Family IS Forever

I had two experiences last week that I wanted to record, and as it is much faster to type rather than write, I'm going to use this space.

Wednesday morning, about 4am, I had a dream.  I was traveling with my kids and my mom and some of Blythe's little friends.  We were driving over a high mountain pass in the snowy cold and stopped near the summit of the mountain.  We got out, and as we were walking around, Blythe's friend Kassi tripped and hurt her ankle.  I called her mom to come meet us, and after some time waiting, making no progress on our journey and really just killing time, Kassi's parents arrived.  I wanted to get on the road and told my mom we needed to get back in the car and be on our way since Kassi was being taken care of.  She didn't feel like she could go, but I was tired of waiting and exhausted physically and just wanted to be home.  So I got in the car and drove away.

As I got down into the valley, I realized I didn't know where I was.  The surroundings reminded me of Spain, but as I was driving, I knew I couldn't be there.  I passed a small information office, and stopped to ask for directions.  When I went into the office, the man at the desk and I had a very difficult time understanding each other.  I kept telling him I needed to know the way home, and he kept acting like he didn't understand anything I was saying.  I was trying to show him on a map where I needed to be, but I didn't know exactly where I was, so I couldn't orient myself.

Suddenly, next to me, my father appeared.  He didn't speak to me.  In fact, it was as if he was ignoring me.  I said, "Dad! What are you doing here?" but he didn't respond.  He sort of bustled around the office and then walked over next to the man I was trying to get directions from.  Miraculously, the man suddenly comprehended what I needed and gave me clear and concise directions of how to get home.  He showed me on the map, pointed the routes I was to take, and encouraged me on my way.  When he was done and it was obvious I knew what I needed, Dad bustled out of the office.  Again, he didn't say anything to me and I desperately wanted a hug from him, but I knew that he had made my communications with the man at the desk possible.  He knew how much I wanted to go home and eased my way.

I woke crying and realized that Dad is involved in my life.  I can't see him or talk to him or hug him, but he wants to make sure I get home and is working from the other side of the veil to insure that happens.  He is easing my way and I felt that so profoundly as I woke from my dream.

The following day, Thursday, I went to the temple just after dropping the kids off at school.  I have been going on Wednesdays since school started, but I wasn't able to go then last week, and changed my day.  Aunt Georgianne works at the temple on Thursdays, and when I was going on Thursdays, I would see her all the time.  She was the initiatory coordinator, so I was always able to say hello and give/get a hug.  Although I was doing initiatory, positions have changed and I didn't see her when I went in.  I waited on the bench for just a moment, and was then taken into a booth randomly.  Well, not so randomly as it turns out.  I was washed, and then out of anointing came Georgianne to seal my washing.  We were both surprised to see each other, and I stood and gave her a hug.  She performed the ordinance and then we went into the anointing booth together.  She was very emotional, hardly able to speak as she performed the ordinance.  She then came into clothing with me as it was time to change places.  She and I were both very touched by the spirit as she finished off, both of us crying.

It was wonderful to be in initiatory with my favorite auntie.  I love the blessing promised during each stage of initiatory, and to hear them pronounced upon my head by someone I love and that I know loves me was very powerful.  It made me think of Grandma Hare.  Before we had Brandt, I would go to the temple on Thursday mornings with Georgianne and Grandma Hare and Aunt Beth (until her death) and sometimes Jackie.  I know Grandma Hare is busy on the other side of the veil, and I believe she is probably helping with temple work from her side.  I thought about Grandma Barnes, another active and energetic soul, and can imagine her doing temple work too.  It was just so moving to be there with family doing such critical work that brings about the binding of families forever.

And I cried, too, because Georgianne has daughters she loves even more than she loves me, and she can't go to the temple with any of them.  She's done everything right as a parent, and yet all but one of her eight children have left the church and don't participate anymore at all.  I keenly felt that loss and imagine she was thinking about it too.  But there is hope, too, that comes from temple covenants.  All of Georgianne's children have been sealed to her, and her righteousness and obedience help insure that her children will be hers for eternity.  Hope is a wonderful thing.

I was so grateful for both of these experiences, tender reminders of the eternal nature of families, and the love our Father in Heaven, as our father, has for us.  I rejoice in my sealing to Kent and the sealing of our children to us, and to know that I and we are linked to those we love very most forever.

Dishes

When, after four years, I was released as the Primary president, I was put into Young Women as the assistant laurel adviser.  I am now in charge of personal progress for the laurels.  I decided to restart personal progress myself at the beginning of the year, not only so that I would be current with what the girls should be working on, but because personal improvement can never go amiss.

I started in January and quickly realized that personal progress really prepares a young woman for life as an active Latter-day Saint woman.  So much of what the girls are expected to do as they work on and complete value experiences and projects are things I am doing right now as a wife, mother, and member of the Church.  Many of the experiences are designed to help strengthen testimony and prepare for the temple and establish good patterns that will serve the girls well into their adulthood.  Others help develop talents and learn important homemaking skills like cooking, cleaning, and organizing.  I had forgotten how applicable everything is.

Here is an example.  In Good Works, a girl is to help plan family meals, obtain food, and prepare part of the meals for two weeks.  Since January, I have fulfilled this requirement sixteen times.  I plan meals, obtain food, and prepare meals practically every night.  It is something I do every single day.  What a great skill to have a young woman work to develop.  One of the choice and accountability experiences is about budgeting and learning to prioritize needs over wants.  Again, so applicable to what I'm doing right now in my life.

I mention all of this because of a value experience I am working on this month.  I started today.  Good works experience five has you read three verses in D&C 58 about being anxiously engaged in a good cause.  Then, you are to "develop a pattern of service in your life by choosing a family member you can help.  Serve that person for at least a month."  Last night, as Kent and I were cleaning the kitchen, I apologized for once again putting dishes in the sink throughout the day without putting them in the sink, leaving the dishwasher half full, and not filling it up and running it, creating even a larger mess to contend with at the end of the day.  For some reason, I am really not good at just sticking breakfast and lunch dishes in the dishwasher.  I let them pile up and my husband is almost always the one who deals with them at the end of the day.  So last night I committed to him that for the next thirty days, my pattern to develop would be to deal with the dishes immediately and not let them pile up in the sink, thereby choosing him as the family member to serve.  I have put it a little yellow (for good works) piece of paper with GW5 on it, as a reminder to me to do my good works value experience number five and keep the kitchen cleaner.

I am happy to report, at the end of day one, all is well.  I loaded the dishwasher and did all the dishes before I sat down to write this, and I hope to be as diligent throughout the month (and beyond).

Wish me luck for continued resolve.

Real Mom

Tonight, yet again, during an argument with Blythe, she said, "You're not my real mom."  Her implication was that I don't love her.  While logically I know that Blythe doesn't really understand, and I tell myself not to let that particular sentence bother me, when she says it, it's like a knife to the heart.  It wounds me over and over again, because for Blythe, once is never enough.  She doesn't understand the absolutely horrible situation from which she was plucked by DCFS before she came to our home.  She doesn't understand that her "real" mom can't take care of herself much less Blythe and her "birth family" she talks about all the time.  She doesn't understand how unsafe, unhealthy, and unstable her life would be if she was with Key Bug.  She just doesn't understand and I can't and won't explain it to her because she is too young.  But because we have always been open with the children about being adopted, and always answered Blythe's questions honestly, she knows enough to know that there was another possibility for her life.  So when things are not going as she would like, like when I insist she clean her room, or yell at her (which I shouldn't do) for being a brat (which I shouldn't call her) during family home evening, or when she somehow feels life is unfair, she pulls out and plays the very hurtful "You're not my real mom" card.

How will we work through this?  How will I learn to deal with it better?  Blythe is adopted and we can't change that.  I can't tell her to go live with her birth mom if she thinks it would be so much better.  I can't change who she is or where she came from.  I don't want her to draw pictures of her "birth family," a picture with a mom, two daughters, and a son, and then have to say how much I like her artwork.  I don't want to have to accommodate an addict "mom" stopping by when she's having a sober moment for a play date.  I don't want to have my daughter throw it in my face every time she's unhappy with me that I'm not her "real" mom, especially when the person she thinks that is never has to deal with our difficult and headstrong child.  If I have to suffer and struggle through the constant challenge of raising Blythe, I want to at least get billing as "The Mom."

Several months ago I read a book about an adopted daughter.  She is unhappy with her mother but adores her father.  After she leaves for college, she receives a grant to go do research in India where she was born.  While there, she meets and interviews many women about their life experiences.  She comes to see how good her life has been and how fortunate she was to be adopted.  I thought of my Blythe as I read it.  She has no idea what her life could be like, and I don't want her to know.  But I hope that Blythe will come to see that as a parent, I'm not all bad.  I'm not as evil as she thinks I am.  I love her, I'm here for her all the time, I am her real mom.  And I hope it doesn't take until she's left our home for her to figure it out.  But I should probably accept that it will very likely take that long and prepare to have my heart wounded over and over again.

Twelve Days of Coming Unto Christ--Day 4

Come unto Christ by using the gift of REPENTANCE.

Repentance is truly a gift.  I look at my life and I shudder sometimes at how horribly I fall short of worthiness to return to Heavenly Father.  In so many ways I have not got it figured out.  I struggle daily in my efforts to follow Christ even though I know I am happier and spiritually healthier when I do follow Him, and that life goes better when I am doing what I should.

Today we were to identify a sin we wanted to repent of, write it on a small piece of paper, and enclose it in an ornament we could hang on the Christmas tree.  In addition to the sin, we were to include ways the Savior can help us accomplish our goal of repenting.  I won't share the sin I wrote down.  I'm not emotionally prepared to go shouting my sins from the rooftops, especially as concerns the sin I wish to rid myself of.

Two scriptural passages to read today, D&C 64:1-11, and the story of Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah in Mosiah 27:1-28:9.  In D&C the Lord says, "I . . . forgive sins unto those who confess their sins before me and ask forgiveness."  Doesn't that seem so simple?  Confess and be forgiven.  If only it were that easy.  I know that there must be some forsaking in there too, the giving up of that wrong we sometimes cling to.  I know as regards my particular sin, I allow my perceptions and prejudices and largely my impatience play too great a role in my behavior.  My sin is in regards to a member of my family, and I let my behavior sour my relationship with this person when, deep down, I really want there to be peace and harmony and love.  Yet I seem unable to make the critical change in myself that will knit us closer together and make me better.  Why don't I find that easier than it seems to be?  Why do I continue to behave abominably?  Why do I allow myself to sin when sinning only brings about, as Alma the younger describes in Mosiah 27 as "teh gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity?"  I sometimes feel as if I am racked with eternal torment.

It occurred to me today that the rack was a horrible torture device upon which a person was tied at the hands and ankles and then pulled in opposite directions.  Sometimes I think I am torturing myself and those I love with my sinful actions.  I write that and it sounds like I am really doing awful things.  I don't think I am, all the time at any rate.  But too often I am weak and let frustration, fatigue, or something else control my behavior when I really want to act in love, kindness, and the spirit of Christ.

I want to repent, to be born again, to be redeemed of God.  I want to be worthy to be called His daughter and to inherit the kingdom.  Alma said, however, that he had to wade through "much tribulation, repenting nigh unto death" before the Lord snatched him from an everlasting burning.  In truth, I am not sinning like Alma was, I'm not leading souls to their spiritual death.  But I also don't feel justified in saying, "Well, I'm not as bad as he was/is.  I'm better than that."  I am still imperfect; there is much room for improvement.

So today I put my sin in the ornament, and I am going to pray for forgiveness and help for improvement.  And I'm going to remember that forgiveness brings joy and light.  Like Lamoni's father, I want to give away all my sins to know God that I might be raised from the dead and be saved at the last day (Alma 22:18).

Twelve Days of Coming Unto Christ--Day 3

Day Three:  Come unto Christ by REMEMBERING Him.

Today's scriptures to read were the sacrament prayers.  In each we covenant to "always remember Him."  As I thought today about remembering Christ, I thought about one of the Primary program songs we sang this year, "If the Savior Stood Beside Me."  Here are the words:

If the Savior stood beside me, would I do the things I do?
Would I think of His commandments and try harder to be true?
Would I follow His example?  Would I live more righteously
If I could see the Savior standing nigh, watching over me?

If the Savior stood beside me, would I say the things I say?
Would my words be true and kind if He were never far away?
Would I try to share the gospel?  Would I speak more reverently
If I could see the Savior standing nigh, watching over me?

He is always near me, though I do not see Him there,
And because He loves me dearly I am in His watchful care.
So I'll be the kind of person that I know I'd like to be
If I could see the Savior standing nigh, watching over me.

This is a powerful song to me.  When I am angry at the children or short tempered with Kent, if I am thinking ill of someone or being unkind in any way, the words of this song will come into my head.  I will realize that I am not remembering Christ, that I am not living as if he were standing nigh.

We were given a bell today to put in a pocket or purse and then use it to remind us to keep the Savior in our thoughts.  I tied it to my belt loop and enjoyed its tinkling sound throughout the day.  I thought about it as Blythe demanded my help and attention as she wanted me to play a game with her, feed her, and read to her when I really wanted to be working on a photo book for Christmas.  And I thought about the Savior when the children were driving me crazy as they ran around while I was trying to prepare dinner.  It helped me be calmer, steadier, patienter.

The last activity suggestion was to gather as a family around the Christmas tree for a testimony meeting.  Each person could have a candle which they could light as they bore their testimony.  This was a bit much for my crew, but I did have us gather and then I asked everyone to share one thing they could do that would help them remember the Savior and act more like Him.  Here is what each one shared.

Brandt said, "We can do good things.  We can sing songs about Jesus."
Blythe said, "We can help others."
Kent said, "We can visit people who are lonely."
Katherine said, "We can not look at others to judge, but to love."

Twelve Days of Coming Unto Christ--Day 2

Today's way to come unto Christ was by showing gratitude.  How often do I tell the Savior that I am grateful for all he does for me?  Activity options for the day included saying a prayer and offering only thanks, reading three different scriptural passages, writing a thank you note to Jesus, and making a gratitude collage.
I found the selection of scriptural passages to be very interesting in the context of gratitude.  The first passage was Luke 1:46-55.  In this passage, Mary is describing the Savior, the man who will be her son.  She describes him as "holy," "mighty," and "merciful," and then says that he has "exalted them of low degrees," "filled the hungry with good things."  Not the first passage of scripture that comes to mind when I think of gratitude.

The next selection was from Alma 36:3-28.  This is Alma the younger speaking to his son Helaman and describing his rebellion, vision, and miraculous conversion.  This is such a moving story to me.  Alma was going about the destruction of the church, but God, in his infinite mercy and understanding, knew that Alma had the potential to lead people to Christ rather than away from him, and He sent an angel to straighten him out.  Alma says for three days he was "racked, even with the pains of a damned soul," his soul "harrowed up by the memory of [his] many sins."  But then he remembers the words of his father (also a changed sinner) about the coming of Jesus Christ.  He cries out to Christ for mercy and forgiveness, and the pain he feels is swept away.  He can remember it no more.  He bears testimony of the love and support he feels from Christ, and the sweetness of forgiveness.  While not a passage of scripture about gratitude, Alma is certainly grateful for the joy and relief he feels, and I can bear testimony to having had a similar feeling following repentance.  As I have tried to give up a particularly sinful behavior, I have felt relief and joy and tremendous gratitude for a loving Father who always gives me another chance.

The third scripture was 1 Samuel 1:11-2:21.  This is the story of Hannah who desperately wants a child.  She prays and vows to the Lord that if she can have a child, she will dedicate him to the Lord's service.  She is "of a sorrowful spirit," until promised by the high priest that God will grant her petition.  He does and she bears a son.  She says, "My heart rejoiceth in the Lord."  I love that phrase.  I want my heart to rejoice in the Lord, too.  I want to feel that same gratitude for all I have been blessed with.  Hannah's sincere thanks lead the Lord to further bless her with three sons and two daughters.  Following the frustration and distress of infertility, although it doesn't say as much, I am certain Hannah considered herself miraculously blessed indeed.

I know that as we express gratitude, the Lord will see fit to bless us more.  I wrote Jesus a thank you note to be opened on Christmas eve, and I put it on the mantle amidst all the greenery.  It wasn't there more than twenty minutes before Blythe brought it to me and said, "Mom, where did this note for Jesus come from?  Why is it on the mantle?"  I explained that I had written it, that it was a thank you note, and that she needed to put it back.  "How will he read it when he isn't here?" she asked, with just a touch of teenage exasperation in her five-year-old voice.  "Since Jesus can read the thoughts of our hearts," I said, "he can certainly read the words of my thank you card."  She returned it to the mantle.

I did not make a gratitude collage, but I did do my Thanksgiving ABC a couple of weeks ago, and I consider that essentially the same thing.  No pictures, but I was certainly thoughtful about it.

Twelve Days of Coming unto Christ--Day 1

I have a new calling in Young Women.  I am the assistant Laurel adviser, in charge of personal progress.  It is somewhat strange being back in Young Women after years away, and while I know the girls by name, I don't know very many of them very well.  I have been to our weekday activity once, and to opening exercises once, although I didn't stay for class (I got to substitute as music chorister in Primary, my favorite calling EVER!).

On Sunday we were introduced to a special Christmas "project" for lack of a better word, the twelve days of coming unto  Christ.  Beginning today and for the following eleven days, we will get to open an envelope or a box which contains an activity that will help bring us closer to Christ.  I am really rather delighted with this because I want my Christmas celebrating to be more Christ focused.  And for some reason of late, I have been letting the children really irritate me, driving away the festive holiday spirit that should be a significant part of the month.

Each day there are several activities we can do--reading scriptures, writing something--designed to draw our focus towards Christ.  Next Sunday, the day after day 12, we will have a special combined class and we will have the opportunity to share an experience we have or a significant something we have felt as we have worked through the twelve days.  I was impressed today to record my impressions and thoughts here, on this blog, so I could refer back to it in the future.

Today was day one: Come unto Christ by increasing your KNOWLEDGE of Him.  Included in today's envelope was a 26 question quiz, a sort of trivia game, about the Savior, and four other options.  You could read or watch "The Living Christ: The Testimony of the Apostles;" read Luke 2 as you sat near a nativity set and then think about Jesus' childhood; read in the New Testament a bit; ask a family member to tell you their favorite story about Jesus.

I am happy to report that I knew the answers to all 26 questions about Jesus.

I read "The Living Christ" again.  I was impressed anew at Christ's willingness to come to Earth as a baby, and have a mortal experience just like everyone else's.  Well, not just like everyone else's because he was perfect, but to give up all the power, might, and majesty he enjoyed at the right hand of God to be a baby and learn and grow just like we have to.  I love the way Christ is described in this testimony: "Messiah," "creator, " "he entreated," "he taught," "he healed," "advocate."  I think I especially like that last one.  As an advocate, a representative, an agent for each of us, he is going to fight on our side, he's going to argue for us.  Kent and I have been watching a program on PBS called Silk about a woman lawyer in England.  She almost always is the lawyer for the defense, and she fights fiercely for her clients.  She believes in them, in their innocence, and in their humanity, and she really goes to bat for them.  Christ will do that for each of us, and I'm grateful that such a powerful being is on my team.

I read Luke 2 again.  The part with the angel of the Lord and the shepherds and Mary keeping all things in her heart and pondering them I practically have memorized.  It is the oft repeated Christmas story.  But the latter part of the chapter has the less frequently mentioned stories of Anna and Simeon who were both old and blessed to see the Christ child before their deaths.  Chapter 2 also includes the wonderful story of Jesus being inadvertently left behind in Jerusalem and found teaching in the temple.  When he was twelve.  I am amazed that even that early he knew who he was and what he needed to do.  It seems a heavy burden to bear for a child, and an indication of how mature and thoughtful he must have been.

I think my book knowledge of Christ is good, I know the stories, I understand who he is, sort of like a famous person in history you can read up about.  But I would like to know him better personally.  I sometimes feel that I know Christ in the same way I know Brad Pitt; I know who he is, I know who he is involved with, I recognize him in a picture, but we haven't met and he doesn't know me.  I realize, too, that the distance is of my own making and that if I want our relationship to change, it has to be me who makes the effort.  Christ is there and available (very much unlike Brad Pitt), all I have to do is let him in.

I intended on asking the children what their favorite story about Jesus is, and I will still do that.  They are in bed, so that will have to happen tomorrow.  But my favorite story about Jesus is when he came to the Americas to visit the Nephites and Lamanites.  When he gathers their children and blesses them, and angels descend upon them, and Jesus weeps because he is so moved, I weep too.  That incredibly marvelous love moves me to tears pretty much every time I read it.  I am always impressed, too, that Jesus ministers one on one almost all the time.  When he fed the multitude, he was nourishing a large group, but for the most part, his interactions with people and their healing happened one on one, Christ doing his part and lovingly inviting someone to repent or be more faithful or more obedient.  I long for that one on one interaction myself.

A Real Mom

Tonight Blythe said to me, without any preamble or context, "You're not my real mom."  I was taken aback, but I don't think I let it show.  "Keybug is my real mom," she continued.  "I came out of her tummy.  And I know who my sister and brother are--McKenna and Greyson."

All of that is true, and I agreed with her.  I was calm and unemotional on the outside, but inside, I must confess, I felt stabbed to the heart.  I have known that those very words, "You're not my real mom," were going to come out of Blythe's mouth one day, I just didn't expect that day to be so soon.  I figured it would happen in the throes of a tween/mom fight about what she was wearing or how she was misbehaving, not in the quiet of bedtime at five years old.  Blythe is a deep thinker so I tried to explain in simple terms why she lives with us.  Keybug is her birthmom, the woman who carried her in her body and who gave birth to her.  But Keybug is sick, as Blythe is sick at the moment, but she's not going to get better easily or soon (if ever).  Blythe's body will fight the virus she has and in a day or two, she'll be up and busy again, running and jumping and going to school.  Keybug, however, won't.  She can't take care of herself, much less a child (or two or three), and so Blythe came to our family.

Then I tried to explain that moms are more than just the person who gives birth to you.  She is the one who feeds you every day, who takes you to dance, who reads you stories and helps you with your homework.  She's the one who gives you a soothing massage when you feel lousy and holds you and rocks you and snuggles you in the middle of the night when you have an ear ache and feel so horrible you want to die.  She is the woman who is there day in and day out, putting up with your tantrums, cheering you from the sidelines, coming to school and helping out in your classroom or on field trips.  She's the woman who is there for you, in body and mind and spirit, who prays for you and loves you and worries now about what will become of you when you are a teenager and if your spouse will be good to you.  A mom is the woman who knows all your favorite things--food, color, game, outfit, story--and works really hard to make sure you can enjoy all your favorite things regularly.  She is the person who celebrates your triumphs and cries with you when you fail, who wants everything that is good for you and hopes everyone sees all the good in your and will ignore all the not so good.

I didn't go into all this detail with Blythe because she is sick and was tired and needed to go to bed.  But I did tell her that when she was adopted, the judge told me I had to take care of her.  She was my responsibility and that I took that responsibility seriously.  That was a happy day.  And two days later was an even happier day because when she was sealed to us, she became part of our family for eternity.  Dad and I love her and rejoice that she is part of us.

At five, how can Blythe possibly understand all that she was saved from when we adopted her?  Just as I knew she would one day say, "You're not my real mom," I know the day will come when she will recognize that she was better off with us than with Keybug, as much as Keybug may love her.  And I hope I am surprised by that day coming earlier than I think it will.  I hope she will come to see how much I love her, with a love that is as real as any love a mother who birthed a child ever had for her daughter.

Called To Serve

Sunday afternoon Kent and I attended a worldwide Church training all about missionary work.  It was a wonderful meeting, rich in spirit and direction, thought-provoking and inspiring.  It made me think a lot about my mission, why I went, those I met, the good I might or might not have done.  In a way, my mission experience feels like a life-time ago, almost like it happened to a different person.  I suppose in a way I was a different person.  There were times during the eighteen months I served that I wanted to be almost anywhere else.  It was hard to be out trying to share my testimony, especially when I often felt no one really cared to hear anything I said.  I think France and Switzerland remain difficult places to do missionary work.  There is a lot of apathy towards God and religion and seemingly few people really searching for spiritual nourishment.

There were, however, other times when I felt caught up in the work, willing to give my all forever if necessary, to see the Church grow as I shared the gospel.  I felt powerful, full of the spirit, and "on fire" to use a missionary term.  It was good.  And looking back, it still feels good.  While I didn't see huge success numbers wise, I know I made a difference in the lives of at least one or two people.

Sunday's meeting stirred up those missionary feelings again.  I want to get out there and wear a badge and represent Christ and the Church again.  Thing is, I have young children at home.  Blythe is five which means the soonest Kent and I could be out serving as a couple is another fifteen years.  And if I was being honest, I would confess that I don't really want to serve a proselyting mission, I want to do humanitarian stuff, or work in a temple somewhere, or almost anything other than knock on doors and try to find people to teach.

The great thing about this meeting, however, if that it is readily acknowledged that door knocking is super ineffective.  We shouldn't be doing it.  Instead, we should be looking to our friends and neighbors who don't have the gospel and seeking ways to invite them to learn more.  Several of the fantastic videos shown made it look so easy.  I do have a slight problem, however.  I live in Provo, Utah in a ward that geographically holds two non-member families.  That's right.  Two.  And one of those families used to be members but have joined another church and had their names removed from the rolls of the Church.  Not much work to do here.

However, there is a new family that has just moved into the ward with two Primary aged children, and they are not active.  Their daughter was in Brandt's class last year and had a little crush on him.  When I went over last week to introduce myself, the mom, Kim, told me, "We're not super active.  If we go to church on Sunday, great.  If not, no big deal.  We're pretty cazh."  I have thought about that all week.  It has bothered me.  Now is not the time to be casual about one's eternal salvation.  I worry all the time about my children developing a strong testimony and remaining faithful to the gospel, and Kent and I are doing all the right things to insure our children will be active.

As I sat through the meeting, I thought about this family a lot and what I might do to involve, embrace, and invite them to participate.  As the Primary president, I have been called to serve the children in our ward and by extension, their families too.  I don't need a badge, I don't need to travel to a foreign country, or even leave my home.  Right here in Provo, Utah, I can be a missionary.  And I intend to share my testimony as I have opportunity.

Achieving Perfection

I work in Primary.  I love it.  I love being with the children and feeling their spirit and hearing them bear their testimony through song.  Plus my kids are there and I get to be with them and see them participate in the gospel.  It is often the highlight of my week.  Being in Primary, however, means that I don't get to hear the Sunday School and Relief Society lessons.  So in my personal study, I have been reading the Teachings of Presidents of the Church lessons from Lorenzo Snow.

Yesterday, I read the chapter entitled "Becoming Perfect before the Lord: 'A Little Better Day by Day.'"  It was wonderfully encouraging.  The commandment to "be perfect" as Jesus was is certainly daunting, especially as I feel I fall far short in so many areas of my life.  I can pat myself on the back that I am perfect at paying my tithing, but as far as other commandments go, I need work, and lots of it.  President Snow, however, made it seem that perfection is possible.  He said,

Do not expect to become perfect at once.  If you do, you will be disappointed.  Be better today than you were yesterday, and be better tomorrow than you are today.  The temptations that perhaps partially overcome us today, let them not overcome us so far tomorrow.  Thus continue to be a little better day by day; and do not let your life wear away without accomplishing good to others as well as to ourselves.

I appreciate that President Snow recognizes that temptations will overcome us, and encourages us to not let them "overcome us so far tomorrow."  By being a little better day by day, I can get there.  I have been working hard since the beginning of the year to control my anger towards and impatience with the children.  I have sincerely asked for help from Heavenly Father, I have been searching for ways to better parent, and I have been trying to be more conscious of what sort of spirit I am inviting into our home through my actions.  I feel that I have been helped and blessed in my efforts, and while not perfect, I am getting a little better day by day.  It gives me hope that I can do it.

Resolution

Do you think one is more likely to try and keep a resolution if someone else knows about it?  I'm not really one to jump on the new year's resolution bandwagon, mostly because I think if I need to make improvements or changes in my personal life, I should start, whenever.  But with the end of a year and the beginning of another, I have found myself reflecting on my behavior over the past twelve months, and I see areas that need improvement.  Some are deeply personal and I'm unwilling to write about them, even though likely only three people read this blog.  But there are others I am willing to record for the purpose of making myself accountable in some way, I guess to you three readers.  So here they are--my new year's resolutions.

• Do two things every day: pray and study the scriptures.  I have lots of thoughts about these two activities, but they fall into the deeply personal category.  I do want to try and read the Book of Mormon once a quarter, four times this year, and hope for great personal improvements through my efforts. 
• Do two other things at least five times a week: exercise and practice the piano.  The exercising goal is unrelated to weight loss, I just want to be moving more.  I began taking piano lessons in February, three decades after my last lesson.  I like being able to play better, and I really want to make marked improvement this year.  How is that going to happen?  Practice, practice, practice!
• I want to perform an act of service for someone else every day.  Is that possible?  I know I serve my family every day, but I want it to be something more than the everyday.
• I wanted to set a goal to have all of my personal reading be non-fiction, but I'm not sure why.  I like to set a reading goal each year, and I do like non-fiction, but we got several fun works of fiction for Christmas, and I don't really think I want to wait a whole year to read them just because of some silly goal.  So maybe I'll try and read as much non-fiction as fiction.
• I want to use my time more wisely.  I have more time without the children because of school, and I don't want to fritter it away with fluff.  I want to be involved in more significant activities which certainly dovetails nicely with my desire to serve more.  I also want to attend the temple more frequently.  

So there I am.  Will one of you three readers ask me occasionally how I'm doing?  Ask to hear my current piano piece, or what I've learned this week from my Book of Mormon reading, or what good I've done in the world today?  I'll do the same for you.

Purse Contents

I needed a pen out of my purse today and realized it is crammed full of stuff that doesn't need to be there.  I had to hunt around to find the pen.  So I am cleaning out the purse, and recording, just for fun, the complete contents before paring down.

• Camera case, but no camera.  That is sitting on the couch where I left it this afternoon after a different blog post.
• Two bottles of hand sanitizer, one practically empty, the other half full.  I will throw away the empty.
• Wallet, whose contents I will not bother with.
• Fifteen receipts that need to be put in the receipt cubby of the desk.
• The Hobbit, in my purse because I am reading it out loud to Brandt, and I took it with us when we went to the doctor day before yesterday.  I read while we waited.  Bilbo has just met Gollum!  That will go upstairs to Brandt's room.
• Checkbook
• Two partially used packages of Kleenex.  I will combine them and return the one package to my purse.
• One travel size, half full bottle of orange scented lotion.
• Two movie tickets to Skyfall.  Kent and I saw that this afternoon.  That Daniel Craig is yummy!  He's the Bond for me.
• Directions to the wedding reception for our niece Jordan who was married a week ago.  She was a beautiful bride, it was fun to be with family, and our dinner was lovely.
• One small fabric bound accordion file for coupons.
• One empty Ziploc bag not going back in the purse.
• One mini calculator that Blythe uses as a phone.
• One checkbook size rice paper zippered bag that holds "supplies" when necessary.  Not necessary this week, but was last week.  That will go live on the desk until needed again.
• One Swiss Army knife purchased while on my mission in Switzerland.  It goes with me everywhere (except when I fly) and I have cause to use it frequently.
• Four pencils, none of which will go back in the purse.  One of them, a Santa pencil, has not been sharpened.
• Glasses in hard case.
• Lipstick in hard case and lipstick brush, necessary because someone opened it all the way with the lid still on, so all the lipstick is in the lid.
• Two AA batteries, probably dead.  I'll need to test them and then (likely) throw them away.
• Two paperclips, one large, one small.
• Two erasers, fallen off the pencils.
• One CTR ring (Brandt's).
• One cherry Chapstick.
• Set of keys to my in-laws house and car.
• Small tube of bubbles from the wedding reception last week.
• One pen.  Only one.  Considering all the other stuff, is it any wonder I had a hard time finding it?

Adoption

Recently I was having a discussion with Brandt and Blythe about pregnancy.  My sister is pregnant and we were talking about the baby growing in her tummy.  Blythe said, "Mom, did I come out of your tummy?"

"Nope," I replied.  "You are adopted, remember?  That is because I haven't been able to have a baby, so you were never in my tummy."

This naturally led to the next question.  "Whose tummy was I in?"

From the beginning of our parenting, Kent and I have been open with our children about their adoption.  We have spoken of how happy we were to welcome them into our home and to have them sealed to us.  We have a picture of all of us dressed in white outside the temple on Blythe's sealing day in each of their bedrooms, and we talk about their sealing days often as we drive past the temple.  There is no secret about how they joined our family, and we are committed to being open and honest with our kids about their personal history as it relates to their origins.

So when Blythe asked, I told her.  "You were in Key Bug's tummy."  Key Bug is what Blythe calls her birthmom, Keyaira.  Brandt followed up with the question, "Was I in Key Bug's tummy too?"

"No," I said, "you were in Jamie's tummy."  For Brandt, that was enough information.  He was probably about four when he first asked me this question, and I had answered the same way then.  For him, Jamie is a name and nothing more.  She has never been part of his life, and although she has visited with us once, Brandt was too young to remember and saw her simply as someone I knew who came for a visit.  At this point in his life, he is not interested in his origins.

The same can not be said of Blythe.  She is a thinker and this issue, where she came from and why she is with us, is deeply important to her.  I know this because the first question, "Whose tummy was I in?" has been followed by many others.  Key Bug remains part of our lives.  When she is clean and doing well, we see her with some regularity.  When she is using, we don't see her, but Blythe talks about her and asks to call her and wants to know what is going on with her.  We are supportive of Blythe maintaining a relationship with Keyaira because that is important to her.  Blythe was 14 months when she came to live with us, and although she doesn't remember her time with Keyaira, she knows Keyaira loves her.  We regularly see Keyaira's parents, Grandma Dawn and Papa Scott, as well as Keyaira's other children, McKenna and Greyson whom Scott and Dawn have adopted.

The tummy question has led to other questions: Why did you and Dad adopt me?  Why is Brandt my brother?  Why doesn't Key Bug live with us?  Who takes care of Key Bug?  Where does Key Bug live?

Kent told Blythe about Key Bug's drug use on a day when Key Bug had arranged to come for a visit and then didn't show up.  I like to arrange those visits directly with Keyaira.  I don't tell the children she is coming because too often she doesn't show up.  On the Sunday she was expected and Blythe knew she was supposed to come, I heard all afternoon, "Mom, when is Key Bug coming?"  Then, when she didn't come, we were left without a good response.  It had been drug awareness, Say No To Drugs week at school for both the children, so Kent explained simply but honestly about Keyaira's drug use, and that because of it, she sometimes did things that made other people sad.

Again, our little thinker had lots of questions for me, and with much compassion and sensitivity, and something of a struggle to explain to a four year old about the sad circumstances surrounding drug use, I told her about Key Bug.  I know that this has weighed on her mind because since our initial talk, we have spoken about this issue many times.  Every few days Blythe bring up something about adoption and family and drugs and we talk.  She was with Grandma Dawn yesterday and grilled her with questions too.  I hadn't prepared Dawn, she didn't know all Blythe knew, so she was feeling a bit pressed.

I will admit that I didn't think I would be having these discussions with our kids for a few more years.  As I said, Brandt has not had a follow-up question since I told him he came out of Jamie's tummy, so I sort of figured it would end there with Blythe too.  I guess it is good to start answering questions early on so that there is no sense of mystery or confusion and so that Blythe is comfortable with who she is and where she fits.  I hope I am doing a good job answering her questions.

The Invention of Hugo Cabret

I took Blythe to the library last week for story time.  She is in big story time now, so I have 25 minutes to be by myself during which I usually find new books, check them out, and then read.  I forgot my book, but as I walked past the Caldecott section, The Invention of Hugo Cabret caught my eye, mostly because of its size--it is 500+ pages.  How could a Caldecott book be so long?  It was also released as a movie recently and I thought the movie looked good, so I checked it out and began reading.  

I finished it the same day.  The 500+ pages are deceiving because many of them contain pictures with no text.  You sometimes turn eight or ten pages at a time without reading anything.  I thought it was a wonderfully fanciful way to move the story along without having to explain through the text what is happening.  Brian Selznick, the author, said, "the images in my new book don't just illustrate the story; they help tell it."  

Hugo's story is very engaging.  Set in Paris in the 1930s, Hugo lives in a train station and is responsible for the care of the 27 clocks throughout the building.  He is trying to rebuild an automaton and steals small toys to get the parts he needs.  He is eventually caught, makes a friend or two, and through the automaton, makes an unusual and historic discovery.

I really liked this book.  I liked it so much I began reading it to Brandt on Friday before bed.  We read for nearly 40 minutes and well past Brandt's bedtime.  Saturday night we did the same, and Sunday night as well.  Brandt is totally into the story, wants to know what happens next, and has lots of questions about how things will unfold.  I suppose it helps that the main character is a boy, the boy has a mechanical man, and he lives in a train station.  I love reading it out loud to him, and watching him study the pictures as they move us along through the story.  

This is definitely a book I would recommend, especially for those with boy children of almost any age.  I know the movie is now available on DVD because I have seen it at Redbox, and so we will watch it after we have finished reading.  There is enough detail in the written story, however, to capture the imagination.

The Hundred-Foot Journey

I got this book, The Hundred-Foot Journey by Richard C. Morais, for Christmas.  Kent asked his sister Brenda for a novel suggestion (not as in "new" but as in "fiction") and this is what she recommended.  I have been reading various other things since Christmas, but I picked it up at the beginning of the week and finished it this morning as I rode my bike.

This is a great book.  It is the story of an Indian boy, Hassan Haji, whose family is in the restaurant business in Mumbai.  A tragedy at home pushes Hassan's family out of the Indian, across Europe, until they finally settle in a remote village in France in a house across the street from a famous restaurant run by a formidable woman chef.  Quoting from the author's web site, "After a series of hilarious cultural mishaps, the grand French chef discovers, much to her horror, that the young boy cooking in the cheap Indian restaurant across the way is a chef with natural talents far superior to her own."  She eventually takes him on as a pupil, and so begins his journey to culinary greatness.  

The descriptions of food throughout the book are yummy.  It made me hungry for Indian food, which I made on Monday, just to satisfy my cravings, hungry for French food, hungry for food.  Morais does a fine job evoking a sense of place, capturing the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of a place.  The characters are believable and likable and I found myself rooting for Hassan, the protagonist.  I just liked this book and would highly recommend it.  

But don't read it when you're hungry.

A Suitable Boy

This afternoon I finished reading A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth.  It is lonnnnnnng.  When I was looking for an image of the cover, I read on Wikipedia that it is one of the longest, single volume English novels ever written (comes in at 6th longest).  It ranks up there with Atlas Shrugged and the ever great and popular Varney the Vampire (?).  It is 1349 pages, and they aren't small pages either.  I started reading it back in October, but I had to put it down to move and have Christmas and put together my house.  I did want to finish and I did.  Phew! 

I picked up this book as part of my BBC list reading, and I am glad.  Although I thought Seth could have been a bit less wordy (591,552 words total), I enjoyed it.  This book is set in a fictional Indian town shortly after India has gained independence.  It revolves around four families who are interconnected either by marriage or friendship, and the search for a suitable boy to be the spouse of a nineteen year old university student named Lata.  During the unfolding of the story, Lata has three suitors: Kabir, an unsuitable boy because he is Muslim and Lata is Hindi; Haresh, a shoemaker who is a friend of a friend; and Amit, the poet brother of Lata's sister-in-law.  While I would say this is a love story, it is also the story of the political situation in India.  I learned all about Indian politics, land reform, differences in castes, and the struggle India faced in the early days of its independence.  Seth does an excellent job of character development and I felt like I really knew the people in the story by the end of the book.  I think that is what kept me reading when I started all those months ago, and what brought me back to finish.  I wanted to know how my "friends" were doing, how things resolved themselves in their lives.  And in book 17 (of 19), things take a decided turn for the worst (or so it seems), making it difficult for me to put the book down and do other things.  Fortunately, I have been biking for an hour in the mornings on the bike trainer, and I get to read while I pedal, so I was able to finish without ignoring my children too much.

Speaking of length, I wanted to include a passage from the book that I found particularly funny.  Amit, the poet suitor, is writing a novel.  He is asked to come and speak and give a reading at the university's literary club, and following his reading, there is a question and answer period.  This exchange takes place during the Q&A.  

     'Do you believe in the virtue of compression?' asked a determined academic lady.
     'Well, yes,' said Amit warily.  The lady was rather fat.  So funny!     'Why, then, is it rumored that your forthcoming novel--to be set, I understand, in Bengal--is to be so long?  More than a thousand pages!' she exclaimed reproachfully, as if he were personally responsible for the nervous exhaustion of some future dissertationist.
     'Oh, I don't know how it grew to be so long,' said Amit.  'I'm very undisciplined.  Bit I too hate long books: the better, the worse.  If they're bad, they merely make me pant with the effort of holding them up for a few minutes.  But if they're good, I turn into a social moron for days, refusing to go out of my room, scowling and growling at interruptions, ignoring weddings and funerals,and making enemies out of friends.  I still bear the scars of Middlemarch.'
     'How about Proust?' asked a distracted-looking lady, who had begun knitting the moment the poems stopped.
     Amit was surprised that anyone read Proust in Brahmpur.  He had begun to feel rather happy, as if he had breathed in too much oxygen.
     'I'm sure I'd love Proust,' he replied, 'if my mind was more like the Sundarbans: meandering, all-absorptive, endlessly, er, sub-reticulated.  But as it is, Proust makes me weep, weep, weep with boredom.  Weep,' he added.  He paused and sighed.  'Weep, weep, weep,' he continued emphatically.  'I weep when I read Proust, and I read very little of him.'

All this, especially the part about long books, came on page 1254.  That's right.  1254.  For the record, I have neither scowled nor growled, and I don't think I made any enemies reading this book.  A Suitable Girl, the sequel to A Suitable Boy comes out in 2013.  As A Suitable Boy was first published in 1994 and it will be twenty years to the second, I imagine the sequel will be longish too.

Rifles for Watie

For book group this month we read Rifles for Watie  by Harold Keith.  This is historical fiction and won the Newberry Award the year after it was published, 1958.  It is a story of sixteen year old Jefferson Davis Bussey who lives in Kansas and is anxious to join the army as the Civil War breaks out.  The novel tells of his experiences during the war, marching, fighting, scouting and spying.  Harold Keith deals with a part of the Civil War I knew nothing about, the Cherokee Indian rebellion led by Stand Watie.  Jeff fights for the Union, but towards the end of the novel, as he is trying to scout enemy activity, he ends up a part of the Rebel army.  He finds the men fighting for the South to be as nice as those fighting for the North and is glad when the war comes to an end.  

There is a secondary plot involving a beautiful young Indian girl, Lucy Washbourne, Jeff falls in love with, even though they are on opposite sides of the conflict.  

I liked this book.  I knew nothing of the Cherokee involvement in the war.  They blamed Andrew Jackson for the Trail of Tears and were in the practice of keeping slaves.  The chief of the Cherokee, John Ross, was adamant that the Union not be dissolved, but another leader, Stand Watie, was eager to join the Confederate cause.  Mixed-blood Cherokee supported Watie and in 1862, he was elected Chief of the Southern Cherokee Nation.  Watie was the last Confederate general to end fighting in 1865.  I thought Keith did a good job of making the characters real and interesting, and I wanted good things for them.  The book is written for an 8-9th grade reading level, and would appeal to boys more than girls.  

Misgivings

  

At the beginning of the year I decided that this year's reading goal would be to work through a list of 100 books the BBC thinks you should have read but probably haven't.  Several of the works I had not read I have really liked, and several I haven't.  These are two that fall into the latter category.  

Kent said Catch 22 was really funny.  Maybe for a guy.  It didn't really do anything for me.  I read probably 50 or so pages (how much I should read being under 50), then skipped through the rest, reading bits and pieces.  The rest beyond was pretty much like the first, and I was done.  I read the last chapter and didn't feel like I had skipped most of it.

Several years ago I selected Reading Lolita in Tehran as a book group selection.  I loved it.  It was fascinating to read about Iranian women trying, in subtle and clandestine ways, to overcome the oppression they face.  I had not, however, actually read Lolita.  On the cover of the copy I have is a quote from Vanity Fair.  It says, "The only convincing love story of our century."  This disturbs me.  The protagonist is an aging man obsessed with a child, a twelve year old girl he considers a nymphet.  I could not get past the fact that the man telling the story is a pedophile.  And how awful is it to think that "the only convincing love story of our century" is about an illegal, disgusting relationship?  Seems depraved to me, but more and more I suppose that describes our culture.  Maybe the fact that I am raising a sweet daughter I want to shelter from such horror as long as possible colors my view here, but whatever the reason, I didn't make it to page 100, and I'm not going to.  

I like to consider myself intellectually open-minded and diverse in my reading tastes, but I couldn't bring myself to like either of these books.  Even if some snob at the BBC thinks I should.

On Being a Mom

I'm having a bad mom day.  Not bad, just frustrating.  I continue to struggle with Blythe and potty training.  She will pee no problem, but nothing else.  We end up battling about sitting on the toilet, and I know that isn't going to help.  I have encouraged and cheered and praised and rewarded and made promises of instant gratification, all to no avail.  And I'm tired, already, of the almost constant conflict I experience with my daughter.  I look forward another fifteen years and I cringe at the thought of all those years of fighting.  I need to do something different.

And while I've been dealing with Blythe and pee, I came upstairs this afternoon to find that Brandt, my five year old Brandt, had peed on the floor.  ARGH!!!!!!  When I asked him why he had peed on the floor, he said, "I don't know where the toilet is."  I wanted to give him a whirly in the toilet, just to refresh his memory.  Instead, I went downstairs to have a moment to myself before gathering carpet cleaning equipment and taking care of his mess.

I went back downstairs to change over laundry, and then returned upstairs to find that all the bedding from my bed had been stripped and thrown on the floor, again.  I found myself near tears.  Maybe I'm hormonal, but maybe I'm not.  I don't know, and I don't care.  I want it to be easier somehow.  I don't want to feel like I am the Barrus Family entertainment committee.  I don't want my children to be destructive just because we're not out having a good time doing some exciting activity.  I can't keep that up every day, and there are things I have to do here at home, like laundry.  I'm sad because we aren't finding a house to buy that meets our needs, in spite of our continued efforts.  We have made both a first offer on one house and a backup offer on another, and it doesn't look like we'll get either.  I would like a yard the children can romp around in, but we can't find a house attached to a yard that we like.

Kent has remonstrated me numerous times over the past couple months about my attitude and outlook.  In his eyes, I am not happy and not seeing all the myriad ways we are blessed.  I know we are blessed, I know I need to adjust my attitude, and I know that life isn't supposed to be easy.  I need to learn and grow in my challenges, especially when those challenges come in small, energetic packages.  And I need to more readily embrace all that life has to offer, especially when so many others are in circumstances far worse than my own.

But I sure wish it were a bit easier.

Apology

After several tries, I finally connected with my neighbor, Z, today.  I mentioned our interaction (or lack thereof) of last week, and expressed my remorse at her reaction. I apologized for whatever I had done to hurt/offend/irritate her, and said I hoped she could forgive me so that it wouldn't weigh either of us down emotionally and spiritually. I told her I hoped we could still be friends.

After a short pause, she said, "We're good."
Nothing more.

I'm not sure that we really are good in her mind.  She didn't tell me what I had done and so I am still at a loss to know.  I suppose our next interaction will be an indication of how she really feels.  As for myself, I feel better; relieved to have apologized and asked for forgiveness and feel as though my conscience is clear.