Sometimes it sucks

I run more than walk. It's my natural state. Today I headed out looking for the sun on my face and the need for new thoughts to pump through me like oxygen filled blood. My running feet on the ground did not disappoint and it felt like I was coming back to myself...

I needed that.

Then the reality of my malnutritioned body gave way and my sleep deprived soul gave in and the cold wind blew stronger than the suns rays and tormented me from all directions.

But this too is my running, this too is why I crave it. Sometimes it sucks and that is as real as any other part of me. It's not meant to always be sunny and 50 degrees with a cool breeze right when you start to get sweaty. Nope sometimes it sucks, and that's just fine.

I sometimes try to photograph how my run feels, to capture somehow, the change of mind and direction it can bring to my soul. It never really works that well, because I have to stop running to get a good shot and then it's just not the same. So at least to document, if not capture, I snapped a few today, because this is a day I will remember. The sunlight through the trees, the winding road up ahead, a hill to keep things interesting and and the bird crap that just missed my head and landed on my running leg.

Yeah, sometimes it sucks, but that's perfect and I want to live it all.

I hugged my little one goodby today. My toes cold on the driveway and my heart lodged in my throat. This one who has been a part of me from the beginning, my blood her blood creating her flesh. I remember just looking at her for hours not believing that she was mine...even just for this moment.

This moment that went too fast. This bueatuful girl, this girl that has turned me inside out, this girl that has made me be 100 percent sure of who I am before I could show her who she is...

my daughter, my friend...

I passed this piece of my heart off to him and they drove away.

Third Time's a Charm

I have a need for speed. Running, biking and yes, sometimes even driving; the wind in my face and the ground flying by can be an addictive rush. A rush my body craves and seeks out at some un opportune moments.

Today was one of those.

Three times in less than two hours I tried to sooth the broken hearted and failed. The sobbing infant, the defiant child and the sick boy who puked on my shoes before I could slow down enough to read their pain. 

They will all be okay. The infant had a dad, the defiant child was schooled by his mother and the sick boy is home tucked in bed. No real harm done, but a reminder none the less.

A reminder to slow down. More times than I wish, I've payed for my speed with my pride and hard earned cash. "I didn't mean to speed, Officer," has been my honest plea. But, as I drive away with that ticket tucked deep in my purse, I wish I would have headed the warnings; sometimes I'm going to fast for even those, but I know they were there. 

Today I saw the warnings. People know when they're being rushed through and checked off your list, especially the young ones. All is fine today, and as I ease up off the pedal, I am thankful for the warning.

Did it really happen

I fell asleep on the couch this morning after I dropped the kids off at school. In the middle of unpacked boxes and a kitchen buried in last nights dinner and all our life's paper work that still needs to be refiled. My stomach grumbled for my missed breakfast and I slept.

I haven't shaved my legs in three weeks, a record for even me because who has time? 

Not me.

I am buried in projects that can never be finished, things that can never be organized, and of course last nights previously mentioned dinner. 

I broke last night and cried at my kids; I don't think I've done that before. Cried with them, yes. Cried for them, yes. Cried in front of them…but not at them, blaming them for my inadequate self. 

So I slept. Maybe I really needed it, maybe I should have shaved my legs instead, or maybe I just needed an escape into nothing before I go back to everything again.

How long can it take to organize a house anyway? Week three is disappearing fast and here I am still trying to figure it out. It's not just a house after all, it's a home. One great thing about moving is the opportunity to start with a clean slate. Throw out the trash, question new bills and old schedules. Maybe get it right this time. I know it's worth the time.

I think back to a month ago to life in the hotel, or three months ago to life in Colorado and it feels foggy, distant and lost in all the emotion of moving and leaving a home that I didn't know would be a home and hoping that we can find that again. Sometimes making a new home feels disloyal to the old. 

I will always love the old. 

Buried on the couch I dreamt of walking through the woods in the rain (it always rains here) with my kids. As we came through the trees the scene opened up to a fast flowing creek making it's way down from the mountain peaks that were now right before us. The rain had turned to snow and it was beautiful. We turned in circles admiring our new surroundings and I knew it was put there for me. I also  knew it was a dream. I breathed deep, sucking it all in, daring it to be real; to prove itself to me. The snow was soft and cool, my nose was even started to feel cold. I held my kids hands and we turned around one more time as the horizon went flat again. I knew it would and I was grateful anyway. Grateful for that moment and grateful for this moment.

I just want to remember that.

Rosalie's Eyes

I remember the last time I went to the Barrus Family Reunion. I was maybe 10 and I knew nobody. It was awkward.  There were kids running all over the park and my parents kept saying, "They're all your cousins, just go play with them." But I didn't.  I was relieved when it was finally time to go.

Twenty years later I am ready to try again. I want to know more of the woman whose eyes I share. 

It all starts the same, with so many smiling faces....familiar but unknown and I keep thinking, "They're all your cousins, just go talk to them." 

And I do, a little. Mostly, I read histories posted on the walls, trying to connect the lines from them to me and wonder at the lives behind the dates and places.

I giggle when my dad's cousin and partner in crime starts teasing my daughter...she has no idea who he is and when I tell her of the mischief he and my dad used to get into, her eyes grow wide with surprise. And this is why I came. I am just not a mom anymore than my dad is just a grandpa, just as she will not always be a little girl. I want her to know that. I want to know that. Connecting these lives adds perspective and inriches our heritage.

Later, there was an unexpected surprise from a man I had never met. He sat down next to me with a plate of food and continued a conversation with my dad. After a while he asked who I was and I pointed at my dad and said I was his. He didn't offer any introduction so I ventured a guess based on his wrinkles and a smile that looks like hers. "Are you Rosalie's brother?" My dad confirms that this is his uncle Ruel, the one he was named for.  I had assumed his name came more from his grandfather....I'm not sure I even knew he had an uncle by that name.

Then I get the story.

He had been over three months in a prison camp in Germany with conditions that left him as thin as a rail when the tanks rolled in to pull them out. "Anyone here from California? Anyone here from New York? Anyone here from Idaho? And just like that he was free again. That same month my dad was born.

Again, I get to know different parts of these lives I admire. What it must have been like for my grandma as a young mother, worried about her little brother in a prison so far away...what it must have been like for her little brother in a prison so far away.

Later I got to see the house where my Grandma was raised, and my dad was born,  the two huge pine trees still towering in front. My dad looks for a long time with eyes handed down from his mom and I wish I could see his thoughts.

I've seen this house before, but it seemed so much easier this time to picture my grandma there as a little girl, now that I see my own little girl playing in the ditch, making clover rings and giggling; seeing it all with eyes just like hers.

pause

It rained last night. Three-thirty in the morning I lay in my bed just listening. It's been a long time since it's rained, and I can't remember the last time I heard it splashing, gathering in the rain barrel. A busy spring planting and planning is pointless without rain's promise. I could tell it wasn't a lot, but it was enough for now. I didn't sleep again until it stopped.

Picture not my own (thanks Megan!) but fit well with my thoughts.

Some Things Never Change, But Some Things...

We run in the afternoon heat, soft rubber under foot, lap after lap and even 12 years later the smell, the taste of the heat reflecting from the track is like yesterday, and I am the same. The same person who loves to run, to push past tired legs, to compete and finish stronger than planned, and I am different. My mind is more sure of who I am and what I want. Solid confidence not defeated by the coming and goings of others.

Home with just one and loving the funny conversations and his dependence on my friendship, I am the same. The same as when the oldest was the only one at home and we were best friends all day and had all the time in the world, and I am different. When not careful, I can easily fill the hours and never have enough time to push him on the swings or read with him curled and heavy on my lap for hours.

I feel a little stir of excitement as I guide my niece through the algebra unknowns and I feel in awe at the truth of it all, and I am the same. The same person who discovered this math love through pure accident and reveled in learning the language of it all, and I am different. Still excited, I read the foreign text that has been unused for a decade, I fight fear and wonder if it will ever be preferred tongue again.

I hold the chubby babe of my friend and smell that smell; I swear I can feel milk in my breasts, I am the same. The same one who sat for hours and months, staring...still staring at the wonder that was created inside me, and I long for more of this divine role and soft cooing sounds, and I am different. Understanding the evolution of my divine roll and acceptance settling in as a young girls dreams collide with reality, and I begin to feel that it's ok.

People survive them all the time...

It seems every time I start a post I feel like I need to apologize, or at least explain why I haven't been here, when this is such a place I love to be. I say I'm busy...too busy, for this and that and way to busy to write it all down; who has time to sit and write it all down...there is so much to write down. Nothing spectacular I suppose, just the day to day events of a slightly rebellious, often humbled daughter of God.

There is nothing noteworthy in the fact that once this week I succeeded in getting my house clean or even that it all came crashing back down around me two days later. Nothing original about sending my youngest off to preschool and then having my heart jump then fall to my feet at the sound of silence in my car. And who hasn't felt the exhaustion that comes, not of physically doing the daily mundane,  but from constantly wrestling heart and mind with the decisions that will both protect and prepare your kids for the life they are already living every day? I don't suppose that these things are any different than what a million other souls deal with, and yet it is all different and all so mine; and when I pray with my heart full of thanks for every minute of it all He answers with a peace that is designed just for the way my mind works and exactly what my heart understands.

Last night the storm hit hard, and I wasn't surprised...it was in the forecast...the awe came with the clarity of the stars afterward. In the beginning as the winds started to blow I kept telling myself not to stress...after all, storms are quiet common, people survive them all the time. As the rain turned to hail we took shelter under established routine, pushing through, ignoring the darkness; until it was over and all that was left was the darkness. And then the stars...clear and bright, not so bright as to show the damage that surely surrounded, just bright enough to know the storm was over. It was beautiful.

Running at 10,000 Feeet

All week the dirt has been gathering...

...in the corners and under the table.

It would probably bother me more if I had time to stop and look at it. I'm running and I can't catch up...but I'm enjoying the run anyway.

(nope...no way...not gonna post a pic of my dirty kitchen)

Kids left for school and once again I question everything...so many contradictions...what is good and bad and what is best.

Tomatoes, green beans, the last of the corn, peppers and still the weeds...

...oh the weeds, someone should tell them they have lost battle and need to go home.

Have you ever tried running at 10,000 feet?

More specifically 10,500.

Nothing works like it should, my stomach forgets how to handle a sip of water but still cries for more. My lungs feel unused but my muscles ache from lack of oxygen...

...and yet I, my whole self, can't get enough.

Farther and farther up and around the next curve, longing for the top. My friends are done but I can't get enough.

I always knew these mountains were a part of me.

Later I will completely crash, but now...I just enjoy the run.

The Real Joy of Summer

I love summer.

I know, I know, who doesn't? The  lengthened daylight hours seem to attest to summer as a preference for even the Divine. Big trips and family reunions, sprinklers and half naked babies tinted brown, green growth and the intense first bite of tomato.

Oh, and lets not forget....

the weeding and watering, the packing and unpacking, the cleaning, the canning, the cutting the lawn.

Yep, summer is a lot of work too, but I still stand by my first statement. Although work is....well....work, it can also be a lot of fun. I remember as a kid having all sorts of competitions as we worked. Memories of my sister and I beating our "city boy" cousins moving irrigation pipe is a favorite. Or sitting and talking in the shade of our big tree podding a mountain of peas until our fingers were permanently etched in green.

There were other times too. Pulling rye from our field and having my eyes get so itchy and sore I thought I'd go blind. (I guess I should remember that one next time my kids play their own version of that drama card) Or driving tractor alone hour after boring hour. That was not so fun, but I also remember my mom (who can still out work me, by the way) coming in from the garden, weeding done, just as I was pulling my sorry tail out of bed. And my dad coming in from hours longer than mine on the tractor, with only his eyes and teeth showing through the layer of dirt. Not doing what needed done was never an option.

Work is one of the most sincere forms of gratitude. Taking care of what you have been given speaks louder than a million thank yous. When I was in high school, my uncle passed away. I remember a lot of tender moments during the day of his funeral, but the one that I can never forget happened at the very end. After the burial service I was waiting in the car for my parents to finish up and come take me home. I was tired and probably hungry, and had been in a dress all day; summed up, I was being pretty selfish, and wanted to go. Just about then, two of my uncles walked by and one of them mentioned some shovels he had in the back of his truck. What? And then I saw one by one as more shovels appeared and I watched, humbly, as my aunts and uncles shoveled dirt onto the casket and completed this last task for their brother.

Gratitude....stewardship....love...and yes, fun. Work is an essential part of all things good, including true and lasting happiness.

For more thoughts on the value of work: Wordfull Wednesday at Chocolateonmycranium

Here are some pictures from this year's family reunion; which of course included a work project.

A mountain of dead branches from a heavy spring storm, reduced to a pile of chips and fire wood.

No doubt my nephew worked hard...tough kid that one.

Just because they weren't allowed near the heavy machinery doesn't mean they didn't work hard too!

This one's for you, Grandma...and to all the flowers fallen in your absence :)

Where's the Line?

How far would you go to show your love and support for your spouse?

Would you give up an entire day (plus babysitting) just to show them?

Would you sit uncomfortably in the sun for hours just to obtain a minute of glory for them?

Would you stretch your body far beyond what it has done in the last five or ten years just because your effort is important to them?

Would you give up an entire Saturday afternoon of working in the garden with perfect weather just to show that you're all a team?

Would you????

I would....

...and did. This week was like an extended company party at my husbands' work. It involved a lot of different competitions and hubs, being a part of a very competitive group, signed me up to compete. I'm sure he was thinking, "My wife played competitive sports in high school, (16 years ago) surely she can be an asset to the team." How flattering for me...really...my husband still values my high school achievements.

Now that it's done I can't complain too much; just because my body aches in ways I never new possible, and my fingers shake as I try to type, and my pride is slightly wounded from getting out 5 times in 3 innings...really, I was glad to help. There were some high moments too, not so much in softball, but the 5K was fun and my body did remember a trick or two involving a volleyball.

Now I need my bed...and maybe a chiropractor.

Just thankful he didn't sign me up for football...even if he had, a girl's got to draw the line somewhere.

I love a good race...

I love a good race, and this.... was a good race. It was a 5K/5 mile race and everyone started at the same spot. I was running the 5 mile, but it was good to start with the 5K-ers...a little more excitment and speed...AND I got to start with Hup. This was his second 5K, so I knew he could do it, but I always worry he'll get lost (cause it happened once), so his dad ran with him. He hit a tough spot with about a mile to go, but thanks to the wonderful encouragement of fellow runners he sucked it up and finished strong at 27:47. That's almost a minute faster than last summer, and the best part is, he's excited for his next chance.

(warming up with his Dad)

My race went almost as planned. I think I fell off pace somewhere around the thrid mile. It wasn't well marked and had a lot of distractions...maybe the distractions helped me mentally, but I lost my focus on my pace, and in the end I came in at 40:00.6. Yep, that's right .7 seconds from my goal of going under 40 minutes. I guess that gives me a good excuse to run it again next year.

(notice my hands clear across my chest...nice form, egh?)

It was fun to see friends who have been hiding out on the treadmill all winter, and to see the smiles on the faces of those coming in strong, no matter what their time. I loved having my family their to feel the excitement and see this side of me that usually only comes out early in the morning while they still sleep, and I can't help but be a little excited when they all wanted to join in on the next race.

Waking Up

I built something. 

It’s not perfect, but that was never the point. It wasn’t really cheap, but that wasn’t really the point either. So why did I shell out $200 for lumber and hardware only to neglect my house, kids and spouse for a whole week and only end up with an OK piece of furniture?

It was fun.

It seriously awoke this part of me that has been hibernating for years…neglected as I juggled babies, toddlers and relocating …and babies, toddlers and relocating. In fact, as I was bending down to hammer in an odd nail, I had a little flash back, of the last time I had attempted such a thing...last time when I bent down it was a strain to reach over my growing stomach and I only had a hand saw, and two year old Rose as a helper. The closet I built then wasn’t perfect either, but every time I looked at it I couldn’t help but smile.

This time all the kids got to help. Sunshine bravely held boards while I cut, Hup did a lot of the hammering and even showed Laser Boy some tricks of the trade. Rose helped paint exactly the way I asked her to, except for not leaving a little of the under color visible; she said it was just sloppy painting and she wouldn’t do it.

The hinges were a little tricky…I’ll know better next time, and the paint needs some touch up, but overall I’m giddy. And now, even two weeks after I finished my book shelf, I can’t walk by it (crooked doors and all) without a little smile.





Plans and loads of more ideas @ Knock Off Wood

Lemonade Master Cleanse

As part of new ideas and renewed efforts to be healthy, I joined my husband in a cleanse. The idea being to clean out the insides in preparation for a new start.

After a week of only consuming lemons, maple syrup, cayenne pepper and a whole lot of water, I've learned a few things.

1. Clean is good. Just like having a clean house, things run more smoothly. I've always been a fairly healthy person, eating natural foods and lots of exercise, but I'm amazed at the difference. Every move feels less restricted, when I didn't even realize that it was. Breath flows smooth, muscles react quicker than expected and I have a keener sense of bodily placement.

2. The body is smart, listen to it. Taking variety and choice out of the equation, and just listening to the body's hunger signals was very interesting. I remember at one point, as I was sweeping the floor, I saw an old peanut shell hiding behind the couch. Instantly, I felt a reaction in my stomach and I wanted some munchies...anything salty and crunchy. This feeling was different from the usual messages sent when actual nourishment was needed. Learning to differentiate between sight/smell cravings and cravings for needed nutrients was very eye opening, and one I'm still working on.

3. Food nourishes more than the body. It felt good to give my body a rest from digestion and a chance to deep clean, but honestly, my body and soul were bored. Relying on food for entertainment and comfort isn't healthy for mind or body, but saying that food is the spice of life is no exaggeration. Giving into every compulsion is not what Heavenly Father ever intended for us, but I think there is a reason feasting is so often linked to our spiritual diet. Feasting does not equal gluttony, but a planned meal full of nourishment, variety and enjoyment. "...for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul."

4. Give thanks. Nothing like abstaining to increase gratitude for what you've always had. Faint aromas, married flavors, the ability to prepare....confessing His hand in all things; a blessing in itself.

Will I do it again? I look forward to it, but not for a year or so. Hubs says no way, so I guess I 'll be on my own...more to learn for sure.

Abundance

Abundance is being completely filled, having all....even more than is needed.

Four dozen pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. Drawers that won't shut when all the laundry is done at once. Unlimited access to a building full of books. Long summer days. Gardens that won't stop producing. Shelves lined with more than I grew. Gifts of honey, wheat, beef and listening ears. A crowded house. High speed Internet.

This is abundance.

But there's more. Abundance itself is quite abundant, you know. Awareness and gratitude for what we have can produce a wealth of abundance from supposed deprivation.

My first tomato from seed. An unexpected hug. Everyone liking dinner at once. An inappropriate burst of laughter. No homework on the weekends. Enjoying a kiss. Winter sun shining through my windows. Phone call when you don't have time. Hugging Kevlar twice daily.

I believe abundance is always there just waiting, but sometimes is it seems elusive. Suppressed by loss of self control, doubt, and selfish desires; concealed behind rebellion. Refusing to look, to ask or listen.

To rediscover your abundance it may be as simple as to, "Look outside - I know that you'll Recognize it's summertime"

When I'm willing to look outside of myself and see the penetrating summer heat of God's love...it is truly overflowing.

"One of the remarkable qualities about God's love for us is that not only do we
experience it as validating and affirming, but it also produces growth and
change in us. It literally moves us forward, toward Him and our own eventual
exaltation. It is a sculpting, correcting, and purposeful kind of love."
(friendly facebook quote)

Without this kind of lasting abundance, this unconditional abundance, this filling in my missing gaps abundance that I receive daily from my Savior, I would be continually lacking.

Long awaited change. Being picked up when you fall. A broken heart made stronger not harder. Whispered truth when surrounded by lies. Feeling peace in the pain. Being held when it hurts. Runner's high lasting way past the second mile. Finding joy in the simple. Understanding hidden treasures.

More than I need.

Exactly all I need.

What does abundance mean to you? http://chocolateonmycranium.blogspot.com/2009/11/wordfull-wednesday-abundance.html.

Ongoing gratidude list #7-32

Lens One, or Lens Two?

"Lens one......or lens two? Now here again, is it clearer through lens one, or lens two."

I remember the first time I got glasses. I had been dreading it for weeks, knowing it was inevitable and fearing mind exaggerated social ramifications. But on the way home, with my new frames perched on my face, I couldn't stop staring at a world made new.

Have you ever had one of those moments; though painful at first....and sometimes for a long time, it changes how you see everything. Blades of grass appear where before there was only green, wires appear connecting fence and telephone pole, and signs appear legible beyond their shape.

"The whole world is different." That's what he told me last night; his focus still blurry....painful. "It's like I live in a completely different world now." Lens one is dim and obscure, I pray for clarity through lens two.

Gratitude in all things...this isn't the first time I've heard it's call, not the first time it has clarified my view. But it was different last time....not as much at stake; life will be renewed, but a lost soul...things blur and I don't understand. Gratitude in trials is faith that you can grow, putting off the natural man to be more like Him; He who created this natural man.....I still don't understand.

Neither lens is clear.

Put Up or Shut Up

Seriously.

Times are tough. Like everyone else we've been looking for ways to trim costs, save more and live well within our means. So when the garden produces more than expected, peaches arrive by the box load, neighbors offer trees of bounty, and friends unload ripening fruit you say thank you and get busy.

First, it was peppers. These I chop and freeze, dry or can. If canning you should use a pressure cooker since they have low acidity. I don't have one and I have just used a water bath, but it's not recommended.

Next there were peaches. What we didn't eat I simply cut up into slices, added a little sugar and froze in quart freezer bags. Growing up, Mom would always can LOADS of peaches....rows and rows of the peachy fruit lined our storage room shelves. It was pretty, but my kids don't really care for canned peaches; they do love peach smoothies, so I froze most of them with just a little sugar to keep them pretty. I also made peach jam, that turned out quite tasty, by following my apricot jam recipe.

Before I was even half way through the peaches, my neighbor offered her apple and plum trees. So we (and by we, I mean me and Laser Boy) made applesauce, plum applesauce, apple pie filling and plum jelly; still too many apples left on the tree....with such cute help, I'm sure I'll just have to make more.

In the middle of all this, another neighbor calls offering three large boxes of pears that are going rotten faster than she could get to them. Hmmm, let's see, wasn't that me just praying for solutions to lower the ol'e grocery bill.....

k, I'll take 'em.

Turns out they went rotten faster than I could get them to my house (Hubs said they smelled like hooch), not sure what my well intentioned neighbor had in mind, but they did make an excellent addition to my compost pile, and with all my extra time I was able to freeze my corn before it went too mushy.

Now, I think the rush is over and I'm just dilly dallying with more peppers, green beans, basil and tomatoes; hoping it doesn't freeze until I can stock up on canned tomatoes and tomato sauce.

To be honest, I'm surprised by it all. Not that I am well taken care of, that I have come to trust, but the fact that I can.....um, can. All those Labor Day weekends spent in hard labor, helping my mom can everything you could imagine and in amounts that are now unimaginable, must have paid off.

Food on Fridays with Ann Kroeker

Continuing Transformation

I remember sitting on my couch, mind racing; wanting to giggle but managing to suppress because of the seriousness of her tone. Did she really just ask me if I had been saved?

Unrealized, the transformation had begun. With each conversation...and there were many....we learned more about each other, our beliefs and our God. There had to have been some chuckling going on in heaven, putting a God fearing Baptist right next door to a confidently, complacent Mormon; both so alone, now dependent on each other, both believing they had the whole truth, or at least the faith to make up for the questions. Thinking back I can almost hear the rumbling laughter.

In the beginning of our friendship, all I could see was this wonderful missionary opportunity, so of course I found it a little funny that she was worried about my salvation. As life happens, and it always does, I learned things from her I didn't know that I didn't know. Like what it really means to daily walk with Him, not to just meet casually at the end of day. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I've ever taken lightly my relationship with Christ, but I had never seen it so all consuming as it is in her life, and it began to rub off on me. It made me dig deeper in my studies, linger longer in prayer, and ultimately to be still and know.

It wasn't all perfect, frustration and dark prideful moments snuck in...casting shadows of doubt on truth; but not for long, because light always overcomes darkness as His glory became our only goal....you see, friendships that begin before life in this body don't go down easily.

The lessons learned in this short season of my life are too many to cover right now. In the end....well, I know it's not the end, but as we parted.....me still completely Mormon and she faithfully Baptist, I was consumed with gratitude for the new awareness I had gained of familiar truth; looking forward as I look upward to this continuing transformation.

Wordfull Wednesday @ Chocolateonmycranium

Thankful Thursday

Again, I found myself looking appreciatively into understanding eyes, as I humbly offered my gratitude.

What is it with this week? The reoccurring reminder that I can't do this on my own, that despite my amazing ball-juggling capabilities, the spotlight continues to capture the one that got away.

The lady sitting behind me at church who comforted Sunshine when I had to rush out with Laser Boy. The two women who stopped in the middle of their walk to tend my youngest while I climbed the cliff to help a tearful, shaking Hup back to safety. Now, the couple who stopped in truck to comfort a little one with bloody knees. They deserve the spotlight.

I wouldn't have been completely helpless without their unsolicited kindness, but they definitely made a difference in my day. Nothing life changing....not really, but thinking back now it seems as if their eyes, in that moment of gratitude, were all the same. Instead of leaving me feeling inadequate, I felt comforted and cared for....another change I'm thankful for. A little different perspective on the familiar scripture...

"....that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." ~Mosiah 2:17

....that when you are being served by your fellow beings, be wise and acknowledge it as a blessing from God.

Dirty Little Secret

It all began a couple weeks ago when Laser Boy, who is exploring all the different realms of learning to go potty, began to flush things down the toilet. The first items to not clear the goose neck were two pencils....the two pens luckily made it to septic heaven. After plunging daily for a week, I convinced my husband to get serious about the problem and he took the toilet off it's base and retrieved the pencils, amongst other...um objects that ended up all over my bathroom floor.

Yuck.

All worth it though to have a working toilet again, or so we thought. Two days later down went a lego window. Since the toilet continued to flush with perfect force we figured luck was shining down on us. A few days later everything stopped draining. I'm tired of thinking about the disgusting details so I'm not going to relate them all here, only to say that my husband canceled my call for help to the plumber, and spent a week playing in crap. After the third try at clearing the pipe, and a very creative pipe/hose structure, things seemed to be draining smoothly.

Yesterday, as I was doing some laundry everything started coming up in my bathtub. I didn't even hesitate.

I called the plumber.

The plumber came. The plumber retrieved the lego window from our main drainage pipe with his handy snake, chopper thing. The plumber collected his $80. The plumber left.
All before hubby came home from work. I still haven't told him. He didn't want to spend the money, and I didn't want a stinky ornery husband. Our food budget will be a little low this month, but we'll squeak by, and we're all the happier.

Maybe one day, when the air has cleared, I'll clear my own concious and come clean....and we'll laugh.

(Dear Husband, If by some chance your reading this, I just want you to know of my gratitude to you for spending so much time in the depths of filth and slime so we didn't have to. I am amazed by your ingenuity and determination to get a job done. Please forgive me for being weak when I saw sewage coming up in my bathtub and calling the plumber.)

Glory in Chaos

"How can we glory in tribulation?"

The question was asked and then, leaning forward and lowering her voice, just like she was about to impart some great secret, she looked around the room to make sure she had every one's attention. To be honest, I was all ears. She had just led a wonderful discussion on having faith through our trials; the importance of depending on Him, trusting Him, and never denouncing His truth no matter how hard it gets. We talked of His innocent blood spilt and the importance of not forsaking that, and how the nature of our trials are more spiritual than of tests of physical prosecution. All this accumulating to this final question. My heart burned, and I too leaned forward with a desire to share. She spoke, "The glory is in the success."

What?

My heart fell flat. I think I understand what she meant by this, but I couldn't have disagreed more with this as a final statement. I mean, what if I fail, as I so often do? Success is so vague, so dependent on perspective. Such a statement without defining success, was a like appreciating a greener lawn and missing the beauty of the storm.

No.

Glory in success is obvious, I mean, who wouldn't? But what about now? Isn't there more...even more required, than sitting huddled under a blanket, surviving the storm? Recently I read a post by Amber at therunamuck, and she asked similar questions.

What does it mean to seek Gods kingdom and His righteousness? Where is His
kingdom in our dirty houses and in our daily relationships? What does
simplicity look like?

She continues to blog about these questions, as I have continued to think deeper than my knee-jerk answers. Maybe the first question should be, what is His kingdom.....what is His glory? Is glory simply the joy of accomplishment, or is it part of the struggle? Does it get dirty and mangled, gashed and torn?

Sunday was Mother's Day...my day. Seriously, I've been a mom long enough to know what the day is all about, but to be honest I wasn't looking for any real special treatment, I just wanted to spend time with my kids, but the whole day seemed to be filled with fighting. It was so stressful I was ready to send them all out with their dad so I could....I don't know...

So where's the glory in that? Where's the kingdom in that....simplicity...yeah, get them out of my face and I'm sure in an hour or two I will love them again...maybe. Even still, I felt something more, it was in the back of my head and lingering at the edge of my heart, and once I noticed it, it came pushing through the aggravation of my ornery bunch on my happy day. I am so thankful....thankful to Him for these kids, and I prayed to see more clearly what they must be screaming for just as loud as I was screaming for them to stop screaming. By bedtime, sweet bedtime, we found peace.....peace amongst wet pants and hurt feelings, and around the crumbs on my couch we snuggled and read and even laughed. Touch and forgiveness; trust rebuilt...glory in chaos.

One of my favorite times to take pictures is just before a storm, when everything seems to be getting dark....the light is amazing. Not the bright beautiful light of a spring morning, but a light that brings out contrast and different hues.....shades that only exist in that moment. Such an interesting beauty. Whether the storm will be just a light passing mist, or a violent hail hurling wind, that moment of queer wonder is the key to seeing the glory in the storm.

The simplicity of gratitude, a showing of faith's power over fear. Gratitude doesn't just loiter in ease and beauty, it blows though doubt, washes though loneliness, and shines clarity on grief and pain. I know this isn't all encompassing, everyone has to find their own path, but for me, gratitude is key in seeing His glory in the everyday, feeling His glory when my heart is broken, and giving glory to Him through it all.

Humbly acknowledging His ways....striving to make them my own.