Messy

This is Laser Boy enjoying a s'more during a camping trip last summer. I say s'more, and not just a marshmallow in hopes of convincing myself that the muck all over his face is chocolate and not um...dirt.

Check out more messy looks at iheartfaces.

Weekly Shot

I've been trying to take more pictures using my manual settings...scary I know, but I've been pleased with the result and excited to learn more. This picture I took on our Sunday walk. I thought we were too late to get anything good without the flash, but I loved how this one turned out. Click on the button above to add you "best shot".

Things are gettin' better

Saturday was the annual meeting for water shareholders. I love this meeting. Farmers, ranchers, cowboys, and many hopefuls gather together in the grade school gym. I was drawn in by the variety of hats; each a picture of the character underneath. All brought together for one need.

Water.

The meeting was brought to order and we listened to hope plans; expansion, increasing rights and perfecting flow. Superintendent got up, tall and lanky, topped with a well kept, wide brimmed cowboy hat. He told of all the work that's been done, proud of what was accomplished. Then he switched to technical jargon, acre feet of water and projected moisture extraction...how much we need verses how much we have.

A deep voice from under a dusty ball cap interrupted with what we are all wondering, "When can we irrigate?"

"No irrigation this year," as he slightly lowered his eyes behind his wide brimmed hat.

Silence.

Eyes showed again, accompanied by a grin..."but things are gettin' better"

Soft chuckle through the crowd.

New hat asked, "So you mean we'll get water?"

"As of right now...no, but things are gettin' better."



I couldn't help grinning. This man, one who had lived with water's inconsistency his whole life, stood in front of us all, showing faith, while asking for faith; in a place where it couldn't be vocalized but was desperately needed. It's impossible to live off the land without water, to bring production, to sustain, but water can never be counted on.

Yet there we all were.

Faith wasn't written on the agenda but it was there all the same, right next to the proposed budget. It was also between weed management and government grants, then again just after nominations and reconstruction plans.

When surviving on the undependable, it is as natural as turning on the pump.

black and white

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Pictures of my run

It was cold.

I don't usually run when it's that cold, but I wanted to go. I wanted to run far and long. I stepped outside and sucked in my breath....

yes, it was cold, but it was also something more; it was in the air, I could smell it and feel it.

It was beautiful.

Even if I could figure out how to take my camera running, it wouldn't have captured what remains unseen by the casual observer....

for a few more weeks anyway...

fresh,
cleansing,
clarity.

I went farther than my farthest plan, and came back soaked in the breath of spring.

Rest for the weary...part II

The alarm goes off and I jump to quiet it before it wakes the kids....two of which are snuggled in beside me. It was a rough night with colds and bad dreams, resulting in my tired body contorted around haphazard arms and legs. My husband crawls out of bed to get ready for work, and I relax into the extra space only to be joined by a third child climbing up and worming down into the warm covers, sleeping the whole time. I look over at their peaceful faces, thankful they found rest.

I pray gratitude for surviving the night; I plead for strength to use the day; I feel His comfort as I slip from betwixt slumbering babes and continue on my knees.

In the distance I hear the starting pistol fire as I schooch my way back into bed. The sun rises on our slumber.

Run and not be weary...part I

The alarm goes off and I jump to quiet it before it wakes my kids. I stumble out of bed and into my running shoes. I pull on a sweatshirt and hat and slip outside into the darkness. I tighten up against the cold and move decidedly as my body slowly warms despite the cold air filling my lungs. As my steps quicken, my eyes rise from the road and settle on the diminutive light trying to reach across the fields.


I pray gratitude for the newness and opportunities of the day; I plead for guidance and awareness; I feel His peace and clarity.


My breath runs deep and steady, clearing out the clutter of stress and indecision. Faster, harder, distancing myself from the sluggish jog. I turn up the lane with a clear head, full of energy and ready for my favorite race of all.

Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth
the prize? So run, that ye may obtain.~1Corinthians 9:24

Chocolate On My Crainium ~Wordfull Wednesdays~Love of self

A Gift from my Affordable Master Baker

I followed the recipe exactly, it wasn't difficult; only three ingredients, mix until combined, bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes..... so why did hers look so soft, moist, almost cake like, and mine were...well, hard, crisp, and wrong.

So I adjusted; I added some bulk and remixed. A little better, but far from what was expected. So I changed the size, making the cookies bigger, and again a little better...but then they started to stick to the cookie sheet. Did I need to bake them longer or maybe I should adjust the temperature. Maybe I didn't let them cool long enough, or maybe I let them cool too long.

I needed a master baker. Not just any master baker, a master baker that understands my oven, my altitude and humidity. A master baker who knows what flour I use and the importance of sifting or not. One who understands my aversion to adding too much sugar, and my lack of baking equipment. Unfortunately, I knew of no such baker, and couldn't afford one if I did.

I had to smile this morning when I read this:

"For he that diligently seeketh shall find; and the mysteries of God
shall be unfolded unto them, by the Power of the Holy Ghost...." ~1Nephi 10:19

From One who knows all about where I am, my confusions and lack of equipment. It may be too late for the cookies, but a reminder of a precious gift is always timely.

"Therefore it is given to abide in you; the record of heaven; the Comforter; the peaceable things of immortal glory; the truth of all things; that which quickeneth all things, which maketh alive all things; that which knoweth all things, and hath all power according to wisdom, mercy, truth, justice, and judgment." ~Moses 6:61

Silly

This week at iheartfaces, it's all about being silly...how could I resist that?
Click on the button and check out the fun.

The Work of Affection

"I love you Becky"

"I love you Esther"

"I love you Becky"

"I love you Esther"

We spoke the words back and forth as we stood face to face; first, through clenched teeth, then shortly, through suppressed giggles. Mom, pretending not to enjoy this genius discipline strategy, watched knowingly from across the room....suppressing her own laughter. She knew what her daughters really felt, even though vocal expression of such feelings was forced punishment.

Hugs and I love yous weren't real common growing up. A punch on the arm from one of my siblings was one of the more popular displays of affection and was gladly returned, first chance.

Since those early days, I have grown to appreciate softer expressions of affection. I have learned of the power of a hug to communicate what can't be spoken, how good it feels to be comfortable enough to say I love you, and the connection that comes from looking in some one's eyes as they speak. These forms of affection are tried and true but far from all encompassing.

I was taught from an early age, mostly by example, what it meant to be family. We played together and prayed together. We talked and teased. We cried and wondered. We fought and forgave. I knew my dad loved me because he never let me down. He was solid and sure. I knew my mom loved me because even at a young age I could see many of the sacrifices she made for me....daily. The words were not often said, but I never felt any doubt.

If affection is sincere it tends to work it's way into whatever you do. Today, with my own little family, I feel it in my little one's arms as they cling around my neck and the slobbery kisses blown on my cheek. I show it when I listen and talk and wonder with them. We share it as we comfort and cry and laugh together. Whether it be in the form of tender vocal sentiment, or a tender spot on the arm, affection is shown by a desire to be together, to work to stay together, and a knowledge that this is only the beginning.

Read more affectionate stories at Chocolate on My Cranium.

Making Do

I've always made do when it comes to bags. Once I tried to care about the style of my purse, and got so frustrated with the hassle of style that within a week I was back to using my over the shoulder, simply functional, army green, washable bag that I got years ago from a 70% off table at JCPenny. I'm even worse with my church bag; anyone who has to keep little ones quiet in church, and then organize a primary, teaching, singing and calming fears, knows the value of a good church bag. But again, I have always made do with the free totes you get when you order something in the mail, or the ones you can find at a yard sale for fifty cents. Practical, but sorely lacking in style.

Last week I won my first ever blog giveaway. The prize was a gorgeous tote, the perfect size to replace my ugly, functional church bag. I was very excited. I even modeled it for my kids. Later, I modeled it for my husband. So pretty, perfect and free!

Sunday morning I loaded it up with my primary binder, my kids notebooks, colored pencils and a small bag of cheerios for the little one. It looked so nice that I modeled it again. It sat on my lap all the way to church as I admired its beauty. I joking commented to my husband about my vanity, but seriously, I couldn't help it.

Not five minutes into the meeting, Laser Boy was acting up enough that it was necessary for me to take him out and calm him down. As I stood up to go, my foot caught on the beautiful brown handle of my gorgeous new bag.....causing me to stagger out into the isle....

I recovered gracefully, but the lesson was learned, and comments of tripping on my vanity filled the car on the ride home. Unfortunaley, I already got rid of my humble (and by humble I mean ugly) bag and so I will just have to continue to make do with this pretty bag...ever watching my step.