Etching Deeper into my Heart

I woke up this morning with words running through my head.  Tumbling over themselves in an effort to be spoken or written or just noticed.  I started thinking about why I want to write and what I want to say with my words.  Tawnya wrote a post on some of her writing inspiration as she was walking around campus for her exercise and I've been thinking about them all day and apparently into the night.  

I remember the times I would sit at the top of Old Main hill just by the amphitheater so as to be out of the way, hidden almost, and feel alone with my thoughts.  It was what I wanted.  To get away from work and school for what felt like stolen moments, which made it all the more tantalizing, and think my thoughts and write what came to me.

I had visions of writing a book about my experiences.  A means to inspire those who came after me.  I could picture my future daughter reading my words and finding her own self-worth in the pages.  The right words at the right time giving her permission to let her heart be free and to follow it.

At the time I was struggling with my single status as I did often those days.  It wasn’t an everyday thing, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with me.  Why couldn’t I find a husband?  What was I doing wrong?  What did I need to change? What was it about me that the boys I liked just didn’t like me enough to ask me out?  Stuck in a perpetual hang out cycle while roommates had more dates than they knew what to do with. 

Every six months I had a breakdown.  I ended up sobbing on the phone to my mother asking the “what is wrong with me” question out loud, it having caught up with me once again.  My mother listened, she cried with me in her heart, and told me that nothing was wrong with me.  I was strong and beautiful and someday someone, the right one, will see that.  My tears would dry up.  I would remember what I had been taught so many times, what God had taught me so many times, that I had value and I was loved and that he had a plan for me and it was a good one.  A lesson that I would continue to need reminders about and sometimes still do.

I wrote down the pain in my heart and hoped that I could share those lessons and spare someone else the wondering.  I wanted to inspire worth.  To create a place of words that could comfort and reassure in times of doubt.  Words that could give permission to free the soul and let it soar above the mundane and the hurt and pain.  A soul that knew its origins and where it was headed.

Words that would help me remember my own lessons learned.  Words to spare me the pain surrounding heartache and heartbreak.  A means to etch self-worth ever deeper into my heart so I wouldn’t have to question anymore.

I’ve learned a few things since then.  Heartache and heartbreak make us more compassionate people.  We are more likely to help those around us and our experiences give credibility to our words. 

I’ve learned that it isn’t the words that etch those lessons deeper into our hearts, but the re-learning of the lessons.   Each time we find ourselves asking the “what’s wrong with me” question, whatever that may be for you, the lessons we’ve already learned are revisited and more depth is added.  We gain a greater understanding of ourselves as just us and ourselves in the eyes of God. 

The lessons become precious to us.  The lessons help us become free.

Wishful Thinking or Actual Hope

I've been thinking about hope lately.

Hope for the future.
Hope that things will get better.
Hope that our plans will actually work better in real life than they do on paper.
Hope that I'm not residing in the world of wishful thinking rather than actual hope.

Hope has a foundation, a form, a steadying influence.  It is based on Faith.  Faith in a higher power.  Faith that we are here on this earth doing more than passing time.  More than just letting the days go by until they don't anymore.

We have purpose and meaning.  We have worth.  We have something to offer this world that no one else does.  We are not "stamped out" by a machine, meant to look and act and think and be the same.  Our lives are different.

We are individuals even if we share facial features.  Even if we share views and religion and opinions, we still have our own unique perspective.  Our own convictions that can only be taken from us as we give them up.  Willingly.  Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

Our paths are our own.  By choice or by circumstance, they are still our own.  Not meant to be compared to other's.  Unique.  Designed for us.

I have hope for many things.
I have hope for another child to join our family.
I have hope that we can someday live at least a little more comfortably from paycheck to paycheck.
I have hope for happiness not based on circumstances.
I have hope for greater faith.

I have Hope.

I Said "Hold Please"

Remember when I said I was putting life on hold for awhile so that I could sort out the better from the good and the best from the better?  Maybe not so much in those words, but that was the intent.  Take time to breathe.  Take time to make the choices to have those things in my life again.

Remember that?

Did you hear the universe laugh right after you read that?

I didn't myself, but clearly it was.  Last week was one of the busiest in a long time.  All good stuff. Several unanticipated events.  Play dates, planned and not planned.  The chance to help out a friend in need.  The opportunity to help a sister in need, the kind that just shouldn't be let go.  David and I actually had a date night, you know that time that gets set aside for you and the hubby to actually spend uninterrupted time together outside of your own living room?  That weekly event that happened before you had kids.  It's been so long since we've actually had a shot at one that there was no way either one of us was going to give it up.  All of these good opportunities that apparently waited until I decided to "take a break" to show themselves.  Needless to say, the breath was taken away and filled with some goods, betters, and even bests.

But...

I'm tired.  My house is just icky in places.  My son is missing his alone time with mama because he simple hasn't had the luxury of my breath either.  At least not without me trying to do two or three things at once.

So today has been his time.  I have done the bare minimum (feed the family and shower) and the rest of the time has been spent with Ben.  I have let him lead today.  So far we've played at the park, watched Finding Nemo, eaten goldfish till we could no more (I haven't decided if that's cool or disturbing that we eat goldfish while watching a cartoon fish go to great lengths to save his son), and finally gone down for a nap.  Which is why I am here.

When he wakes I'll see where the day will take us next.

The dishes can wait till this evening.  Responsibilities will still be here tomorrow.  But today is ours and it feels good to breathe.

A Little Bit of Christmas

I absolutely adore Christmas.  This year was no exception.  There was so much more that I wanted to do, but sickness came to our house and hindered quite a few of my good intentions.  But Christmas Eve and Christmas Day... wonderful.

This was our first year celebrating Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at our own home.  We didn't pack up our gifts and head out of town.  We got to set up Christmas under our own tree.  On Christmas Eve we delivered goodies to our neighbors and wished them well.  We sang Christmas carols and read the Christmas Story from the Bible.  We got ourselves in our matching pajamas and enjoyed the magic that surrounds this time of year.  We watched "It's a Wonderful Life" after setting up Christmas around the tree and then snuggled up together awaiting the coming morning.

Christmas is magical.  The feelings of warmth and love that come without packages and bows are even better than the Christmas morning surprises under the tree.  After opening gifts and taking the time to relax and let everything wash over us, we headed to my mom's house and spent time with family.  Laughing, eating, playing games.  The kids entertained each other.  The fire burned warm and bright.  We talked and laughed late into the night and enjoyed every minute of it for these times don't come nearly as often as we would like.  These times of unrestrained laughter and good feelings despite the late hour, usually only come once a year.  It's the only time where whole communities shut down the daily grind and enjoy giving to each other, relaxing with each other.

May we each try to keep the feelings of good will towards men going longer than the holiday.  Longer than the calendar dictates.  You don't have to have Christmas music to have the Spirit of Christ in your home.  You just need Christ, and he can be with you always.

Merry Christmas my friends.  May the coming year be wonderful.

Small and Simple

A few weeks ago I broke.  I ran away from home.  I left David with Ben and got in the car and drove away.  I ended up spending the afternoon at Tony Grove in Logan Canyon.  It is one of my all time favorite places.  I used to spend so much time there back in my single days.  It's peaceful there.  It gave me a chance to think.  To think without the needs of others getting in the way.  To think without limitation.  I had nowhere to be.  Ben was in good hands and I just could not handle anything or anyone anymore.

I took my journal and this is part of what I wrote:

   "Is is possible to feel lost and trapped at the same time? I feel pushed into corners.  Corners of habit and routine.  The needs of others.  Expectations, realistic and otherwise.
    I've been burying my feelings with books and television.  Numbing myself with the internet and a full schedule.  Does it make sense now? Lost and trapped?"

 I felt trapped in this life of mine.  Trapped by the routine, the necessary chores, the day to day needs that could only be filled by me.  I felt lost because I didn't remember who I was.  What makes me tick.  I didn't seem to have time to remember that I actually like my life.  That a lot of the life I live is by choice.  My choice. A choice that I honestly do not regret.  So what was the deal?  Why did I break?

I ran with the intention of not coming home until I had something figured out.  I told David that I didn't know when I would be back but I wouldn't be out overnight.  I just didn't know if I would be home at 4 pm or 12 am.  Thankfully my husband is a saint who recognizes a cry for help when he sees it.  He let me go.  I don't think he could have stopped me, but it wasn't a fight.

As I walked around the lake my mind was working overtime.  I was making lists of things that could be lending themselves to my current state.  Dishes, laundry, being in charge of the house, meals, recreation, learning, health, sleep, cleanliness... and on and on and on.

I wrote in my journal.  I escaped into a book.  I walked around the lake and then wrote some more.  What it all boiled down to was 30 minutes.

Before Ben was born, David and I talked about a few things.  I made him promise me that all of our conversations would not revolve around diapers, bottles, etc.  We would talk about politics and world news, books, movies, art.  Of course we talked about diapers and bottles and all the fun baby stuff that comes with the territory, but it was important to me to not be completely consumed by it that I didn't know how to have a regular conversation.

I also made him promise me 30 minutes a day.  30 minutes in which I was not responsible for our son or the house or anything else.  30 minutes that I could use to read or write or just get out of the house.  30 minutes to remember who I am and that I actually like myself.  30 minutes that had not happened in ages.  30 minutes that I stopped taking, I stopped asking for.  There seemed to be too much to do.  To much that had to be done.

I wrote this passage later on in my day of running away:

"I'm sitting by a little stream, listening as the water pours itself over the rocks.  A dragonfly flies by.  The stream is clear and everything is green and lush around it. It finds its way through the obstacles in its path and leaves some of itself behind.  Beautifying things wherever it goes."  

I thought a lot about that stream. Even the obstacles were made better by it.  It gave life.  I want to be that way.  I want to leave things better than I found them.  I want to find my way around the obstacles.  But what happens if the stream dries up?

If you go to Tony Grove early in the Summer, there are streams everywhere.  Especially on some of the hikes.  White Pine was and is a favorite of mine.  Depending on the time of year, you could easily cross 6 or 7 streams on your way.  They are beautiful.  Surrounded by fields of wildflowers.  As the season continues and the heat rises, a lot of those streams dry up.  The vegetation turns yellow and brown and crunches beneath your feet.  The water source dried up.  No more life.

It's pretty simple really.  If you let your water source dry up, if you forget or willingly stop taking time for yourself, instead of being able to beautify things around you just might end up making things crumble instead.

I don't take 30 minutes every day.  With David's work schedule it just wasn't practical anymore. But I do take some time every week.  I'll replace something good (folding the laundry) with something better (take a nap and then fold the laundry with Ben).  Little course corrections to make sure that I don't push myself to the breaking point again.  To make sure that I don't have to run away from everything that I love to remember that I love it.

"...by small and simple things are great things brought to pass"* and at the same time, by small and simple things are great things brought down.  Make sure your small and simple are where you want them to be.

Happy Wednesday my friends.


*Alma 37:6 (Book of Mormon)

A Little More Hope

A good friend gave me this necklace at the perfect time.  It was during the many many doctor visits that my husband and I went through in order to get Ben.  I clung onto this gift like my life depended on it.  For so long I had lived without hope, mainly because hope had become something painful.  Something that seemed to always bring disappointment.

I would sit in church and absently play with the necklace.  Opening and shutting it repeatedly, taking comfort in the click of the clasp.  It was my worry stone.  It was my good luck charm.  It was a reminder that someone besides the requisite few was thinking of me.  Had thought of me enough to let me know she cared.

I had put the necklace away for awhile.  Not because I didn't like it anymore, but I no longer needed that life line.  I had little hands to hold and cheeks to kiss that were reminder enough that hope had paid off.  That prayers were answered.  That we, I, was so very blessed.

I found it again.  Sitting in my jewelry box with all my other things, waiting patiently for me to stumble across it.  It was like finding an old friend.  I put it on and have once again taken comfort in the click click as I open and shut it.  A reminder to hope once again.

Hope this time is for the future.  For plans to work out, for patience to let them.  Hope that there is good in this world.  Hope that I can make it through the bad times and enjoy the good times.  Both are plentiful, but hope puts a positive spin on even the worst of times.  Hope says there's something more, something to be learned from all this.  Hope that one day I'll look back and mostly see the good.  That the smiles will outweigh the frowns.  The laughter will outshine the tears.

Thank you once again my friend for this needed and treasured reminder.

Friday Thought

Sometime I wish I could photograph feelings.

A touch, a smile, laughter, smoky fire.  

Completeness.  Wholeness.  Love.

I can see things.  I can watch them happen.  But how do I capture the feelings that rise up in the heart?  How do I take a perfect and complete moment and transfer it to something visual.  Something to help remember a perfect moment in time.

Working it out

I've been the recipient of many things in my life.  Good and bad and everywhere in between.  And something has happened that was completely unanticipated.  Completely.

I'm not the nicest person in the world, but usually when I do something that is really wrong or offensive of just bad character all the way around, I will eventually swallow my pride and seek forgiveness for whatever was done.  Sometimes it is really hard, sometimes it's not so bad.  It's always a lesson though.  I don't really want to repeat the experience so I try harder to do better.

But sometimes... sometimes I am tired and cranky and full of stupid and I do something dumb.  Something hurtful.  Something wrong to someone I love.  And I know it right away.  Like immediately.  And rather than fixing it right then I tried to make a joke out of it.  And then it gets worse.  And the person is hurt and angry.  So I do what I should have in the first place and apologize.  And then?

I've been through this before.  The heavy heart, the pricking of the spirit telling me to make things right.  It's hard but doable.  After the pride is swallowed and the apology offered and sweet forgiveness is granted a wiser person emerges.  One who vows to never do "that" again.

But what if that forgiveness doesn't come?  Today I am faced with something that I really don't know what to do with.  My proffered apology has been thrown back in my face.  Twice.  In fact I was told in no uncertain terms that my apology was refused.  I believe the words were "I don't accept your apology".  I tried again later but was met with silence.  This person is obviously angry and hurt and I had no idea that my stupid dumb mistake would cut so deeply.  No idea.  None.

I've been thinking about it all day, trying to decide how to feel.  How to move on and get past this for myself.  My thoughts are typical "Well it's not my problem, I did my part. If they don't want to forgive me then it's all on them."  "I should just move on and get over it."  I've been telling myself that I should no longer feel bad about this.  I should let it go.  I should... should... should....

These things make sense to my head, but why does it feel like I'm hiding?  Like I'm hardening my heart in order to move on?  Like it doesn't matter if they forgive me or not?  Because the truth is that it does matter.  I have never had anyone withhold forgiveness on me before and I am surprised by how much it hurts.  I do care.  I want to be able to see this person again and be happy.  I want to heal whatever crazy relationship was there in the first place.  I don't want this person to suffer because of some stupid thoughtless mistake that I made.  I don't want it to be awkward when we see each other, and we will see each other.

I am not quite sure how to proceed.  I jump back and forth between acting like nothing happened and hoping it will all blow over to throwing myself at their feet begging for forgiveness.  I'm pretty sure the answer is really somewhere in between.  So I will ponder some more.  Go on with my life and have a little prayer in my heart that I'll know the answer when I see it.

Any of you been through this before?  How did you deal?

Do Over

I have had a lot of time to think lately.  Not that the amount of time in my day has increased, but rather because I have just been plain old absent from internet communications.  I check my email once a day, sometimes twice, put in a quick glance on Facebook and then just stop.  I'm woefully behind on my Google Reader and pages and pages of Pinterest items have gone unlooked at. Nothing personal to anyone out there, I just haven't had the energy lately.  It's mostly because I kept on trying to get on for a quick look and found myself losing track of time and then not having time to do the important things like Cooking Dinner or Eating.  So rather than putting off the morning meal, I put off the morning reading/pinning check and now they have gone by the way side rather than breakfast.  My husband can attest... this is a good thing! Food makes me happy.  And happy people just don't kill their husbands!

But I digress.

Do Over.

I've genuinely tried to live life with no regrets.  I remember hearing that phrase as a teenager and thinking that I knew what it meant.  Do things you wouldn't normally do!  Be brave! Don't let the world pass you by! All such vague concepts.  Trivial even.  Back then it meant to take that vacation, go on that ride, throw caution to the wind and try something new.  As I've gotten older and have had more "life" to look back on, I've realized that it means more.  It was never about taking that vacation or throwing caution to the wind, it was more about being able to live with myself.  The consequences of my actions or inactions. 

I am not without regrets.  I am not haunted by a multitude either, but there are some strong instances that stick out.  Some strong instances that really do haunt me.

One was in the mission field.  My companion and I were teaching a gentleman.  He had a desire to learn, to figure out what all this "Mormonism" was about.  His profession taught him to question everything, to research both sides, and he did his job well.  Many meetings were spent addressing these questions.  At the end of each meeting either my companion or myself would bear testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel.  It didn't always make sense to him but he always felt something positive and invited us back.  Except for the last time.  Scheduling got in the way.  We met him at his office building and the room was only available for a limited time.  It had been an exhausting discussion.  At the end I felt that I should bear strong testimony but in the rush of the moment I decided to skip it this time and be sure to do it extra well next time.  Right?

There was no next time.  He never invited us back.  I never got my second chance, my Do Over, to make things right.  That was 15ish years ago and it still haunts me.  What would have happened if I had followed my gut?  If I had been brave enough to do the right thing?

The other haunt is in regards to someone I just don't know well at all.  Someone whom I judged rashly.  Harshly even.  Someone who really needed to be a part of something but I just wasn't brave enough to take it on.  Not brave enough to really open my heart.  Not brave enough to help someone heal theirs.  I thought there would be someone else that could step in much better than I could.  I don't really know if I could have helped, if my efforts would have even made a difference.  I never gave it a chance.

Times gives perspective.  15 years of haunting, of looking back with regret and shame; wanting to bury it, leave it in the past where it belongs; ignore it and it will go away right?  15 years of learning and growing.  15 years to get brave.  15 years to do what I should have done in the first place.  My Do Over.

I could be called "chicken" by nature, or at least when it comes to confrontation.  I don't like to call people.  I don't know how to face them sometimes.  I write things instead.  That's what I decided to do, write letters.  A heartfelt apology for not being brave enough to do what was right when it counted the most.   Pouring out my heart, asking for forgiveness, bearing my soul....  There are so many ways each could be taken.  Mocked, made the object of office ridicule, laughed at, thought about, wondered about....  I have no idea how they were taken.  But I do know that for the first time in 15 years I don't look back with shame, guilt, or regret.  I may not have made the right choice the first time around, but I took a Do Over, or rather a Try Again and that's the best I can do. 

The rest of my life is far from perfect.  Mistakes are made daily.  They just aren't the haunting kind.  15 years of regret teaches its own lessons.  I like to think that I have gained some perspective.  Realized that there are things that are worth standing up for regardless of who surrounds me.  I do not want to be shamed into making the wrong choice.  I do not want to be scared away from making the right one. 

We all have battles to fight of our own.  Choices to make, adversity to face.  Will the decisions we make today haunt us 15 years from now? 

We were on a break!

Your welcome.

I've taken a break.  From just about everything I could take a break from.  Namely: my addiction to the internet including but not limited to blog surfing and facebook; writing in general; talking to people; neglecting my house; anything that has been my "norm" lately.

It's felt good. I go through these times every once in awhile.  These times where I step back and re-evaluate my presence.  What I want to say with the words that I write.  What I want to do with my time, basically how I want to actually live my life. 

I usually discover some good things and some bad things during these times.  "Bad" meaning things that I would like to change about myself.  Things/behavior that I have not been particularly pleased with.  I won't list those because they are for me alone.  Although I did realize that I spend way too much time on facebook since my recent internet absence resulted in a few emails wondering if I was okay since I had been "silent" for sometime.  Never fear my friends, all is well.

Mostly it's been a time to just be.  To be with family.  To sit and relax and not worry about anything that I don't absolutely have to worry about.  To soak in my surroundings and let change come to me rather than seek it.  To do things without thinking too much about them.  To take advantage of no schedule and nothing pressing.

Someday maybe I'll tell you all about it.  But mostly, for right now, I still just want to be for awhile.

Searching

I find myself searching these days.  Searching to solutions for storage problems.  Searching for ways to feel just a little bit better, be healthier.  Searching for inspiration, creativity, words of wisdom.  Searching for a better way to live the life that I have.  Searching for answers to questions that I haven't even asked yet.  That I don't even know to ask yet.

As the time draws closer for our little guy to arrive (4 weeks my friends!... give or take), I find myself more nervous.  I wonder if I am prepared.  I wonder if there is even a way to be prepared.  I wonder what he'll look like, if my mothering instincts will kick in.  I wonder if my depression will come back.  I wonder if I'll have the strength to deal with it, whatever "it" is.

I want so very much to enjoy this time of my life.  To enjoy every minute of the little life that will be joining our house soon.  I plan to.  But can you really plan for the unknown?  What if he's colicky?  What if he never sleeps?  What if I never sleep?  What if he has other health problems?  I declined having the tests done to check for any genetic defaults/problems.  At the time I felt certain that it was unnecessary.  I didn't want the stress of worrying about it especially since there are so many false alarms and expensive "further testing" that come with genetic testing.  I'm not really worried about it.  I think I just get overly hormonal at times and get all crazy over nothing.  It seems to be happening more and more.

So I search.  I keep adding more blogs to my google reader account.  Blogs about do it yourself projects, about living life in the moment, about home storage, resourcefulness, and cleaning tips.  Searching.  Still not sure what I'm searching for.

Perhaps in all of this infertility and pregnancy madness that has had most of my attention these last 3,4,5 years, I've lost a bit of myself.  Maybe that's what I'm searching for.  That part that I have lost somewhere on this journey.  The part that I haven't noticed has even been gone.  Huh. I wonder if there's a blog about that.

Wrapping Up

Moderation.

That was my word for 2011 and I loved it.  I made quite a few changes in my life with the promptings and promises of this word.  I dropped to part-time in my job.  I looked at my life more realistically.  I actually said "no" to some things.  But mostly I learned to let go of others. 

Moderation has taught me to take a good long look at some of my "must dos" and realize that there's a lot of stuff out there that simply is not worth the hassle.  Of course this lesson came on full force with the level of sickness that I experienced during that wonderful 1st trimester and then some of pregnancy.  I stopped doing things and the world did not come to an end.

It also taught me to be more moderate in my thinking about myself and others.  Perfection, though worth striving for, is not the end all be all.  In fact, I'm not sure that most of our definitions of perfection are actually correct.  Like art, beauty/perfection is in the eye of the beholder.  Could it be possible that we perceive perfection where it doesn't exist? Like in other people's homes or family lives?  Or even how other's think of themselves?

One of the most pertinent lessons I've been taught this year is that how I see things isn't always how they are.  In fact just recently I found out how very very wrong my perception was concerning a dear friend of mine.  It's a mistake I hope to not make again.

All in all it was a good year.  I have learned, I have grown, and I have become a slightly better person in some aspects and there's a whole lot more to go before this ride we call life is over.  I am looking very much forward to this coming year and what it has in store.

I do have a few more wrap up things but they will be in another post. So until next time, enjoy this unseasonably warm weather!  Is it January or March?!

Out with the old, In with the new.

I'm excited about this year.

There are so many built in changes right on the horizon. The most exciting/trying/unknown being the coming of our new little addition.  The one that is "scheduled" for February 16th but will really come right when he is good and ready to come. 

As I've been thinking about some of the challenges that our little guy will present us with, it's led me to want to change things even more.  I want to be more resourceful and more simple at the same time.  I don't want to spend time on things that aren't going to get me what I want, or really the peace and happiness that I am striving for.  I don't want to waste my time on things that are of no worth while neglecting the things that are.

Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

So my "goal" for 2012 is to be Simple and Resourceful.

I want to be able to provide for my family on a shoe string budget.  I want to make my house a home with my own talents and scavengering skills.  I want to spend less and get more from it.  I want less stuff in my house and more enjoyment from what I do have.  Simple and resourceful.

Along with that comes some more defineable goals.  I want to take pictures more often.  I want to write more often.  I want to reflect and re-evaluate more often.  It may be a lot to hope for but since it's my goal then I have license to get rid of it!  Such power right!

So out with the old and in with the new!

Thoughts

I feel all in a jumble right now.  There are so many things that my thoughts skip back and forth between.  I wish that someone could just take a peek inside my brain and tell me what is important.  What to spend my time dwelling on.  What to just let go.  Tell me what is inside my realm of control and what just isn't.

All the traveling has come to a stop and I can rightly say that it's a blessing.  Gas prices on the rise and all.  But it has given me more time to think.  I've thought about my New Year's word, Moderation.  I wonder if I'm anywhere close.  I feel I have made progress but I seem to be the kind of person that bounces back and forth.  I get heavily involved in a project until I burn myself out on it.  Hence my unfinished quilt, half made gift bags and cards that are just waiting to be put together.  Or recently the room that gets half way cleaned, the laundry that gets half way done.  Perhaps I have eased back a little much.

I've also been thinking about friends.  Friends that used to be a large part of my life but seem to have drifted.  Friends that perhaps I took for granted would always be there.  Particularly one.  I've reached out and have been met with silence in return.  I keep on wondering if I have offended somewhere along the way.  Did I get so wrapped up in the things that are going on in my life that I neglected someone when they may have needed me.  Did they reach out and I missed it?  I hate the way these thoughts are plaguing me right now. 

I've always thought of myself as a loyal friend.  Once friends always friends.  No matter the distance or time in between.  I may not be a "best" friend or a regular "hang out" friend, but I just don't know how or when to stop calling them friend.  So I don't.  And when I'm met with silence by all of my inquiries as to how they are... well, I just don't know what to do.  It kind of makes my heart hurt.  And it makes me worried about them.  I wonder if they are okay.  If there marriage is okay.  If something awful has happened.  If if if...  Perhaps I'll try a more direct approach.  Like showing up on their doorstep and begging. 

I guess there are usually no easy answers to things.  Life just takes time.  Problems take energy to figure out.  Priorities need to be made.  People need to be remembered.  Nothing really profound about it.  Just gotta do it.

Change the Third

Today on my way home from the gymn, I saw a group of teenage boys crossing the street by Willow Park.  I took one look and thought "Egads! They still exist!"  Yep, the Skater crowd.

I don't know if that's what they are still called, but they have all the tell-tale signs that made them the Skater crowd when I was in High School.  In fact, I could probably pull out my yearbook and show them their look-a-likes and either really freak them out or confirm their coolness.  The all black clothes scattered with jeans with holes, the skateboards (of course) and let's not forget the attitude.  It was evident in the way they saw me coming in my car, looked me in the eye, and the continued to slowly make their way across the road.  I slowed down so as to give them plenty of time and still had to wonder if they were going to make me stop completely or go around their little group.  It was as if I didn't exist in their world, and in reality I don't. 

And then I got to thinking.  Sometimes that's a very dangerous thing, it can get you worried about your future and the future of your kids.  And then it hit me.  It hit me hard.  I live in Logan Utah!  I have no idea what high school is like here!  I grew up in small town USA where everyone knew everyone so as a teenager I couldn't get into too much trouble without my parents knowledge because everyone knew who my parents were and apparently their phone number as well.

In the world inside my head, my children would go to school and do some of the same things that I did.  Music, drama, failed attempts at drill team and sports in general.  And I would know how to handle it because I had "been there done that".  I would encourage them in whatever course they chose but it's only natural to have my own favorites.  And in that silly stupid head of mine I honestly pictured my children on stage in the Grace Performing Arts auditorium.  Safe.  Secure. 

But today I saw this faction of people that I have not seen in years, literally!  Why?  Because I have been in the working world of a full-time day job at a college with it's very own brand of stupidity.  I run errands in the evening and on weekends.  I forgot that there's a whole culture that exists outside of my little world.  A culture of kids who want to corrupt my children!

Now, for the record, I really have no idea who these kids were that I saw crossing the street.  I just knew who the kids were in my high school.  And I knew exactly what they were up to because I myself spent a brief time in their midst.  I refer to it as my "dark year".  It would have worked too but I didn't have any black sandals and my white ones just didn't look quite right with the black pants and black sleeveless T and black scrunchy.  (It's all about the details you know, I was even in brief possession of a skull ring.)  I know there's more than meets the eye both good and bad.  I also know that if I hadn't been taught the right things by parents, well let's just say my story would have turned out quite a bit different.

So, what is this Change the Third that I am making?  Well, I'm changing my mindset.  Stop living in the past as if my own stupidity is going to come back to haunt me in the form of my children dragging Main street in Soda Springs at 3 am.  Start looking around at the place that I live.  I live.  Here. Logan.  The town that I really do love with neighbors that I really do love.  This is progression.  I live here and my parents don't.  I am experiencing things that my parents never did.  Perhaps it took me so long to get this seemingly obvious epiphany because some of my high school teachers taught my parents and some of my high school literature books had their names in them as well.  But I don't live there do I.  I have a new life with new experiences that really are completely different from my parents.  And I am just fine with that.

On a side note though.  I still want you all to be able to recognize my children at a glance so you can report when they are doing something so incredibly stupid, or wrecking the car, or thing they are going out with some lame-o that just happens to be in the art class you teach... a well placed friendly phone call would be appreciated.  So for your benefit and mine, I have taken the liberty of digitally age-progressing my un-born and as yet un-conceived children so you know who you are looking for.

You're welcome.

Did You Write That?

Thirteen years ago I was living in Alton, IL as a missionary for my church.  It was truly one of my favorite areas.  It had rolling hills all over town, but not like the rolling hills I was used to, these actually had houses on them.  Historic homes, steep inclines, and brick everywhere.  It sits right on the Mississippi River in all it's grandeur.

The people there, though nothing like my hometown, had some of the same endearing qualities that my hometown did.  I say hometown, but really I grew up in the country so I'll say country-side instead.  There's a difference you know.  But on with the story.

One day during church I was struck by the humility of the people there.  A farmer by origin had given one of the prayers and had thanked Heavenly Father for the rain and asked that it would bless the farmers and the crops.  Coming from "farm stock" myself it struck a chord.  I thought of the many times we had prayed as a family for rain.  And not just because it would cool things down, but it was desperately needed for our livelihood and the livelihood of those around us.

That evening it was my turn for the spiritual thought.  )A mission is quite the experience and had it's own lingo so if you would like clarification, let me know.)  I called the rest of the missionaries in my district and gave them my spiritual thought.  I can't remember word for word but it had something to do with the humility of the farmer praying for their very livelihood.  I wrote it down.  I read it over the phone and credited "Anonymous" for the source.

Everything was going well until the last call.  One of the elders asked if I had written it.  A flush came to my face and I immediately replied "No. It was Anonymous."  He said "Oh, it just sounded like you" and I said with greater insistence and a little more volume "No, Anonymous."  Goodbye!

I hung up the phone and was flustered.  It felt like he had seen me... me.  I didn't want anyone to know I had written it.  I didn't want the criticism.  I didn't want them to say "yeah, I thought you did that's why it sounded so cheesy" or "dumb" or whatever they would have surely said... right?  I didn't want him seeing inside my heart.  I didn't even dare ask him what he thought about it, good or bad.  I just wanted to hang up as quickly as possible.

Sometimes I think back on that day.  The desire to share something that had deeply touched my heart was stunted with the fear of anyone knowing that it really was from my heart.  It was easier to hide behind "Anonymous".  That way it didn't matter what anyone thought about it because no one knew who had written it. 

Would I still deny it today?

That's what sometimes goes through my head.  I have always enjoyed writing even though the  majority of my thoughts may never see the light of day let alone find someone else's eyes looking them over. 

Fear keeps me from doing a lot of things.  Fear keeps us all from doing something.  Sometimes those things don't really matter, like skydiving or rock climbing.  But other times, when it really does matter, fear can be absolutely crippling.  Fear of hugging a family member, really letting them know you care.  Fear of forgiving someone because then you might look weak.  Fear of letting things go because it's all you have known even if it's one of the worst things for you.  There is comfort in familiarity.

Today I haven't even come close to conquering all of my fears, and in all honesty I'm still not sure I'd own up to my Anonymous quote just yet.  But then again... maybe I would.

What are your fears?

The Now

Image clearly borrowed from shutterstock.

Yesterday I sat at a restaurant by myself.  I took a full hour to enjoy my meal.  I savored every bite.  Till the point that some of it was cold but that didn't matter, I still enjoyed the flavor.  I took a book and enjoyed the moment. I even had dessert. The waitress was surprised. I guess no one has dessert for lunch... or at least no one but me did that day. I enjoyed every bite of it too. Usually I am in such a hurry that the flavors blend together and I'm not really even sure what I ate or how fast I ate it.

I can't enjoy life that way.

I have been woefully absent from the blogosphere of late.  I have had a few things to figure out.  Some discoveries to make.

1.  I need a schedule.  No matter how much I would like to throw caution to the wind and live for the here and now, I need a plan for the day, even for the week sometimes.  When I have an idea of when things are going to get done, then I can relax and enjoy the present.

2.  Making my own lunch has really thrown off my groove.  For the last 4.5 years I could go to the Hub, Marketplace, Skyroom, Quadside, or Junction and get whatever it is my taste buds felt like that day.  Now I have one more thing to plan and winging it is not working so well.

3.  The non-separation of the work computer from the home computer strangely limits my natural desire to blog, or really do anything "personal" on the computer.  I still have several topics waiting in the wings, I just haven't felt like actually writing.  I am kind of disturbed by this revelation.  It goes against my commitment to moderation as well as taking care of that need to express myself.

4.  Despite the fact that I work from home now and have "more time on my hands" I have learned that I can't say yes to everything that is asked.  I still have to take charge of my life and not be tossed about with every whim or request.

5.  Moving forward with our infertility options is scaring me right now.  I've never been good with needles and there will be a lot with IVF.  A lot that I have to give myself.  I'm scared of the effects of the hormones and exceptionally strong fertility drugs and all that things that could go wrong with it.  I'm scared of the fact that it might not work either.  So I'm taking a bit longer than I thought to "dive in" to it.  I want to enjoy my sanity a little while before I lose it completely.

Now, there's a lot in there that needs a "Toughen up there cupcake!" and that's okay.  I'm working on it.  But for the last 4 years or so these are things that I have not had time in the day to deal with.  They have haunted me at night, or in the wee small hours of the morning.  Now I have a little more time on my hands and things that have been buried by busyness are now coming to the front lines.  And that's okay.  Sometimes it really is the little things that do the most damage, and now is the time to deal with them.

So like my dessert yesterday, I plan on enjoying this time.  Figuring things out and savoring the moments both good and bad.  The good because they give me something to hold on to during the bad.  The bad because that's usually when I learn the most about the changes I need to make.  Both help me move forward.

What I Like About This

"This" being this stay at home thing.

1. eating breakfast with David
2. exercising not at 5 am but more like 10:30
3. running errands during the day
4. eating lunch with David
5. doing laundry while things are downloading from work
6. music as lound or as quiet as I want it
7. the phone doesn't ring
8. jeans
9. slippers
10. not hauling a laptop around in my bag
11. making my own schedule
12. lunch with friends without the hassle of leaving campus
13. the sun streaming into my window
14. the ability to drop everything and take pictures

There are things I miss about the office too.

1. my friends there
2. my friends there
3. breakfast burritos in the morning
4. my friend there

That about sums it up.

I've Never Known Someone I Didn't Like

Pretty bold statement don't you think?

But take a minute and really think about it.  The people I don't like so well are the people that I don't understand.  The ones that I only see a tiny part of.  It just happens that that tiny part of them really annoys me sometimes.  Really annoys me.

But what if I had walked in their shoes?  Lived their life?  Been exposed to the same things they had?  Would I like me?  Would I have a better understanding of why they do the things they do.  Would it be easier for me to have compassion?  To not get frustrated?

What if I spent the day with them?  A couple of days even?  What would I think then. 

I knew Sandy when I lived in Granite City, Illinois.  Or as some would say "Granite Hell".  It was quite the place but it holds fond memories.  Sandy scared me.  At least she did at first.  She had quite the gruff exterior.  She had tattoos everywhere, she chain-smoked, she cursed up a storm. 

Then I got to know her more.  She had a sly smile that she tried to cover up. Sometimes it would just sneak out though, much like a child that tries so hard not to smile but just can't quite do the job.  She had a hard life.  She didn't know what compassion even looked like let alone how to give it.  No one had every really tried to understand her before.  She was abused by family members, as a 6-year old child she watched as her father took his own life.  She'd been in and out of prison, in and out of gangs, and in and out of relationships.  When I knew her she had cancer and AIDS.  She was in her 30s.

But oh how I loved her.  I didn't know that it was possible to love someone so much who wasn't part of my family.  I didn't know that it existed.  She taught me by being there, alive and somewhat willing to let me into her life.  To get to know her.  To care for her.  I will always be thankful for that.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't think we'd all be BFFs and live in a magical 'kum by ya" state just by getting to know one another better, but I do wonder if it would be easier to roll with the punches when they come.  Because they will come.  Sometimes we'll even throw a few ourselves and not even know it. But perhaps the tiny things that really annoy me wouldn't be quite as bad.  Not that they would change, but perhaps my perspective on it would. 

Just a thought.

Blessed are they that mourn

"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."

No one likes to see themselves as ugly.  Especially when we are presenting ourselves to the world.  We put on our best face.  We smile.  We tell about the good things.  We look for silver linings and cling to them no matter how fleeting.  But then life catches up.  The silver linings, while still there, are difficult to see for the reality that looms so impossibly large before our eyes, demanding to be dealt with.  Looked at, embraced, picked apart.  Reality demands, and needs, attention.

I'm pretty good at fooling myself.  Preparing for the worst so that when it comes I can take it all in stride.  It never really works though.  Oh it does for awhile, and most importantly it works in public.  When people ask how I'm doing I can readily look them in the eye and say "Just fine, and how are you?"

Now, I want you to know that I am fine.  Really and truly, because mourning and crying and dealing are all things that make sure that I'm fine.

Our last round of IUI did not work.  This was in no way, shape, or form a surprise.  Completely expected.  We found out about two weeks ago and it was taken in stride.  There is a plan in place to continue moving forward and there didn't seem to be reason to mourn an all too familiar loss.  In fact, it almost didn't effect me at all.  I felt like I had grown.  Like I had finally gotten a hold of these emotions of mine and could "soldier on".

Until today that is.  Or really yesterday.

I have so very much enjoyed this week.  Things have been moving along quite nicely at work.  My husband is wonderful and we've been able to support each other in so many different ways this week.  My stress has lessened and life is looking brighter.  I've been feeling really good about everything.

And then someone asked a question.  About children.  About whether or not we've considered going to a doctor since we didn't have kids yet.  I about fell over.  It made me wonder what kind of conclusions had been drawn about me.  It made me want to give a dry sarcastic laugh and set the record straight, end the conversation, and exit as quickly as possible.  Instead I said "yes, many times, many doctors, no explanation just more money, and yes we are approved for adoption as well", the quick in a nut shell explanation.

I was asked again, later in the day if I had children and an even briefer explanation was given.  I felt pretty blue the rest of the day.  Blue enough to settle for left over macaroni and cheese for dinner.

And then there was this morning.  I got up to exercise and get those endorphins going because "endorphins make you happy and happy people just don't kill their husbands." (name that movie) I exercised, I sweat, I worked out my frustrations, and then I sat on the couch and cried.  Cried for the loss that I didn't feel two weeks ago.  Cried at the unexplainedness of it all.  Cried because I feel old and I'm worried that if I ever do get children that I won't know what to do.  That I'll be out of patience, that my mother instincts have been so buried by the last 15 years that they may not surface.  Worried by how dead I feel inside sometimes.

My New Year's Resolution this year is moderation.  Well, you can't have the good without the bad.  Dark times make you appreciate the sunshine even more.  Spring will really come eventually.  Those silver linings really are out there.  But for a few moments, I need to deal with my reality.  Ask the questions, formulate the answers, get a better grip of what I'm dealing with so I can go forward.

I know that mine is not the worst situation.  I know it.  There are so many wonderful people out there that I am connected with that have their own little private "hell" that has inserted itself into their lives.  Things that don't have easy answers and sometimes make for awkward conversation.

Mourning is a necessary part of this life.  We can only receive the needed comfort if we truly allow ourselves to mourn, to feel, to accept.  That is when God can step in and lighten our path. There is hope, there is always hope. Perhaps it will be easier to see tomorrow. But for today I might just wallow in my misery, swim in it till I get all pruny (name that movie!) and then move on tomorrow, better for having done so.

I feel a little like this today. Spiky with a few blossoms. This was taken at the greenhouse shoot.