MOMZA'S HOUSE

My Tender Mercy and John Denver

2022-07-14T14:01:00.002-06:00

“Truly, for those with faithful hearts and eyes to see, the Lord’s tender mercies are manifest amidst life’s challenges.”~ Elder Gerrit W. Gong

Recently, I had to go to the hospital 3 times in one week. It was a hard week. That Monday, I was scheduled for a procedure that I've had once before in December--it was an outpatient thing and required only a day of rest afterwards. I expected the same results from this one. But the whole process was distinctive: different doctor, different hospital, different way of doing the procedure. And a competely different recovery, which brought me back to the ER on that Tuesday night/Wednesday morning and another procedure on that Friday. It was easily the worst pain I've ever felt.

But here's the good part:

I was in pain and feeling fragile and nervous about the procedure the night before and a good man, Brother Ramsay, came over to our house and helped Kent give me a priesthood blessing. One of the blessings for me said I could have faith and trust in the doctors who were going to care for me. That was a big deal to me, because I didn't know the surgeon beforehand.

When I was brought into the OR on Friday, I noticed there was no music playing--now, I have been to the hospital so many times in the past year, I am used to music playing in the OR. This time it was silent. If you know me, music is a great comfort to me.

Okay, in the OR and there's no music-- I am laying face down and cannot see anyone's face in the room. I asked my attending nurse if they could play some music. She said, "Sure, what would you like to hear?" I answered, "John Denver." Now, my first thought was "Mormon Tabernacle Choir" because I always feel the Spirit when I listen to them. But then John Denver's name came out of my mouth before I had another thought!

The nurse asked the OR tech if he could play some John Denver. He said, "Absolutely." She then said, "Dr. Waggart likes John Denver too."

Within seconds, John's voice is filling the air and all of the other nurses and the Dr came into the room. I couldn't see any of them, but what I could hear, is that they all began singing along with the song, "Rocky Mountain High"...it was perfect. My nerves calmed, and I felt seen and cared for in a special way. The corrective procedure worked and I am recovering well.

And, y’all know I love Colorado, so wow! what a memorable experience for me! This may sound so cheesy to some, but to my heart, it was a tender mercy from heaven.

Does our Heavenly Father hear and answer prayers? My witness is that He does, in His perfect timing and tender, meaningful ways.

Have you seen God's hand in your life lately? I'd love to hear about it, if you're willing to share. Thank you❤️

The Loving Heavenly Principle of Repentance & an MRI

2022-07-14T13:55:00.003-06:00

Recently, I had to get an MRI my brain. As I was laying on the platform table, with the head gear on to hold the position of my head still for imaging, I was slowly moved into the MRI chamber. The tech said it would be about 25 minutes of stillness. Once in the confined space, I thought I’d do better if I focused on a topic to comfort my mind and body during the procedure. I decided to focus on Jesus Christ: what I know about His life, His nature and His relationship with me. I quickly went through the scriptures that witness of his birth, mission, atonement and crucifixion and resurrection. Then I recalled the witness of Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove and the Restoration of the Church. And then, thought of specific instances when I’ve witnessed His presence in my life. Which then led me to think—How has any of this blessed my Life??

I thought of my family asking the same thing—how has the gospel blessed us in meaningful ways? I have seven children—each of them are strong-minded, independent human beings with a variety of personalities, skills, and challenges. As different levels of maturity existed, there were times of discord and contention, hurt feelings and misunderstandings. When my children were very little, we talked about the principle of repentance in family relationships. Asking for and accepting forgiveness. It’s not enough to say “I’m sorry” –there must be a change in behavior that the offender accepts responsibility for, so that the apology is meaningful and has credibility. An example comes to mind when my youngest two were in grade school—Joseph, the oldest, at around 6 years old, had repeatedly offended his younger sister—and he had offered his apologies over and over again, but the behavior hadn’t changed until one day, he said, “I’m sorry.” To which 5 year old Arianna responded, “I don’t ass-ept it.” Joseph was shocked by her response; “You have to accept it! You have to! Mom, tell her!” Ari then scolded him for not changing his behavior: “You’re just saying it, but you don’t mean it. SO, I don’t ass-ept it.” A sincere apology is where true repentance begins.

Many years ago, I made some mistakes that I needed to repent for—I worked with my Bishop and leaned into the scriptures and discovered what the prophets describe as “godly sorrow”. Godly Sorrow is a gift of the Spirit wherein I felt great distress over the pain I personally caused the Savior to atone. It is a truly sorrowful grief. To feel my repentance was accepted by the Lord elevated my relationship with Him, as I came to understand more fully the nature of Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. I tasted the sweetness of forgiveness, of wholeness and peace and the full company of the Holy Ghost. I was a changed person. I learned that as I needed mercy, I also needed to extend mercy to others.

So, I brought this loving heavenly principle into my parenting for the sake of strengthening family relationships. It has blessed us just as I hoped it would. My children are especially tightly knit. That is not to say that they all agree on everything—but they do respect one another and are careful to make amends when feelings are hurt. My daughter in law, Tisha, who also comes from a large family noted that when our family gets together, we just talk and enjoy one another, whereas in her family there must be a distraction like an activity that they all deem worthy of their time and effort. Otherwise, there is contention—often left over from childhood. In contrast, our kids just want time together to laugh and talk about life. They’ve learned how to ask for forgiveness and how to extend forgiveness equally. “I don’t ass-ept it” is still a phrase we refer to as a teaching tool in our family relationships. Actions speak louder than words any day.

When we apply gospel principles in our family relationships, we have been strengthened and blessed. My grown adult children are each other’s best friends—they speak daily, they care for one another in meaningful ways, they are open in their expressions of gratitude for one another and turn to each other when life is hard. They love their nieces and nephews, and this is probably just one reward for practicing repentance and forgiveness in our family.

As I lay there in the MRI machine, I couldn’t hold back the tears of gratitude for the loving heavenly principle of Repentance. It is a foundation of our family and we wouldn’t be who we are without it. Focusing on Jesus Christ in all things and in all places—literally can bless us all.

The Book of Mormon: A Love Story --My Sacrament Talk

2021-05-02T15:59:00.002-06:00

The Book of Mormon. What can I say that you haven’t already heard someone else say, right?
Pondering and praying this week that I can share what this 522 page book means to me, in a way that you too will want to read it.
I believe that Heavenly Father speaks to me in a way I can understand, just as Nephi says in 2Nephi 31:3 “For my soul delighteth in plainness; for after this manner doth the Lord God work among the children of men. For the Lord God giveth light unto the understanding; for he speaketh unto men according to their language, unto their understanding.”
If there are those of you who are wondering what’s in this meeting for you today, I want to invite you to apply that scripture to yourself right now.
I love this book. You should know that about me.
What if I told you why I love it? Would it help you to love it too?
In my effort to become a Disciple of Jesus Christ, I have made several covenants—
To follow Him, to keep His commandments, to stand as a witness of Him, to carry His name in my heart at all times and in all places.
I love my covenants. I identify as a covenant maker and keeper. I belong to Him. He is my truest, dearest Friend. I want to know and become like Him.
Reading the Book of Mormon helps me to reach that goal.
I have found that attending my meetings, praying often, partaking of the sacrament, attending the temple and keeping my covenants, and even fulfilling all of my callings—doing all of those essential things blesses my life but in reading my scriptures, specifically the Book of Mormon, I live more abundantly in the warmth of the Spirit.
Written by believers, This is a book about True Love. Love for God, love for Jesus Christ, love for the Gospel, love for self and family, for friend and enemies, for country and liberty, for peace and abundance and love for heavenly things.
Written by prophets who, by divine command and direction, recorded their people’s lives as a testament of their faith and obedience and the blessings that were poured out upon them that followed. And the sad, terrible heartbreaking consequences when the people turned their backs on godly things instead chasing the ever-elusive worldly “happiness”.
If we accept it for what it is—a heavenly guide to return our heavenly home—if we read it with the intention of learning from it, it will change our mortal nature as the hymn “More Holiness Give Me” declares:
“More fit for the kingdom,
More used would I be,
More blessed and holy—
More, Savior, like thee.”

I have found myself at times, overwhelmed by the vicissitudes of life, and searching for direction and answers to prayers. When I approach the scriptures with those needs, I am never disappointed.
I am comforted, enlightened, and more hopeful.

My favorite scriptures include:

2 Nephi 31:3: God speaks to us in a way we can understand him.
3 Ne 17: here is the account of Jesus Christ’s personal ministry to the people, beginning in Verse 5…
5 And it came to pass that when Jesus had thus spoken, he cast his eyes round about again on the multitude, and beheld they were in tears, and did look steadfastly upon him as if they would ask him to tarry a little longer with them.
6 And he said unto them: Behold, my bowels are filled with compassion towards you.

Can you feel the weight of their gaze upon him and the silent pleas of their hearts? What would you feel if you were there?
I relate to this scripture on a personal level. In 1987, we had the opportunity for a general authority to bless our special needs child. Later that evening, I was searching the scriptures and came to this one…I too wanted to linger in the moment of spiritual and physical healing. It is so profoundly the very essence of Godly love.

At a time of great distress in my life, I was unsure of the future. I had made mistakes and wondered if God knew me and loved me—again I turned to the scriptures and came to Mosiah 4:9:
“Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.”
I can recall the very moment when I came to love King Benjamin. It was reading his declaration right there. Believe in God. Trust in His power. I can do that.

And of course, Alma 46: 19:
“And when Moroni had said these words, he went forth among the people, waving the rent part of his garment in the air, that all might see the writing which he had written upon the rent part, and crying with a loud voice, saying:

20 Behold, whosoever will maintain this title upon the land, let them come forth in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a covenant that they will maintain their rights, and their religion, that the Lord God may bless them.

21 And it came to pass that when Moroni had proclaimed these words, behold, the people came running together with their armor girded about their loins, rending their garments in token, or as a covenant, that they would not forsake the Lord their God…”.
My favorite words from that passage are "the people came running"...if I imagine myself in that crowd, I can easily, hopefully, see my self as one of those that "came running" to make a sacred covenant with the Lord for the blessings of protection for the things I love.

How has reading the Book of Mormon blessed my life? A feeling of hope and calm rests in my heart. I sees things more clearly and my ability to keep my covenants is more focused and spiritually lifting.

As it tells the story of Love, I find more love in my life. More love for my Heavenly Father, more love for my Savior, more love for the Gospel, more love and mercy for my Self, more love for my husband and my children, more love for my friends, neighbors and enemies, more love my country and liberty, more love for the prophets and more love for the scriptures.

My invitation to you is to open your heart just as a vessel receives water and read your favorite scriptures today. And you can do like I like to do when a New Year comes, instead of making “resolutions”, decide to learn something new. Read your scriptures with the intent to learn from them how you can more abundantly feel the love that is in them.

I recently had a chance to chat with another woman about talents--
mainly about the sharing of information about her artistic processes
with others who are just beginning the journey to discover their own talents and abilities.

I've worked with a great many Creatives, as I like to call them--the people who are passionate about
their artistic work--painters, designers, arts and crafts type, midwives, florists and on & on. I've met them through various ways, basically as I have been forging my own trail of Self-Discovery.

You know which are my favorites? The ones that share.
They're the ones I remember with gratitude for the moments we walked together on the same path, even for a short time; I smile when I think of them.
They may be miles ahead in terms of advanced skillsets and experience...but they met me where I was on that path and slowed their pace down and generously shared a peek into their creative processes...then our paths diverged and we tossed a smile over our shoulders and kept going.

Following their examples, I try to be a cheerleader for others who are also on their personal paths of Self-Discovery...thinking about an art class I took last spring--we were at the foot of Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs-- a class of around 20 or so, varying in ages and skills and we met there to do some plein air renderings of the Front Range mountains with Pikes Peak right there in the back.

There wasn't any distinct instructions from the Art Professor--she'd already covered the basics in previous classes--so we arrived at the spot, opened our supplies, and started painting the landscape in front of us at our own will and direction.
After an hour, we took a break--something the teacher encouraged--to step back for a moment and look with new eyes at the subject. During the break, we walked around to see what everyone else was painting. Not one single student painting looked like mine. Some were SO obviously above my skillset that day, that I can recall one in particular that just took my breath away because it was just what I would paint if I could paint that good! All of them were interesting and evident of the students abilities.
When I think about that day--we had the same instructor, we had similar tools, the same landscape in front of us--the thing I smile about most is the liberty to express it in our own way was enough.

Two missionaries out

2021-05-02T15:51:00.001-06:00

I kneel to pray ev’ry day. I speak to Heav’nly Father.

He hears and answers me When I pray in faith.

I begin by saying “Dear Heavenly Father”;

I thank him for blessings he sends;

Then humbly I ask him for things that I need,

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Words and music: Janice Kapp Perry, b. 1938

So many prayers have been said for me and mine, especially this past year, it has been quite the journey. I want to remember these days of light when the clouds gather and my eyes are dark. First: I love seeing the growth in our son as he serves a mission; he is a happy missionary, by his own account. And he's down to the last six months of his two year commitment. The blessings he's received has surpassed the sacrifices made.

This Colorado-born young man, had to move away to Oregon to be called back to his home state--and he couldn't have been happier! He's been serving in Wyoming--which he says is the "best state of all states".

Embracing the culture of Wyoming came easily and completely for our outdoors-lovin' Elder. He's learned how to rope, inoculate cattle, and do all kinds of other ranch work--which he hopes to continue post-mission.

Flanked by his two great buddies from Eugene, Oregon--all three joined in the same mission for a bit due to Covid19 restrictions. Elder Siepert and Elder Strasdas on reassignments provided a joyful reunion.

And in two days, our youngest, Arianna, will leave to serve in the Tennessee Nashville Mission!

She surprised us with her decision to serve a mission and though the journey to this point has not been without anxiety and yes, a few tears, we are behind her 100%!

Arianna, the "Caboose" in our family is packed up

and though a little anxious still,

ready to answer her call to serve.

2020-12-18T18:35:00.003-07:00

December 2020!

The year poured out like molasses on cold toast...ever so slowly.

We got three months to the gallon of gas as all of humanity hit "PAUSE" in an historic year controlled by a novel coronavirus that began in Wuhan, China. For reasons I don't understand, the most brilliant minds of the world couldn't come up with a way to mitigate/control/cure this virus before it killed hundreds of thousands of people across every continent, valleys and mountains, time zones, demographics, race, creed and color.

TO protect ourselves, we were told to STAY SAFE/STAY HOME and to WEAR A MASK, to Stay 6 feet away from others, and to use hand sanitizer like our lives depended upon it.

I've journaled my experiences throughout this whole thing so I won't go into much else--besides, if you're reading this in 2020, you already know what 2020 has been like for our country and our world. I don't think I have anything original to say about it.

Mostly, I'm grateful to have gotten through the year without having been infected. Not me, not my family--which are all over the western/southwestern US. Even our youngest daughter who moved to Phoenix, Arizona in the Spring to become an essential worker with her older sister, each avoided getting the virus. I am most grateful for the protection we've had, and can only attribute this to answered prayers.

My focus tonight is to share what it's been like for us as a family:

Starting with our move from Eugene, OR to Canby, OR. on February 24th, 2020. We knew noone here and honestly, aside from a couple of people who've reached out via phone calls from our ward, we still know noone. I can recognize two people who work at the Post Office, and our doctors. It is weird to be invisible in the community you live in during a pandemic. It's been awfully quiet. Mr W worked from home since two weeks after we moved here and still is. We felt impressed not to purchase a home here, so we're tucked in a gated apartment community with our dogs. With nothing but time on my hands, I worked on my art skills and took to sending out cards to everyone I thought could use a bit of sunshine--all over the world. (That's how I know the PO workers!) I took more commissions this year than any other, especially in the Spring and Fall. It blessed my life to have something to do with my days.

Also, all of the husbands in the family worked from home and kept their employment so that we didn't have that extra burden of job insecurity that many faced. Tisha, our DIL, is a teacher in the Boise area, and she had a few hurdles to be able to teach remotely and face-to-face in smaller classes. Her school district clearly wasn't ready for this situation, as many adaptions evolved.

Our missionary, Joseph, reported to his mission a year from today, actually. Just before coronavirus seized the world. He barely got into his area and through one transfer, when he took a bumpy ride through a couple more transfers--which involved a few moves around and new companions in each instance. Missionaries were sent home in the thousands, tens of thousands across the world to get each missionary back to their home land. They had between 24-36 hours' notice in some cases. The church also went through some rollercoaster adjustments to meet different countries' evacuation mandates. Luckily, our son got to stay out, but it wasn't easy as missionaries went into isolation lock downs. It was hard. No in person teaching or meeting with other people--in some weeks they couldn't even meet with other missionaries. Our son was feeling the effects of this and wondered if he was able to endure this kind of life. He was homesick and talked about coming home several times. Our whole family supported him with many calls and letters and Amazon deliveries of treats and vitamins, games and distractions to kill time. At one point, in March, I ordered a WELCOME HOME banner, in case he decided to come home. I was going to welcome him like a rockstar no matter how long he'd been out! I didn't tell him that though. We encouraged him along, prayed for his well-being and told him we'd support his decision whatever it was. It was hard. But you know, serving a mission is a humanitarian service first and foremost, it is voluntary. That he stayed out with no end to the lockdowns in sight is a credit to his desire to serve, and to his Mission President who told Joseph he needed him there.

Joseph rode out the Spring and by Summer, he'd been out for five transfers, had five companions and five areas. For someone who hates changes, he learned to be flexible and adapt on the hoof. He stayed the course, even as others left. He stayed and is happy that he did. He's on his 9th transfer I think, and loves mission life! His personal growth has been remarkable. I always told him that because of his stature, he could never just slip into a room unnoticed. So he had a great opportunity to be a welcomed sight in every room he stepped into--"Oh thank goodness, Elder Anderson is here."--kind of person. He reports that he is "volun-told" to do a great many things in the mission and he's OK with that. Some of which includes: working on a pig ranch, tagging pigs, cleaning stalls, working on a cattle ranch, building decks, clearing land, building pens, and moving people in and out of homes. His mission is so truly for him, as his love of the outdoors has been nurtured: he's gotten to go fishing and hiking in the mountains, and taken his MP hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park, along with other missionaries. He's also taught his district how to butcher and cook chickens. In one city area, he got to be on a golfing group--his companion was a Jr. pro golfer, so together they upped their golfing skills. Joseph's old siblings tease him about the unique mission experiences that are so perfectly designed for him. We can't tell if he's on a mission or a vacation sometimes! Either way, he's a hardworking missionary and if you knew him at all, a tired Boofus is a happy Boofus.

So, let's keep going while I've got a minute.

Arianna, our Caboose, our Bee. She started out at BYU-I a year ago Sept 2019. With the pandemic, she came home in January for holidays, but when it was time to go back, the campus was basically closed to living there. Struggling with anxiety and depression even before the pandemic, we jumped at the opportunity to move her to a sunny place and a job. I've shared before her faith journey--it has been rocky. All we could do was love her endlessly and pray for her to feel Heavenly Father's love for her. She felt stagnant, is how I can best describe it. Well, things turned around three months ago: her sister had a dream about her. She was happy and smiling and wearing a yellow polka dotted dress and a black nametag on it. A black nametag is what missionaries wear on their clothes. She took her dream to Arianna and encouraged her to consider serving a mission, to pray about it because she was so happy in the dream. Now, our girl had never ever said she wanted to serve a mission. In fact, she'd said the exact opposite. A mission was not for her. No way, no how. But she felt something when her sister shared that dream...so much so, that she made an appointment right away with her Bishop and started her mission application. She'd wanted it to be a surprise for me, only to tell me once she got her call, but we had a bump in the road and she had to tell me. I was shocked. No idea at all. So grateful for answered prayers. She had to get her medical and dental visits done before she could submit the application--which takes alot of time during a pandemic! She just this week had her final meeting with the Bishop down in AZ and will have her final meeting with the Stake President down there on Sunday. I'm still amazed. She is giddy and nervous and happy with her decision.

And another miracle to share: Our Diana and her husband have been married six years. Due to infertility issues, they had little hope of creating a family. So resigned to this, Diana had applied to and been accepted to Parker University of Chiropractic College in Dallas, Texas to begin in January. She'd been taking her pre-req chemistry/physiology/anatomy classes to prepare. She figured that if she wasn't going to be a mother she would become a Chiropractor and have a lifelong career. In November, she called complaining about fatigue, food aversions, smells aversions and nausea. I said that she might be pregnant! She wasn't convinced, but after we hung up she took a few pg tests--each one reading Positive. After an appt with her GYN, it was confirmed that she is indeed pregnant and due June 2021!

Now I should share that I'd been praying for awhile that 2020 would be the Year of the Baby for our Nanadoos. She has a mother's heart and always has. When she called and told me the symptoms, I got on my knees and told Heavenly Father that this was her chance to be a mother, otherwise I knew she'd close that door to motherhood indefinitely to pursue a career. Wouldn't this be such a great time to send a baby, I wondered? When she called to tell us the news, she said, "I knew that you knew! You said 2020 was the Year of the Baby!"

So here we are, at the end of the year 2020. I have seen some miracles this year. It has been so devastating for so many, but my witness is that God is in control. That there is still much good to come to us and although this life is not all there is in the eternities, He is in the details of our lives. He hasn't left us to fend for ourselves--we have discovered how resilient and strong we are, and how much we can rely on each other too. This great "PAUSE" has blessed in ways we hardly comprehend. To quote President Russell M Nelson, there are better days ahead.

My family:

Day & Jay: She finished her BS in Psychology and he's received many scholarships in his Architectural Design program at the Univ of Oregon.

Our Idaho Family

Deano with a trout last summer

Our Saudi family is back in the States

my mug: getting old bites

2020: Moving Again

2020-02-13T00:35:00.001-07:00

I'm packing up to move again.
It'll be the second time in 2.5 years.
Mr W did not get the job offer in Colorado as hoped,
but he did get a one in a town north of Eugene
and he accepted it.

So we're moving one hundred miles to a place
that is exactly where my Heavenly Father wants us to be.
It's a tiny town. The smallest I think I've ever lived as an adult.
The one street that runs through it is a secondary highway.
One high school. Two grocery stores. No theater.
Less than four square miles end to end.
There's no homes to buy either.
Well, I looked yesterday and there was ONE.

So while we looked at different areas around this town,
more towards Portland in towns like Wilsonville,
we even had a realtor show us some properties--
but nothing felt right, so we chose to move into an apartment
in the little town until the right thing comes along.

Good things about the move:
It's 2 miles from Mr W's work.
Twenty-two minutes from the Portland Temple.
Seventeen minutes from Costco and Target.
It's not in a valley like Eugene is,
so it gets more SUNSHINE!
Those are soul-affirming things on their own.
And I am grateful.

I am grateful.
I am developing gratitude even when I cannot see the purpose of this journey.
Even when I'm thinning out belongings and packing up again
to move some place I'm not sure about.
Even when I'd rather, SO MUCH, rather,
move home to the Springs.
Because I believe that God has a purpose for my life.
He has promised me that my life shall be "exciting and joyful."

Last weekend, we took a drive to the Oregon coast.
I cast my eyes on the Pacific Ocean horizon,
with it's wintery clouds enveloping the cliffs and giant sequoias
and again I thought,
"I didn't know Heavenly Father had this in store for me. I always had a desire to live in the Pacific Northwest, but never dreamed it was part of His plan all along."
I love this part of the country. The landscape is breathtaking.
I love the roaring ocean.
The huge green lakes and winding forceful rivers.
The rolling evergreen hills, the mossy trees that hang over the grey ribbons of highways.
The natural beauty is inspiring and it's a gift that we are here at all.

I do believe that this is a timed adventure and we'll be home before we know,
talking all about our Oregon Adventure someday.

But right now, I'm cultivating gratitude when I cannot see the way.

Momza Wisdom: Fragile Isn't the Same as Broken

2019-10-20T01:42:00.001-06:00

Egg shells.
Heirloom dishes.
Mirrors.
Instruments.
Antique books.
Jewelry.
Museum fine arts.
Plant sprouts.
Flower petals.

What do all of these have in common?
They're all valuable, useful, important things that we come across in life,
sometimes more than we even realize.
They're also Fragile.
We treat them differently than everyday sturdy things
that we handle, right?

Know what else is fragile?
People.
Men, women, children.
Every size, shape and color.
Relationships can be fragile too.
Health can be fragile: mental and physical.

My awareness of our fragility
became more sensitive recently
after learning about the experiences of some dear friends
who are going through some very big trials.
Some are going through a divorce,
another a serious illness,
a death in the family of another,
a loss of employment in yet another.
And on and on.

One thing I've heard a number of times recently
is the phrase: "I'm broken."
I've been there--
in that emotional state of feeling lost, forgotten, hopeless.
Is it not a Universal experience
for most of the human beings that have ever lived on this planet
and most of those that are here now?

Yes, I've been heart broken.
With time and lots of mending,
restored.
The failure of my first marriage,
the birth of my special needs son--
both times I felt completely damaged into fragments
of who I thought I was and what my life would be.
Understanding came through perspective,
healing followed with time.

There have been other times though,
through deep examination of my own challenges,
the discovery that I am not broken.
I struggle, maybe even weep, lose sleep, and fret,
but a more fitting word is "fragile".
Meaning "handle with care".

Doesn't that sound more accurate?
Handling with care means I slow down a little bit,
examine the pain more closely
looking for the tenderest areas and seek remedies for healing.
Having a mindful approach to my circumstances
creates an inner dialogue that sparks hope in the darkness.
Do what needs to be done,
but invite patience and forgiveness in that space--
maybe for someone else
maybe for my self.

I was talking to a friend who asked my opinion of his actions
in a certain business situation with his nephew,
who had stepped out of line and behaved unprofessionally,
resulting in a loss of business for the family company.
My friend took it as a betrayal and fired the nephew.
There were repercussions within the extended family over this.
I asked one question of my friend:
Was the action of the nephew unforgivable?
My friend thought for a moment and said, "No. Not unforgivable."
"Then, with patience and forgiveness, proceed towards healing.", I told him.

It wasn't even two weeks later
I needed to listen to the same advice myself
within my own family.
Feelings had been deeply hurt and if I let it fester,
the relationship could have become broken.
"But, were the words and actions unforgivable?"
the prompt came front and center to my mind.
Could I forgive and allow time for healing?
Yes, I can do that.
Feelings were raw, emotions tender, the relationship was fragile.
But not broken.

What helps healing come along quicker and completely?
For me it is faith. Faith to ask Heavenly Father for help.
I believe in Jesus Christ's desire and ability to heal my wounds
because He has done that for me all of my life,
at every turn, you see.
I know there is healing and hope in His love for me.
Turning my pain over to Him and asking to see things clearly,
to be able to move forward and make weak things strong--
in my self, in my loves, in our relationships
is all possible because of His atoning sacrifice made long long ago
in the Garden of Gethsemane.

So, if we're able to look at our reality in the light of
"Fragile Not Broken"
we can see things more clearly, right?

Fragile isn't the same as broken.
Fragile requires extra attention, care, compassion, love, patience, and mercy.
Asking for what you need is important.
And while you are healing whatever it is--
know this:
Fragile things are still useful, valuable, important and worthy.

Opening Up to New Adventures

2019-10-06T17:53:00.001-06:00

A new adventure is afoot here in Momza's House.
It began like all our adventures began:
"Heavenly Father, where should we go?"

The job we accepted in Eugene, Oregon turned out to be not-so-good.
The company has had eight new leaders in the 2 years we've been here.
That is loaded with red flags, people.
We had our own reasons for looking at other opportunities--
but that company's flailing about was as good as the others so we started looking.

Mr. W turned his passive looking into agressive searching,
and lo! within a month he had several opportunities come to him.
Two in particular overlapped in the interviewing process,
so he's accepted one--a very good one, here in Oregon--
while he's being interviewed for a better one in Colorado next week.

Now, you know, you have to know that I am praying for Colorado.
It is home afterall.
It's where my Dean is.
Where my mountains are.
I've fasted and prayed for this company twice already,
hoping that this is the best place for us.
And now we wait and we trust.

Goodbyes.

We are the company we keep!

As our Caboose led the way to Brigham Young University-Idaho
three weeks ago,
she still expressed her fears that she's not ready for college,
not ready to be on her own, not ready for "adulthood"...
I love my grown Caboose.
It was hard to let her go too.
A friend reminded me that the thing about Caboose's is that they're just behind us,
if we know where to look.
That's true, hunh?

Moving Day

As we unloaded and put away her things in the new apartment,
feelings were tender as we all felt the newness of the season in front of us.

Helping his sister get set up.

And ending of the family circle it has always been.
The youngest is out of the nest.
It was hard. I can't even pretend it wasn't.

Brotherly love

I have taught her all I can within the walls of my home,
within the reach of my arms.
Now is the season for her to test what she's learned from me
and learn how strong her own abilities serve her needs.
It's been a rough three weeks,
but she's learning and stretching and adjusting
like we all do in new seasons, right?

At General Conference with friends

Just today she sent pics in our family chat
from the LDS Conference Center in Salt Lake City
as she attended with friends.
Look at that smile, people!
My little Caboose is a young woman in the world.

We have just about 44 days left with Boofus
before he leaves for his mission.
He's cramming in as many camp-outs, hunting trips, kayaking and fishing days
as possible before he turns his time and attention to being a full-time missionary for 2 years.
This week, he will prepare to enter the temple for his own endowment.
Another milestone, my friends.
Such gratitude in my soul for his choice to trust and move forward!

Can life be any sweeter than when we ask the heavens,
"Where should I go, Lord?"

The One Where Momza Learns Kayaking

2019-08-17T01:47:00.001-06:00

IN the category of You're Never Too Old to Learn New Things:

I've learned a new passion: kayaking. I even have my own. I fantasized about owning a kayak since last summer when I saw a woman on a lake in her own kayak at a golden hour dust and thought, "That gal has life figured out."

That was it for me. I thought if we still lived in Oregon come summer 2019, I'd have to try it out for myself.

I love it. I love everything about it. The ease of rowing across the water, the scenery of beautiful lakes and shorelines, the solitude and peace...I am smitten.

Mr W and I have gone out on a few different lakes around us--Fall Creek Reservoir in Lowell, Oregon, Woahink Lake in Florence, Oregon, and Fern Ridge Reservoir in Eugene area.

This is Fall Creek Res. last Saturday. It was warm and drizzling rain. We were the absolute only people on the water for at least an hour. Complete Bliss. I cannot live a life without my kayak. Forever and Ever, Amen.

And Then There Were None

2019-08-17T01:32:00.002-06:00

If you've been here since the beginning of 2008,
you know that I have been raising children a long long time
and writing about it--
the good things like moving from Idaho to Colorado Springs to Oregon,
and mission calls and homecomings
weddings and grandbabies
careers and callings
travels and recipes--
I have written all of that and then some!

I used to blog daily for years--those deeply-up-to-my-neck-in-kids years
and I loved it!
I'd get up before the kids on school mornings
and stay up late on summer nights just to get it all down
before I'd forget those moments in the mix of things.

I'm so glad that I did all of that typing and editing and loading pics
that used to take for.ev.er.
It blessed my life then and it continues.
I love looking back over those busy years and recalling them all.
Journaling is a great memory keeper.

It's gotten more and more quiet around here as the last two at home
approached adulthood thru high school.
So I didn't write as much online but kept writing in my personal journal,
because journalling is good for me.

So here I am eleven years later,
the house asleep, it's nearly midnight
and my brain is buzzing such that I need to do a blog dump
so I can let it all go.

First up,

our youngest son, Joseph, has received his mission call.
It was not a straight shot from high school to this moment.
Deciding to serve a two year mission--completely trusting in the process of
where he'd be asked to serve,
moving away from family and friends,
postponing college and career,
and all of the conveniances and habits that accompany his daily life--
including leaving behind a cute young lady he's been dating since last Fall,
and who also happens to be a non-member and doesn't really get why young men do any of this--
well that decision was a hard one to make for Joseph.

And knowing what the sacrifices are,
as parents we couldn't simply insist that he serve.
We encouraged him along, hoping and praying truly that he would make the decision
to go on his own.
A mission is hard. There's not much that is easy about it, so it had to be his choice.
He wanted to go, but wasn't sure if he was ready to trust in the process
or had enough faith that Heavenly Father actually knew him and would place him
exactly where he should be called to serve.
So he vacillated for a few months before finally making the commitment to go.
Once he did, from beginning to end was less than 3 weeks.

He's in Houston, Texas visiting Danielle and her family
as they just returned from living in Saudi Arabia for five years.
His call came last week via email.

His joy is palpable! I've watched this no fewer than 30 times! I love it! We used to live there. We've only been gone from Colorado two years this month. We are all amazed at his perfect call.
He doesn't leave until November--time enough to get in some fall hunting, which was important to him. He'll have Christmas in the mission field.

And lastly, The Caboose. She's heading to Brigham Young University-Idaho in a month.

She and Joseph have made the best kind of friends here in Eugene. They are loving, fun, and accepting of each other. Zero drama. Camp-outs in the mountains, at the beach or lakes, movie-nights, and sunrise hikes. All of these young people are tightly knit and supportive. After enduring the depressed environment in Colorado Springs from so many of their classmates' suicides for two full years, my teens needed a break from it all. It took them awhile, especially Arianna, to heal from the grief that so intensely held her breath that she could barely attend school there. She says the friends here made her feel like she has permission to be happy again. The healing continues for both Joseph and Arianna and it seems that's the best part of moving here.

So with the two youngest leaping out of the nest pretty darn soon here--Mr. Wonderful and I are about to become Empty Nesters! I can't even believe it. I've been raising children since 1983, since I was 21 years old. Seven children! And we've reached the Finish Line of: laundry piles, endless sinks of dirty dishes, meal planning for a family, carpools, curfew watches, bags and bags of groceries and the umpteenth trip to the market to get those groceries, school lunches and PTO meetings, afterschool activities, sleepovers, Church youth activities, looking for the TV remote (and the batteries that always disappeared in them!), shoo-ing kids out the door for church on Sundays and Seminary...I can hardly believe the end is here.

It was a long long Season in Life, but it's finished. And man, I'm missing it already.

My Last Day of School: Celebrating 31 Years As a Mother of School Children

2019-06-04T11:15:00.004-06:00

Pardon my sentimentality today, but it’s a really good day for me! I reached a huge milestone in my Motherhood Career. This morning at 8am, I dropped off my seventh child-- my youngest off at the curb of her high school, culminating 31 years of getting children to school since September 1988, when I dropped my oldest son, (who’ll be 36 years old this summer) off to kindergarten at Shaw Butte Elementary school in Phoenix, Arizona.

Seven children over three decades—no matter what else was going on in my life, or in the world-- I was in charge of getting them to school for 9 months (and some summer school sessions too—the guilty parties know who they are!) to gain an education.

My children went to several different schools, in a few different places: Phoenix, Arizona; Spartanburg, South Carolina; Glendale, Arizona; Colorado Springs, Colorado; Fort Collins, Colorado; Meridian, Idaho; and lastly Eugene, Oregon. Seven children have had more teachers, more assignments, more lunches, more field trips, more sneakers, backpacks, notebooks, pens and pencils, crayons, markers, posters, Science projects and Book Reports than I can even begin to remember!

When I began this long season in my life, George Bush was President. There have been 4 other US Presidents in the same span as my decades of Motherhood. Three Republicans and two Democrats. And believe me, it used to be more civil. Nelson Mandela was elected President of South Africa; AIDS was the biggest news on MTV; shoulders pads and big hair was the fashion (for men and women!), Cassette tapes hadn’t been replaced by CD’s yet. VCR’s were the new thing and they were pricey.

Technology was just on the cusp of what it is nowadays: the Hubble telescope had just launched in 1990. Apple, Microsoft, Amazon or Google were still ideas. Laptops and cell phones were a decade away. Dolly the Sheep had been the first successful cloning. The Euro was created. And Operation Desert Storm began in January 1991. It was the first war that was shared in real time on national TV and I was glued to the television. I even wrote in my journal the name of the first US military casualty, Airman Michael Scott Speicher, shot down outside of Iraq. I cried and promised to remember his name. The kids still had school.

A new gal on TV, Oprah Winfrey with huge hair and earrings you could see from two towns over, was taking over daytime TV talking to mostly everyday people about controversial realities which essentially replaced Phil Donahue—the TV host of my mother’s generation. Television was changing faster than we could keep up with new channels popping up—whereas there’d been about 5 channels for most of my life, suddenly MTV ushered in a host of others—VH1, HBO for starters—and then all the news channels too—CNN and FOX and more filled up the TV log of programming. We got the details of OJ Simpson’s wild Bronco ride on LA freeways and the trial afterwards. We also got the tragic news as it unfolded in Paris the night Princess Diana was killed. And we still had school through all of this—lunches to be made, buses to catch, homework due.

School supplies went from Trapper Keepers, pens and pencils and scratch n’ sniff stickers, to backpacks, laptop computers, n' fancy Scientific calculators. I’ve lived through several fashion trends too—Reeboks craze, Skechers, Jeansco, Skaterboy, denim skirts, Doc Martins, NIKE-everything, and now Birkenstocks.

I’ve helped make school assignments out of marshmallows, Starburst candies, pixie stix, Legos, and Dixie cups and plates, like alot of other parents. I can write reports on Madagascar and komodo dragons, Florence Nightingale, Harriet Tubman, Women’s Rights, Abraham Lincoln and Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men—and so much more, at a moment’s notice.

Having so many children gifted me the opportunity to learn alongside them more subjects than I would’ve ever learned just on my own. I've done each grade eight times, people! First grade through twelth grade--eight times! Their school careers enlarged my world seven times over. I learned more than school topics—I learned about being an Advocate for my child and myself. I learned from writers of books like Wilson Rawls “Where the Red Fern Grows”—a book that I caught my then-8-yo-son reading, one night, as I walked past his bedroom long after bedtime and heard a soft whimper that came from under a blanket where a small flashlight shone. Lifting the covers, his little tear-filled eyes looked up, “Old Dan died.” I’d never heard of the book before that moment. What a sweet memory though. I love that book. Reading has become a passion for most of my children, as it has been mine.

Staying up late creating posters for “tomorrow’s deadline” has stretched my patience as well as my creativity! We can do alot in a crunch these days! From printing off pictures to creating Power Point presentations, the technology available in our home has made our educational experience so much easier and fuller. I can say that with a great appreciation and perspective of not having grown up with it. Definitely a game changer.

Thirty-one years. That’s a Career. I don’t know anyone who’s done the same thing-- consistently for 31 years. I mean, I am certain that those people exist; I just don’t know them. I didn’t even think about it through all of this time either. Reminds me of that old Dunkin Donuts commercial, “Time to make the donuts”. It hasn’t mattered what else was going on in my life, my family’s life—School was Number One. Go to school, get an education. It’s the only thing that can never be taken from you.

Yesterday I was talking to one of my daughter’s about my sudden 31-year-realization and she said something that is still resonating in me today, “We always knew that education was important. Going to college was an expectation.” And just last night, another conversation on the edge of my youngest’s bed, she spoke about registering for College classes today for a Fall semester. Although she is nervous about going to college and the unknowns that are out there yet to be discovered, she said, “I have to go to college so I can have a good Life and not be a dumb-flip.” Yes, you do, Sis. Of the seven children, only one will not attend college in his life—Dean, because he has a handicap that will prevent it. But so far, we are on the right track: all of the gang has gone to college or has plans to attend. Can I just say, without sounding arrogant or hoity-toity, that I am so grateful for this family tradition of ours?

I was raised by a mother who only finished 10^th grade and a father who could barely read though he graduated high school. They never spoke of college to me or my brothers. It was not a family tradition where they came from, so it was an Unknown to them too. Different times, for sure. But I wanted more for myself and my children and education is the way for us.

This morning, at that school curb, as my youngest popped open the car door and said, “I’ll see you in a bit.”—I just had this lump in my throat. Solid emotion. This is my last day of school.

The Caboose Grew Up!

2019-05-28T03:45:00.001-06:00

I Started this blog in 2008. This young woman was in 1st grade, people!

And now, look at her!

A young woman!

What can I say about her that hasn't been said already?

She's the baby in the family. She owns it. Her older sisters have loved her so well,

and she has learned much from them and their examples to her.

My little Arianna Hope is a product of alot of us--

she's had the advantage of older parents (read: patient and broken-in. See also: tired.)

and siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews since she was in 3rd grade.

She likes the outdoors, vinyl records, book series, travelling, odd memes, llamas,

sloths, pugs (She will own a pug one day named Carl), making gluten-free treats,

and a number of other things that make her unique.

Camping/Hiking at Rocky Mtn National Park is a favorite place for her.

We went even while I was pregnant with her; she has favorite trails there too.

She and her dad have a strong, funny relationship: he calls her "Woodsen/Woody/Elwood and she calls him "Consuela or Connie".

Halloween, 2006

Meridian, Idaho

Deckers, Colorado

2012

Halloween 2014

Colorado Springs, CO

"Mama, notice the resemblance?"

Her sense of humor is unparalleled in our family.

Her wit is surprising, candid, smart and quick!

She is a fierce defender of the Under Dog.

If she is your friend,

you have a friend for Life.

Arianna has many nicknames in our family,

the most common is "Bee", but others include: The Beeps, Beebo,

Ari, Beef, Beebopanonymous, and Arianna Soap.

It might just be us, but everyone in our family has nicknames

given to them by their siblings.

She is a batman fangirl; wears batman onesies to school on Superhero day.

She's played piano for years, and just this Christmas began learning the guitar.

She is also a nutter about our dogs, Kota, our 10 yo black lab

And Zuri, our 5 yr old golden retriever that she likes to dress up on occasion.

Sass. Pure Sass this one.

Her siblings are her best friends.

These youngest two are almost always together, since they're the last 2 at home.

They are snarky, hilarious, and all else that goes on between brother and sister.

And this is their last year at home together.

He is leaving for a mission this year and she will be off to college.

I try to imagine what this season would look like--

when the last of the seven children would be flying out of the nest.

It's surreal.

It went faster than I can explain.

She struggled the last 2 years in Colorado Springs with grief and anxiety,

as several classmates took their own lives her freshman and sophomore years.

Moving to Oregon has been healthy for her--

new friendships have grown into strong friendships

that she didn't expect

but truly needed and appreciates.

All of these beautiful young people are her "squad"--

they are together whenever possible

at school, church and play.

Speaking from a purely Mom POV,

the healthiest, happiest thing to witness is seeing your child be accepted by her peers,

and in turn accept herself.

When we think back on our Oregon Adventure--

the first thing that will come to mind is that this was a blessing for our daughter.

We came for her.

She is graduating high school next week!

I can't even believe it!
I'm so excited for her. (And sad for me!)

She has done well in school here--

her favorite classes have been history, government and Pre-Law.

She is heading to Brigham Young University-Idaho--

for her first degree.

She has declared Health Sciences as her major,

planning to get her degree in Public Health and go onto becoming a

Cardiovascular Surgery Technician or Radiologist.

She asked me to create and paint her graduation announcements;

after a few mock-ups

this is the one she chose--

those emerald evergreens of Oregon.

A new season is here, my people.

I have so much more to say.

But we're on the cusp of a new adventure.

Create! Lemon and Blueberries Indoor/Outdoor Wreath Recipe

2019-04-08T17:24:00.000-06:00

I love summer and blueberries and lemons!

So I created this refreshing wreath for my home.

It's so easy, anyone can do it!

Here's the Design Recipe:

1 grapevine wreath

2 1/2 - 3" ribbon (I chose wired and un-wired)

1 blueberry bush, separated

1 eucalyptus bush, separated

1 magnolia leaf bush, separated

1 olive leaf bush, separated

1 bag large permanent lemons

1 bag assorted sizes lemons

Step 1: Separate the bush stems from the main stem, using wire cutter and set aside

Step 2: Lay down the magnolia leaves in bunches of 3, going one direction around the wreath. Using a hot glue gun, affix to wreath.

Step 3: Next add the olive branch leaves, affix with hot glue.

Step 4: Make the bow(s) and affix to wreath using floral wire.

Step 5: Prepare the lemons but removing the tiny green stem end and using leftover stems from the leaves, and a dab of hot glue, stick the stem into the opening. Let cool.

Step 5: Add large lemons. Place them at the lower curve of the wreath and tuck them in going upwards.

Step 6: Add the smaller lemons, mostly at the top half, tucking them in and under leaves.

Step 7: Add blueberries in and around the lemons and ribbon.

Step 8: Add the eucalyptus stems in and around the lemons and ribbon.

That's it!

Eight easy steps to creating your own Summer Wreath!

Passing Through Gethsemane

2019-02-04T10:46:00.001-07:00

As an artist, inspiration is everywhere. My eyes and heart tend to find muses based on my moods.

When I was having a particularly tender day last week, I turned towards the gospel of Jesus Christ for relief and came across this passage from Elder Jeffery R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, "The path of salvation always goes through the garden of Gethsemane."

The image above is what came from those words. Having never been there in person, I relied on pics online for reference--the twisted gnarly branches of the olive trees are beautiful, and their small leaves demand little water to thrive in the desert climate. What else would I put into my artwork that would tell the story? A solid rock. To symbolize my Savior, who is my Rock, my Redeemer, who went to that place and atoned for my sins, my sorrows, grief and pain.

Years ago, I went to a women's conference at Brigham Young University with my daughter, Dara. She was a senior in high school and I wanted time with her alone. Having been to Women's Conference a dozen times or more over the years, I had several experiences planned for the two of us. I wanted to show her the beauty of this conference and why I'd come so often to get my spiritual cup filled and fortified.

The first day of conference, two significant things happened on the first day: my special needs son, Dean had to be removed from his host home due to a volatile situation. And my missionary daughter, serving in New York, was in a car accident.

Suddenly, my focus was not on the conference and the daughter with me--but on two other children who were hundreds of miles away, in situations that were serious.

Dara and I kept our schedule to go to the classes we'd chosen, while I was madly texting back and forth with Dean's case manager and Diana's mission health office. I was physically and emotionally "a hot mess", as my Southern roots declared.

But I was in the right place that day. In the first class, speaker Elaine Marshall shared her life experience as the mother who lost a treasured son, dying at the age of eight years old. Grief for his passing held her tightly; her mother heart mourning his absence continually. Out of concern, her own inspired mother came to her and kindly suggested, "You've spent too much time in Gethsemane. Jesus has already been there for you. Go find another garden."

Is that not the most beautifully inspired words of comfort? "Go find another garden."

It is a wondrous thought to dwell on Gethsemane garden and what went on there when Jesus performed the Atonement. It was there that He took upon the sins of the world--the indescribable pains of all of God's children collectively--and by doing so, granted us access to forgiveness and grace, mercy and redemption, making it possible for us to continue to evolve as mortal and spiritual beings.

But sometimes, I spend too much time in my own Gethsemane. It could be said of me, that I set up house there. Always tending to my sorrows and sins, grief and guilt, as if being ever-mindful of them will make me a wise, worthy steward; a responsible woman, mother, wife. So automatic is my "tending in Gethsemane", that I forget that's it's okay to leave my troubles there and accept the Atonement as it is meant to be accepted and move "onto other gardens".

What I'm recognizing is how limiting that exercise is--to beat a path to Gethsemane and set up camp there, as it were--to indulge or to punish--my own well-being instead of trusting my cares to the Master Gardener. It is a matter of timing, perhaps, that I learn how long to linger in that sacred Garden before looking ahead and moving out of it. I can trust in Him whose garden it is and leave my cares right there in His care.

As for the crisis of that day--it all shook out to be manageable. My son moved to a better place and has been there for 5 years. My missionary daughter got the medical care she needed and finished her mission successfully. The trip with my daughter did strengthen our relationship and we created sweet memories.

It was never intended that we, as God's children, take up residence in Gethsemane's walled garden; He has greater desires for us than to be prisoners of our mortal bodies and earthly trials.

That's why He send His son.

There is comfort in Gethsemane--I know I will yet visit there many times over in my life, but I will try to remember that the Savior, the Great Redeemer of all, the One who sanctified that place, both figuratively and genuinely-- He also left that Garden a long time ago.

Words For Life

2019-01-04T05:07:00.002-07:00

January is here and I'm wide awake for it.
Ready to claim my place in all of the history books of Me.
If you had asked how my 2018 went,
even a month ago,
I'd have shook my head and said "it was rough".
But that's not the truth.
Not the whole truth, anyway.

Upon further reflection, as I was writing in my personal journal
on New Year's Eve
I started to chronicle my past year
and discovered that alot of really awesome opportunities
were given to me and mine
and I actually had much to be thankful for--
especially the gift of Time.

Whereas I've been working for more than a decade--
part-time, full-time, double-time
in any number of ventures,
2018 was not a Year of Work.
It was more than that--
a year of healing
a year of reconnecting
a year of travel
and discovering that my definition
of Adventure
more closely resembled the definition of
"vacation" (noun. an extended period of recreation, especially spent away from home or in travelling.)
than the true meaning of Adventure altogether.
It means "unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity."
This reality check helps when I am uncomfortable in my current situation--
that is,
living in Eugene, Oregon and missing my Colorado Springs.
We are definitely having an Adventure!
Still, 2018 was good to me. Better than good, it was also Kind and Giving.
I had time to do alot of things that I haven't had before and that was a true Gift.

My word for 2018 was Patience.
I will claim it as a Win. I was patient when I didn't want to be.
I was patient with the people I love when it wasn't easy.
I was patient with my circumstances.
I was patient with my Heavenly Father, when I couldn't see His view clearly
or understand why, no matter how much I pleaded,
a certain child made a choice that would lead her in an uncertain direction.
But I loved her anyway. I have to claim that. I stepped in when I wanted to step away.
I had three important opportunities to show and exhibit Patience,
and I passed.

Last night, as I was settling down for sleep,
I entertained different feelings for how I wanted to claim a word
for 2019--
I'm going to try some new things this year--
and when I say "new" I mean: I've never done this before,
it's not going to be easy, but I believe I can do it.
The word that came floating to the top of the Word Pile:
REACH.

It applies to all that I hope I can do in 2019:
Reach for my goals,
Reach for stronger family relationships,
Reach for a greater faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Reaching out to serve others along the way too.
Reach deeply for peace and gratitude, come what may.

So there's my word.

In 2007,
during a particularly hard year,
I had a gal over to my house for an Uppercase Living party.
I wasn't in the mood for a party,
but felt somewhat obligated to host this for a friend.
As part of the demonstration,
the Demonstrator gal showed how easy it was to affix the vinyl letters
to the wall.
She let me chose one word among 3 offerings
and I chose "TRANSFORM".
I don't know why I chose that one,
but in that moment, I casually thought I'd just pull it off once the guests
had left the house.
But I didn't.
I left it up there for almost a year.
It was on a livingroom wall that led into my bedroom--
I passed it a zillion times a day and somewhere in there,
I began touching those vinyl letters
as I walked by them,
absorbing, accepting and appreciating
the word, "Transform" into my life.
That word helped me get thru a very hard time.

Words matter.
The words we use make a house in us.
What's your word of the Year?

New Seasons

2018-10-29T07:58:00.001-06:00

October finds me in Eugene, Oregon for the second year.
A year ago today our house sold in Colorado Springs,
and I knew then
that a new chapter had begun in our lives.
We're still writing our story here,
getting to know our way around the city,
find our favorite places,
make new friends ( that has been slower than I thought it would be),
adapt a little more than planned,
but you know, it is what it is.

Mr. W and I see this as a holding pattern for now.
Things are getting shaken up at his business
so there's the feeling of transitions in the air.
Which, btw, is totally OK with us.
He's been fielding calls from recruiters again,
so who knows what the future holds?
It's a new season.

Speaking of which,
Here's a pic of the Caboose--
who, if you've been following this little blog of mine
from the beginning, was just a 2nd grader way back when
and is a senior in high school:

She's growing up!
Sensitive, hilarious wit, stubborn as the day is long, and filling out college applications!

The last little chick in the nest.
My Caboose is about to take flight and leave her old mother behind.
Oh my.
These seasons go by so fast, don't they?!

A Summer to Remember 2018: Return to the Persian Gulf

2018-09-10T09:23:00.001-06:00

As Dani and her family ended their summer break tour, it was time to head back to their home on the Persian Gulf.

Her husband returned earlier in the month, so I went along to help her with the kids on the long, long trip back to Saudi.

My trip started in Eugene to Salt Lake City, Utah where I met up with Dani and her kids.

Now, the only drama began here with my luggage. Since my first flight began in Eugene, it was a separate ticket, altho on the same airlines, Delta. When I got to SLC, I asked three different Delta employees to make sure my luggage was transferred along to the next flight leg of my trip to Dammam, Saudi Arabia. I was assured at all instances that it would be, no problem.

My seat partner was 3.5 yo Gracie who is a fabulous little traveler! Her mom packed a travel pouch of treats and toys and that cute Unicorn headband that holds earphones so she could watch kid shows on the plane.

From Salt Lake City our trip took us to Amsterdam, The Netherlands. That's a 10 hour flight, but Gracie did great. Hannah, the youngest of Dani's crew at 2 years old, was a hot mess at times, so I was happy that I was there. Dani's boys, Garrett, 8.5 and Isaac, 7, were happy to sit for hours looking at their tablet games.

The next leg of the trip was Amsterdam to Dammam was 6.5 hours.

We were so tired. I hadn't slept most of the way, to keep alert for Gracie, so I was beat.

It's always great to get off the plane, right?!

My luggage didn't make it.

I filed a lost luggage report with KLM airlines (the Delta partner) and went to Dani's house to assuage the jet lag.

The next morning came sooner than I'd have liked, but Gracie took a spin outside with me.

The Persian Gulf is as I left it two years ago...quiet, blue waters, hot and dusty air.

It wasn't as hot as before, thank goodness, only in the low 100s.

The evening sunsets are amazing and I wish I'd taken more photos of it.

Dani and I had a few trips into town and even one to Bahrain.

The architecture is interesting to me--this is not the only building shaped like this Jetsons-inspired structure. I don't know why they build "up" like this, but there are some truly interesting buildings there.

Bahrain is colorful and vibrant compared to the area of Saudi that Dani lives in. Also, it is more westernized than Saudi and is compared to a "wicked Babylon" because it allows movie theaters, liquor, strip clubs, pork products and such that is prohibited in Saudi. Also, women do not have to wear abeyas! Which made it so much nicer. Dani bought me my own abeya, and I wore it when necessary, but it was nice to take off in Bahrain. I brought it home with me.

Again, there are the Western influences everywhere...restaurants, clothing, autos, etc.

One of the biggest changes to see in Saudi is women in the workplace such as in Internationally-owned retail shops and women drivers.

Pork area designated as such by the "Non-Muslim" signage.

Dani treated me to a delicious Thai food restaurant while in Bahrain as well as a day at a local spa she found called "Diva" which is owned by a Bahrainian and employs Philippine single women to work there. They live in a shared apartment and work together. Such a nice day!

We went to a newer chain of stores called LULU'S...think "Walmart" style and you'll be close!

It has alot of everything--clothing, home goods, and food.

They sell fancy dresses for women and girls, as well as a custom-clothing shop for the whole family.

How cool is that? The fabrics look luxurious, but not practical for daily living, imo. They also have a whole floor full of western clothing for everyone, but I didn't take photos of that. This is where you'll have to imagine Walmart's clothing sections.

Ok and onto food: for being a desert country, they have a ton of produce. Dani says it comes from northern Saudi and around the world.

And thank heavens for recognized brands of salsa!

Camel steaks, anyone?

There's also a retail store called Jarir's that resembles a STAPLES and a Borders book store.

It carries electronics, office and school supplies.

Mosques: There are literally thousands of mosques in Saudi Arabia. Their custom is to build one within walking distance for their citizens. No two look alike, as far as I can tell, but they're easy to spot because of their unique shape on a cityscape. The call to prayer is broadcast outward from the mosques and I still find it interesting.

Dani's part of a group of women who host a Holiday Bazaar to benefit the foreign workers on their compound and asked me to do some artwork to be sold. I did a little bit, and hope to do more and send it along to her before the bazaar in November.

Plus a few more, but you get the idea--Saudi themed art sells at the bazaar.

My last morning on the Persian Gulf. It was a nice day, the humidity was down and Dani said let's go outside for a bit. I'm glad I did.

It is so beautiful. Until I went there two years ago, all I associated with the Persian Gulf was the war.

I imagined it to be exactly opposite of what it is in reality.

My kids return to the states in ten months as their contract ends.

They have mixed emotions about leaving this part of the world.

I'm more grateful than I can say for the opportunity to experience Saudi Arabia for myself.

I cannot say I'd like to live there, I wouldn't for alot of reasons.

But the lessons I've learned there will last a lifetime.

*p.s. I got my luggage back in one piece on Day 7.

A Summer to Remember: The Healing Power to Conversion

2018-09-08T07:56:00.001-06:00

"I don't believe in God.", she said.
Sitting in the car, outside the mall. Just me and her.
If it's possible for the blood to drain from limbs without injury,
I surely felt it in that exact moment.

She had been dropping hints quietly at first,
but over the course of a year
had made it more evident that
she was in a crisis of faith:
dropping out of seminary,
ditching mid-week activity at church,
withdrawn from Sunday meetings as much as she could,
rejecting opportunities to pray with the family,
and so on.

I chalked it all up to the depression of losing so many of her classmates
to suicide in Colorado
and hoped the many counselling sessions and equine therapy
would help her find her self,
and likewise, find her faith.
So I didn't make a big deal when she placed it on the back burner.

But now, sitting in the car, with the words spoken outloud,
it hurt.
I took it personally, when I shouldn't have.
I sat in silence, then I poured out my heart in the form of my story,
my testimony to her.
It made no difference, you see, because it wasn't ABOUT me.
It wasn't about my faith or my experiences with God, our Heavenly Father.
It was simply about hers, but I couldn't see it for what it was in that moment.

We rode home in silence.
And I set about unraveling the whole chain of events
that had led my beautiful, witty, clever daughter to this
very dark place in her life.

Arianna's baptism day

She had lost over a dozen classmates since her freshman year.
That was hard on us all.
In her declaration of atheism, she noted, "If God is real, then why didn't He save those kids? Why didn't he send someone to them to keep them from dying? Where was He?"

Isn't that the most common pain in the world?
Looking for God's hand in our lives at critical times
and wondering where He is?

"I don't know.", I answered.

We've been through so many trials over the past few years,
I can see where her faith would fall flat.
My own faith has been shredded from time to time
and much effort has gone into holding my own ground
in the midst of it all.
I could definitely see where she was coming from.

My final answer to her that day was,
"I hear you. May I suggest that you not make up your mind completely about the reality of God
and give it a little more time?"

She shrugged. "I don't need anymore time. There's no such thing."

And we left that topic alone for awhile.

This was my Bee, my Caboose. The designer of the "Holiday Bath" since she was little:

My heart was more heavy than I thought I could bear it to be. First, Dara and now my Bee?

I prayed to know if Heavenly Father would let her slip away without a fight. I prayed that He would hold onto her, as I most certainly would.

I shared my concerns with my 27 yo daughter, Diana. She has a particular bond with the Caboose due in large part, I think, to the fact that Diana was present at her birth when she was 9 1/2 years old. They are very close and I needed her perspective on this matter. She was saddened. As I shared this blog post with her, she added the following thoughts:

"Right after you told me Ari didn’t believe in God I sat in my bed, sobbed, read my scriptures and prayed to know how to help Bee. It was clear as day when He told me EFY. That’s when I texted and called you. Then I called the kids at the dinner table thinking if I could get Joe to go that Bee would go. That there was one date open for them and one session that wasn’t full that worked for their summer schedule. That’s when she said she’d think about it. We texted for weeks about her going and I tried and tried to convince her to go. That experience was just a bit more personal for me though.
That was just a powerful moment for me. And at the end it strengthened my testimony to know that God knew my desire for her and made possible what He told me to do. I couldn’t afford EFY but I knew that was the plan for her."

The very next month, I went to BYU's Women's Conference.
I had intended that Diana, Dara and Ari go with me,
but in the end, it was just Dara and I.
Midterms were the same week, so Ari couldn't come.
Diana had work constraints that kept her away.
While in Utah, I was meeting with a dear friend to discuss some design plans
for her new home in Bountiful.
We got to talking about the family
when I shared with her our concerns for Ari.
Sarah asked if we'd considered sending Ari to EFY this summer?
We had, in fact, asked Ari if she'd like to go,
and her reply was, "I'll think about it."--basically No Thank You.
But Sarah took this into her own hands
and while pulling up the EFY website on her tablet,
said, "Let's see what's available."
EFY is usually completely booked by early March,
in my own experience with other kids' attendance--
we've missed out on it many times bc we tried to jump in too late.
It being May, I had little hope there'd be a spot.
Sarah pulled up one Session and it had 1 seat left.
One Seat Left.
In the matter of a "click", it was claimed for Ari.
Sarah said, "This is no coincidence. This is for Ari. God's hand is in this, Dawn. Now you just have to get her there."

My heart felt hope in the matter. I needed that open slot as much as Ari did. And there it was.

I went home and with some degree of nerves, I told Ari about the experience and what she was now signed up for in August.
She wasn't happy about it, as I knew she wouldn't be. But we still had months to prepare:
we had the Family Reunion and she had a 3-week trip to Arizona with her favorite sister, Diana.
EFY was set the very next week of her return. I would hold my breath until then.

Diana and her Bee

The family reunion came and went. The news of her declared atheism was a small truth floating around the family--her sisters and brothers wondering how she came to that point at all, living in our family. Still, we loved her, spent time with her, and prayed for her to feel God's love.

All of my girls at the reunion

When she returned from Arizona, she had a mere 5 days to prep for EFY. She complained about going many times over those 5 days. In fact, the night before leaving she came to me, crying and asked me to please not send her. She didn't know anyone there. She might have a panic attack. She might die on the flight over...and on and on. Kent was away on a 10-day backpacking trip with Joseph, so it was all on me to get her there.

I'd found a super cheap flight on Alaska Airlines from Eugene to Salt Lake City, so she was going to have to get up at 3am the next morning to make that 5am flight. I was worried she wouldn't go, honestly. I called Sarah that night before and told her what was going on. "She'll be fine once she gets here. EFY is a blast of fun! My kids have loved going! Heavenly Father is in this, I know it."

So. This is where the story takes a meaningful turn. As Ari is freaking out, I said a silent prayer asking what my part is and how I can best help her. The answer came so powerfully, that even now, weeks later, I feel the impact of it. What happened was this: I felt her pain. The loss of her friends. The struggle with depression. Grief. The stress of moving and feeling like she abandoned her friends in Colorado who are still dealing with the suicides of their friends. The stress of her dad's unemployment. The despair, the overwhelming despair in her heart. I felt just a little bit of what she's been carrying in her heart and that's when I cried with her. Instead of trying to find all the reasons why she should have faith in God, I felt the pain she carried.

There is something wondrous about knowing someone else is carrying our burdens with us. It is not the same as being sent to a counselor, or buying new things, or new experiences to distract us from our pain. It is not even close to that. It is more healing than that. I still lack the words or total understanding of why that is or how to access that power, but I know that it is real.

Me and my Caboose

The next morning, I woke up at 2:30am waiting to hear the bathroom shower go on by 3am, signaling Ari's intention to be on that flight. Three a.m. passed and nothing. I wondered if I had it in me to demand that she get up and go. I wasn't sure that I did. Finally, at 3:15am, the shower turned on and I breathed a sigh of relief. How respectful of her to do something she thought would be hard for her, because I had promised her otherwise. She did have trust in me after all.

I greeted her with smiles and hugs and off we went to the airport.

FYI, this is her being sarcastic. She still wasn't sure what lay ahead of her, but she was going because I promised her it would be a blessing for her.

Heading for EFY at 5am bc her family told her it'd be good for her

The rest of her trip was nothing short of manna from heaven.

Sarah picked her up on Saturday morning and she stayed with them until EFY started on Monday morning. Sarah is amazing with youth and I knew she'd be so loving and kind.

Ari attended their ward on Sunday, where she was good and loved on by some amazing members there. Another lovely friend, Roxanne, was kind enough to pick her up from BYU and take her to the Salt Lake Airport at the end of the week. THANK YOU for those who know how to express warm welcomes and loving hugs to newcomers, wherever you are!

So, I purposefully do not text our girl for the first couple of days beyond "Hey sis, how ya doin'?"

She needed some distance from family. This was the first time she'd gone anywhere by herself without family.

The third day away, I get her response: "Freaking awesome!....oh man this is just the most amazing place ever!!!"

And the lights came on. She felt God's love for her personally. He knows her pain. He never left her side. She can rely on His Love for her and for her former classmates. Her heart is healed.

There are some obvious details left out to honor her sacred experiences there, but truly it was all in a matter of small moments that her life changed.

I'm still pinching myself at this outcome. So grateful for tender mercies. For the healing power of Christ's atonement and the reality of His promises to us. My girl came home with a 1000 watt smile, beaming from the inside, radiating confidence and hope in the present and in the future!

She changed schools at the last minute to be in the same one that the girls in our ward attend. She is doing all the things that she learned to do at EFY to keep that fire lit--reading the scriptures and praying and keeping her heart open. She's going to start seminary next week and is looking at going to BYU for school and perhaps a mission.

I always say that if there's anything remarkable about me it's the company I keep.Sarah lives her life in such a way that she can feel the Spirit and is willing to be a blessing to those around in her. We are so grateful for her kindness. We need each other. I've known that for years. It does take a village to raise our children up to Christ. And let me just say, while I don't know all the realities that keep our kids from coming to Christ, I do know that they are not alone. EFY was the answer to our prayers. It is worth the effort and I highly recommend it!

And family matters. We are a tight knit little band here, no matter how many miles separate us, we talk daily, we exchange kindnesses and prayers between each and every one of us. We are truly in this together and I am so impressed by the actions of my grown children, I couldn't be more grateful. All of us care about all of us in meaningful ways. We don't let go because we belong to each other.

Danielle took Ari to the temple grounds while she was visiting here, Diana gave time and counsel and whatever else she had to making sure Ari knew she was loved, Dara--even on her scenic route--expressed concern for Ari's well-being, Joseph stepped up in caring for his younger sister by spending more time with her, inviting her to youth activities when she didn't want to go, and on and on it went for months and continues.

We are so grateful for the light in our Caboose's countenance again.

This is Ari's senior pics taken the week she came back:

There's my happy Caboose. Thriving, as she says.

A Summer to Remember: First Family Reunion & The 1st Wedding

2018-09-08T06:13:00.000-06:00

Our first Oregon summer did not disappoint.

The rain departed and left glorious sunshine.

Two days after Joseph's graduation, Dani and her kids arrived from Saudi.

We spent time exploring Oregon's coast, the zoo, and whatever we could find in Eugene.

Then, we had our First Family Reunion at Depoe Bay.

We rented a charming beach house on Bella Beach, that was the best retreat we could've asked for!

Everyone came home for it and we had a blast!

And then, the wedding day came.

It was a hard day made better by the love of family.

We don't understand the path our Dara has taken--

we tried with all our might to get her to reconsider her choices,

but in the end, we decided that our best choice in this hard situation

was to step up and be true to who we are, and the kind of people we want to be.

I'm quite sure that this brought out the very best in my other children and their families.

They stepped up and served up support and love.

It was a day made better by the love of family.

A Summer to Remember, The Beginning

2018-09-08T05:52:00.001-06:00

I want to be more philosophical about this post. Mainly because I'm feeling alot of concentrated mushiness on the topic...but I'm not sure how this is gonna go down.
This past summer was one for the books! I mean from the end of May to the beginning of September, we were hoppin'! This season of motherhood for me is winding down in major areas and just gaining speed in others.
This second grader in 2008 (when I began blogging) affectionately known as Boofus, The Boofdawg, Boofinator, Boof Boof (thx to Bee), Boof, Sasquatch, or Joseph as I call him most days, THIS little cub scout right here:

He grew up!

He graduated from High School! It was a day that strengthened my faith in prayers, because school is not his thing, yet. He didn't mind going, but man, did he hate homework. He had to pick up speed near the finish line; we weren't sure how long we'd have to hold our breath until he crossed, but cross it he did. By the grace of a few teachers and counselors, he made it!

What can I say about this young man? Well, he's now an Elder of the Melchizedek Priesthood, ordained by his own father, and preparing for a mission soon.

The last time we measured him, he stood at 6'7" tall.

That means we shop at the Big and Tall section. We buy his size 16 shoes online. His sleeves are never long enough for his sasquatch arms--thus, the rolled up cuffs.

He is still his father's shadow.

If Mr. W is doing anything, and I mean, anything at all,

Joseph is right there next to him. His favorite place to be, just like the sign says!

This summer he spent more hours than I know, at the lakes and ocean fishing.

He rented this 14' kayak for a day to try it out for a future purchase and was as happy as a clam.

Joseph's love of the outdoors is a blessing in his life. The sunshine and physical activities keep him happy and busy. He has matured alot this summer alone.

Short term he's working at Home Depot to save for a mission.

He's thinking after hunting season he'll start the process of filling out mission papers. And then the greatest adventure of his life will begin!

And that's how our Summer began, Part 1.

July 2018

2018-07-09T23:45:00.001-06:00

Been awhile.
My first winter in Eugene was maddening.
Rainy and gray, cold and rainy, green and rainy.
Rainy day in and out,
I craved the Colorado sunshine like none other.

When the sun came out one morning in April,
I had a physical reaction to it:
I cried.
It's been terribly lonely here.
I didn't work much,
altho I did have some design consults
in Colorado and Utah,
which kept me sane.

Oregonians kept promising better days ahead in the summer
and they were right--
summer has been a welcomed relief of sunshine and decent temps.

Joseph graduated high school, people.
He was in 2nd grade when I started blogging,
and now he's graduated.
Holy smokes.
He's preparing for the Melchizedek priesthood this Sunday,
and then working for a few months to save up for a mission.
He had his first Sunday in the YSA ward already and liked it.

Arianna is on the scenic route--
declaring she doesn't believe in God at all
as she reflects on the many classmates that took their own lives in Colorado
over the past two years.
While it is a new issue that none of my other kids have presented,
I feel hopeful she is still figuring it out.
She continues to go to church, and is in fact, going to EFY in a month.
So we'll see.

Dara got married two days ago to that agnostic boy that we hoped would dissolve.
It is more drama than I can share,
except to say that we're calling this her First Marriage,
and this is her Journey.
We love her, we care for her, and we always will.
It's been rough.

We had a First Family Reunion all last week
at Depoe Bay, Oregon.
We rented a beach house for all 16 of us
and had a blast.
"We drank like pirates and partied like hippies"--
(although we don't drink at all),
but from sunrise to sunset there were several trips
to the beach,
lots of whining from grandbabies (to be expected),
too much food,
evenings around the fire pit discussing childhood traumas,
one-ups, successes in the past and present,
sarcasm-fueled laughter was our love language,
and too much food to be sure,
hugs were given,
selfies taken,
tears (both the sad and the happy kind) were shed
and memories made.
We loved this time together.

It isn't over yet.
This Oregon summer.
Dani's family and Dean are here until Friday.
Then Kent and Joseph leave the 27th for a ten day hiking/backpacking trip
in the Bob Marshall Wilderness in Montana.
Arianna, who's in Arizona with Nana for 3 weeks (they left today)
will return briefly for 5 days and then go to Provo, Utah for EFY.

I will be alone in the house for a week!!
That means naps and lots of painting for me.
And not cooking.
Paper plates for one, please.

I may or may not be going to Saudi with Dani when she returns August 20th.
Still deciding that one.
On the one hand, she may need help flying around the world with 4 kids--
although she's done it so much I think she'll be fine.
On the other, I hate that trip. It's so uncomfortable and exhausting. Jet lag. ugh.

If I go, I may stop to sight see in another country like I did last time I went.
But it's not that great of a temptation to make me really want to see it alone.

So that's it for me.
I'm hanging on for dear life and waiting to see what the next month brings.

Call Your Mom

2018-01-31T06:41:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about the notion that a mother’s heart travels about the world outside of her body as it moves where her children move, in sync, as it were, like an avatar in another dimension.

It must come with the territory of motherhood. Seeing that a mother’s heartbeat is the very essence of creation of her embryonic heritage, and as it grows to maturity and once her sacred child is born, a bit of her heart—some would say, mostly all of it—leaves her body forevermore. As a young mother, those first few days and nights are spent on high alert; I spent guarding over each of my newborns. They were always within arms’ reach. A little sigh, a whisper of air, a grunt of discomfort—whatever noise came from this little beacon of light—any of it at all, evoked a physical reaction in me. There is no more faithful guardian of treasure than a new mother. Such devotion demanded sacrifice of any precluding selfish needs. Sleep? Only a little, when the kingdom is safe, thankyouverymuch. Food? Anything offered is accepted, but the energy to prepare it is lost due to lack of sleep.

Sleep, you see, is the main focus of the day. At first, the lack of sleep is barely noticed because the love hormones are flying through my body—such pure amazement in the creation of another human being elicits high energy in body and mind, so much that to sleep through the experience is not possible. The idea of sleeping off this miracle is ludicrous. Adrenalin-fueled wakefulness is part of the after-birth. And thus, a mother is born.

Once the adrenalin has worn off, the call of duty pushes a mother to continue to sacrifice her needs over the infants. I do believe this intense period of sleep deprivation is a fragile time in a mother’s life. What I learned was that I didn’t need 9 hours of sleep to get by, as had been my previous habit. Somehow, without understanding it, I could get by on much less, and interrupted sleep for weeks on end. Craving it always, but accepting the lack thereof for the most part. Of course, I had intense despair in the heat of the moment when the baby was ill, for example, it would catch up to me and my body demanded a release of exhaustion. Usually through a veil of tears. But overall, I looked forward to getting up with the new baby for those 2am feedings. The still of the night, when it was just baby and me while the rest of the world slept—those were sacred to me. We had a rhythm outside of the clattering world that created sweet melodies of a personal chorus that only the baby and I knew. I welcomed greeting my little creation in the soft light of night, pulling their warm body into mine, and reclining in the rocking chair next to the bed by the window where I could see their little features, inhaling their freshness, innocence and the pure welcome of their being.

I looked over them with critical eyes—is everything well? Clean? Safe? I took my duty seriously. I welcomed the privilege of motherhood and the responsibilities that came with it.

Even when the baby learned to walk and talk, I followed them everywhere. My mother radar on full alert. I used to joke that I needed to sew bells on their clothing so I could hear every step of their daily journey around the house. And they likewise, followed me around like chicks to their mother hen.

Jokes that "mother cannot go to the bathroom alone" exist because of the truthfulness of the matter. Children need their mother. It reminds me of a moment frozen in time: our family was seated at church and as always, I was between the two youngest children at the time, Joseph and Arianna—both of whom were still in elementary school. I was wearing a bracelet given to me by a thoughtful friend that had birthstone charms for each of my children on it. The children knew which stone was theirs and enjoyed twirling it on my wrist until they found their stone. Joseph, snuggled up next to me was twirling the bracelet softly around until he found his yellow topaz stone, stopped to admire it, and whispered into my ear: “You belong to us.”

A greater truth could not have been said. I do. I always have. I always will. Above every other calling or duty, desire or distraction—I belong to my children. They have sanctified me by the very cause of their existence. I have no other genuine purpose but to be their mother, no matter how old we all grow to be.

So when they turned into teenagers with small measures of freedom entering adulthood, it was only natural that I would ask where they were going, with whom they were going, and when they were returning. Eyes may have rolled at me in utter disdain for they saw it as long, gripping apron strings on their person—but in truth, it was totally selfish on my part. I needed to know when I would be whole again. They were taking my heart out into the world with them and I would be incomplete for their journey. Even then, I didn’t know why it was so important to know the details of their comings and goings, but I see it now so clearly. While they were gone from my sight, not only did I miss them and worry for them, I missed a part of me.

When my son and two oldest daughters served missions—David Scott in Montreal, Canada; Danielle in New Jersey; Diana in upstate New York—they could only write home once a week and calls could only be made twice a year on Christmas and Mother’s Day. Usually the emails came on Monday mornings as that was a designated “Preparation Day” for missionaries in our church, or “P-day”. It was set aside for them to tend to their personal living skills —cleaning their apartments, grocery shopping, laundry, writing letters home and to their Mission President to let us all know how they’re doing, etc. It is a very important day for families, particularly mothers as we wait to hear from our children wherever they are serving all over the world.

What I discovered from my first time as a “Missionary Mom” is that I didn’t really care so much about the contents of the email—while I enjoyed the news of the week, mostly I took comfort that my son was healthy enough to get to the local library in Montreal, or Ottawa, or Ontario, or any of the other 10 cities he was living in at the time. That’s all I cared about. He was alive, he was healthy. And of course, always needing a few more dollars in his bank account. Initially, in the first few months of his mission, I would sit by the computer waiting for the “You’ve Got Mail” voice chime to alert me of his email. But soon, I turned up the volume on the computer so I could be in another room and hear the notification, so I could get things done. It was a little maddening, really, to go through that for two years.

It was the exact same for my daughters though only 18 months each. Every P-Day was the same. I just needed to get their emails and only then could I go about my day at ease.

Now most of my children are adults. Five of the seven have lives far away from home. The closest is nearly 8 hours away by car, while the furthest child is a 24-hour flight on the other side of the world. How grateful I am for modern technology that allows our melody to continue! I speak to almost all seven children nearly every day—whether by phone or via FaceTime—I get to hear their voices and know that wherever they woke up, they are safe, healthy and happily taking care of my heart. They are my heart—David Scott being my firstborn is my refiner’s fire. He made me a mother. Danielle or Dani as we call her, is “my mother’s helper”—her presence helps me be a better mother to the rest. Dean, my special needs son, is my soft spot. Lessons I’ve learned from him have been hard and sacred. Diana is the peace-making middle child. She tries to keep on balance and keeps us balanced too with a soft word of praise or reprimand, she has a unique relationship with all of her siblings and it is safe to say she is the “favorite” if there ever is such a thing, though she’d tell you there is no favorite. Dara or “Day” calls or checks in throughout the day on her way to class or on the way home from class. Most conversations with her revolve around her lack of money (it burns a hole in her pocket) or her latest favorite topic is the young man she’s been dating since October and wants us to like him as much as she does. We do not. So that bit of conversation is short and ends well when I answer her request for a money transfer. Day likes everyone. She wants to adopt everyone. She always has been a friend to the friendless, the quirky and questionable. Her dating habits reveal the same, unfortunately. She wants to save some poor man and make better out of him. Another story for another day.

And then the last two at home—Joseph is on the verge of flying out of the nest after graduation this Spring, and Arianna or “Bee” will be the last chick in the roost for one more year. And then it will be officially noted that I will have parts of my heart trekking all over the world and still be able to breath. A miracle in and of itself.

Moral of the story: Call your mom.

How Long Can I Say I'm New Here?

2017-11-15T20:21:00.001-07:00

This is my world right now.
When the clouds lift a little between periods of rain.
It looks magical, really.
I don't mind the rain.
I'm getting used to not carrying the new umbrella I bought--
to be more like the local "Eugenians"--
think boho-meets-homeless
and that is a fair description of most of the people I see--
wet, damp, crumbly--
on a daily basis.
I did see a most unusual sight the other morning
after dropping the kids off at school--
Jack Sparrow on a bicycle!
I mean CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. On a bike.
In the middle of traffic.
Tall, lanky guy with long dark hair tucked into pirate scarf tied to the side, long twisty beard,
huge black coat, puffy pants tucked into boots, a tattoo over a cheek, dark circles under his eyes--
it was AMAZING!
I wish I'd taken a photo.
I was describing this to someone else the other day--
"I've seen that guy!" they replied.
Totally validating my description.
Captain Jack Sparrow lives in Eugene, Oregon
an hour from the coast
where I logically presume,
the Black Pearl is awaiting his return in the shadows of the sea.

I love that the autumn season is long and stretched out over months
like it should be.
Seriously, it's a full-on season here
compared to the two weeks of fall we get in Colorado.
Excuse me, we got in Colorado.
I love that there are still trees yet to lose their leaves in gold and red.
That is the second thing that the Pacific Northwest has completely wowed me with so far--
the beautiful autumn.

Just today I realized I lost track of how many weeks we've been here.
I want to say 7, but it could be more.
And that realization makes me wonder how much longer I can say,
"I'm new here." when meeting someone new.
I'm learning how to get around, less dependent upon my GPS.
Meaning, I still get lost, take a wrong turn, writhe in agony when I miss my exit--
but eventually,
I see something familiar and find my way home.
I have a 100% Success Rate of sleeping in my own bed every night
so that's kind of a big deal, right?

So I'm not [new] here.
I know where the Post Office is.
More importantly,
I know where Home Goods, Pier One Imports, Ross, Marshalls are at--
and can stop by Trader Joe's on the way home if I want.
Yeah.
What isn't here is my whole heart.
I left that sucker in Colorado.
Pikes Peak is holding onto it until I return.
If I could, would be tomorrow,
I'd be packed up by midnight, no kidding.

Of course, I'd be homeless once there because our house sold
and the closing is on Friday.
Friday is gonna be hard, not gonna lie.

SO autumn leaves, misty magical foothills and Captain Jack Sparrow
are three things to keep me steady.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

2017-11-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

This morning after I dropped the teenagers off at school,
I decided to stay in town rather than drive straight back to the apartment.

As far as apartments go, it's decent.
Nothing special about it, except that they allow our behemoth dogs and it's newer than 1960--
which is saying alot in a place like Eugene--the land where time forgot.

Instead, I drove to find a place for a quiet breakfast by myself.
For years I have craved alone time at home
but now that I'm not working,
I have all day long to paint or read or do whatever--
I feel like I'm missing out on something.
The other part of that, is of course
that my friends are hundreds of miles away
and now that I have more time to play,
I have no friends to play with...bummer.

So I stopped at Panera and treated my self
and then wandered across the parking lot to Hobby Lobby and Marshalls,
just scooping up Christmas gifts for grandbabies
and little Christmasy decor for our tiny apartment,
that seriously,
I have no idea how we're going to fit a Christmas tree inside.

From one store to the next,
I noticed these dark stencil-looking shapes
all over the sidewalks.
Like ghosts of former leaves
they scattered and melted with the rain.
I had to bend down and get a good look at them
with my "watercolor eyes"--
affirming that Mother Nature is the best artist.

Divine Design: Where We Live is No Accident

2017-11-05T10:58:00.002-07:00

An A-HA! moment came into light.

We are not called to a Place,

we are called to a People.

Thinking about our recent move to the PNW,

feeling like a fish out of water here,

wondering why we're here and all that

I was reminded that we are here

after years and months of intense fasting and prayer--

by ourselves, our family, our friends all over the world--

that we would be employed again,

and remembering too,

my spiritual impression that we'd be moving to the PNW

which began in early 2014--

ALL of this came to light

and brought with it,

"the peace that passeth understanding";

we're here in answer to all of those prayers.

And it's not the place that will be part of our journey,

it's the people.

Isn't always about the people??

Doesn't it just make so much more sense?

It does! It does!

I was just called and set apart as the Relief Society Secretary.

I can do that, easy peasy.

We have a work to do and lessons to learn,

and this is the best place in the whole world

to accomplish that.

We went to the Portland Temple yesterday--

I couldn't wait to bring my family there

as I'd been there the week before with sisters in my new ward

and I loved it so much.

Yesterday was my 39th anniversary of being baptized into the LDS Church

and going to the temple

just made it so great to celebrate the decision of my 16 yo self!

So that's it.

Eugene, Oregon

you're an answer to our prayers.