write now

When I was 8 my sister gave me her old journal. She had used about half of it and it was blue with white geese and hearts on the cover and it had "I {heart} Rolly" written all over the inside cover. I didn't care. I tore out all her used pages and began writing. I wrote about Christmas presents and who won the Super Bowl and crushes and family and church and school and whatever else my little brain thought of.

I kept writing, too. I filled journal after journal. I still have them all in a box in the garage. To date I have filled about 2 dozen journals. Granted, most of my journal writing from the childhood/teenage years are filled with boys. That's all I really thought about in those days. The last 10 years my writing has decreased, but I like to think the material is a little elevated. Sometimes I think about those books tucked away in the garage and I wonder if there really is a point. I don't often go through and read them. Usually when I do I just laugh.

Today I came across my journal from 2011-2013. Ana found it and opened its pages. She opened it to a random spot and started reading it to me aloud. I felt nervous, not knowing which part of my soul she was about to discover. She happened upon an entry about her. It told of how Ana had befriended "the new girl" and welcomed her into her heart, like Ana always does. I wrote about how I felt like Ana was an instrument in the hands of God in helping that little girl and her mother feel loved and I expressed gratitude for Ana's friendly, outgoing nature.

As Ana read the words, her countenance changed. All the frustration she came home with melted away. She blushed and hid her face for a minute. The rest of the afternoon she carried it around and read it. She told me she felt loved and gave me a hug.

A few years ago I had been talking to a friend who had related a really hard experience she had gone through. I had wondered to myself why I didn't feel more inspired to help her at that time. That night I was reading through my journal and I came across an entry when I had called her to see if I could babysit or something and she had declined. I realized in that moment that I had been listening to the Spirit, regardless of her willingness to accept help.

This is why it is so important to write. We write our histories for ourselves and for our children. As we look back, we see strength and goodness and change. It is part of my legacy and their heritage.  The words I wrote changed my daughter. Maybe not permanently, but for an afternoon, she was changed.

Charlie's blessing day family picture

wide open spaces

Throwback to 5 years ago. We were living in Rupert. I call it "Anticipation"

Oh my goodness. Has it really been almost a month? That is crazy. Where has it gone?

Dave ended up having his kidney stone surgically removed after having missed work for a week. It was a miserable week. He was either in pain or asleep because he was taking pain meds and the stone hadn't really moved much. So we got it out so he could start feeling normal again. Mostly he does, though now he is working weird hours so his sleep is still a little off.

We took a whirlwind trip to Rupert a few weeks ago. We went up on Saturday after Dave got off work at 8 a.m. and he slept most of the day while the kids played with Grandma and Grandpa. Sunday was a family get together in honor of Dave's nephew who recently returned from his mission.  I have the best in-laws. Seriously, all of Dave's family rocks and I love them all.

Saturday evening we drove out to his sister's house. She lives a few miles south of town surrounded by farm land. Being September, the fall harvest was in and winter wheat was just showing its pail green stems. For just a moment we stopped and listened. You know what we heard? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The evening air was silent. The sunset glowed beautifully.  Homes dotted the farmland and the mountains in the distance looked beautiful in the dusk. It was glorious.

Of all the things I could have missed while living back East, there was one thing that kept coming up. I missed the sound of sprinklers on a field. I missed the flat farmland and the distant mountains. Vermont is rural, for sure, and there are many things my heart misses so much. But it isn't flat. And they don't need sprinklers to water the crops. And I missed it.

We are really happy we are here in Salt Lake. I love that there is a WinCo and a Target and a temple all within 15 minutes of my home. There are tons of hiking-trails and museums and parks. The sunsets over the city are amazing, and we truly love our neighborhood.

But the truth is, we are not city people. We love the country and the open spaces and the lack of traffic and the quiet.  Rupert reminded us of that. We headed back around bed-time and within an hour all 3 kids were sleeping soundly in the backseat, so Dave and I talked. It had been far too long since we had a talk like that. We talked about our kids and our future. We talked about opportunities and expectations.  We came back feeling much lighter. The country is good for our souls.

(As an aside, I just spent the better part of an hour looking at old pictures of my older kids. It is crazy how little I remember of how I felt about my job day in and day out. Instagram takes most of my photos these days, but looking through those ones reminds me I need to pull out my good camera and capture my kiddos in this stage of life.)

stories

"Tell me a story." I think this was the basis of my courtship with my husband. We would be sitting on a couch - in his apartment or mine or in a student lounge somewhere - with his legs stretched out over mine and he would ask for a story. And then I would tell him of something that happened when I was little, or past boyfriends, or whatever experience came to mind. He would tell his stories too. We both had relatively light-hearted and happy childhoods, so the stories were usually happy. And then we decided to have to same story for the rest of forever. And I think we are just about to the point where we know all of each other's stories. Once in a while, though, a story will come out that we don't know. I like it when that happens.

I am currently reading this book. It was recommended to Dave by a doctor and after he was done I picked it up. It is a collection of stories by a pediatrician turned grief/cancer counselor and it is full of beautiful stories of life and hope and faith and truth and, mostly, healing.

Everyone's life is a collection of stories. We all have painful stories. We all have triumphant stories. We all have stories of turmoil and stories of peace. We have stories that teach us obvious things and stories that we wonder what the lesson is for decades. As we share these stories, we connect to others. We bless their lives and our own. We give and receive and learn about ourselves and others. We learn to love - truly and deeply. We become less judgmental.

In this era of social media, I hope we don't forget to tell our stories. Blogs are wonderful for sharing stories and that is one of the reasons that I love them.  In fact, sometimes I get so caught up in strangers' stories that I forget that the people in my life that I love the most have wonderful stories that I am not hearing.

Recently we have started sharing stories around the dinner table. Dave and I take turns telling the kids things from our past. There have been a few of Dave's stories that I haven't heard yet. I love it when he tells the kids his stories, even the ones I already know. They love it too. When I tell Ana that I know how she is feeling, she wants to hear the story about it. Often it helps her deal with her emotions. 

When I was young I used to beg my mom to write down her life story. She always said that there was nothing to tell. But the stories I have heard over the years have brought a lot of strength to me. Like the time when she was pregnant with her 5th kid and my dad was writing his master's thesis. My dad had never learned to type, but Mom had so she would stay up late with him while he wrote it out by hand and she typed it. While he was writing she would lay down on the couch and sleep and then wake up to type some more. That is love. Or the time she had such a rough time handling the kids in sacrament meeting while my dad was in a bishopric or overseas or something and so afterward she went home and skipped the rest of church. I was shocked to hear that from my mother, but also relieved because she always seemed like she could handle anything and I was so far from that. Suddenly I felt like I was probably doing just fine.

I love the subtitle of the book: Stories that heal. Sharing our stories, around the world and around the dinner table, can heal our hearts, our lives and probably the world.

lover's day

Ana told me she's in love with a boy in her class.

"Really, Mom," she said. "Me and Mikey are in love already." She even drew an extra heart on his Valentine.

A girl after my own heart. My kindergarten love was named Bobby. Through the years the name and face changed but I was always "in love" with some boy.

Every once in a while something stops me and I start thinking about all of these "loves." The neighbor kid. The funny one. The missionary. The one that was too good for me. The one my parents didn't approve of. The high school sweetheart.

And finally, the One. He came at a time when I had sworn off boys and was set for a mission as soon as I turned 21. I really, really wanted to serve a mission. I took the mission prep course. And as soon as winter semester 2005 started, I was going to get my mission papers together.

We started dating the last week of fall semester.

He was easy to be around. He made me smile and laugh. He was smart and spiritual. He is sensitive and caring. And we had so much in common - like our love of fry sauce. So I made a choice to love him the rest of my life.

I made that choice every day. Most of the time it is easy. Sometimes it is a little more difficult. Love is a choice. As a wife. As a mother. As a friend.

Sometimes I think about how we are changed by this choice we make. I am different now than I would have been after 7 years with any of those other "loves." I am better. I like to think he is better because of me too.

Our first Valentine's day (2005) we went out for milkshakes. We've celebrated in like manner every year since. But because Vermont is seriously lacking in the milkshake department (Ben and Jerry's and Hood have the ice cream industry covered out here) we made our own last night.

I'm still in love with him.

a year in review

2011

3 firsts

1. first garden

2. first ER trip

3. first hurricane

3 favorites adventures

1. Niagara falls/Palmyra

2. 4th of July in Boston

3. Sister's weekend in Oklahoma City


3 new things

1. a new baby!

2. a new car!

3. a new kindergartener!


3 things mommy said all the time:

1. What time is it?

2. I spent all day cleaning and the house is already a mess!

3. Look at the beautiful world Heavenly Father created!



Bring in the new year! I'm sure 2012 will be just as good.

need a laugh?

Rexburg is snowy. And ice-y. Dave and I spent a lot of time walking to and from class on snowy ice-y sidewalks during our time there.

One particular day the first winter after we were married (or maybe we were just engaged, but I think we were married) we were walking up such an ice-y sidewalk on our way to class.

(We were probably running late, because we usually were, but that's beside the point.)

Dave - in all his tall, lanky glory, - totally biffed it. (Do people still say that? "biffed it." "wiped out" maybe?)

Anyway, this was a feet-slid-out-from-under-him-and-he-caught-himself-with-his-face-and-all-his-stuff-went-flying kind of fall.

What is it about people falling that is so funny? I couldn't help myself. I stood there pointing and laughing hysterically while he picked himself, and all his stuff, up off the ground.

That was funny enough, but it was even more comical because while I was standing there laughing and pointing, a sweet girl came up behind us, asked Dave if he were okay, and handed him his cell phone.

Am I a mean wife?

Maybe... But it totally made up for the time he did this:






I miss that shirt...

the day we met

I've been feeling a bit nostalgic lately. Maybe its a little homesickness. Maybe its the changing seasons and the cooler weather. Either way, in the spirit of nostalgia, I thought I would write down a few memories this week. I'll begin with the day I met Dave.

To say I was boy-crazy would be the understatement of the century. I liked dating, and was more comfortable around boys than most girls, so naturally I was a flirt. And I liked it.

The Summer of 2004 would be my last summer at home, though I didn't know it at the time. It was an idyllic summer. I dated, worked, took an missionary prep course, and trained for a half marathon. I still had almost a year til I could serve a mission, but it was definitely something I wanted to do. I had life planned out: finish my associate's degree, serve a mission (Spanish speaking, preferably), transfer to BYU to finish my Bachelor's degree and buy a cell phone and a motorized scooter. Of course, marriage could find me after that. Perhaps one of my missionary friends who by then would have more schooling done.

I think God must laugh when we make plans for ourselves.

September took me back up to Rexburg. Then back down to Pocatello for my half marathon one weekend, then back up to Rexburg. One evening I walked into my apartment after a run, wearing, naturally, work out clothes with my hair in a pony-tail. I glanced around the room and spotted the only person I didn't know.

He was tall, cute, and seemed so at ease sitting in my roommate's burgundy corner chair.

"I don't know you!" I guess I like to state the obvious.

"I'm Dave," he said, with a smile. I instantly liked his easy manners. We spent a few minutes in small talk, which revealed that he served his mission in Chile.

He speaks Spanish

If ever there was a way for a guy to solidify himself into my memory it was to be Spanish-speaking returned missionary. But then I got a phone call from a friend and I flitted into the other room to chat. I flitted a lot those days. Though I didn't see much of him for a couple months, I definitely remembered him.

I guess the rest is history. Or a blog post for another day. We'll see.

moment forgotten

I was just reading back over some posts of mine from a few years back.

And I came across THIS one.

Funny, I don't remember that day at all.

What else am I forgetting? Am I forgetting the good stuff too?

I'm glad I am writing this stuff down.

reunion

Saturday I drove to Poky to get together with some great friends from high school. Almost all of us were in choir together and it was so fun to see them! There were 14 kids (10 boys, 4 girls) from the 8 of us that have kids. It was so fun to catch up! Some of these girls I haven't seen for years.

home town

I've been in my hometown for the last few days. I went to my friend's wedding on Saturday night, then stayed until today. It was a good break.

*Went to the wedding with a couple girl friends. We go way back. The wedding was beautiful. It was lots of fun.

*My sister drove an hour to meet me there. Karianne and I chat a few days a week and it was so good to see her and her kids. Love you, sis!

*Spent an afternoon catching up with a few more girl friends from high school. We went to the playland at the mall and then chatted over breadsticks.

*Made a card table tent/house with my mom. Ana likes it. We just got the basic tent made and now I'm going to embellish it a little. Pictures to come.

*Saw a friend from college who I haven't seen in a few years. Ashley and I were instant friends when we met in 2004, and she just got back from her mission. I haven't seen her since Ana was a baby. Time sure does fly.

It was a fun trip, though I wish I could've seen/talked to more friends. I was having so much fun, I forgot to take pictures. Its good to be home, though. Jack has been completely happy since we got home an hour ago. Ana, too. And we all missed Dave.

memory tag

Well, I'm missing Dave a ton and not much is going on here, so I thought I would do this memory tag. Its kinda a blog fad right now, and I'm usually slow to jump on the bandwagon, but it seems fun.

Now to play memory tag - here are the directions:

1. As you comment on my blog, leave one memory that we had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, just anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty fun to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

Memory Lane (and) Eating My Words

Two unrelated thoughts and a random picture from a few weeks ago.


(1) Yesterday, I went to lunch with 3 of my roommates from BYUI year 2. Laura, Kara, and Becca. Kara and Laura still live here but I haven't seen Becca for almost a year and before that it had been since Dave and I got married.

Then as I was going into Broulims last night, I ran into my roommate Emily from year 1. I went over later to her house to see her new little baby, who is absolutely beautiful! It was good day to be catching up.

(2) I've also realized how often I've had to eat my words over the last few years. For example, my first year up here my roommate married a boy from Rupert. I teased him quite a bit about being from such a small, Idaho hick town. They moved back there after graduation and I teased them again. Now of course, not only did I marry a guy from Rupert, but we are heading back there ourselves. And I'm looking forward to it.

A second example. My friend from highschool got married soon after graduation (a year after me) and had a baby right off. I remember going to her house shortly after she was married and saying how I couldn't believe she was pregnant when she hadn't even known her husband a year earlier. ("I could never do that, of course.") But then I met my husband, got married, and was pregnant before I had known him a year. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I think Someone Upstairs has had a few good laughs when I opened my mouth too quickly.

Random picture: I wore this coat when I was little. I love how adorable Ana is in it.

On this day in history...

Dave proposed! 3 years ago. We had decided we wanted to get married, and even had the Temple date set. (We got married in SL so it had to be done fast.) But he told me we had to go to Utah that weekend to pick my ring up because he got it from a jeweler down there. The night before we were supposed to leave he proposed. That I was surprised about. I smacked him on the arm, said, "What!?! You have it already?" and put it on myself. Kinda funny. I still love my ring, and the person who gave it to me. I really like the size of my ring. It looks dainty, I think. This pic is from our wedding day.

On an unrelated note, Ana helped me with the dishes tonight. It took a little bit longer.

"Fortuosity"

So, I love this movie. I grew up watching it. In fact, I grew up singing the opening song "Fortuosity" while wearing this ugly green jacket thing we had and carrying around a briefcase. I know most of the words to the the songs, and could probably quote a majority of the movie. We really liked musicals in my house and this has always been a family and personal favorite.

Anyway, so, the other night I was reminded of the song "I'll always be Irish" from this movie. I got it stuck in my head so at about 10:00 I had to watch just that scene. I ended up watching most of the rest of the movie. Dave interjected his comments of mockery at the movie, but nevertheless he sat and watched it with me. In all its cheesiness, it is such a great family film. I'd recommend it to everyone!

On another note, we also have a reason to feel very "fortuitious." Last week we rented a Wii video game from Hollywood video. When it came time to return it, we couldn't find it anywhere. We searched high and low. Finally, we resigned ourselves to having to replace it (which really stinks since those games cost 50 bucks). When we went in to Hollywood tonight, we were told that the game had been returned a few days late, and we are only accountable for the 3 dollar late fee. Thanks to whoever returned it for us! And we're grateful for the Lord's little blessings.

College Life ...

has once again flooded Rexburg. Jam-packed Wal-mart (especially last Saturday - I made the mistake of going that day.) traffic, pedestrians, and a little bit of nostalgia. I took Dave up to class today and as I watched all the students walking around I started thinking about the last 4 Septembers. 2003 - my first semester at college. The first weekend my roomies and I went to the Rascal Flatts/Phil Vassar concert at the fair in Blackfoot. Way cool. We were instant friends. That year I made tons of friends, and we all went back to the same ward the next year. 2004 - The first weekend I went back to Pocatello to run a half-marathon. That year was a blast! Loved my roommates, and I got engaged! Great year. 2005 - newlywed. I mostly took night classes that fall because I was working. I got pregnant and changed my major that year. But I still knew tons of people up on campus and it was always fun to see them. 2006 - new baby. Most of the people I knew were graduated. I was too busy with my family to worry about it. Then I graduated.

2007 - stay at home mom. I saw a bunch of girls walking together the other day. I remember being one of those girls. I was loud and outgoing. I'm not like that as much anymore. Though I don't miss being single, sometimes I miss the "me" that I was back then. Carefree, outgoing, tons of stuff to do... I was reading my scriptures like I should and doing baptisms for the dead almost every month. I couldn't wait until I could go whenever I wanted. Now I can and don't go as often as I should. I just wanted to be married. Its funny, many of those girls just want to be in my shoes... stay at home mom in a regular family ward with a good husband. Its not that things are different than I thought they'd be. Its that I'm different than I thought I'd be. Its still good though.

For the sake of this walk down memory lane, here's a picture of my and one of my best friends, and roommate, Laura.

Music to the soul...

Luciano Pavarotti died on Thursday. For those of you who are unfamiliar, let me introduce you...




Okay, admittingly, I have a weakness for tenors. And I mean, good tenors. I grew up listening to music from him, Placido Domingo, The Irish Tenors, and John Denver (although in a different category, he had a very amazing tenor voice - very clear and strong.) As well as music from Les Mis, Phantom of the Opera, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, etc, all of which feature real vocal talent. The voice is the most beautiful instrument and good music like this speaks to my soul like no other. In fact, as I listened to this song yesterday on my sister's blog, it brought tears to my eyes because it is so beautiful. Kinda weird, maybe, but I just love it! Music was always such a part of my life growing up. We all sang, loved to dance around the house, and many of us play the piano. I sang in our high school's audition choir (and it wasn't that easy to get into.) Usually these days if I choose the music, I choose Brad Paisley or the like, and really enjoy singing in the car to some good tunes. But when I hear good, pure voices like Pavarotti's, it touches me. And that's how you know it's really good music. His voice will be missed on earth, but I'm sure he's singing in heaven. ...

a random video

The other night, I was rocking Ana and my mind drifted back to when Dave and I were dating. I remembered this incident and had to chuckle to myself. Since I can post videos now, I thought I'd share it, even though its kinda embarrassing. We had been dating about a week or 2.

Isn't it interesting how quickly you fall out of "courtship" mode. I'm pretty sure if Dave did this today, I would be annoyed. A lot of days, I forget to laugh at myself. I'll have to work on that.