Momza's House

Down to the Finish Line

2013-05-20T14:46:00.000-06:00

I love finish lines...
whether it's a real race-to-the-finish-line
or a metaphorical one,
I'm definitely one who loves to
see the end of a competition.

I'm in a season of finish lines--
aren't many of us
as we let go of another school year?

Fifth child, Dara is graduating high school this week.
Last night,
was the celebration of Seminary graduation.
Seminary, for my friends who are not of our faith,
is a religious training class that all high schoolers
attend beginning in the 9th grade
continuing until the end of their twelfth grade graduation.
I'm pretty sure,
that no matter where you live--
if there's a high school nearby,
there's a class of seminary students.

Some of my kids attended what is called "early morning Seminary"--
which is exactly as it sounds--
they had class beginning around 6am.
I'd be lying if I said it was awesome.
Fact is, it's a sacrifice for anyone whose ever attended,
taught, or driven their teenager there.
Six am is early.
Diana had the good fortune to attend "released time Seminary"
while we lived in Idaho--
it's just another class, considered an elective,
and the classroom is a building just off campus.
Daisie has had both-- early morning and released time.
Early morning for her,
was awful.
She just couldn't get her bum out of bed
many mornings.
Her senior year, however, this school district changed to released-time.
As one new graduate last night shared,
"I'd like to personally thank the person who let us have released time Seminary.
There is a special place in heaven for you."

So we're done with that
until Joseph goes into high school
in August 2014.

Speaking of Graduations,
after Dara's ceremony on Wednesday,
I won't ~~have~~ get to attend another one
until 2018.
Having attended four yahoo's graduations already,
plus my own,
I can't recall a single word that has ever been spoken
at any of them.
Nor any of the speakers, tbh.
But, I am ready to be finished with high school
for another year.

Also on my "finish-line"
is Sixth grade.
Come this Friday,
I will have officially completed my eighth year
in 6th grade.

Something totally worth celebrating
is that our missionary, Diana,
is halfway through her 18 months.
Her release date is January 12th!!!

I may start breathing again.

So those are my "finish lines"--
what are some of yours?

BYU's Women's Conference: Busy Hearts & Hands

2013-05-10T10:47:00.001-06:00

While at WC,

waiting in line:

"we came, we saw, we conquered!"

There are so many interesting classes,

it's not hard to find one

worth waiting in line for--

there's about 10-12 different classes offered

every hour and a half.

We got in line early for the one about communicating with our children.

As you can see, we were pretty early--

you just get in line, have a seat, and hang out, have a snack, visit with others,

whatever.

This painting got my attention:

Do you recall the bible story about this? It's always been one of my favorites.
When one of the classes we wanted to take was too full,
we headed over to the BYU Bookstore
and hung out with the many artists and authors there
signing their many works.
One of which was Howard Lyon.
We got to hear all about his latest art called
Mary Kept All These Things.
and how it tied to
The Light of the World-
notice the two paintings
share the same shroud--
it first belonged to Mary,
and in having Jesus wear it
in the other picture,
the artist simply reminds us
that just as He is the Son of God,
He is also the son of Mary.
My heart just melted.
And just standing there,
listening to the story behind the art
that an associate shared with us,
was a spiritual experience--
seriously.
~

Compared to our snowy spring in Colorado, Utah was in full bloom.

In fact, Colorado had a major snow storm while we were gone.

The Springs got 6 inches of snow!

Aside from the talks/classes

there are ongoing opportunities to participate

in Service Stations:

one of which was making greeting cards

for local hospices and Ronald McDonald houses.

Also, the creation of both Adult and Child Cold Care packs:

As well as educational kits, hygiene kits, baby blankets, booties, and knit hats...

And this one that we jumped in to help; several thousand fleece blankets that would be delivered to local hospitals, orphanages, social services, Catholic Charities, and women and children's shelters:

Above the fabric is being cut into little rows for tying.

Ya just grab a seat and start tying the ends...

Almost done!

We went back the next day

to finish off the

2000 yards of donated fleece.

We didn't miss any classes while doing this either,

because there was a class on the other side of

this gym,

and we got to listen to it.

It's one thing to go on a trip

and enjoy yourself,

it's another to also jump in

and make a difference for others.

Discovering the Beehive House & Little Roots

2013-05-09T19:39:00.000-06:00

On our mother-daughter trip to Utah last week,

Dara and I made it a point to visit

The Beehive House.

I'd been here just once before,

a long, long time ago.

A former residence of Brigham Young,

we had heard years ago

that a certain rocking chair

which my ex's family had inherited

through family lines,

and

which I myself, had rocked

my firstborn son in,

had been donated to

this home-

now-museum.

So we were on the look-out for it:

This is a main floor receiving room.

One of many paintings of Brigham Young:

note the beehive carved into the frame--

that little hive is in many details of the house.

He chose the beehive as a symbol

of industriousness and common consecration of

the early pioneers' faith and work.

In our house, this would be called "The Home Teachers' Room".

A painting of a harvest:

That is some chandelier...

The tour guide/ sister missionary shared that the room below was actually designed by one of Brigham's sons...added onto the house years later:

Kinda fancy, hunh?

This is actually the bedroom of one of Brigham's daughters...Clarissa, I think.

That was an actual dress of hers.

One thing I noticed is that all of those people

were really small in stature...

dare I say, "hobitt-ish"?

her bed:

Things on her dressing table:

A son's room,minus the featherbed:

Ok, I don't know whose room this is, because I was lagging behind the tour:

This was a child's learning/play room:

Look at those little tea sets...how cute, hunh?

A small dining room:

A storage of sorts...fabric, grains, shoes, just lots of things for a home.

A picture in the hallway:

China dishes:

Another painting of the man of the house:

The formal dining hall--

with it's original hand-stenciled walls.

I imagine a great many dignitaries spent time here:

We were thinking that we'd reached the end of the tour,

with no rocking chair in sight...

at last we came to this room

right by the exit door:

And there it was.

The little rocking chair.

I believe it had belonged to

Zina D. Huntington Young...

a great great great Aunt to my children:

Physical proof that somehow,

we are all connected.

Dean Update & Apologies to Angels

2013-05-09T11:40:00.001-06:00

This is where I'm at--
I got the call about Dean.
It came.
He's good.
He is more than good.
He's left the hospital
and (fingers crossed) I'll get to see him
tomorrow, maybe.
At any rate,
I will get to talk to him later.
Whew.
Whew.
(Exhaling my held breath.)

If you've been holding good thoughts or prayers for us--
thank you. thank you. thank you.

Man.

Ok so I haveta share what else is going on in Momza's House this week:

Basically, while I was at BYU's Womens Conference last week,
I heard a wonderful talk about communicating with our sons and daughters,
as well as another talk about the journey of marriage.
One of the speakers,
whose name I cannot recall because I didn't write it down,
quoted Jeffery R. Holland:
"Words are sacred"---
from a talk he gave in April 2007
entitled,
"Tongues of Angels".

For some reason,
I hadn't heard this before.
Or maybe I did,
but don't remember it.
Whatever--
I heard it and decided to claim it for myself
and my family.

I don't know about you,
but our family can definitely do better
with the tone and words we use with one another.
And while I could easily point a finger at each of the 3 teens
in this house,
I have to own my part too.
When I get tired, especially,
patience is in low supply
while curtness is easy-access.

Because of the powerful way this hit me,
I knew it would be a wise thing for me
to share with my family...
so my thinker started thinking
of ways to introduce the topic
and the practice of being better in our use of
words.

I got home Saturday night from Utah,
n' when me and Mr W had a quiet moment,
I shared my experience with him--
could we also share it with the kids? I asked.
He gave it a "go"
and we decided we'd use it as a
Sunday night Devotional.

Well in Sunday School,
that talk by President Holland was shared
and again,
just confirmed to me that this is important.

Sunday night rolled around--
we called all the yahoos into the family room
for Devotional.
Mr W pulled up the talk on the iPad
and after introducing it a bit,
I told the kids we're going to take turns reading
it outloud.
You'd have thought I was asking them
to pull weeds
in July...
their excitement was that high.

Determined to make this work,
I told the yahoos
that this wasn't about their language,
it was about mine.
I need help remembering that angels are writing my words down,
and I don't want a heavenly being
having to write ugly words at all
that might come out of my (sometimes) thoughtless, frustrated
mouth.

It worked.
Dad started reading,
then passed the iPad to me,
and then onto Daisie,
Bee, and finally Joseph.

It looks alot calmer in black and white
than it was...
even as the kids were reading
they were critical with missed-pronounced words,
reading too slow or too fast...
it was not a smooth process.

But we got through it.
Finally.
There were a few times when I'd stop the reader and ask
"could you read that bit again? I liked that part."
The reader either did or did not mind...
but read it again.

After finishing the talk,
I asked the kids to share what it is
that they really need to hear
from us at home.

Daisie suggested we write our thoughts down
instead of saying them outloud first.
Whatever works, I answered.
So we passed a pad of paper around
and wrote what we need to hear more at home:
ME: "Thank you, Mom."
DAD: "Thank you. I appreciate you."
DARA: " You can do it!"
Joseph: "I appreciate what you do."
BEE: "I love you."

At first,
it was suggested that those little words
wouldn't make a difference.
I offered up that, whatever means were needed--
drawing a picture,
or writing a Post-It or alot of Post-Its--
"Words Are Sacred"
"Angels Are Listening"
--whatever might help us to remember
our new habit we wanted to create--
that it be done.

We even "practiced" the kind words with each other:
"I love you, Bee!"
"You can do it, Day!"
"Thank you Mom and Dad!"

And that was Sunday night.

Monday night,
as crazy a day as it was,
we cued up Elder Holland's talk
on the TV
and watched it together.
Discussed it for a short few minutes,
had family prayer and that was that.

Tuesday was a crazy day in our home,
due to the situation with Dean's needs--
and yesterday wasn't much better.
But I made a conscious decision
for dinner time,
that instead of eating in the kitchen
we'd actually "set" the dining table
so a real conversation could happen.
Sometimes,
it is a little thing that helps me get where
I need to be--
changing things up even a little,
seems to help.

So we sat down for dinner
chicken- fettucine(flat noodles)- alfredo(white sauce)- florentine(spinach);
and even before we could get to the prayer
unkind, impatient words flew about the table--
I calmly said,
"Hey. I've gone to the trouble of making a nice dinner tonight
because I love you guys and I do not want to hear ugly words
at this table."
The Bee added, "Yeah, angels are writing them down, guys. So shut up."
"I mean--sorry, Angels--be nice!"
So we went around the table with our *3 Questions:
I asked Joseph to go first,
"What was the best part of your day?"
Without hesitation he answered,
"Sexual education."
"Yeah? Do you have any questions for us?" I asked.
"Nope." then he sang a small lyric from an unfamiliar tune
to which both girls busted up laughing
and in unison, joined in--
I was clueless.
The only lyric I got was
"its just around the corner..."
and much more laughter from the kids.
"OK", I said. "I give up--what's that about?"
Dara and Bee both exclaimed that it was from the
Sex Ed movie series that the school shows.
Oooo...kay. Weird--my kids have memorized the song
from the sex ed class movie.
It took months of practice to get their times table down,
but after seeing a movie once, they've got the song down.
"What's the song have to do with it?" I asked, oh-so-ignorantly.

"It's about cleaning your gentiles!" Joseph busts out, laughing.

Gentiles? oh my gosh. no.
Mr W cracks a grin and shakes his head.

"Why aren't we filming this, Mom?" Dara asks.

I shrug my shoulders in defeat.

"Well the angels are already writing it down!" Bee reminds us.

"Sorry, Angels!" offers Dara, heavenward.

Oh heavens. I'm sorry too.

*3 Questions:
1-what was the best part of your day
2-Share something you learned
3- Something you did for someone else

A Long Night in the Garden

2013-05-08T10:49:00.001-06:00

Daybreak couldn't come soon enough.

Yesterday was one of those days

that will not be forgotten.

It started out rough

because I'd been worried about my Dean--

something was up,

my mother heart warned.

I didn't sleep well the night before,

thoughts dragged through my mind

kept me alert

as if on a watchtower.

The routines of morning kept me going,

small distractions really.

Then,

the phone rang.

And I knew.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood

as an agency social worker told me the news:

Dean was in the hospital.

He had a major psychotic breakdown at his day program

and had a police escort to the local hospital.

I noted which hospital,

made a couple of phone calls,

got myself together--

that took longer than one would think,

because I could not,

for the life of me,

make a decision about what shoes to wear!

Stupid. Time-delaying decision.

I ended up grabbing sandals

and heading out the door

towards the hospital for Dean.

In the car,

I prayed,

"Please let him be OK. Please tell me what I can do?

Please save him."

I cried. I sobbed. I begged.

I re-traced all of the events that have led up to this moment.

I'd just had a meeting on Monday

discussing Dean's need for a medication check-up,

a neurologist appointment,

a psychiatry evaluation,

and everyone at that meeting agreeing

it all needed to be done quickly,

yet lamenting about Medicaid's delays

in scheduling those appointments.

And here it was,

twenty-four hours later,

the culmination of my worst fears.

I was met at the door of the ER

by Dean's day program director, Rob.

His eyes wide opened,

relating the awful events of the day

that led to Dean being placed on lockdown

in the Psych Unit.

Events so awful,

I felt the blood leave my head

and had to sit down

or faint on the spot.

This is not my Dean.

This is not my son.

This is mis-managed drugs in his system.

This is the lesion on his brain that is inflamed

and still has not been addressed

since we found out about it in December!

Who is accountable here, the Psych Unit Intake Director asked--

the Agency case workers shrugged their shoulders,

casting their eyes around each other and at the floor.

I raised my hand,

"I am. I'm his mother.

And while these other agencies were supposed

to be making the appointments,

and caring for my son's needs,

they didn't, so I should have.

He's my son."

The case worker guy offers the lame excuse

that Dean's hospital-stay-paperwork

was mis-filed--

the needed referral, lost.

So they didn't know.

Seriously, that's what the guy said.

Is it ok if I'm angry about that?

I didn't get to see Dean.

His attending nurse came out

and asked if any of us knew what would help

calm Dean down?

The other agency workers shook their heads 'No',

but I got her attention,

and dug into my pocket

to pull out a set of latex surgical gloves

that I had intentionally grabbed

from under my bathroom sink

for Dean.

He loves those kind of gloves,

has, since he was a little boy,

and in my haste to leave the house,

I wanted to bring something,

anything,

with me for Dean--

"Here. He likes gloves.

He wore a pair of these every day he was in the hospital

in December. I don't know why, but these make him happy."

Smiling, she took the gloves from my hands

and headed towards Dean's room.

My positive thoughts from this are that

hopefully, now,

Dean will get his meds adjusted,

get that appointment with a neuro that he needs,

and he'll be better.

I was told it would be better for me

to come home than to sit in the waiting room

and that when a doctor had evaluated Dean,

I would get a phone call.

That was 14 hours ago.

I held it together pretty good,

I think.

It wasn't until Kent came home from work

last night,

found me in the kitchen cleaning like a madwoman,

wrapped me into his arms

and held onto me,

that the dam burst forth with tears.

This is hard.

I have prayed on my knees,

in my car,

in the shower,

in my heart.

Returning again and again to the Garden,

I have lifted my sorrow to the heavens.

This morning,

I woke early,

but feel calm.

I can trust that for whatever reason(s),

this,

THIS experience is part of God's plan

for my son, Dean

and me

and our family.

We are not alone today.

If you're so inclined,

prayers are appreciated.

Moving out of Gethsemane Garden

2013-05-07T09:23:00.001-06:00

Last week I had the opportunity to attend

Brigham Young University's Women's Conference.

It's a two-day event that

celebrates

uplifts

enlightens

and educates women

in all kinds of areas in Life--

from raising children to money management

careers and marriages,

living our faith and sharing it with others.

I have been going since 1993

and enjoy it every single time.

I will share more about the experience as a whole

another day,

but today I want to focus on a particular talk

that has been ruminating since I heard it last Thursday.

The speaker was Elaine Marshall;

her manner was lovely and articulate--

not ethereal,

but real and present,

totally relate-able.

It was my pleasure to listen to her.

She shared some of her life's journey,

which included the loss of a treasured son,

who died at the age of eight years old.

She didn't go into the details of his passing,

but openly shared her

deep deep grieving--

her mother heart was broken to peices

and she mourned his absence

continually.

Her own mother, in an effort to comfort her,

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 beautiful, inspiring words of comfort?

Sometimes I spend too much time in Gethsemane--

it could be said of me, that I set up house there.

Always tending to my sorrows and sins,

as if by being ever mindful of them

will make me a

wise steward

a responsible woman, mother, wife.

So automatic is my "tending in Gethsemane"

that I forget that's it okay

to leave my troubles there

and accept the Atonement as it is meant to be accepted

and move on

to other gardens.

While I was at conference,

the first day I was away from home actually,

I got a call from the agency that cares for Dean.

There'd been an incident so disturbing

that he had to be removed from his host home.

I was nauseas, upset, 'fretting' doesn't even cover it.

I wished I was back home--"forget Conference", I thought,

"I need to be home."

Through constant texts and phone calls

all day,

I was kept updated on how he was doing.

He wasn't injured,

in fact, he was "OK" despite the situation.

Into familiar Gethsemane I went...

ready to let go of the busy, fun schedule we had planned--

I brought my 18 year old senior, Dara with me.

And I must say,

that she is the reason

I kept myself busy with the planned schedule.

I couldn't let her down.

We have needed this time together very much,

and I had to get a grip on events I couldn't control,

and control the things I could.

SO,

we carried on

and visited another garden:

The best part of that day was going to

Temple Square:

The beauty and peace there was like the Balm of Gilead

to my heart--

alone it lifted me out of Gethsemane

and gave me rest.

Also on the first day of my trip,

I was given notice that my missionary daughter, Diana,

who is far away in New York,

was in a car accident.

I went right back to Gethsemane...

-how hurt was she?

-would she be coming home?

-whose fault was it?

I got a few answers--

a concussion, whiplash,

but otherwise ok.

Still, my mother-heart retreated to the familiar path

to Gethsemane...

I said prayers

for my children,

and decided that instead of setting up in camp,

that perhaps I could trust that these

sorrows also,

could be entrusted to my Friend,

whose Garden it is.

I allowed my self,

my heart,

my mind,

to leave Gethsemane

and rely on His atonement...

and leave my cares right there

in His care.

Though the rest of my trip was not "trouble-free"--

I was enabled to take charge of my experience there

with my daughter, Dara,

and together our trip strengthened our relationship

and provided opportunities to bond and create some great memories.

She will be out of my "view"

soon enough...

before I know it,

and these days will be those days--

how grateful I am that I felt comforted and peaceful

in the midst of trials

so that we could enjoy our time together.

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 sent 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--
well,
He also left that Garden a long time ago.

Rustic Luxe Style: Before & After

2013-04-23T06:26:00.001-06:00

New looks in the store this week--
I like taking Before's and After's
and had just about cleared this mantel
when I remembered to take a
Before of it:

AFTER:

This chest was being painted with Annie Sloan Chalk Paint

last week,

it turned out so beautifully.

Truly changed the whole vibe of the room, don't you think?

Change is constant at Shades of Amber,

when one piece leaves,

we jump on the opportunity

to move things around

and introduce new pieces to show off!

Rustic Luxe is really simple--
combining simple things with luxurious--
Think, "burlap meets cashmere";
anything goes really as long as it ends with comfort.

All of the wood furniture you see,
has been refinished with Annie Sloan's Chalk Paint--the side tables, nesting tables, dining tables,
even the chandeliers!

Next Week:
The Bedroom

Momza's (So Easy) Spring Rolls

2013-04-22T18:18:00.004-06:00

You want easy, fresh and yummy?

Easy Spring Rolls

Ingredients:

5 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

1/2 head cabbage

3 stalks celery

5 carrots

8oz. fresh mushrooms

salt

vegetable/canola oil

Rice Stix

Spring Roll Wrappers

Fresh Mint

Asian condiments

brown chicken breasts with a little salt

Gather your veggies, wash them.
This is the easy part:
Get out your food processor,
use the long blade cutting edge:

Cut cabbage in half, then in 1/4s

Feed into food processor, along with mushrooms and celery

Then flip the cutting edge over for the grated side:

Shred carrots

Finish browning the chicken:

Remove cutting edge and put in centerblade for food processing:

Cut chicken into chunks, and hit HI for a couple of seconds until chicken looks shredded:

Mix veggies into large fryer or wok:

Toss until mixed and cook until a little soft

Add cooked chicken:

Now get out fresh mint leaves;

And Rice stix and Rice Spring Roll Skins:

If you want, you can soak a handful of rice stix in hot water for a few minutes until it resembles pasta:

Get out your asian condiments: soy sauce, plum sauce, peanut sauce, red chili sauce:

To cook Rice Stix:
Put a little canola oil into a frying pan,
heat it up, as directed,
and carefully lay the rice stix in the hot oil,
it will cook super fast...like 3 seconds!
Remove it and place on plate.

Get out your rice wrappers:

Lay in a pie dish filled 1/2 with water for about a minute,
until very soft and pliable:

This one isn't ready, just about another minute:

Spread it on a plate,
add noodles if you want:

Add chicken-veggie mixture

Top with mint leaves;

Roll like a burrito and enjoy!
p.s. there was too much food inside of this wrapper to roll into a small spring roll, so cut the amount to about half of what you see pictured...THEN, roll it and dip it!

My People Are Your People, Too

2013-04-18T11:14:00.002-06:00

This has been a rough week
for my people,
Americans.

Our hearts jumped to our throats
when we saw the Boston Marathon bombings...
how could this happen again?
we ask our selves.

How has this affected my family?
Well, we never turned on the main floor TV this week
with the news channels that are covering the events
in Boston.
I don't want my kids to deal with this terror...
it's just too much.
Kent and I watched a bit here and there this week,
but even then,
didn't want to know every minute detail of the investigation.
The images alone are too powerful to dwell on...
my people in Boston are your people too,
and when our people hurt,
we hurt.

This morning I woke to the fertilizer explosion in West, Texas.
Not only is the plant obliterated,
but the neighborhood that surrounded it.
Our people in West, Texas are hurting this morning.
So much pain.

Every morning I wake up wondering if Korea has fired a nuclear missile off yet...
I have people in Japan.
You have people there too.
We heard that Norad was a long-range goal of Korea's targets...
I can see it from where I'm sitting.

What makes our country a great one,
isn't our politicians--
it is the resolute, strong citizens--
Our People--
the ones who carry the burden of care
on their shoulders--
the medically-trained,
the firefighters,
the ones who rush into the bomb-scene
instead of away from it,
the men and women who run into burning buildings
and believe they can make a difference.
It's our teachers who don't "clock out"
when the school bell rings.

So many good, loving people in our country
that inspire me to be better.

Our people are hurting.
Prayers and Love for my people in Boston,
for my people in Texas...
my heart is yours today.

"There is nothing wrong with America

that cannot be cured by

what is right with America."

Easy Sopapillas!

2013-04-14T20:46:00.000-06:00

All right so who doesn't love homemade sopapillas?

This is an easy and yummy treat.

Ingredients:

Quaker Tortilla Mix

Milk

Oil

Powdered Sugar

Follow the directions on the package of mix;

2 c mix + 1/2 c milk

Mix until it forms a ball.

Now the secret to success is the temperature of the oil: 400o.

Use a thermometer. Don't guess.

Put the oil in the pan of your choosing--I use my trusty wok.

Dust the counter with flour.

That's my dough ball.

Cover it in the bowl for 20-30 minutes.

(I've left it longer and even refrigerated it overnight bc I ran out of time to make them--

so just let the dough sit out until room temp. and continue on as directed.)

Take out the dough and knead it for 5 times on the floured surface.

Cut it in 1/2...makes it easier to manage.

Put the other 1/2 back in the bowl & cover to keep from drying out.

Roll it out into a thin square, then cut the uneven edges off. I use my pizza cutter.

These are about 1/8" thick.

Once the oil is 400o slide one of the squares into it, gently.

DO NOT DROP IN--AVOID SPLATTER.

It will truly burn you.

ALSO: Make sure children are not near you while doing this,

or any other distraction.

Using a slotted spoon or tongs, turn each sopapilla over once...

they cook very quickly--in just seconds, really.

So only work with a couple at a time.

How to tell when to turn: It will "puff up" when it's ready to be turned.

Some puff up more than others, so don't cook longer than a few seconds for each one.

When finished layer on a napkin/paper towel covered plate and top with powdered sugar if desired.

Yum!

Make the 2nd batch the same way. Check the temp of the oil to make sure it's not too hot. If it is, just turn down the heat level while you roll out the dough. It should cool off in that time and be just right or thereabouts.

*Don't forget to put the hot pan of oil on the back burner of your stove until it cools before you dispose of it. And do not put it down your sink.

Enjoy!

What My Children Know About Faith

2013-04-11T20:30:00.001-06:00

"Hey, Momza..." I hear on the other end of the phone.
It's my oldest son calling long distance from Boise.
"Hey Buddy! How are you?" I reply.
"You sure? You sound sick.", concern in his voice.
"Yeah; just a cold. I sound worse than I feel, really." I say through a stuffed-up nose and rattling voice.
"Oh okay, well you sound terrible." he laughs then continues...
"So, I'm calling you to tell you about something going on with Tish and me--got a minute?"

So he fills me in on an opportunity he and his wife were presented with--
it sounds like a blessing if they get it, he tells me.
I agree with him. It really does.
"So, Tish and I are really praying for this, Mom. We're fasting too. We're wondering
if you'd pray for us too?"

****

Easter Evening, sitting at the dinner table
we go around sharing our nightly answers
to the same questions:
*Best part of your day?
*Something you learned?
*Something you did for someone else?
After that, I told the children I had one more question for them:

"What have I taught you about Jesus Christ?"

Ari piped up, arm raised: "That He listens to your prayers."
"Anything else?" I asked.
Joseph added, "Jesus always answers your prayers. Like, ALWAYS." he smiles.
"That it?" I prodded.
"Hmmm, yeah that should do it for today." he said.
Ari nodding, "That's the most important thing to know, right?"
****

Hi Mom,
I figured I'd best write you a note & let you know how very grateful I am for the decisions you've made throughout your life & mine. Because of your morals, ethics & ability to love and look for truth, I get to be here. I get to walk the grounds that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, Moroni, and Joseph Smith have been in. Every day I get to testify of small moments in time that changed the history of the world, that made it possible for us to live in blissful happiness with our families and Heavenly Father for eternity. Thank you. Thank you for your testimony, thank you for holding onto me while I was pulling away. As Joseph Smith said to his mother in returning from the grove; I too can say, "All is well, I have learned for myself." I love you ~Nana
*****

"Mom!" Dara shouts as she runs upstairs to find me.
"Up here!" I shout from the loft office.
"Mom! I got IN! I got IN!---" she says breathless.
Waving her acceptance letter from the college she applied to--
tears just start dropping like confetti from heaven.
"I prayed SO hard. I can't believe it!!"
"Me too. Me too. Oh I am so happy for you, Day!"
*****

HI Mom,
I finally got your cards this week. I absolutely loved the leaves from the front yard! Also the blueberry skies card, literally made me laugh out loud. Thank you for making this week less sucky. Today is the 12th and I'm still currently sick. No voice, been running a fever & finally puked my guts out last night. I can't say I saw this trial coming. But I've had alot of time to study and think. lately I just list things I'm grateful for. Today I am grateful for you again. I woke up missing you so I sprayed some of the Sunflower perfume on & have been thinking of you alot. I'm not quite sure how you've made it this far in life & are as happy, loving, serving & sane as you are. Life is hard. I've been reading the Book of Mormon for hours upon end lately, when I got to King Benjamin this time I couldn't help but love & adore his goodness because you love & adore his goodness. Every word he speaks is filled with an immense love for his people. He just loves. I can't wait to meet him, for now I hope to be able to emulate the love he has for his people & serve the people here as well as he served his people back then.
I'm grateful for a mom that sees needs in others & steps up to serve them....you've raised service-oriented children & I'm grateful. Apparently not all mom are like you, it's odd to see how many opportunities are missed by other sisters to serve merely because they don't know how. Your example has made an impression and a difference. On another note, the leaves are changing here. There are trees that are the brightest natural red I've ever seen. Some have this firey orange with pink tints. I swear some of the trees don't even look real. It's beautiful Mom, just beautiful. I cannot wait for you to see it. I really have no room to complain. I'm so very blessed to have an opportunity to serve the Lord and His people, to love & be loved by those I serve with & around, and to have a mother as wonderful as you. You are amazing. I love you. ~Nana

****

And Riley begat Zuri

2013-04-11T11:10:00.004-06:00

Remember Riley?
We adopted him in July 2011--
so happy to bring him into the family
and hoped he'd be a fun playmate for our black lab, Dakota--
aka "Oprah" or "Miss-I-don't-know-you-people-when-I'm-outside".

He had superb manners,
but man alive,
we couldn't keep him in the yard--
he ate through several wooden fence slats
trying to get out in the world to meet up with some gals.

He was definitely a "rover"--
we worried that he was going to get run over by a car
after finding him roaming the neighborhood
more than once.

Last May I made the executive decision--
which I shared in this post--
to find Riley a safer home out in the country.--
and Riley has been happily living out his dreams
at his new home.

We made the deal with the new owner, Bailey,
at the time,
that we'd give Riley to her in exchange for a pup
he would sire with her AKC British cream female, Duchess.

I got a text in early Fall that Duchess was pregnant.
Then in January when the pups were born,
she sent a picture to my email...
the litter of 3 males and 1 female were little cream puffs--
Bailey let us know that the other pups in the litter
sold for $1200 each.
Never, ever would I pay that much for a dog--
the kids bought Riley for $80 with their allowance money.

Finally on Friday, March 1st
we all piled in the car and took the 2 hour road trip
to pick up our puppy--
we let the yahoos take the day off of school
so they could go with us:

Reunited with Riley:

Giving mama Duchess the gift of a pig's ear for being so sweet:

Daisie and Ari lovin' on the new girl:

At home after the long car ride:

So this is Zuri--our $1200-valued dog
we got for 80 bucks!

She is already crate-trained, teases Dakota 24/7, growing like a weed, and has stolen our hearts.

p.s. Bailey expressed how much Riley is her "main man" and constant companion. He sleeps in the bed with her and her husband when he is not "doin' his business" with the females in heat. They are so breeding him with a standard poodle to create "Goldendoodles".

They Make Me Laugh

2013-04-06T19:57:00.002-06:00

This past week our family got to host a couple of comedians
from BYU's Humor U--
Aaron Woodall and Pete Kern.

We know Aaron from when we lived in Idaho--
our son David Scott introduced him to us.
They hung out alot before Aaron left for his mission to Italy.

I actually worked with his mom at the elementary school
and so when she posted on her facebook that Aaron had won
a place in a comedy competition called
"The World Series of Comedy"
taking place here in Colorado Springs,
we offered to have him stay here.

He brought Pete with him,
who had also been invited to compete.

These guys are super polite and we enjoyed having them in our home this week.

For your entertainment:

Aaron Woodall:

Pete Kern:

Keep an eye out for these guys!

The Burn of Divorce & Heavenly Healing

2013-04-05T09:51:00.001-06:00

This pretty much symbolizes
what it's like
when my children have gone to visit
their mostly-estranged birth father
and come home...
fiery intense.

They don't see him hardly ever--
in 15 years,
I think the total comes close to maybe 8 times
for the youngest,
less for our special needs son,
who I think is around 3 times total.

The reason isn't as complex--
simply put,
the man isn't interested in having
relationships with five other human beings
whom he has fathered.

The older children don't bother him anymore--
they're busy living their adult lives
and let that part of their past lie dormant;
they discovered
that while normal relationships with those you do love
take much effort,
it is impossible to have one with someone
who consistently makes himself
unavailable.

But Dara was just 20 months old when her dad left
and she's been curious about him
for a few years now.
She would very much like him to be part of her life.
She graduates this year from high school
and, like her four other siblings,
invited him to her graduation ceremony.
He declined.
Not only did he decline that,
but told her not to expect him to show up
for any important days in her life--
as has been evident for the other children.
He doesn't come to baptisms,
graduations,
mission farewells or homecomings,
weddings,
or baby blessings.
(And for the record,
I have written him notes and invited him personally too,
those go unanswered.)

Now this is not out-of-character for him.
It is totally how he was when I was married to him.
In fact,
just before we divorced, we saw a marriage counsellor
who asked me,
"If there was one thing Dave could do to make you reconsider
this divorce, what would that be?"
I said,
"Invest more in the children."
The counselor looked to Dave for a response,
to which he replied,
"The children are irrelevant to me."
Shock swept over the counselor's face;
he turned back to me and he knew what I knew:
I had nothing to lose by divorcing this man.

That was 17 years ago.
Despite Dave's opinion that noone would ever want to marry
me, a thirty-four year old woman with five children,
he was wrong.
He was easily replaced.
God had a plan for me and my children
and we were blessed to have Mr. W come into our lives.

It took awhile for my own emotional wounds to heal,
but they did.
It has taken longer for my children's hearts to heal,
though each of them can see and understand
why we cut Dave loose so many years ago.
He has proven to be exactly the man I knew he was--
there has been no repentance or improvement
in his life's journey.
He didn't learn a doggone thing from losing an entire family.

So, Dara, who just turned 18 this week,
decided spend her own money
and go see her dad and his girlfriend and her half-sister
for Spring Break.
Her siblings' response to her plan
was not a positive one--
"Why does she do this to herself?"
"She needs to let go already."
they voiced.
They're anxious for her to come to the same
resolution they each have come to;
they want her to move forward past him,
and be happy.

But I knew she had to do this.
As she and I discussed her motives for wanting to go down
she explained that this would be her last effort
to get him to want to be part of her life.

She has an optimist's heart.

I've seen this before in all of the other children...
they try so hard to hang onto him
just like I did,
and they each get to the same place emotionally
that I finally got to--
after 14 years of marriage
I had to move on and let him go.
He was damaged beyond my ability to heal.
I felt like a failure.
In my naivete,
I thought if I could just be a better wife
it would be enough for him to be
kind and true to me.
Then, I grew up
and realized that just wasn't going to happen.

Knowing this truth about my self,
I totally get the process my children have to also
experience.
So, when Dara made her plans,
I held my breath and braced for the impact
that was sure to follow
when she came home.

Just as in the past when the kids had gone down to visit
their dad,
their return was akin to a Space Shuttle rocket
re-entering the earth's atmosphere--
it's gonna burn.
Their hearts will be inflamed with pain
and hurt and unrequited love.
Rejection written on their faces
like a fiery angry sadness.
I used to get caught up in their emotions too--
but these many years later,
I think I handle it more objectively...
realizing that the best thing I can do
is to be a sounding board,
a safe place to vent their frustrations,
and not add my own to theirs.
My goal is to help them move forward
in a healthy way--
to get past the burn of helplessness to change him,
and help them have the truer perspective
that none of us can make another person
want to love us or be a part of our lives.
That's just not possible.

So Dara's re-entry was early yesterday morning--
I listened to her grieving for most of the day
and into last night.
She detailed all the many ways
he shut her down, shut her out--
from having no pictures of her and the rest of the kids
in his house or office,
to his rants about why he can't be there for her,
and his ugly opinions of me, her mother,
to the final day where he had his girlfriend
drive Dara to the airport so he could be done
with the visit sooner.

My girl cried sad, sad tears.

It's hard to watch.
It's hard to bear the realization of what
my very poor, ignorant choice of a husband
when I was just 20 years old--
what the fall-out of that choice has done
to five innocents.

The re-entry fire is simmering down
this morning...
at least on the outside.
I suspect her heart is still hot-to-the-touch
today as she goes through the motions
of a day back at school.
How could it not be, right?

For her birthday,
we bought her a pair of
white temple slippers and a white handkerchief--
to remind her of whose daughter she really, truly IS--
and that her path now,
as rocky as it feels,
will lead her to Him.
I sat with her alone while she opened the gifts,
telling her that if she'll ask for divine help
to get through these hard times in her life,
Jesus will be there for her.

And that's the best I could do--
wrap her in my arms,
point her to Christ,
encourage her to let the Atonement lift
her pain and give her peace.
I know this,
because I had to do the same thing--
ask my Savior to help me get through
the chaos of divorce and come out on the other side of it
the person I wanted to be...
it took alot of time,
repentance and prayers of my own,
and a willingness to let the Savior lead me along
in trust and hope.

Just the other day,
my good friends and I went to the temple.
Upon reflection of my prayers in there,
I realized that most of the prayer I offered
was one of gratitude for the blessings I have been given,
and the joys I have in my daily life.
I have loving, faithful children and
an eternal companion in Kent.
These have come through heavenly healing.

*art by Simon Dewey

Dara's Birth on her Birthday

2013-04-02T16:15:00.000-06:00

Her due date: 01 April 1995

Being pregnant with numero cinco

proved to be less easy than

say numero quatro.

For one thing,

it had been four years between

and I was older and tired.

But I was still very much excited to have another sweet baby

in my arms again.

I had been wanting another baby for some time.

Just the previous year,

in exactly the same month,

I had a miscarriage at sixteen weeks.

So that I became pregnant again so soon

after the miscarriage,

was an absolute joy for me.

We decided to have a home birth

with Pamela White in Phoenix, Arizona.

She is a wonderful midwife and was just perfect for me.

So, because of a spiritual experience I had had

several years earlier,

I was expecting a Boy.

But Pam suggested it might be a girl

based on the faster heartbeat at one of our prenatal visits.

My heart though,

was set on a boy.

I even had his name chosen:

Drew Kellen.

As March 31st drew close,

I was bent on having this baby on his due date

April 1st.

So I did everything I could to bring on labor--

ate mexican food,

chinese food,

drank my raspberry leaf tea,

used evening primrose oil,

and kept busy!

I walked and walked and walked

most of the day

on April Fool's Day

and finally, exhausted,

plopped my big baby tummy into bed

for the night at 9pm

convinced that a baby was not coming

any time soon.

I put a towel on top of my sheets

just in case though...

I was in a deep sleep

when I felt a "pop" down below

with a warm flow of water

following.

I sat upright in the bed,

knowing my water broke

and looked at the clock across the room:

11:59pm!

April Fools!

The baby was coming!

I noticed my husband wasn't in bed next to me,

and as usual,

he was out in the familyroom watching TV

or had fallen asleep on the sofa--

I called to him for help

but he couldn't hear me.

For fear of waking the other sleeping children,

I took the towel with me,

and headed towards the hallway

so I could, albeit, quietly, yell

for him to get his attention.

That worked, thankfully

and he made the call to Pam

so she could make her way to the house.

She contacted her assistant, Kelli,

and they both showed up at the house

around the same time.

But, the bad thing was that I wasn't contracting.

So Pam told me to go back to bed

and try to rest up for a long day ahead.

I did go back to bed,

but I really couldn't sleep--

I was excited to the MAX!

My adrenalin was pumping and I was so stinkin' happy

to be having this baby!

A few hours later,

we all got up,

had some breakfast--

husband made us homemade waffles and strawberries--

and the weather was so nice,

I walked around the backyard

as the contraction waves began to come along.

I will always always remember the fragrance of

orange blossoms in the backyard that day.

Such a sunny happy day.

The other kids had been taken over to the MIL's house

for the duration of labor

with the hope that they could return in time to see

the birth.

So I labored alllllllll dayyyyyy long

and wasn't in alot of pain really.

But I was getting tired.

And Pam saw that and decided to give some herbal extracts

to kick my labor into a higher gear--

remember my water had broken at midnight,

so she was concerned about that--

well the extracts worked...

my body reacted perfectly to them.

The kids came home after dinner with the granparents,

and I thought it was pretty good timing...

still not totally dilated,

but close.

There was lavendar oil burning,

Enya playing (perfect labor music for me!)

and I sat on the sofa quietly breathing away the contractions

until they were getting really tough to just "breathe away"--

I voiced this to Pam

who said,

"Just dance with the next one."

I answered, a wee bit curtly:

"I do not feel like dancing."

She smiled at Kelli and the husband

and suggested that as soon as the next wave was over,

I walk into the shower

to help me relax.

I was afraid to move from my seat on the sofa--

I knew

that once I stood,

it was going to hurt!

But she was so good,

she talked me into it--

the husband got the shower water nice n' warm

and as soon as the next contraction washed over me,

I stood,

peeled off my robe

and walked straight into the warm shower

wearing my socks!

The water was a sweet release--

exactly what I needed!

The next contraction came quickly,

and I felt the baby's head ready to crown

in the shower!

Perfect!

As soon as that contraction was over,

my team led me to the birthing stool

all set up in my bedroom

and I sat down with a warm towel over my shoulders

on the birthing stool.

The MIL got the oldest kids out of bed,

and the husband fetched the sleepy 4 year old,

and they all came in to watch the birth!

Two contractions and there was a baby!

I looked down at that beautiful face

and then down at the bottom

and asked,

"Is this a GIRL?"

"YES!" said Pam.

"Oh my. What are we going to do with a girl? What are we gonna name her?"

Lots of names were thrown out--

"Darlene"

"Dana"

"Darla"

"Dena"

"Deanna"--

and then a name surfaced that I had seen in a baby book ten years earlier:

"Dara." I said.

"Her name is Dara. It means "compassion" in Hebrew."

I got a few shakes of the head, but I stuck to it.

I don't know how long after the birth we chose her middle name,

but it wasn't too much later that we decided on

"Cristine"--

without the "h" like it is traditionally spelled because her dad is dyslexic

and he'd never remember the "h" anyway.

So that's how we got Dara Cristine into this world.

She came in alert, wide-eyed, and happy.

Of all of my children,

she is the most creative,

the most adventurous,

the least inhibited and self-conscious.

She is not timid or shy--

but is an all out there kinda young woman.

She received her Young Women's Recognition award

earlier this year, as was her goal, to receive it before she graduated

high school.

She recently applied and was accepted to Brigham Young University-Idaho

in Rexburg, Idaho.

She has a full, rich life ahead of her

and I am proud to be her Momza.

Pics from her Life:

Dara aka "Daisie" with her BFF, Nana

"Guhl Powah"

Dressed for the youth trek to Wyoming

Playing "Monkey on the Ground" @ St. James Royal Park

in London, UK.

She didn't like clothes in 1998--

Nottingham, UK

She did LOVE sheep though!

Wales, UK

Her baptism day with Dad

Colorado Springs, CO

2003

She has probably 100's of this same self-taken photo face

Flyfishing? Oh yeah.

The Platte River, Deckers, CO.

2011

Daisie is probably Dean's best friend.

He loves playing with her.

In Spring Creek,

Choteau, MT.

Ready for church,

Meridian, ID.

2008

Senior Pic 2013

Likes:

Sushi, "Buffy: the Vampire slayer",

sleeping in, Dakota--our black lab,

manis and pedis, hair and makeup,

giving makeovers to her friends,

parties, road trips, inspirational quotes,

total romantic.

~~~

Interests:

History--specifically The Holocaust,

Creative Writing, Drama, Choir,

travelling, service, hanging out with friends,

Goals:

A college degree (not sure what, yet)

serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2014.

Wife and mother someday,

and a career. Girlfriend wants to work!

Happy 18th Birthday, Daisie!

Come See The Light by Mark Mabry

2013-03-31T17:34:00.001-06:00

For Today and Always:

A Heart Like Hannah's

2013-03-27T10:25:00.001-06:00

As the sun set against the outline of the rocky mountains
outside my window last night
my thoughts were stirring in an emotional compote
made up of tender feelings regarding my missionary daughter--
I miss her.
I miss our quick morning chats at the breakfast table,
our afternoon "let's grab a bite to eat",
and the "how long have we been talking?" late night discussions
that took paths undiscovered until that hour.

A song comes on the radio,
and immediately my heart goes to her.
I'm not the only family member that does that--
just yesterday as the Caboose and I were in the car,
a song came on by Colbie Caillat
and from the backseat
a small voice exhales,
"I miss Nana."

"Yeah, me too."

The road took us to our destination,
dance class--
the Caboose flitted out of the car
and I was left alone with my thoughts again.

Funny how it is the little things that remind me
with a small sting,
that we have a missionary out in the field.

Here is a small snippet from her personal blog:

"Heavenly Father is continually blessing us and somewhere between, work, school, relationships and the tasks of daily living we often forget to be thankful for the opportunity we have to do those ordinary, every day things; to be surrounded by those we love, and to attened those dreaded, life-sucking days at work and school. But I know that if we show even an ounce of gratitude for the small means that we have Heavenly Father will return to us and bless us more than we ever deserve. He's good at keeping promises like that."

I came upon her companion's blog
where she shared an experience:

"On Tuesday, we helped Crystal again with her home. We organized a lot of her bills, and helped her get rid of things she really needed. I wanted to give you an update on her closing prayer, because last week’s was just as good. This time, it was, “Please bless Sister Hawkes and Sister Johnson ... And thank you to their families who love them enough to share them with me.”

It's a comfort when I get a peek inside of Nana's missionary world.

I was thinking about motherhood and sacrifice...and then I thought of Hannah...you know, the prophet Samuel's mother.
She petitioned the Lord for a son in the temple with all the energy of her soul--

"And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed to the Lord and wept in anguish. Then she made a vow and said, 'O Lord of hosts, if You will indeed look on the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me, and not forget Your maidservant, but will give Your maidservant a male child, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head" (1 Samuel 1:10-11)

Overhearing her prayer, the priest Eli said to her:

"Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition which you have asked of Him." (I Samuel 1:17)

Her prayers were answered with Samuel. When he was weaned from her, she then kept her promise and took him to the temple doors, handing him over to the priest, Eli. She wouldn't see her son but for one time a year after that. She relinquished the very son for whom she prayed.

She entered into motherhood with a purpose.
Her heart was set on returning to God what He had given her
and perhaps alot sooner than she was ready to--
can you imagine her the night before she took her baby to the temple doors?
Can you see her washing his clothes--
water and tears mixed together in a basin;
tenderly hanging them to dry,
then folding them as neatly as she could,
tucking in little sleeves,
holding them to her cheeks and breathing in
whatever baby smell left lingering there?
Can you imagine her watching him sleep that night?
You know she didn't leave his side--
watching his chest rise and fall,
caressing his little hair locks
tracing his ears with her fingers...
what were her prayers that night?

Such complete faith and trust in Father.

Her sacrifice went on to bless multitudes as Samuel the gift,
became Samuel the Prophet.
Two books in the Old Testament are named for him.
He made a difference!
I love that--to me that is Hannah's legacy!

I want a heart like Hannah's.
I want to remember that the gift of children that Father has blessed me
is going to be my legacy.
I want to raise children up in a way that they
make a difference in the part of the world they live in,
that when others see them coming
arms are open, hearts are gladdened.

My goal is to remember to teach my children
how to serve.
Not how to be served.
I want them to know the grace that comes
on one's hands and knees
when they're lifting someone else's burdens
that day.
I want them to know how to
leave people and places
better and more beautiful than when they got there.

That's what Hannah taught.
By her example,
Samuel learned about sacrifice and service.
He was the result of her covenants to God.
There was no mistaking the priorities of his mother...
he knew what she believed in
because of how she lived.
Hannah continued to be blessed
as she was given five more children
after Samuel.
I love that part.

I want a heart like Hannah's...
full of faith and conviction.

The best part of being a missionary mom
is knowing that our girl is blessing others' lives.
Is there anything sweeter to hear than our children
are looking beyond the end of their own noses
to lift and buoy others on the way?

How careful we, as parents must be,
to teach our children
by example
how to look for opportunities to serve,
how to accept a call for help when it comes to us,
how to be a gracious receiver and a mindful servant.

Hannah showed us how to do that.
Thanks, Hannah.

Mormon Missionaries: Full Joy & Disclosure

2013-03-26T14:12:00.002-06:00

You're poking around your house;

going about your daily life--

washing dishes

folding laundry

tending to a child

paying bills

sweeping the porch

preparing a meal

you know,

just-getting-through-the-day stuff,

when suddenly there's a knock at the door.

You weren't expecting anyone right then--

"Who's there?" you wonder.

You go to the door,

eye to the peephole,

and see two young people there--

standing tall,

smiling,

well-groomed,

and then scanning them on the other side of your door,

you see "it"--

the familiar black name tag.

Mormon missionaries.

Why are they standing at your door?

What are they selling? (fyi: nothing)

Will you answer the door?

Will you return their smile?

Will you invite them in?

It could be the best part of your day if you do.

Even if you don't want to know more about
what they're sharing

with folks on your street today;

mingling with lovely young people

even for a moment
is worthwhile.

I could tell you the answers to all of their questions--

but I ~~think,~~ I know you'd rather hear it from

a couple of actual missionaries

who are currently serving in the

New York Rochester Mission!

They have begun a blog about their experiences

as sister missionaries--

it is as forthright as you would hope

about the daily-ness of life

as a Mormon Missionary.

They openly share what it's like to leave their "real lives" behind

and what all is involved in being able to wear

that black nametag

and invite questions about their experiences.

The name of their blog is called,

"Taking on Cumorah's Hill".

Go and visit these beautiful young women.

So the next time there's a knock on your front door,

and you peep through your door,

your heart will smile and feel warm

when you see two fresh-faced young people standing in front of you,

you'll know why they're there

smiling back at you.

Today you can get your own personal peek into their very unique world-
that of being a black-name-tag-wearing Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Here is the invitation: Taking On Cumorah's Hill.

For more general information about LDS Missionaries, click here.

Tryin' a lil' Rustic Luxe

2013-03-25T18:19:00.002-06:00

So, at Shades of Amber
I went in today to stage the showroom.

Their niche in home decor is "rustic luxe"--
a style that is new to me.

I worked on a couple of rooms today;
the front entrance room
and the Dash and Albert rug room.

Here's the Befores and Afters:

Lots going on here, as you can surely see:

They have a ton of goodies--

but it was a little overwhelming.

So I just pulled things out, cleared things off, rearranged some stuff,

replaced others.

n' the vintage jewelry holder and chalk board signs, to name a few things.

AFTERS:

I basically tried to thin it out and stage it as a real living room.
What do you think?

Oh and here's the mantel...that is being taken down as soon as another furniture peice is finished being painted with Annie Sloan Chalk Paint:

I'm not crazy about this, but again, tried to thin it out.

(and it's blurry too, sorry ' bout that)

And the Rug Room:

It's still a WIP but we've got some ideas that we're workin' on...

Anyway,
I have enjoyed this alot and am looking forward to our next project:
a dining room!

I Prayed, He Answered

2013-03-25T08:30:00.002-06:00

Three Sundays ago,
I knelt beside my bed
and prayed.

In my prayer,
I told Heavenly Father that I was ready to go back to work.
But it needed to be a job
where I could do something I am already familiar with,
because, with the memory loss I experience,
I don't have the confidence that I could go in cold turkey
and learn something new.

I didn't know what that would look like
or where that might be.

The decorating store I used to work at,
has changed how it is run,
is only open to the public by appointment
most days.

I offered my prayer and put my hope out there.

Wednesday,
Amber called from
"Shades of Amber":

"Hey, are you interested in a job?"

Yes. Yes, I am.

I'm thrilled to get to learn how to use "Annie Sloan Chalk Paint",
and to work with Amber and Brad, the owners.
They've expanded their business to include home accessories,
bedding and Dash and Albert Rugs.
I can do this!
Plus, it's 10 minutes from the house.
I started last week.

Prayers are answered.

UpStaged! Home Staging Colorado BEFORE & AFTERS

2013-03-23T22:57:00.001-06:00

Not only do we at UpStaged! Home Staging help homeowners prepare their homes for the sales market,
we also work with home owners to re-design their homes,
using, in general, with what they already own.
Recently,
I have had a blast working with a great gal in our ward as we've been updating her house
just for the fun of it!
We started last week in her Master bedroom:

BEFORE:

What She Wanted:
New floors
New paint

Notice the built-in TV shelf--that was removed in our remodel,

to make way for a flat-screen TV to be mounted on the wall.

What we've done so far:

Teak floors!

How beautiful is that?!

Paint color:

Okay this was tricky...what we wanted was Benjamin Moore's HAWTHORNE YELLOW--

we had that mixed up at our local SherwinWilliams' store ( BM's store was further than we wanted to drive) but it came out like banana yellow--screamin' banana yellow...yikes! (* I didn't get take a picture of that color. The color you see in all of these pics is the same.)
And did ya notice the missing TV shelf? Yup, it's gone.

So we took our bucket o' paint back to the SW store

and the gal there actually gave us a mix of hues to "play with" until we got the color just how we wanted it--

a nice buttery-slightly-golden-yellow.

It worked and we got it exactly as we wanted!

It's a custom color, but we have enough of a sample that we can take it back to SW if we need to do touch-ups or whatever in the future. We were tryin' to give our new color a name--I call it "Bisquick" because that's what it looked like when we were stirring it up in the bucket. But the homeowner calls it "Dawn's color". We began putting her room back together today
and she loves it! YEA! I knew she would! Here's a peek of our progress:

We took out the bookcase. And the floor lamp. And that picture above the bed. Although she'll be getting a larger metal artwork this week for over the bed--the one hanging is just something she already had and it's good for now, yeah?

Now, remember, she had 99% of this stuff tucked away in her house...the silver trays, the crystal, the pottery, all of it. We just poked around until we found stuff we loved...the tall crystal vase was from her bridal shower 3 decades ago--we found it, washed it and put some ranuculus and clear marbles in it.

That darling corner chair with the woven bottom

was sitting in her garage!

We fetched this warm chocolate brown chair out of her great room that is hardly ever used, and fetched the table out of another bedroom.

This is not the best picture but another angle.

And this was what we accomplished this week! She has a list of things to get that will complete the look--lamps, a rug, a few more things for the high ledges above the walls...we'll get to that next week!

I really enjoyed this project so much. The floors and painting were done by Doni Long @ Myles High Restoration, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Next week he is pulling up the carpet in the master bathroom and replacing it with travertine tiles we've chosen! It's going to be gorgeous!

Tips for re-designing your space:
*For the most dramatic difference, put your money into the foundation of the room--
the floors. If you like what you have or don't have it in the budget to change it,
the next best change is PAINT! Get the best quality paint you can afford. Try some samples first,
on all of the walls to be sure it looks great on all the walls in the different times of day.
*Get a friend or family member that doesn't live in the house with you to give you ideas on what you might be able to re-purpose in your home. Wash the crystal, shine the silver things you already own, bring out the things you once loved and see if they will work again. *Note: this does not include broken things, worn out things, tole painted ducks, eucalyptus floral arrangements from the '80's. Use classic items and you'll be fine.

Take Before and After pics--you'll be so glad you did! And I'd love to see them!

Spring Sprucing Up--some new projects

2013-03-18T20:20:00.000-06:00

Our family room the day we moved in...dontcha love the outdated brown splotchy paint?

The main floor bathroom

with vinyl flooring.

'Nother view of the main floor bathroom with the builder grade sink, cabinet and mirror. And my bright n' shiny Caboose.

AFTER main floor bathroom/laundry room

Details: Paint color: Benjamin Moore's Wasabi! I love it! It's got blue undertones, not yellow. Just a great green!
Flooring: Porcelain tiles in a grooved wood pattern from Home Depot.
Pedestal Sink: American Standard from Lowe's.
Faucet: rubbed oil bronze from Pfister @ Home Depot
Mirror: Hobby Lobby
Light Fixture: Home Depot Online
floral bucket: Southern Living at Home
hand towel & paper holder stand: TJ Maxx Home Goods
birds: Real Deals

I made the valance outta scrap fabric I already had, but I'm wanting to put a black and white buffalo check up there.

And now onto our familyroom:

Paint color: Sherwin Williams Wheat Grass
Curtain Panels: "Kenda" from IKEA

That ficus tree comes and goes with staging jobs. Right now it's standing there taking up space.
I really want to mount the TV on the wall and get a different console under it.

Just a FYI: Those snowshoes are from WWII. They belonged to Kent's father and were government issue. I happen to love them! I'm really wanting a big honkin' rustic mirror in place of the Ogle painting there, but it works for now.

My eat-in kitchen with my awesome Craigslist find: the french-flavored dining set! Have yet to decide on what kind of fabric I want to recover the chairs. They came the way pictured--clear plastic over the fabric--and will stay that way until I figure out what to do with them. But I love the bench. It's just so different than anything I have n' I like that. the wall color is continued through the rest of the kitchen, but I'm not done with that yet. It's called "Toffee" by Kwal--but I just had it made at Home Depot from BEHR paint.

Our missionary board...we tuck in all the letters/cards/ pics Diana sends home.

Our very small front living room. It's so small I can't even put the matching coffee table in there. I mean, it would fit, but it'd be super tight. I happen to like empty spaces, tho.

Ok so what's new in here are the lamps and the pic above the sofa which used to be above the fireplace.

Got the lamps at TJMaxx Home Goods.

I'm aching to paint the frame too.

And the 108" panels I ordered online from Home Depot. I'm still going to paint in here, so that's on my TO DO list for Spring. Don't mind the white tool box on the piano bench--it's a rigged up therapy thing my husband is using as he recuperates from his total knee replacement--using that neon green rubber band and the piano. Weirdo.

Bought the poppies and the container at Hobby Lobby.

So that's it.

What're you doing to spruce up your house this Spring?

The Goal is to be like Him

2013-03-11T01:04:00.000-06:00

*Mark Mabry, photo

It's near midnight this Sunday.
And though my head should be firmly upon my pillow,
my mind is still reflecting upon the past week's events.
Three events, no, Four events in succession
are tumbling 'round and 'round
as I try to settle them down.

The first, was the passing of Mitchell Jones--
the little boy whose story I came upon
and my mother heart resolutely says I must never forget.
He and his family are the personifications
of
grace and courage.
I want to remember them
"all the days", as my Nana says.
His parents' testimony of heavenly things
has strengthened my own
and like the many others who've been touched
by their family's journey,
I have re-examined my own faith and beliefs
about the eternal nature of God's children.
We are Spiritual Beings having a Mortal Experience.
I know this for my self because the Holy Spirit has taught this truth to me.

On Tuesday afternoon,
my youngest two children came home from school
quite upset from yet another assault on their faith
from another student who rides their bus.
It's been going on since last fall
when this young boy learned that my children
and two other students who also ride the bus,
are Mormon.
This young man identified that he and his family
go to another church, specifically the Lutherans.
Now, my husband was raised a Lutheran in his small hometown
Choteau, Montana,
where, if you walked into Trinity Lutheran Church
on First Avenue,
you would see a beautiful glass mosaic artwork
his mother made as a gift to the church
she was raised in,
and raised her family in...
traditions that blessed their lives.
Not a tradition of Trinity Lutheran Church
was the practice of demeaning the other members of their community
who chose to express their faith in other religions--
including the community of Mormons in their midst.

But, those days are long gone.
Those days of mutual respect, civility,
plain ol' reverence for sacred things.

So this young man who calls himself a "Lutheran"
has, for months,
decided to use his liberty at will
and tell my children that because of their faith,
they're going to Hell.
We've been practicing the
"turn the other cheek" thing for months.
We also tried the
"say nothing and walk away"
"try to teach him the truth about what we believe" things--
but those efforts have been unilaterally shoved off;
he declares forcefully back to my children
that their leaders lie to them,
that they don't really know what it is to be a Mormon,
that they are deceived
and in the end,
they're going to Hell and live with the Devil
forever and ever amen,
according to what his pastor and parents have taught him.

This past Tuesday,
my youngest, Arianna,
hit her breaking point.
She'd had enough of this boy's ignorant, hurtful words.
And after yet another assault at the bus stop
at the school,
well, let's just say,
the bus monitor caught it on film.
She got on the bus,
went to the very last seat of the bus,
and her older brother, who was on after her,
went and sat two seats ahead of her.
Then,
the tormentor plopped down in the seat between them
and continued his harsh condemnation--
"You Mormons believe you're going to be gods and create your own planets!", he scoffed.
His words directed not only at my kids,
but to the other two LDS girls on the bus.
It was so rude and cutting,
that two other students who are not LDS
told the boy to "shut-up",
but he didn't.

Ari, who has never ever reacted,
stood up and slapped this boy on the arm.
The boy stood up to retaliate,
and immediately, Joseph, who was sitting in front of him.
stood and pushed the boy back into his seat,
guarding his younger sister.

The boy reported the "slap" to the bus driver,
and both Joseph and Ari gave their own accounts
before getting off the bus in front of our house.
By the time Ari got in the front door,
tears were flowing.
She was not only upset at the boy,
but I think it shocked her self
that she could be pushed to hit someone like that.
Joseph was just as upset, though not crying, asked
"Why do they hate us?"
"He said we believe we're going to be gods and have our own planets."

Kent and I looked at each other,
tried to comfort our children after they'd both felt bullied.
What should we do next?
Well, I went up and called the Supervisor for the Transportation department
of our school district and left a detailed message.
We'd had enough.
Our kids had had enough.

The next morning,
I got a call from the Supervisor and related the events.
He shared what the bus video revealed--
and without the sound,
it looked like my kids had started it.
But, fortunately, the bus driver figured something must've been going on
at the bus stop before the kids got on
and after hearing our side,
with the witnesses' names given,
it was clear that this young boy was bullying
not just our kids, but the other LDS kids too.

I told the Supervisor that someone needed to teach this young boy
that even if he doesn't understand a faith different from his,
he doesn't have the right
to harass those that follow that faith.
He agreed and they have fixed this boy's behavior
with a small discipline.
Which, is sad, because he is only expressing that
which he has been taught
by his religious leader and his parents.
Shame on them, I say.

Now, what I want to share is this:
Yes, Latter-Day Saints believe that in following Christ,
in keeping His commandments,
we can become like Him.
In Matthew:

48 ^aBe ye therefore ^bperfect, even as your ^cFather which is in heaven is ^dperfect.

Notice, this was given as part of the Sermon on the Mount.
Jesus is teaching this to his disciples and followers.

The next time Jesus says this,
it is after he is a resurrected being,
and then, he says to become perfect, even as his father and he
are perfect.
Perfection comes after the resurrection.
That's after this life.

That means that while our mortal experience ends here
in a physical death,
our soul lives on.
And it is not so that we can sit on clouds,
playing harps and singing praises for all eternity
to our Creator.
We are evolving beings,
progression is natural.
Our Heavenly Father did not create millions of beings
simply so that we can come to this earth,
die and return to His presence so that we can
sit at his feet all day long and sing hymns.
What a waste that would be!

In Paul's letter to the Romans
he wrote Romans 8:

16 The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

17 And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

We are children of God.
And if we so choose to follow Christ,
we are entitled to receive all that He has.
So yes,
we believe that our goal is to become like
our Savior and our Heavenly Father.
Look, when Jesus spoke to his disciples about becoming like him,
he wasn't talking about dressing like him,
wearing robes and sandals.
He wasnt' just talking about consecrating their lives to preach the "Good News"--
He was declaring His Divinity and wanted them to
BECOME like Him.

The fact is,
all of us are divinely created to become like our Father
and inherit all that He has been blessed with because He is our Father.
When you come to know that,
it is not a blasphemous notion,
not a sacrilegious hope,
it is not taking away from the glory and grandeur of God.
It is acknowledging that WE BELONG TO HIM.

The other thing I just wanna say,
and I have taught my children is that
it is not a good Shepherd that teaches his flock
to be afraid of or to bash the teachings of other churches.
I am grateful that my most favorite leader of
Woodvale Baptist Church in Rock Hill, South Carolina,
Reverend Glen Self
was a good man.
A godly man.
His message was love.
It is because of him
that when I was introduced to the LDS church,
I knew I could go to God in prayer and ask Him
if what I was learning was true.
He said "It's true. Hold on."

Now, it has been my experience that many other churches
preach against the LDS Church with ferocity--
their livelihood depends on keeping the benches full.
and they'll use whatever means they can to do just that
including fear and ignorance.
Our Bishops are not paid.
They have their own jobs in the world.
My current bishop works for Fed-Ex.
My last bishop was a dentist.
The one before that, a plastic surgeon.
Before that, a lawyer.
I share that to show that that's why you won't hear
the bashing of other faiths in our meetings.
Not from the pulpit.
Not in the classrooms.
It's not in our curriculum to teach anything
but doctrine of our own faith.
Our pews are full because,
like coals that glow warmer when they touch other coals,
we too, recognize the need to rub shoulders with our
brothers and sisters at church.
None of us are paid to show up,
clean up,
set-up or serve in the building.
We come because we follow Christ.

Lastly,
I got to witness the baptism Saturday night,
of my good friend Peri's husband, B.
What a sacred experience to witness someone
take their place in His Kingdom.
B. was just beaming as he came out of the water.
Oh man, he was so happy and a little emotional as he shared
his journey to the font that night.
It has been a careful and thoughtful,
one-step-at-a-time journey.
In the end, he chose to take his place and begin his own discipleship.

Baptism, while common in the church when our children turn eight years old,
is a huge deal for an adult convert.

I was just 16 years old when I took my place.

It was the single most important decision I have thus made in my mortal life.

The greatest choice that has blessed with abundant ripples of goodness

I could have ever made.

*Mark Mabry, photo

Do you feel that way about your faith too?

Oh I hope so.

It is just the best way to go through this life.

Teach your children what it is to be a Christian,

what it is to follow Christ.

Teach them the Golden Rule.

Teach them that true discipleship means serving, and lifting others

in their daily lives.

Teach them about love and charity.

Teach them that They Belong to Him

and the Goal is Heaven.

I AM HIS.

My goal is to become likeHim.

Broken Heart Invitation

2013-02-26T21:12:00.000-07:00

This Life’s Journey

is full of bumps in the road,

unexpected turns come at us without warning

and all of a sudden we’re faced with situations

that we’ve neither anticipated nor prepared for—

how could we, really?

I don’t know about you,

but I have little to nothing in common with someone

whose life has been uncommonly simple

so as to exclude any tragedy or dysfunction.

Don’t sit me next to a mere mortal at a dinner or luncheon.

I’ll be bored to tears, honestly.

Nothing to say, nothing to comment upon.

The depth of such a person leaves me wanting.

I cannot relate to them in any other way but

a shallow one.

Sit me next to a Hero.

Sit me next to Someone whose life has taken a Scenic Route,

And my soul stirs with a fiery interest.

I want to know how they got through,

whatever it is they got through.

My heart searches theirs for depth and breadth,

strength and inspiration.

I’m not talking about the whiny people I know.

The ones who pout and stamp about at the unfairness of life

and can’t get a grip on their own tragic choices.

While they might be interesting for a few moments

after awhile they resemble a burnt firework—

they had their moment to burn brilliantly,

to show their true colors of courage, strength, wisdom and action

yet instead sat back scratching their heads,

looking around for someone or something to

point a finger of blame on.

Those tragic figures leave me wanting

because I want them to finish telling me

the part that answers the questions:

“What happened next?”

“Then, what’d you do?”

And they mostly shrug their shoulders

indicating to me there’s no hero at the end of this story.

No,

sit me by someone whose journey has bounced them around

good and hard and unforgiving;

where they had to dig deep to find their strength,

cultivate their courage,

seek out wisdom on their knees and

resources in their grasp,

test their faith in all that they know and believe.

I’m on a fact-finding mission.

Having traveled the Scenic Route,

being raised by wolves,

and other life experiences that came at me

like a meteorite’s sonic boom,

I need to know others who’ve survived to tell the tale.

The fact is,

I know more women who would qualify as a member of

The Broken Heart Club

than women who don’t.

My heroes include those who’ve survived many losses—

Husbands

Children

Miscarriages

Divorces

Dysfunctional Parents

Addictions in their families

Their own addictions

Eating Disorders

Depression

Unemployment

To name a few.

They are women of substance

whom I gravitate towards

because they exemplify grace under pressure.

They refuse to simply burn out.

They believe they have more to offer than that…

they have earned the privilege of having

Another Day to Try Again.

Why this blog today?

It’s because of a young mother named Natalie Jones

whose ten year old son, Mitchell, is living moment to moment

because he has a form of Muscular Dystrophy.

As I have read much about their family this week,

about a woman I have never met,

and yet feel a kinship to,

I realized she and I share something in common:

Broken hearts.

She will let go of her son sooner than I have been asked to let go of mine,

and for that grace, I cannot account for—

I am nevertheless

Grateful.

When my special needs son, Dean was very young

a woman approached me in a mall and after noticing his special shoes/braces

asked me what was wrong with him.

After I answered her,

she asked a second question:

“How long do you expect him to live?”

I was barely 24 years old,

it wasn’t a question I had allowed myself to ask yet

and here was a total stranger

putting me to the task.

I replied I didn’t know.

For days afterwards,

her words rang in my head—

“How long do you expect him to live?”

I had no idea.

There was only one place I could think of

to go to and ask my question:

the Temple.

I went inside and quietly prayed

to my Heavenly Father

asking the question:

“How long will I have Dean?”

I waited for the answer,

determined that I wouldn’t leave until I had one.

An answer from the heavens came:

“It doesn’t matter.”

I argued back,

“Yes, oh yes, it does matter. Please tell me how long I will have Dean.”

The quiet spirit whispered again,

“It doesn’t matter.”

I then pleaded in my heart to heaven,

“It DOES. Oh it DOES. Please tell me how long I will have him.”

A warm peaceful feeling entered my heart and a loving voice touched my mind,

“It doesn’t matter how long you have him,

but how much you Love him.”

I knew that was right.

It was the only thing that mattered.

I felt impressed today

to write to this young mother in Utah

and share my heavenly message with her

in these last days of her son’s journey.

I don’t know her.

I’m one of thousands of people who’ve been led to

Her family’s story, really.

But, if my sharing gives her even a moment of peace,

That’s enough.

We travel this earth over and over,

We broken-hearted.

The best servants are the ones

Who know what suffering feels like.

It is our pain that both binds and lifts us.

Have a broken heart?

Come. Sit by me.

Here's what I know:

God loves broken things.

His Future Wife Will Thank Us

2013-02-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

You know we're growing a man over here, right?

At 13 years old,
our Joseph stands at 5'9" tall,
wears a man's size 13 shoe,
30-32" mens jeans...
and he ~~eats,~~ shovels in his food like a lumberjack.

Being the Quartermaster of his Scout Troop--
it's his job to take care of the troop's camping gear and equipment,
as well as make sure each scout is properly outfitted
for the camping trips they take.
He is often paired with a less-experienced scout,
because he can keep an eye out for them.

Why, just yesterday he was begging us to let him sleep outside overnight,
in the midst of a blizzard.
We told him if he could actually set up a tent in the blowing snow
in the backyard,
he could do it.
I want him to be able to try his wild ideas out
in the safety of our shadows
before he attempts it alone.
He spent sometime outside
in the howling wind and snow
and came in awhile later,
declaring it was "too lonely".

We painted the family room and kitchen over the weekend--
guess who led the way for us?

He was all over it.
Seriously, he taped and painted a good deal of it
with zero complaints.

And this morning before school started,
he and Kent got out the old snowblower
that the two of them repaired last summer--
the snowblower used to belong to Kent's dad
and hadn't worked in many years,
but the two of them printed out a manual for it
and fixed it!
So Kent taught Joseph how to start it up
and use it...
he not only did our driveway and sidewalks,
but did the neighbors too!

This past year,
his dad has taught him how to:
*Replace brakes on the Suburban and the Accent
*Replace a dishwasher
*Hang a new light fixture
*Hang Christmas lights without falling off the roof
* Replace a sink faucet
*Change tires, batteries, and windshield wipers
* Replace furnace filters
*Replace a new thermostat for the heating/cooling system

I figure his future wife might appreciate this stuff...yeah? I sure do. I'm thinkin' the next thing should be cooking and laundry.