to be friends. For the record, it wasn't just me. Hanna spent the first year of her life pretty much hating everyone who wasn't her mom. I'm guessing that after two months, she will have forgotten all about me, and we'll have to start all over, but that's okay. I know my friends Emma and Jase will remember. Oh how I can't wait to snuggle with them!
But it gets even better than this.
Also traveling this afternoon from the opposite direction will be Shulamith and Matt. If our timing works out, we should all arrive in Rexburg at about dinner time. Woo hoo! What will we do this weekend? I can't say for sure. Probably spend some time at McDonald's. The kids can play there, and more importantly, Lindsey and I need the nostalgia of McDonald's. We wouldn't feel like we'd been together if we didn't go there at least once. And then, there must be a mall somewhere near Rexburg, right? I don't know what else. Plenty of restaurant meals. Maybe a movie? We'll see.
It really doesn't matter what we do. If I can be with Lindsey and her kids, along with Shulamith and Matt, all in the same weekend, I truly need nothing more. Well, I could use Celeste, but I guess life can't be perfect.
Okay, it's almost time to go. Let me tell you one more funny thing first. When Lindsey was telling her kids about our visit, she said: "Terrianne is coming today, and also Shulamith and Matt. Do you remember Matt?"
Jase replied, "Yes. He used to be my friend when we lived in Billings. I haven't seen him since we moved from Billings. He is going to be so surprised about my tattoo!"
Indeed he will Jase! We all will.
Is it today yet?
YES IT IS!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Summer Reads: Dark with Glimmers of Hope
Summer is usually a time when I catch up on all the reading I've missed during the hectic school year. Okay, you can never catch up on all the reading you want to do, but I generally make a good stab at it during the summer. This summer flew by so quickly with trips to Oregon and Costa Rica that it feels like I didn't get much reading done at all. However, I did read a few books, none of which you could call bright and cheery, but all of which (though fiction) are absolutely true. True, because they speak about life, about its unending struggles, and about the spirit of courageous people who overcome those struggles against all odds.At the start of the summer, I read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. It was the June selection of our couples' book group and maybe not something I would have picked up on my own, but it was well worth my time, so I'm thankful someone else chose it. Set in Nazi Germany, it is a story so familiar that one wonders how it could be told yet again and still bring new insight into the horror of that time. Surprisingly, it does just that. While the young girl Liesel is the central character, the story itself is narrated by the persona "Death." Strangely but naturally, we come to identify and empathize with this untypical narrator; our sympathies lie with him (or her?) throughout the story as, page after page, we're surrounded by hurt and joy, despair and love, anguish and hope, as we're immersed in one of the darkest periods of human history.
I'd like to tell you my summer reading lightens up at this point, but I cannot. The next book I read was The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the first in a trilogy by Stieg Larsson. I was captivated by this story for a couple of reasons. First, the thrill of the murder mystery kept my fingers racing to turn the pages faster. Second, the protagonist suffers from what I thought early on was Asperger's Syndrome. By the end I wasn't as certain, although I'm convinced it must be something on the autism spectrum. In any case, she is endearing for sure. We like her. We pity her. We stop pitying her because we know she would hate us for doing so. We cheer for her. We rejoice in her victories. We're astonished by her brilliance. We're amused by her social ignorance. We love her, and we mourn for her. Our Lisbeth.
I finished Dragon while we were still in Costa Rica, and I was desperate to get my hands on the second book in the trilogy, The Girl Who Played with Fire. We searched bookstores in Alajuela but could find it only in Spanish. Grrr. I bought a copy in the Atlanta Airport and became happily absorbed in another mystery, the outcome of which could never have been predicted. Gracious! I feel to warn you, though. Both books, but the second in particular, are quite graphic. Parts were most certainly over-the-top too explicit for my taste, and I carefully skimmed over several pages. That didn't matter. Really, it didn't.
When I finished Fire, I had a choice to make. Part of me wanted to rush out and buy the third book, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. But wait....sitting right on my nightstand....just waiting for me.....was Mockingjay! Tell me you understand the depth and breadth of this dilemma. While I was away, Luke and Désirée ordered Mockingjay, the third in the amazing trilogy by Suzanne Collins, to be delivered to my house just as soon as it came out. And there it sat. Waiting. For me. I had read the first two books, The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, several months ago, maybe even a year ago? I can't remember. Celeste had told me they were the best reads since Twilight, so I rushed out and bought them, read them one after the other, and then passed them right along to Lindsey and Shulamith. I had to wait clear until now for #3.
It was a difficult decision, but since Mockingjay was sitting on my nightstand and Hornet's Nest was still in a bookstore somewhere, I opted for the former. I am about three-fourths through Mockingjay, once again caught up in a world too horrible to imagine yet frighteningly real. When I first began reading The Hunger Games, I equated it to a train wreck. What you see is ghastly, but you can't turn away, so you keep on staring. And so it is with the world of Panem. An arena in which children are forced to kill each other is positively as gruesome as it sounds. But you can't stop reading. Trust me, you can't. With about 150 pages left in Mockingjay, I have this to say to Ms. Collins: Katniss, so brave and willful, so loyal and self-sacrificing, had BETTER wind up with the Peeta she knows and loves. If she doesn't, I will be one unhappy girl. It's not quite as serious as "Team Edward," but it's close.
So here I will say goodbye. I'm off to finish the final chapters in Mockingjay, after which it's back to Kalle and Lisbeth.
Happy reading!
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