So, I have seen this quote on the internet and I wondered why I wasn’t feeling this way.

I mean, I am blessed–we all are, right? Or we are supposed to feel like we are.

And all of these people on the internet are apparently so blessed that they are not stressed.

In my life, it seems like it should be:

So blessed that I’m stressed.

My blessings are things that cause stress.

Like children.

And opportunities to serve.

And opportunities to be the service opportunity.

And sometimes my husband.

And often, I must confess that living the gospel can be a little intense.

Miracles can be traumatic.

And we can be blessed and stressed and the blessings can be ones that are ugly and hard and perfect for us.

And it seems like when I hear people saying they are feeling “too blessed to be stressed” or “feeling so blessed,” that I feel a little twinge of–I don’t know what to call it–but I find myself wondering what is wrong with me that I missed out on what seem to be “pretty” blessings, fun blessings–blessings that seem like they would go to the favorite child or whatever.

Sometimes it leaves me feeling like perhaps I haven’t been as good or something, and that I get the messy blessings that are for the not-so-favored child.

Does anyone else feel that way?

Sometimes when things are going really peachy and I am having fun, I think to myself that I am really blessed, but when I really think about it, I believe that my times of greatest trial were the times of my richest blessings. (So, when I am feeling really blessed, I am really feeling like I am the favorite child that day or something like that…)

Of course, in the middle of the fire, I wasn’t thinking, “Oh, I am so blessed!”

I was thinking things like, “Why me?”

(As an aside, here, I must admit that I grew up reading a book in which the main character and unlikely hero spends approximately 1,249 pages asking the question, “Why me?”  You’d think I would have figured out that this is a question whose only logical answer could be “Why not you?”  But I digress.)

I was thinking things like, “What did I do wrong?  Where did I mess up this time?”

And, most of the time, it’s not like that. I am trying my best to get through this life without being too much of an idiot, and I also try to make up for my many, many blunders into idiocy by being as kind as I can be.

I fail a lot, but I do my best.

When I am looking at things objectively, I realize that most of my most difficult moments had nothing to do with my behavior.  Heavenly Father is my Father, and He loves me. And His reward system is not what we think it is.

So, here I am and I don’t know what else to say except that I had a baby and she is a miracle on so many levels, and I am amazed at how incredible this gift is.

My Pink Diamond–The Addie Jayne.

But, you know, it’s stressful.  And I think she is a little stressed, too.  Being born probably isn’t the easiest thing we do, but it’s the greatest blessing we receive in this mortality.

It’s a good kind of stress–the kind I imagine people who are out there saving the world feel.

I feel like maybe stress is what mortality is all about–you know–the coal-turning-to-diamond kind of stress.  Maybe if we don’t have stress we just remain lumps of coal.

I don’t want to be “too blessed to be nothing but a lump of coal.”

I don’t really know if I want to be stressed, either. There are lots of days when I feel like I am not in the running to actually become a diamond.

I do know that if we are meant to be stressed, then the Lord has some way for us to deal with it.  The main message I have gotten from studying the words of the prophets and apostles is that when we are stressed, the best thing we can do is to slow down, simplify, focus on things that matter most, and trust that Heavenly Father has not forgotten us and we are still blessed, even if it is stressful…Elder Maxwell said:

An economic depression would be grim, but it would not change the reality of immortality. The inevitability of the second coming is not affected by the unpredictability of the stock market. … A case of cancer does not cancel the promises of the temple endowment. All that matters is gloriously intact. The promises are in place. It is up to us to perform.

Elder William Bradford said some great things about righteousness.  I think the only difference between righteousness and wickedness is that we will know that no matter what comes our way, we can come off conquerors through Him that loves us:

In righteousness there is great simplicity. In every case that confronts us in life there is either a right way or a wrong way to proceed. If we choose the right way, we are sustained in our actions by the principles of righteousness, in the which there is power from the heavens. If we choose the wrong way and act on that choice, there is no such heavenly promise or power, and we are alone and are destined to fail.

And maybe that’s what “too blessed to be stressed” is supposed to mean.  That even though our lives may be falling apart, we don’t have to stress beyond our ability to cope, because we can be sure that God is watching over us and He has a plan and that as long as we have consulted with Him, and are choosing the right way to proceed (as far as we know how!) that we can be sure that He will be with us, no matter what happens.

Edmund Burke said:

Difficulty is a severe instructor, set over us by the supreme ordinance of a parental Guardian and Legislator, who knows us better than we know ourselves, and he loves us better too. … He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper.

Sometimes I wish I had known then what I know now.  But the only way I know what I know now is because of what I went through then…so, in the end, I really can see how my Antagonist has been my Helper.

But, I still say it should be “So blessed that I’m stressed” instead of the other.

Just my opinion.

I want to write more about the baby, the birth, the house…I got a new camera for Mother’s Day and I can’t wait to see if it can help even ME to take decent pictures.  You can be the judge!

Some of my things that matter most…

In the meantime, take this opportunity to remember the things that matter most, and to try and enjoy the messy, horrible, icky, scary, ugly, perfect, beautiful blessings of life.  No matter what comes your way, try to remember that God doesn’t not love you because you are stressed.  You are being blessed every hour of every day.

I am going to be posting some fun pictures from our new home soon–we have had some beautiful weather and great walks here (well, the kids are walking–I am staying home and enjoying the pictures of the walks, anyway!).

Picture I Enjoyed From The Kids’ Walk In Our Neighborhood

I have been swimming with the kids almost daily–it’s so fun to enjoy that with them, and we have these beautiful flowers in the pool area and it smells heavenly.

We also went to the beach and to a DisneyWorld resort.  We are going to visit the parks in the fall.

Emily At Disney’s Animal Kingdom’s Resort

I feel accomplished today. I made one of my favorite dishes, chicken tikka masala. And it was yummy.

Artist Representation of My TIkka Masala

I also persuaded my husband to drive me across town to a Russian bakery so I could get some cabbage rolls.

I am feeling exotic.

My husband is taking the “day off” tomorrow. I told him that means we can party tonight and he laughed at me.

He has to get up early to go to the DMV and then he is taking the kids to get their shots.

Tomorrow is also special because Noah will be two. I need to write about him soon. I try not to worry about him, but I do. We are going to let him swim twice tomorrow instead of only once because swimming is his very favorite thing to do in the whole world right now.

And, he gets unlimited orange juice tomorrow. And grapefruit juice.

It will be a fun celebration.

In the meantime, I was looking over the old posts at the Ranch with my kids today, and they picked out some they thought were their favorites, and I am going to just post them here for you in case you have insomnia or something.

Farm Life…Living The Dream

Brutally Honest: Sassy Opinions Regarding Pinterest

Of Pajamas and Beauty and Pots and Pans

Epic Fail

A Thousand Years Deconstructed

Proof That Sugar Is An Addictive Substance

Lessons Learned From The Flu at 38 Weeks Pregnant

When My Wagon Got Stuck In The Mud

So, enjoy if you have a mind to.  Some of these aren’t really my best work, but my kids liked them…I am so glad that I am 38 weeks pregnant WITHOUT the flu this time. I must have learned the lessons I needed to learn!

View From Another Neighborhood Walk…

Can’t wait to share some new insights about our new home and some other thoughts, which may or may not be coherent sometime this week.  Until then, I am going shopping tomorrow night with my sister for Addie Jayne which should be more fun than I am allowed to have.

I love baby girl things!

And, you don’t have to thank me for this post, because I am sure it will help you with your insomnia.

Consider it a free gift.

Something that has always been surprising to me are the many comments I have received over the years about how organized our family is, because I don’t think we are that organized.

Then again, I think maybe it’s because I am so against having stuff.  I mean it–I am a little crazy about that.

My friend who used to write an organizational blog told me once that the secret to organizing is just getting rid of stuff.

I completely agree. In general, most of us have too much of it.

So, my first organizational tip is to get rid of stuff until it hurts a little.  Then you’ll know you’re starting in a good place.

If I had to do it over again, I would have done very well on about half the stuff.  There are things that help us live life a little better, and here are some things I consider good to have for helping with organization!

Buy industrial whenever possible.

We learned early on that it is much more cost effective to get an industrial washer and dryer, refrigerator, and kitchen equipment.  Restaurant supply stores are my friend.  This is where I get my kitchen stuff.  

Vintage Fancy Glasses

I like these unbreakable restaurant tumblers and I also love to use these blue vintage Ball canning jars for “fancy” drinking glasses ($12.77 for six is a great price!).  We have purchased the plastic storage caps to go on top of the jars to store leftover smoothies, as well as these pourable lids.

Also, when buying for the kitchen, remember that you don’t need very much–far too much space is taken up with redundant cookie sheets, serving spoons, etcetera.  Keep the bare minimum.

Plant a culinary garden somewhere.

It can be in containers, in your kitchen window or outside, but it is really, really nice to have fresh herbs to work with in the kitchen.

Herb Garden

Buy linens from hotel supply wholesalers or Amazon bulk.

Buy all white. It can be bleached and cleaned all together.

Amazon has a great selection of bulk hand  towels, washcloths, towels, bath mats, fitted sheets, pillowcases, etcetera.  They are hotel grade and not too expensive.

When you put away linens, separate twin, full and queen into different organizational bins or drawers.  Don’t worry about theming your bedrooms with linens–this is expensive and your children will grow out of whatever theme you decide on and you have to wash everything separately.

If you really insist on theming, try using posters or pictures instead.  In the bathrooms, keep all white towels, but you could spice things up with a themed shower curtain.

Buy bins and baskets for…well…almost everything.

I love Sterilite bins. I use them for practically everything. Linens, toys, dishes…

I use the bins for our plastic, kid friendly dishes and cups. I put them all in the bin and put them in a cabinet at kid level so the children can pull out their own plastic cups, plates and bowls.  This gives them more autonomy when setting the table and getting drinks of water. And it keeps things organized in my kitchen cupboards.

I use a basket for things that go upstairs. It gets emptied and all things in it put away at the end of each day.

Using Bins to Organize the Playroom Dress Up and Toy Closet

I use bins for clothing, also.  We have shelving in our closets, and the kids use bins for all of their clothes.  I realized early on that dresser drawers were not only heavy, but expensive, and the runners on the drawers seem to have a tendency to get broken by repeated child usage.  We tried plastic drawers, which we still do on a limited basis for my older daughter who prefers them, but I found that these tended to get messy.  The bins are easier for the little children to put away their own clothing.

So, using Closetmaid shelving coupled with bins is our answer for organized closets for children.

Also, insuring that they only have enough clothing that they can easily manage.  It is stressful and unfair to give a five year old girl a closet full of clothes that will result in her feeling overwhelmed.  She doesn’t need that much. She will never be able to manage all of it.  Make sure that children do not have too many clothes!

What about a family closet?

I have often toyed with the idea of a family closet, seeing as how it works so well for the Duggar family.

(Everyone who finds out we have a large family thinks we know them or something…  )

In the end, I decided against it. In real life when the children are grown and away, they will more than likely have their own closet and will need to know how to manage it. I feel like the family closet is a great idea if you have 20 children. I think it is overkill if you only have 10.  Also, I like the idea of my children doing their own laundry.

A good age for them to start doing laundry is 5 or 6. They can become very, very proficient at it.

Go countercultural! Be a rebel!

In our home right now, there is a huge built in entertainment center for a giant television. We don’t have a television, so we hung a large painting there and have pictures and stuff there instead.

The Entertainment Center

If you aren’t formal, there is no need for a formal living room.  What can you use it for instead?  A library? A schoolroom? An office?

A year and a half ago, I realized that storing my baby and little toddler clothes in the children’s bedrooms was really not working for us. The clothes inevitably were misplaced or put in the wrong bins or shoved behind somewhere.  By the time I found them, the baby would be too big for them.

So, what to do? Well, I realized that we usually changed the baby and toddler downstairs in the living area. I decided that since that was where they were changed, that is where their clothes and diapers should be.  We had some drawers under a window seat that worked perfectly in our old house.

The Baby and Toddler Clothes Bins…A Bit Messy Today

When we recently moved, I wondered where I would put them. The entertainment center mentioned above had some built in cabinets underneath that were presumably meant for equipment, DVDs and gaming systems.  My sterilite bins fit in there perfectly, and now the built in cabinets are home to the two year old, one year old and Addie Jayne’s clothes.

I use a pretty basket in my living room to stock diapers, baby wipes and other changing things.

Schoolroom

Basically, you need to look at your home in a different light. We have what is presumably supposed to be a formal living area that we have turned into a huge schoolroom, a formal dining room that is now a music room, and a lanai turned into a dining room.  Because we also use the lanai for coming in and out of the pool area, there are baskets and storage areas for swimsuits and floaties. It looks eclectic, but it is efficient and works for us.

Play Area In The Living Room

Our living room has three couches and a play carpet in it, because the little children like to play wherever I am. They don’t play upstairs because I don’t go upstairs, so it would be silly to make a play area upstairs in the playroom for them, because they would never use it.

We Actually Do A Lot Of Living In Our Living Room…

The upstairs playroom is now a “pretend school” because the older girls enjoy having a bit of privacy and pretend school is their favorite pastime.

Pretend School!

Our giant master bedroom closet often doubles as a room for a newborn baby.

The point is that most homes have been built for a “typical” family–the problem is–you are not typical. Hardly anyone is.  Don’t be afraid to shake things up a little!

Those are just a few ideas that have worked for us.  Do you have any organizational tips you could pass on to me?  I love finding out how other people do it!

I never really began to understand having a mother heart  until I was faced with the loss of my daughter, Joy.

To be honest, I learned a lot more than three lessons, but these are some that I am thinking about tonight.

At first, though, I didn’t learn anything.

I just felt like God had fired me from one of my favorite jobs.

I imagined Him saying something like this to me:

Joy is moving to A Better Place.  Because of the relocation, your services as her mother will no longer be required.

Like I was getting laid off because no matter how perfect I could try to make my home, Heaven would be better and therefore, I was not needed.  My skill set had become obsolete.

I know it wasn’t really like that, but that’s how I felt.

Over time, I was comforted to remember that to be a wonderful mother, one need not even have children, and certainly I wasn’t disqualified as a mother because Joy was needed elsewhere earlier than I had expected–and I realized that my experience could help me in my quest to have a mother heart.

After that, I tried to be more positive.  I think losing her to Heaven has given me a very unique perspective on mothering, and I have tried to really, really learn something from all of this.

And I have been assured by at least ten friends that they would like to hear about things that I have learned in the sometimes completely epic fails of my attempts toward becoming An Exceptional Human Being, so here we go!

The important thing to remember here is that these lessons do not just apply to moms with kids…they apply to women in general, because all women have mother hearts.

Mother and Child

1. No matter what happens, I am still human.

It is completely amazing to me that any woman makes it to adulthood with any of her sanity still intact.

I have learned that there are basically two parts to understanding that we are still human.

One half of the equation is our physical selves. Especially now, societal, cultural, and even personal expectations of what we are supposed to look like are not actually human. Real humans do not look like what is pictured on magazines and media.

It’s ridiculous.

In real life, we don’t have a 24/7 hairstylist, personal trainer, personal chef, and body tape.

When “the look” for women is not achievable without the help of a plastic surgeon, we have a major problem on our hands.

Recently, I read about women even being offered plastic surgery after giving birth in order for their female body parts to look “fresh” again. In Orlando, I can’t tell you how many “comprehensive women’s health services” there are here with an OB/GYN, plastic surgeons, and a day spa as part of the full package of women’s care. Since when is plastic surgery part of women’s health care?

Ugh.

Guess what I realized? As long as I am trying to develop my mother heart, I am absolutely assured by God that I am a beautiful human being.

And guess what? Human beings are born with flaws on purpose. God did not make any mistakes here, ladies. He made us human with physical differences, abnormalities, flaws–even deformities. And He calls it “very good.” And we all have the body we have because it is perfectly suited to our unique mission on earth.

And I could tell you this all day. And you could read about deep beauty, real beauty, the divine beauty in all of us, but how do you get to where you believe it about yourself? How did I?

Well, to be honest, I had to work at it. I didn’t believe it for a long time.

Sure, I believed it about every other woman I knew, just not me.

What I did was I had to gain a testimony of my own beauty.  I had to work at spiritually understanding the truth of my own humanity, of who I really am. 

Or in other words,

If We Only Knew…

The second half of the equation is that we cannot keep up any version of “perfection” indefinitely. The Lord’s version of perfection is different…but our version, the world’s version, our culture’s version, the “Mormon” version, the mommy blogger version…well, there is just no way.

Unless you are not really human, which we all are (except for maybe some Mormon women I know who believe Twilight is real and that perhaps they are vampires or something…).

There is no way that, for example, The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond can do everything that it looks like she is doing on her blog everyday.  It is humanly impossible.

Everyone has talents, and sometimes when we look at media (especially social media and blogging), we get to see “perfection eye candy”. But that’s really all it is. It’s empty calories, ladies. It’s not a reflection of the things that sustain life and humanity.

The Perfect Homeschool Room…

That perfect homeschool room?  It took thousands of dollars and two days of preparation and eight hours in a photo shoot to get it to look that way.

The cake pops that look like miniature violins? Same thing,. It takes a lot of time, and it cannot sustain itself. The people that are providing you with this form of entertainment do not “do it all,” because no one “does it all.”

These things are lovely and wonderful and it is absolutely impressive that women can do them, but they really are just entertainment. They are not the foundation of being a good mother or having a mother heart.

The best we can hope for is to do what we can, the best we can.

Mostly, to do that, we have to plan our day with God first.

As long as we are always listening to that little celestial spark within us, we can be assured that we can have the Lord’s version of a “perfect day.” It doesn’t have to be photo shoot-worthy, and it doesn’t have to involve matching outfits, a lot of money, or 14 hours of kitchen prep.

It can be peanut butter and crackers and unkempt hair and pajamas all day.  No matter what it looks like, it comes from a place inside a mother heart that truly, deeply cares more about binding up the wounds of human souls than anything else.

Navajo Mother In Supplication

Sustaining life and humanity often involves vomit and exhaustion and late nights and things that aren’t pretty.

Certainly not eye candy.

Heavenly Father knows what we can fit into each day, and if we just ask, He will lead us.

We just have to realize that most of the time, we can have a tendency to border on silly, and if we can’t let go and open our minds to non-silliness, He cannot lead our day.

His plan is far too simple and often makes no sense and usually has nothing to do with washboard abs, vinyl lettering, being on the committee for whatever, or being asked to run the community theatre.

It usually doesn’t involve more than the basics, because staying basic keeps us happy.

2. Bucket lists and quiet tranquility are not real life.

Not being part of popular culture, I had no idea what a bucket list was when I started seeing bucket list ideas on Pinterest.  Here are some I have found:

• Ride camels in the Sahara
• Meet ___________ (insert celebrity here)in real life
• Have a flat stomach
• Visit _____________ (insert exotic location at least 5,000 miles from anywhere here)
• See an Icelandic horse in the wild

Okay, this is just not my reality. And, actually, I don’t think it is most people’s reality, and it can sometimes lead to feelings of discontent and depression.

My bucket list would be more like:

• Try not to lose my temper at least one out of ten times.
• Have a date with my husband when we are both awake enough to converse like intelligent humans
• Start a new trend in which stretch marks on the stomach are the new washboard abs
• Visit the bathroom by myself
• Have complete bladder control
• Get my three year old son to quit stripping down to his birthday suit in the backyard

What I learned is that it is okay to get away to some tranquil place for “me” time or to have a “bucket list,” but it isn’t going to solve any of my problems.

At best, it is like putting a band-aid over something that may need stitches….when you get back from riding the camel or soaking in the sun, life is still there, and reality is still brutally un-tranquil.

Women with mother hearts will never live in a static environment, because someone, somewhere always needs us. And we cannot ignore it, no matter how tired we are. We always feel it.

It is unrealistic to believe that we can “find” a quiet place in the world that will give us lasting, absolute peace.

In reality, we need to make a quiet place inside of us.  I love what philosopher William George Jordan has to say on the subject:

Calmness comes from within. It is the peace and restfulness of the depths of our nature. The fury of storm and of wind agitate only the surface of the sea; they penetrate only two or three hundred feet; below that is the calm, unruffled deep. To be ready for the great crises of life we must learn serenity in our daily living. Calmness is the crown of self-control….

The man who is calm does not selfishly isolate himself from the world, for he is intensely interested in all the concerns the welfare of humanity. His calmness is but a Holy of Holies into which he can retire from the world to get strength to live in the world. He realizes that the full glory of individuality, the crowning of his self-control is the majesty of calmness.

Mother With Two Children, K.M. Berggren: A Holy of Holies

3. At the end of the day, I am stronger than I think and Heaven’s got my back.

 

No matter how alone I feel, I absolutely know that Heaven will not let me down. And, if I really listen to the ministering angels who have my back, I hear them all unanimously agree that I am stronger than I think.

I am a woman with a mother heart.

There is literally almost nothing in the universe as powerful as that, ladies.  We have all the power in our capacity to nurture and love.

We have more strength than we believe.

If we just open our eyes, we can see that we hold the world in the palms of our hands and in the tables of our hearts. We are the difference, for good or ill, in humanity.

The Tree of Life

We are the difference even if we deny it. When we talk negatively about ourselves, when we subscribe to feeling inferior on a daily basis, we are making a difference, but not the way we could be.

We need to fight those feelings–we need to realize that we are queens and we are stronger than we think.

And, for the most part, our natural tendency is to fulfill the errand of angels, which is nothing less than doing God’s immediate will and bidding–and we are good at it.

And because that is our nature, Heaven really is watching out for us, and if we ever believe we aren’t that powerful, all we need to do is call for backup.

It’s there. And the angels assigned to backup are anxiously waiting to help us. They want to help us. God wants to help us.

But we have to ask.

So, there you have it. Three lessons I learned about having a mother heart. Hope they can get you thinking, at least!

Until next time, good night, beautiful world!

I want to write, really I do. I am just so tired.

I don’t know why?

Addie Jayne’s due date was moved up to May 23rd. I think I am due the same time as my friend in Hawaii, which is kind of cool.

I will probably be induced a week early because of my crazy winter fun in the hospital.

I’ve done this before. You know, had a baby and everything. Why is it always a little bit terrifying?  You’d think I would be like, “Hey, I’m just having a baby again. No big deal.”

But every time I chicken out.

I am such a weenie.

I just keep thinking, “What if I change my mind at the end and can’t do it?”

Oh, well. I think that every time, but I just love my kids so much that I guess somehow I end up being able to do it…

Or something. It’s a miracle, for sure.  The miracle is that I actually don’t chicken out.

Also, why do I no longer like to cook? I used to enjoy it but I don’t like it anymore. I just can’t get all excited.  I even try to look at Pinterest to get inspired, but now it’s worse than “fitspiration.” I look at pictures of yummy recipes and instead of getting inspired I start hyperventilating because I know it’ll never be me.

I want to want it. But I don’t really want it bad enough.

Maybe it’s because everything tastes salty to me because of some weird things going on with my end of pregnancy self. (Even chocolate tastes too salty. Ick.)

Sunshine…It’s What’s For Breakfast!

Maybe I just need to be like those people that live in the Andes and live off of sunshine and water and sparkles.

(It’s true. They are documented. They eat sunshine for breakfast. They live to be like 2000 years old or something.)

Maybe it’s because I read blogs like “100 Days of REAL Food” where they spend week after week exposing the dangers in every single food item on the planet except for chia seeds and kale.

Which is depressing because I am sorry, I like a bit of agave here and there. And really, sometimes I use evaporated cane juice and sometimes we do takeout.

THE HORROR!!!!!!

It’s just so hard to make food sometimes. Especially when you are not able to use one side of your body or see out of your right eye and then you start vomiting because vomiting isn’t really something that complements gourmet cooking.

But, in the spirit of trying to make this post a little less lame, I am going to share some recipes with you that I liked (of course, I changed them up a bit to make them easier).

Artist’s Representation of Bibimbap

Bibimbap Recipe (Rice Bowls, Korean style): I didn’t do fern break or soy bean sprouts because I am unauthentic. I am making this tomorrow night for the missionaries, but I will not be doing fried eggs on top (totally not authentic to leave it out), because it’s too hard. I am going to make the toppings ahead of time and just quickly reheat everything when they arrive. So, we’ll prepare everything at lunch so it’s not insanely crazy at dinnertime. It will just be crazy.

Also, I am not making bulgogi because mine never turns out right. I am just going to do some sort of eyeballing to make steak and pork taste Koreanish or Chineseish. We’re just going to call it fusion cooking, okay?

I am just saying that it still turns out well even if you don’t really know what you are doing. And also, we don’t like the red paste, so we use sriracha, so it’s not really bibimbap, it’s more like Chinese Rice Bowls with a touch of Korean. Fusion. Yes. Fusion.

They Look Crispy, But They Are Wilty and Soggy. They Still Taste Okay.

I am not going to post the recipe, but I tried my best to make sweet potato fries and they were so soggy. I think I needed more cornstarch or tapioca flour to soak up the water, but they were more like sweet potato wilts.  The kids still liked them, but I was sad.

Zucchini Cups (Ours We Renamed Zucchini Blobs), from Sizzling Veggies

My entire family now wants to plant zucchini!  Why? Because we made Zucchini Crust Pizza Cups, and let me tell you they were delicious. These are not gluten free, but Kalyn’s Kitchen has an equally delicious crust recipe that is.

For pizza sauce, I didn’t have any (we have just moved here and aren’t stocked up in our pantry). I had a large can of Muir Glen organic roasted tomatoes, so I blended that in my Blendtec with Italian herbs and a bit of sugar. It was perfect. We used parmesan cheese in the crust and topped with cheddar or something.

The only problem is that I need silicone non-stick muffin cups because mine always harden in there and stick and they can’t come out in one piece, so they weren’t really cups–more like Zucchini Crust Pizza Blobs.  But, oh, well. Next time I will just put them on my silicone mat and make teensy tinesy mini-pizzas so I don’t have to deal with trying to hack away in those little muffin tins. They make me angry.

But I wasn’t angry that day, in spite of them being stuck fast to the tins–because they tasted SO good that I couldn’t help but be cheerful and happy because they were just like eating happiness.

Even people who don’t eat zucchini loved them. People who have claimed a “zucchini allergy” for over two years claimed that there must have been something in the cooking process that literally changed the composition of the zucchini into something that completely annihilated the offending allergen.

It truly was the lunch of miracles, my friends.

Where am I going with this post?

Anyway, I am sitting here at Harbour Island, wondering why I am here, and enjoying the sound of rain and the smell of magnolia and jasmine and honey in the air. It’s beautiful. But, still wondering.

Also, my husband and I got in a “conversation.” Why is it that “conversations” always happen when I am ready for a little romance. He and I are so off our yin and yang and we are just too tired and I want a good, long kiss.

Not happenin’ tonight, ladies. So instead I am writing about wilty sweet potato fries and my inexplicable fear of childbirth. I am not really afraid, just afraid enough to make it feel scary.

I also am right now at this instant dealing with some decisions I need to make (along with the 23,000 other things that Need To Be Done Before I Am Utterly Hopelessly Behind), about Very Important Things. Things that affect lives.

Have you ever been in a position where you think something and you do something about it and then you wonder that maybe it wasn’t the best way?  Maybe you weren’t really thinking straight?  But what if there were things that were right about what you did?  What if you don’t know how to figure it out?  What if you are afraid to pray–not because you might be wrong–but because you might have been even a little right?  What if you feel like you aren’t sure of things and you are in a situation where you are being gently pushed into having to look things straight on and make a decision one way or the other. And you really don’t know and it’s very complicated. Real life complicated, not which craft do I decide on for Relief Society complicated.

And what if that affects a lot of people?

What if you do it wrong?

Well, I don’t like that kind of situation, and I am not good at it, and I have no idea what to do.  I am trying to pray and ponder but I need something more. So I have taken on the spirit of the fast and I am going to ask for a blessing…I would go to the temple, but I am not sure if that’s a good health choice for my physical body right now.  I just want to do good and bring honor and joy to my Father and my Older Brother.

I rarely get that one right.

Who is to think I’ll get it right this time, on something so big?

Ah, well. Most of the greatest decisions in the world have been made by people who are just like you and me, just trying to do their best and relying on God’s greater wisdom.

We’ll see how I do.  I am not feeling particularly confident.

Thank you so much for your prayers for my friend and her daughter, Victoria.  She has felt them.  She will actually be visiting here with her family in a week. I am so happy that I can be somewhere she can stay to relax and find joy with her family during this difficult time for her. Thanks to all my friends for your sweet prayers!

I have a homeschool post coming soon–I feel a lot more “with it” with that topic than any of the ones I have tackled in this thoroughly lame post.

What’s funny is that it’s kind of a pun, because I am writing it from bed because I can’t walk right now because I can’t use the right leg to stand. So, I am writing a lame post and at the same time I am literally LAME. Ha. Ha. Smiley face. I am so doggone funny!!

Ha!  I just realized that I made a joke without intending to!  I am a lame genius and funny.  Now I know what I can tell myself in labor:

My New Labor Mantra…

Yes, everything will be just fine!

I think I will try to Netflix or Amazon Instant Video my way out of having to make a decision about things tonight. Not quite ready for it. Probably a lame choice, but I am probably not totally accountable since I am temporarily lame.

Maybe I can get on my walker and find my husband and I can reunite with a long, passionate kiss before bedtime and then I will be much better able to feel the spirit. Since I am a genius, I can tell you that I have a 17.24% chance of that happening.

But who knows?  With a little faith and prayer (and if I can find the walker!), I think it could happen. It could be a night of miracles.

Until then, goodnight beautiful world!

O God, who holdest all souls in life; and callest them unto thee as seemeth best: we give them back, dear God, to thee who gavest them to us. But as thou didst not lose them in the giving, so we do not lose them by their return.

For not as the world giveth, givest thou, O Lord of souls: that which thou givest thou takest not away:

for life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only the horizon, and the horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.

–Rossiter W Raymond

Only A Horizon…

Three months ago one of my college roommates (and one of my dearest friends) had a beautiful baby girl named Victoria. It was fun to be pregnant at the same time as she was. She ran a marathon in her second or third trimester. She swam in the water. In Maine. In a wetsuit. And she made it look good.  She inspired me to go outside and enjoy the beauty that surrounded me.

So much can happen in three months.

A little while after my friend’s baby girl was born, I got an email from my old roommate. Her sweet Victoria had Down Syndrome and would need heart surgery–and a few days ago she had heart surgery and a few days after that, she finally got to go home.

Victoria With Her Parents

On Thursday, I read my friend’s news–all was well, things were going great, and Victoria was at home on oxygen.

“Thank you for your prayers! They were answered!”

And then I felt an overwhelming, intense feeling that was completely unexpected. My heart was breaking, and the Spirit told me to pray–to pray hard for my friend and her family–and He asked the question,

“What if all of the prayers have not been answered yet? What if those prayers are yet to be answered in a way that is not expected?  Pray for them.”

Victoria With Her Brothers and Sisters

And then I worried.

And then I prayed. Hard.

And the next day, Victoria went back to her Father, and I prayed some more.

And I thought about those three months my beautiful friend had with her daughter.

It doesn’t seem like it was enough.

I guess no matter how much time we have with our children, if they Go Back before us, it doesn’t feel like it was enough.

Yes, I know families are forever and our little ones are in heaven and we have the gospel. I am sure my friend knows this, too.

I think that can make it hurt more.

And it can make it harder, because you feel like you should be more happy and you shouldn’t cry so much.

But it hurts. And it takes a long time not to hurt. More than “the first year.”

It’s not true what they say about time healing all wounds.

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on… when in your heart you begin to understand… there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend… some hurts that go too deep…

The Savior can heal all wounds, but sometimes it happens after mortality.

I am beginning to understand that the hardest part of this journey of Life After Joy is that there is no going back. Everyone else goes on, going to the grocery store and complaining about the weather–but I cannot go back there to that road–and neither can my friend.

I find myself pushed off the edge of worrrying about what to make for dinner, that extra five (or fifty five) pounds, and should we keep the girls in dance lessons or not?–and I am falling, falling, and at some point that I cannot recall, I stop falling.

And at first, I can’t even stand.

I am there, face downward, my body in too much exhaustion-filled torment to move, but I do try to look up.

And there is nothing but darkness and nothing is visible, and I hear the echoing rush of the deep, deep, unfathomable trenches that surround me.  And I wonder if I will fall again and never stop falling–and if I think too hard about her, then I fear that I will be lost in that abyss that nearly chokes me and suffocates me with its immensity.

Falling…

But I crawl forward, inching my way in the dark, in the pain, in the agony. And I try to make sure others know that I know that Families Are Forever.

And I find myself summoning my Mother Teresa smile:

Smile, girls. The more it costs you, the more precious it is…

It costs me.

And deep down inside of me, I wonder if there is something wrong with me because “families are forever” or “she is with God now,” or “she was so special,” cannot lift me out of this canyon and put me back to my old life and it can’t even hope to penetrate the depth of pain that threatens to swallow me.

And then, the guilt comes–why did I let someone else get up in the middle of the night with her? Why did I get upset when she smashed Chapstick into every crevice of every toy she owned? Why did I make her go to bed so early?

Why didn’t I spend every single second I could with her instead of taking all those stupid naps when I was pregnant with her little sister? Why didn’t I go outside that beautiful day and play with her instead of working on cleaning the house?

Why did I have postpartum depression for two months? Why couldn’t I have overcome it? Why did I spend all that time upset right after she was born because John lost his job and started his own company? Why did I worry so much about moving to Idaho instead of playing with her?

And I scream into that darkness that I want my baby back.  In those moments, I don’t care that “she’s in a better place.” I want her with me, next to me.

I want to touch her.

And the longing is excrutiating, and I can’t breathe, and then I look into that abyss and it is endless.

And then I cry out:

Oh, Jesus, Thou Son of God, have mercy on me…Lord, I believe…Help thou mine unbelief.”

Lord, Save Me, Walter Rane

And He is there. He has never failed to come when I call Him. And He lights the way. And He never says, “She is in a better place.” He knows that I know that. He says:

I have overcome the world…and I love you.

Sometimes He doesn’t say anything, He just reaches out his hand and lifts me up before I fall into that terrifying abyss and He clasps me in His arms and I can breathe again. And the path is lit a little and I push forward, inch by inch.

The worst part is when I watch my husband suffer. It pains me far more than my own suffering, and I can do nothing to ease his pain. I can do nothing to cushion the landing. I can only watch and pray in agony as the love of my life aches for his baby. And John knows me. He knows my Mother Teresa smile. It cannot bring him comfort. I can only cry out to Jesus that He will save my husband, too. And He does.

And sometimes I wonder why we have been chosen to travel this particular road…this road that constantly threatens avalanche if we even begin to be distracted by day to day cares–we still can’t be. There has not been a day that goes by that I don’t realize that most things in this culture are Ridiculously Unimportant and a Waste of Time. Sometimes I ache to be ignorant of that. Most of the times I am beyond grateful that He has placed me and my family here, where we cannot help but hear the sounds of eternity whispering to us in a dull roar,

Remember what matters. Time is short. Don’t waste it. And always, always choose love.

And we can empathize and we can remember those precious ones who have gone so very early…

Please, please–take a minute to feel your heart break for my friend and her indescribable loss–even though we know they will be together again. Take a moment to mourn with her and with all the mothers whose babies are taken too early….

And then pray for my friend and her family that they will feel the light and warmth and love of the Savior and of your prayers, and that someday through the pain, they will feel joy and hope and peace…

Idaho.

I can’t believe we did it and made it through a red eye and an early morning flight into Orlando International Airport.

I know it must be Heavenly Father’s will, because otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it.

My favorite part of the trip was when Noah decided about an hour before landing that he was done traveling.

Screaming ensued, and John spent the rest of the time in the lavatory with a very unreasonable Noah.  During the final descent, the flight attendant was trying to sell a Visa card, but Noah’s screaming got picked up on the intercom, so it was broadcast throughout the entire plane.

The poor flight attendant kept tripping over her words because Noah was upstaging her.

Even first class got to hear him.

To say it has been an adjustment is an understatement. At first, I kept telling myself it was a bad dream and I would wake up.

Especially after the moving company managed to break my table, music stand, bookshelves, chairs, and neglected to cover my white couch and loveseat before they put them in the dirty stinky truck.

(Don’t ask why I have white couches with a family this size–it was a decision I made during the last trimester of my last pregnancy so I am not truly accountable for that.)

But, all is well, or will be.  Furniture can be repaired, and then it is more “distressed” and “vintage.”  So now I am more crafty and Pinterest worthy.

I think my biggest problem was it was too far away from my Joy memories. I was not prepared for the actual physical pain of being far away from everything that reminded me of her.  She was born in Texas, but I don’t think any of us truly learned how to live until we moved to Idaho.

When we lived there everything was vibrant and high definition.  It was so…clear.

I know it was angels. And I know it was a gift.

Joy Getting A Ride

My problem is that while I know it was heaven and not meant to last forever–sometimes I want it to. I want to be able to make the perfectness of that time last for the rest of my life and it’s just not going to, and moving really smacked me in the face with that truth.

A lot of people keep telling me, “Welcome to the real world,” when they talk to me about moving away from the Utah/Idaho area.

Actually, I feel like my experiences there were more “real” than anywhere else.

It doesn’t feel real to me here, anyway.  And, I think I quit defining my reality along with everyone else’s about five minutes after birth.

This Is Real.

My reality is Joy and love and beauty, and where I am doesn’t seem to be real at all. It feels like I am living in an illusion with short, momentary bursts of what I consider real.

I think the challenge here is to find the real among the man-made illusions that surround us.

It seemed to just be easier in the mountains.

I know there is real here, too. And I am excited to find it.

I love the idea of that challenge, just not now. I feel like I’m not quite ready.

Maybe it has something to do with being nearly 35 weeks pregnant.

Everyone keeps saying I have to realize that I need to be a missionary out in “the field,” but I know the truth.  (Also I have lived “in the field” for the majority of my life–34 out of 40 years has been “in the field.”)

There are plenty of people in Utah and Idaho who have no understanding of the gospel or the love of Christ–I was never lacking “missionary opportunities” in Utah and Idaho…

A lot of people seem to think that I have been spoiled being in the mountains for the past five years.

Of course I have.

I like being spoiled.

What’s wrong with that? 

I also thought that I would move and Heavenly Father would make it to where I was “back to normal” after my little adventure with bacterial meningitis.  But, that didn’t happen!

Shocking, I know. I had it all worked out.

Last week, I found myself unable to form sentences and I couldn’t use my left side. Luckily, the baby is fine, but that experience was neither comfortable nor fun for me.

And Heavenly Father knows that I don’t like being uncomfortable and I certainly don’t like not having fun…

Also, to be honest, it was a little scary.

So, I realized I was working too hard and I have not recovered yet. Of course, everyone else around me knew this but I had to be stubborn and unhumble and unyielding and I thought I could make myself overcome things, because I was Following My Dream and Nothing Is Impossible.

I have to realize that sometimes Heavenly Father blocks us from Doing The Impossible on purpose because He wants us to do something else.  He wants us to see the best way, even if it doesn’t seem like the best way.

And sometimes there isn’t a magic, Harry Potter solution type miracle. Sometimes the miracle is that we are alive and throwing up because we are in pain.

Sometimes it’s not an Ensign story.

My best friend called and left me a message after she found out I had been to the hospital. She gave me very good advice:

In five years, it won’t matter whether or not you finished unpacking now or in May or even in June.  Just relax and take care of yourself.

Good advice that I am having such a hard time following!

Also, I decided that since I was homesick and can’t see the Tetons, I probably cannot be inspired to write anymore, which was very silly of me, because most of the time when I am writing, it’s in my room and I couldn’t see the Tetons from there, anyway.

But, still. I stubbornly hold on to pitching a fit.

Artist Representation of Me

I think something else happened, too.  Every time I have felt an ounce of excitement for being here, I experience a huge stab of guilt and grief because Joy isn’t here and we aren’t close to her grave.

Isn’t that completely irrational?

And people tell me–it’s okay, she’s not really There.

I know that, but it’s not entirely true.  I can feel her with me There so easily. It’s such an easy place to feel her close.

(Even though I know she’s not really “resting” There. I know she’s busy. But There is a good place to be with her).

And I have been with her lots when I am There.

Beautiful but Foreign…

It’s harder to feel her close by here with a completely unfamiliar landscape. And it’s scary. And I have to work at it.

And There I don’t have to work at it.

I knew when I turned 40 that it was time to grow up, but growing up seems to be overrated and I am not sure that I really want to do it now that I committed to it.

It’s a big commitment, and carving out a Promised Land in the middle of The World is just as hard (if not harder) now as it was in Joshua’s and Gideon’s time.

And after all of this, there is one thing that deep down I can’t deny.

I know His hand is in it.

And I am truly, deeply happy.  Sometimes you can cry when you are happy.

Feeling that sorrow because Joy is not here and this is not the same as where we were when she lived is not a bad thing–it just hurts.

Elder Nelson said that the only way to take sorrow out of death is to take the love out of life, and I don’t want to do that. I would rather feel the pain and know I have loved greatly.

I am excited and filled with a happy anticipation that Heavenly Father has placed me here at this time with my family for a purpose that, right now, is known only to Him.

I mean, out of all the wards we could have been in, I am in the same ward building that I was in when I lived here as a teenager.

My Ward Building…Twice. Not A Coincidence

That is just not a coincidence.

Out of all the places in the world, we have been called to serve in the Florida Orlando South Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and although it wasn’t what I expected, I am excited!

I think I just have to take time to let go of things again and hand them to the Lord. Maybe He is mercifully giving me this time where I am physically unable to do as much I normally would so I can take time to grieve for her a little.

Because, I realize that when we lose someone to death, we don’t lose them once. We lose them over and over throughout our lives, and each time we experience the loss, we have a chance to grieve a little closer to God until we have perfected our grief and are like Him in that way, too.

After all, I believe a big part of God’s job is to grieve with us and comfort us. If we are to be like him, we need to learn to grieve like Him. I think.

So, I am happy. I am here. I am alive. And I will cry and then I will be able to smile and laugh again very soon!  And in a few weeks, I will be able to meet Addie Jayne, who will, I am sure, make feeling Joy close just as easy as it was when we were in the mountains.

And, the good news is that things progress–maybe not at lightning speed but at Godspeed. Which is better.

We Have Lockers! And Happy Boys!

Life is good and scary and happy and heartwrenching and relaxing and exhausting and frustrating and beautiful and ugly and obnoxious and full of joy.

Like a jeweled toad:

Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.

And I am content because that’s just the way I think it’s supposed to be.

I will write more about our hotel stay, plane ride and getting here adventure as soon as I have time, but wanted to post this picture, because it so accurately describes our entire adventure–a little messy, but overall a great experience:

After exploring…

Here are a few pictures of what will be home for a long time.  No plans to move in the near future (or far future, for that matter!)

The Pool

Here is the backyard where the exploring was done:

Backyard…

Here is what will be the schoolroom:

I Like The Pink Fireplace!

Here is the view from our piano room (actually, it’s a formal dining room, but we are making it the piano/music room):

View From The Conservatory.

Oh, and Happy Easter!  We are having kind of a difficult time remembering there is a holiday this weekend.  One of the best things I think you could do to celebrate this special time of year is to watch this documentary and then listen to what the Spirit tells you to do to help the children.  I think helping His littlest ones would be particularly fitting to celebrate His life and resurrection.

Hello, moon.

It is three am and you woke me up.

I looked out the window at the silver blue light cascading and spilling out all over the snow covered hills and flowing into every nook and cranny of the valley and I thank Him for the gift.

She even left a few stars out for me.

And I listen quietly to the sound of her light streaming into the night and making things glow–because there is a sound–like snow falling, only quieter–and I want to hear it.

I guess it’s more like a silent song.

And I listen to the music while tears flow down my cheeks and I thank Heavenly Father for the moon–for the chance to say one more goodnight over my daughter’s final resting place–and I guess mine, too.

Goodnight, Moon

For here in this valley, I have found rest for my aching heart, my grief-bound soul, my exhausted, pushed to the limit body.

The moonlight washes over my soul and her song heals my hurts.

And the moon is not so bright in Other Places, but Here, in this Valley, the moonlight cradles us and cradles my daughter’s memory and sings her song every night as she climbs the starry sky and looks down protectively over this place. And I, for a moment, in agony at the thought of leaving, think to myself:

Why are my dearest friends in the world here and why must I go? I don’t want to leave. 

Why am I leaving the place where Joy still seems to live in every moonlit night and summer day, and winter snow and autumn rain?

Why is it that He sent me to this place to have me die?

When Joy died, I buried part of me in this valley.

When I almost died, I buried part of me in the Savior’s loving embrace.

Perhaps He has given me a gift, to have a physical place to come and die when I need to be born again.

Because He sent me here to live again.

And I live, I endure, I push forward, I keep going. The blue light of the moon outlines the Tetons and they whisper in their deep rumble that they will watch over Joy’s grave, that I have nothing to fear, for They are my Friends.

They Are My Friends.

The stars wink down and say they will always be there, even when I can’t see them.

The trees, their branches looking lonely and forlorn in the late winter night whisper that they will live. That I must live.

That they will always be here and they will remember me, but that I must go.

I must live.

I look at the moon and realize that I have been brought back from the dead, I must go and share with the world this beauty I have found.

Somehow, I must bring the moonlight and starlight and love and the Tetons to others, because not everyone has been given the gift of living next door to heaven.

But everyone needs to be born again.

Over and over. Until there is nothing left to take away.  And to be born again and again–part of us must die again and again.

And it hurts.

And it is easier when the Tetons and the moon and the stars can help to bind the wounds and soothe the pain.

It is easier when the angels who live here, the people who have come to be so dear to me, are always there to give and give and comfort and sustain and love the pain away with their compassion and their ability to minister as Christ.

Because they have the starry nights and the creeks in the spring and the sand cranes and the tall grass in the wind–they have it in them, and they give it freely to those who need it.

Is it part of me now? Can I take it with me and share it with others as they have done to me?

Go thou, and do likewise.

I am looking at the moon and hoping that somehow, it is in me. That somehow, this valley, this place, the blood of the river as it flows through, the marrow of the mountains–I pray that some of it found its way in me, and that I will be able to share it.

When my little Daniel was brand new, the summer was waning and we were getting ready to come back to this place. I had wondered if we were really, truly going to be able to come back. I was softly singing to him, but as soon as the words left my mouth, it felt like Joy was singing–calling us from the valley:

Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flow’rs are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be
I pray you’ll find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warm and sweeter be
And then you’ll kneel and whisper that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.

And I knew then, but I did not want to know–that she was telling me that she will be here, and we can come visit, but then we must go. The pipes are calling and we must go.

We Must Go

And I say a prayer and call on Heaven to look over me, and plead with my Father that I may be able to be as good at ministering as the valley and its people have been to me. And I beg Him to let me come back when summer’s in the meadow…and I pray that if all else fails, this valley will remain as my constant.

Goodnight, moon. Watch over her until I can come back to her. Goodnight, valley. Be here. Be here for every weary traveler that comes this way, and I promise I will take part of you with me.  Goodnight, Father.

Thank you for letting me die and be born again in this place.

Help me to live again no matter where the pipes are calling….