Sacred Work

I arrived at my visiting teaching appointment still sweaty from my run. My lungs were all juiced up, as the physical activity had loosened up all the congestion I've been battling for the past few days. In the middle of explaining to Am B. (my visiting teachee) about Eliza's Wish and Team Give (Am's a cyclist and was interested in some of the organized rides planned for this year), I felt that distinctive tickle in my throat that quickly turned into an asthmatic event. My poor partner, as well as Am, were much alarmed and concerned for my safety, hopping up immediately to get a glass a water, pound my back, get me a throat lozenge. I non verbally indicated that I would be fine, that I just needed to sit and let my throat relax, and that they should just carry on with the discussion at hand, which was this month's visiting teaching message in the Ensign magazine. I listened as they talked about how the Relief Society organization of the Church is under the Priesthood and "after the pattern of the priesthood," and how this truly does give our service to one another a sacredness.

"We operate in the manner of the priesthood--which means that we seek, receive, and act on revelation; make decisions in council; and concern ourselves with the caring for individuals one by one."

It is a beautiful concept to me that something as basic as a pat on the back and a glass of water-- or offering to help deliver baby shower invites, or just being a much needed friend--becomes "sacred work" as we love and serve one another.

Boo Y U

If I was rating colleges on their customer service skills and willingness to help their students succeed, graduate and then VACATE THE PREMISES in a timely manner (i.e. less than 5 years), I would have to give BYU a big, tall, spindly F. No, an F does not give it enough weight. How about an F++++++++ (cue Ralphie's dream sequence from A Christmas Story, only in reverse). Come on, BYU, give my girl a break. Especially on her birthday. She just wants to get in and get out and allow another paying customer to take her place. You, powers that be at the Y, should be bending--OVER BACKWARDS--to help her on her way out the door. Badly done, BYU...badly done!

Knowledge

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NEW KNOWLEDGE!

We have had our Mac for about 4 months now, which we purchased along with a One to One subscription. It's taken me this long to figure out how to even make the appointment online with the Apple store. On the day of my appointment, I wrote down a list of all the little things I couldn't figure out how to do (such as: how do I throw away a stack of 459 photo's that I inadvertently saved to my desktop without having to trash them one at a time? How do I find the icon for my scanner? How to I unblock cookies so that I can actually sign out of my hotmail account?) It's scary how technologically crippled I am. But not any more! I met with the very nice Nicole, who enthusiastically and very patiently walked me through all the different computer functions that would help me perform all the tasks on my list that have baffled me thus far. That stack of photos was gone with a quick selection box and drag to the virtual trash can. Poof! I learned all about the smiley faced finder box in the bottom left hand corner of my monitor. I reset my Safari browser. I learned how to get all of my pictures and music that are currently living on any three of our Macs and put them onto one computer, using Photo Share and Home Sharing. Life is exciting and good and I love my Macs. I think I am ready to move on to learning about movie- and book making.

In another arena, Madi and I started our CNA class this week at Lakeview Hospital. We thought it would be fun to train together. Madi wants to test the waters of the medical field and she thought that this would be a good place to start. I just wanted to see if I could still learn anything. Plus, it's a little scary for me to try something so far out of my comfort zone. I know that this will be good for me. I am such a creature of habit and comfort, that I really have to force myself to experience new things and allow growth. Also, my children (okay, Steve also) are convinced that I have no sympathy when it comes to taking care of the sick and afflicted. Obviously this is a deficiency in my character that could benefit from correction. As we were discussing the various duties of CNA's and opportunities for service, I kept feeling strongly about Hospice care. I am surrounded by many wonderful elderly men and women that I would love to serve and help bring comfort to in their last years. I might even be able to finally give my family some sympathy when they are sick!

A Study

I read the following out loud to Steve, but had to stop because we were laughing so hard:

(From The Deseret News, Saturday, March 19, 2011)

"Scientific studies have found that having children does not increase happiness. In fact, experts say it has the opposite effect. The more children you have, the less happy you are.

Children restrict freedom. Children require sacrifice. Children require work.

As Daniel Gilbert, a professor of psychology at Harvard University wrote in Time magazine, 'Studies reveal that most married couples start out happy and then become progressively less satisfied over the course of their lives, becoming especially disconsolate when their children are in diapers and in adolescence, and returning to their initial levels of happiness only after their children have had the decency to GROW UP AND GO AWAY.'" (caps added)

Okay, Steve and I have finished wiping the tears from our eyes by now. This article could not have come at a more appropriate (inappropriate?) time. We are smack in the middle of the adolescence of our last two children, with our oldest two in the beginning steps of independent living and the "grow up and go away" phase--which, by the way, brings with it a whole new set of joys, worries and potential sorrows. So, why do we have children? Why, why, why? We have children, as Timothy Dalrymple wrote in a blog post on Patheos.com, because "love overflows, they make us human, and they teach us to love."

Timothy Dalrymple: "Marriage teaches people how selfish they are. Children require selflessness on an even deeper level. The pure form of love is selfless love. Children are an instrument in the hand of God to teach us selflessness. Happiness is a cheap substitute for the full richness and dynamism of the human experience found in loving relationships."

I will try to remember that when one of my children ineviably does something that will drive both Steve and I to ask ourselves, "Why, why, WHY?"

At which point, hopefully, I will recall with great fondness how fun it is to watch them play a sport or an instrument, laugh out loud together at a theatrical play, try on clothes while squished in the same dressing room, try a new restaurant, watch a movie together late at night, or call for a quick visit and advice on dating, decorating, meals, etc., and--more importantly--help them answer that same question of "why?" when they have THEIR children!

Intimations of Immortality

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.

--William Wadsworth

I have been looking for a painting for a particular place in my home, and I came across the work of a wonderful young artist, Annie Henrie. We learned about her through the art work of her farther, Cary. We love his work, and she has a similar style yet with her own distinctive touch. I especially love her portraiture...she gives her subjects a Renaissance, old world feel. I contacted her about purchasing an existing painting, but after meeting with her, Steve and I decided to commission a painting, using our daughters as the subject. We both loved the above painting (titled "Star of Wonder"), so we asked her to paint something similar. I envision something that depicts our pre-mortal selves looking down upon the majestic earthly creation and anticipating our mortal journey. I am excited to see what Annie comes up with!

2 a.m.

It doesn't seem that long ago that I was up at night with a new baby. Soon that baby grew up to a beautiful young woman who would not go to bed at night. When she was in high school, she would roam the house until the wee hours of the morning. As her parents, we used to constantly harp on her to just go to bed. But eventually, out of sleep deprived desperation, we would give in to sleep after saying prayers and passing out hugs and kisses. She would stay up organizing her room, or most likely finishing up a huge school assignment that she had left until the last minute. Recently we found out that she spent a lot of time on the phone talking to the boy that would eventually become her husband. When she moved out of our house, we found that we could close the house down at 10 p.m. with confidence that all the chickies were in and settled for the night. We finally caught up on our sleep.

This past weekend we had the chance to have this girl all to ourselves, and once again I found myself up until 2 a.m. on both nights that she was with us. The first night was due to a quick midnight run to Provo to pick up medication that she forgot to pack. The next night was due to watching a movie together at home (after going out to dinner and a movie at the theater) and the fact that the time changed to Daylight Savings.

Staying up until 2 a.m. is still fun with you, Kels! I know you were missing your sweetheart, but we loved spending time with you this weekend. Thank you for bringing your sweet, happy spirit to our home.

Playing Footsie

Steve, Kelsey and I went on a daddy/mommy/daughter date last night: dinner and a movie. As we sat down in our reserved seating at the megaplex (I love reserved seating! I pretty much get my same seat every time) and settled in for a few hours of escapism, the women next to me got up and changed seats with her male companion (date? husband?). While trying not to feel offended, I leaned over to Steve and asked him if my breath or body smelled. I soon learned what her intentions were: getting a killer leg and foot message from her movie going companion. It started out with her beautifully shod feet up on his lap (her shoes were darling, and I was THIS CLOSE to leaning over and telling her so) while he slowly rubbed his fingers up and down her lower leg and ankles. "Luckeee" (cue Napoleon Dynamite's voice), I thought to myself. I poked my elbow into Steve and said, "Now THAT'S the way to watch a movie. " Soon the movie was going, and I focused my full attention on the storyline so that I could figure it out and lean over to whisper to Steve what I knew was going to happen next (you really do not what to go to the movies with me, I can't help that I do this). After an exhilarating two hours, the credits were rolling and the house lights came up and I noticed that my companions to the left of me were still in the same position--she with her now unshod feet up on his lap--and he was messaging her naked toes and feet. Bless his heart, he had kept this up during the entire movie! I really hope he got a great reward for his efforts...I know Steve would've if the shoe was on (or off!) the other foot.

The Crafting of the Lenses

Markelle has a wicked way with descriptive words that often reduces us to tears of laughter. A couple of her gems are: "Bachelor Degreedom" and "mowing of the lawn" (as in, "have you seen my "mowing of the lawn" shoes?).

Well, she out did herself the other day. She needed a new pair of eyeglasses, but she couldn't wait weeks for a pair to be ordered and shipped. As I was driving her in to Salt Lake to the nearest optical store, she was on the phone with LensCrafter and asked them--in all seriousness--"how long does it take for your store to craft some lenses?" I about died, I was laughing so hard. "What?" she asked. "Crafting of the lenses!" I replied. Awesome.