The Fisher Family

Parenting - JUST DO IT!

2012-02-16T18:48:00.000-08:00

I was recently part of a group that received a request for advice. Now, I love giving advice as much as anyone, especially when it is actually solicited. The question goes a little something like this:

"In working with my church congregation I am finding that many parents are having problems with their kids. They are disobedient, ungrateful jerks and I don't know what to do about it."

That is the jist, although the exact words were not quite so frank. The frank part definitely comes from me.

Basically, this church leader has a bunch of parents on his hands who are grumpy and disgruntled and basically just mad that the tares they planted have not grown any fruit--just tares. Well who would have thought . . .

I have a short answer and a long answer for this. I would stick with the short answer, but everyone knows how long-winded I am and that I could never resist the chance to climb up onto a favorite soapbox for a spell, so I will give both.

The short answer: "Live by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." Period.

Why do parents and people in general keep thinking that doing things any other way than God's way will work? Why can't people stop stubbornly pushing around their dumb little carts and finally just get on the Heavenly Band Wagon? It takes more effort, yes, but it hurts no more than having disobedient, ungrateful jerks for kids does.

Now for the long answer: New paragraph, please.

This is actually kind of refreshing, because I can put my heart and soul into posting my bag of parenting tricks and not actually have to see them being rejected. It is funny; people often notice how amazing my children are, and ask me how I do it. Now, I take very little credit for their amazingness, but I do take some. At least, I haven't done anything to seriously mess any of them up yet. And, granted, the data for this experiment is definitely not all in yet--I've got a good 18 years or so for that (more if that federal research grant money I keep expecting doesn't come in soon)--but hey, so far so good, so I hazard a response. And I even get excited about it every time. And then after hearing me out the person thanks me while sprinting back to the "easy," "good ol'" parental tactics that have been producing the same results without fail: disobedient, ungrateful jerks for kids.

So, maybe you have disobedient, ungrateful, jerky kids and you are starting to get a bit offended. You can get offended later, if you choose, but for now, wait just a moment, and shake off those defenses; "But I love my disobedient, ungrateful, jerky kids." That is well and good, I am glad that you do, but no one else does (even Grandma--she just pretends), and you are setting them up for some pain down the road if you don't wake up and smell the windex, or home baked bread, or meat loaf, or SOMETHING besides the musty smell of your stale, dog-eared parenting tactics.

Let's just spend a moment defining disobedient, ungrateful, jerky kids. I know them well, because, to be honest, I do have one. She is one year old, and I am working on her. I have every hope that she will join her siblings in amazingness very soon.

When they are little, they scream for everything they want. They do this because it works. When they are medium, they fight, whine, argue, and talk back. They do this because it works. When they are big, they roll their eyes, talk back, spend all of their time on electronics, swear, evade work, push the limits, and expect the world to give them everything they want. They do this because it works, and they do get everything they want, including the top cell phones with internet access (terrifying) and unlimited calls and texting. In the case of the small, medium, and large, the world revolves around THEM. Maybe you don't know this, but NO ONE likes to be around these children (yes, even yours if this describes them.)

So, do you really want to know how I have produced (so far) obedient, grateful, kind, loving, serving, talented, healthy children (other than my one brat, but again, I am working on her) or not? Because if you are just going to read what I have to say and then go back to the status quo, then you may as well stop reading now. (I think you should keep reading.)

Good. Thank you! I do have one caviat. I recognize that there are MANY right ways to parent. I am not saying that mine is the ONLY right way. I am simply saying that mine (so far) IS ONE right way, and worth trying if your way is not working.

These are in no particular order:

Number one: Stay home, Moms. If not, someone else or no one is raising your kids and when you had them you didn't sign up for that. If it is Grandma, at least she loves the kid, but Grandmas don't make good Mom substitutes. They are too soft and too tired. If it is Dad, better, but really, most Dads just weren't made for that kind of work. YOU were, and you signed up to raise them YOURSELF. If for whatever VALID reason you HAVE to work, know that the Lord will provide you with special blessings so that you can accomplish the mountain of a task that is yours. But stop whining about being bored or HAVING to work even though you don't. You should have had a dog. They can usually be left for a time.

Number two: Staying home does NOT mean sweats and Oprah. Ok, so maybe it means sweats until 5 minutes before your husband gets home when you hurry and put on some real clothes, brush your hair, and apply some make-up (because we all do that, RIGHT?!!?), but it does not mean Oprah or crumpets. Or even, sorry, scrap booking--unless it is your artistic outlet and you do it during your non-Mom time and not to excess. What I am saying is, homemaking takes HARD WORK. If you were looking for an easy job, parenthood is NOT it. It is too late now, so just put your shoulder to the wheel and push-along, because ain't nobody gonna do it for you. I wake up around 5 am and I fall into bed bone-tired at 10 every night. I spend every waking moment teaching, loving, cuddling, reading to, learning, helping, taxiing, cooking, playing, cleaning, etc. I don't get breaks. How do I get exercise? Playing with my kids. How do I get down time? Feeding my soul with the scriptures or a really good book for 30 minutes before sleep, or connecting with my hubby by talking, playing a game, or snuggling. I know it is the new religion, but life ISN'T all about US, either. (One exception: A short nap is NOT a waste of time. It is an investment toward your time and emotional health.)

Number 2: Stop turning a blind eye. I can't tell you how often I see this. Kids will be proving to the rest of the world just how atrocious they are and somehow the parents have their heads turned in such a way as to not even notice. I am talking line-dancing-on-the-pew-at-church kind of behavior. I have watched in amazement as the lady next to me didn't notice her child pulling mine across the floor by her hair. I know that discipline is no fun, but it is par for the course. Deal with it before the cops have to.

Number 3: The following are not "Just Normal Kid Behavior," much to many people's surprise: Rudeness, cruelty, mean-spiritedness, talking back, crudeness, disobedience, pestiness, bullying, insulting siblings, fighting, unthankfulness, laziness, etc. Sure, it is normal for kids to try these behaviors. They only continue them if they are permitted to--if they actually work.

Number 4: Don't give them everything they want. Don't give them ANYTHING, in fact, once they get to a certain age (of course this excludes Birthdays and Christmas, etc). Do people sit around giving you stuff? Allow them to somehow work at home to earn a reasonable amount of money for necessities plus a little more (IF they are wise) and teach them to budget for and purchase their own needs. Teach them to work HARD and to work OFTEN. If they WANT something, they will just have to be extra frugal and save up. Teach them to pay tithing and to sometimes use their money to serve others.

Number 5: It is ok to have rules. In fact, please have rules. Your kids won't hate you for them if they are used to them, and if they are already NOT used to them, it won't take very long before they GET used to them if you are consistent. Just because my kid wants internet on her cell phone doesn't mean that she can have it, even if she can pay for it herself. It is against our rules to have internet anyplace that is private, and a cell phone sure meets that criterion. That is one example. Set limits on cell phone use. Set limits on electronic time. Set standards (preferrably in reference to the "For the Stregth of the Youth" pamplet) for movies and music and video games. My kids are surviving just fine without seeing PG-13 movies, and playing only E rated video games one day a week. Music? We have an awesome family library and we look up every lyric of every song we buy. Set a curfew. The Holy Ghost goes to bed at midnight. They may push the limits at first, but if you are firm they will learn to give in and accept. Let them know that they can do what they want when they are all growed up, but while you are accountable for them they will obey the rules or:

Number 6: They will face the consequences. Parents, do you realize how much power you have to make their lives miserable? You are the holder of everything good in their lives. It can disappear when they don't do their part at making a happy family. It makes sense that if my kids don't work they don't eat. Isn't that how it works for you? It makes sense that if my kids are rude to me I will not pay them. What would happen if YOU were rude to YOUR boss? It makes sense that my kids get extra chores if they complain about the ones they already have. They need more practice working. It makes sense that when my kid hits another kid they don't get to play anymore for a decent amount of time. It makes sense that broken cell-phone rules gets a cell phone taken away. It makes sense that messy rooms get a fee for my cleaning them--I shouldn't have to live in a pig-sty and cleaning ladies get paid. Think of REAL LIFE consequeces for misbehavior. It is so easy!

Number 7: Never yell (or whine or beg or hit). When poor little Bobby smacks Billy on the nose, we are so sad that Bobby can no longer play with little Billy and Billy will have to go home and Bobby will have to sit for a while on a boring, hard chair. We don't yell at them. We don't hit them for hitting. We give them our sympathy and our love and are absolutely firm in the real-life consequences. Don't make them hate YOU, make them mad at themselves for screwing up.

Number 8: TEACH TEACH TEACH. Then shut up and listen. Then teach some more. Find every opportunity to share Gods standards and doctrines. And never forget that your example is louder than your words.

Number 9: Dads, get off your rear ends. You are a huge factor in the scenario, too. I know that you come home from work tired. Sorry. Your wife is tired too. She has been working all day, too. When you can both sit down, go ahead and sit down. Until then, see if there are some dishes to do, a kid to help, or a toddler to wrestle. And maybe you will get some snuggly unwind time with your wife later as a natural result of your helping her (Just don't EXPECT it!!!) Play with your kids a lot, put your wife first, and you teach teach teach too. The Spirit rejuvenates better than football when you are doing what you should be doing.

Number 10: You get what you expect, and what you say always comes true. Have high expectations. Remember, bad behavior is no more normal for kids and teenagers than it is for adults--we just allow it from them. And praise to the skies--especially to others in their hearing. When you tell them that they are the best, most amazing kids in the world, they will prove you right. When you tell them they are lazy idiots (with your body language as well as your words), they will prove you right. Praise WAY more than you criticize, and when you have to criticize, DO IT IN PRIVATE AND WITH LOVE! Do you like being publicly reprimanded? Neither do they.

Number 11: Treat them with respect. I see them as no different then me; I just happen to have been born first and they were born to me and so I have a stewardhip over them. Treat them like they know and will do what is right. I have total faith in my kids (because they have earned it), and they know it, and they reward me with it. I give them room to make some of their own choices, and express confidence in their ability to choose well, and they do.

Number 12: Make sure the 3 main physical needs are being satisfied. It is very easy to see that when a baby or toddler is fussy it is most likely because they are hungry or tired. The same holds true for children and teen-agers. They NEED proper nutrition, sleep, and physical activity. Don't sacrifice those 3 things to ANYTHING. They are essential, and the results of a deficiency are catostrophic. It is my personal opinion that a correction in those 3 things would stop most ADHD, ADD, terrible twos, and terrible teens. Most well rested, well fed, active toddlers, kids, and teens ARE PLEASANT most of the time. (Well rested means to bed no later than 7 for babies, 8 for kids, 9 for teenagers--simply because 8 is not very realistic for them.)

Number 13: Always seek the guidance of the spirit for each child. The Lord is more eager to assist parents in their job than any other group. He will speak if you will listen and do. Even if it is drastic--act in faith and do it. The spirit led me to pull my teens out of school. It sounded crazy, but I did it. Sometimes the spirit leads me to go talk to a child after I have already tucked them in. Every time there was a reason for this that I never would have known about on my own. The spirit has led me to save my children's physical lives several times. Never do ANYTHING in your own life or in your home that will cause the spirit to leave. Your most important job is to create a home where the spirit can dwell. That means cleanliness, organization, beauty, love, quiet, and a soft-answer. All are essential, and, again, it takes work. That is why I get up at 5am. This is the one that I can't stress enough. The world is so crazy, they HAVE to have a sanctuary at home. Constantly be living and working to make sure that the spirit reigns. And it should be assumed here that this includes the basics: Regular family home evening; family, couple, and personal scripture study and prayers; church attendance and service; obedience to commandments; etc.

Well, I think 13 is a great number to end with because parenting has about nothing to do with luck and everything to do with intensely hard work, sweat, tears, and prayers. Just remember, it may be hard work, but nothing is more rewarding than having happy, loving, grateful, obedient, kind kids who are successful in life.

Again, I could have saved all of us a lot of time and work (me writing and you reading) by simply sticking with my short answer. Just do what the Lord has said to do through His prophets and scriptures and stop thinking that any other way will work.

And wish me luck!

Overcoming Addictions

2012-01-11T04:02:00.000-08:00

"Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil; Learn to do well . . ..' Isaiah 1: 16-17

"Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more."

I wish that I could forget as well, but I know that I never will for good reason. Just like a child that has been burned is leery of fire forever, I will never forget the pain that my sins and addictions have caused myself and others. That remembrance keeps me away. Also, I can use my own experiences to help others. It is for this second purpose that I write this post.

I know that by doing so, I will be crashing down from the false pedestal that some have placed me on. For others, this post will only serve to prove my villainy. For those reasons this is a painful post. However, in some ways it will feel good to enter the realm of the human again in the people's eyes who have almost deified me.

Knowing that the Lord has forgiven and forgotten, I will not call up my memories in detail, but will give you a basic understanding of all that I have been able to overcome with His help. I do this to give others hope that it can be done.

Sometimes I have felt that my mission in life must be in part to understand those who deal with addictions and mental illnesses. For someone who is now cured of those things, I have sure at least dappled in quite a few of them.

I have at some point or other in my life dealt with self-harm (cutting, piercing, over-medicating, and poisoning myself with alcohol), anorexia, obsessions with death, depression, and post traumatic stress disorder (caused by sexual abuse and later exacerbated by several break-ins into my bedroom at night) which caused horrible nightmares and regular, severe panic attacks.

I mention these emotional illnesses because, at least by my experience, I see them in a similar light as addictions--they are very difficult but they can be overcome.

I have also had several addictions, although I have been blessed to never have gotten involved with the most difficult: illicit drugs and pornography. For someone addicted to these, I would emphatically encourage you to work with a spiritual leader and trained professionals. I believe that these CAN be overcome, but very rarely, if ever, alone.

For me, an addiction is anything that is used compulsively to fill a void or to comfort oneself in a manner contrary to Heavenly Father's way. With this definition, I have been addicted to caffeine, food, talk shows, movies (including ones which I would now call inappropriate (PG-13 and if I go WAY back, R rated movies), books (that may seem crazy, but it has been a very real addiction for me, and one of my most difficult to overcome), and, if we can classify a bad habit as an addiction (again, they are similar because they are so hard to overcome), using bad language.

The healing from my emotional illnesses was definitely a journey. It did not happen over night. One key step, however, was intervention from my parents and subsequent counseling. Parents, please be watchful of your children. There is so much that we can either purposefully or inadvertently turn a blind eye to. If we catch odd behaviors in our children early on, we can help them to heal so much more easily. My parents noticed in me my obsession with death in my art, reading choices, and my writing, as well as my almost sadistic pleasure in breaking the hearts of the young men of my acquaintance. I don't know what other of my abnormal behaviors they noticed, but I am grateful that these caught their eye.

After some probing, I admitted to my abuse as a child, and the worth of their help and counsel was immeasurable. I know it must have been hard for them to watch me as I finally really dealt with the cause of my pain--at times throwing myself on the floor kicking and screaming and crying in agony like a possessed toddler--but they went through every step with me.

I will mention just two of the things that my parents did that helped me the most:

First, they gave me a framed picture of me as an 8 year old child--the age that I was when I was abused. They showed me the pain in that little girl's eyes and told me that she needed me to love and protect her--not hate and abuse her further. That woke me up to a very real sense of what I was doing. Instead of loving myself and grieving for my pain in productive ways, I was bringing more pain to someone who was totally undeserving of it. Instead of being helpful, I was just making everything worse. I could instead turn the pain of the abuse into something productive--a way to be compassionate toward other abuse victims. I could also turn the pain over to the Lord and have a tender experience of healing with my Savior that would never be forgotten and one which would form an eternal bond with Him. Remember, He took upon Himself not only our sins, but also our pains and our sicknesses. Additionally, my experiences would serve to make me more watchful over my own children--and hopefully prevent them from ever going through the same kind of thing.

Second, my parents got me an incredible counselor. She was an older lady who worked for LDS Social Services, and she was perfect for me. She spent about 10 minutes of my total time with her talking about my abuse and break-ins, and the rest of the hours that I worked with her she taught me that I had the power to define who Sarah McBee was and who she wanted to be and then simply BE that person. She had me describe that person on paper, and then get to work on being her. I learned that I could shed my morbidity and become contagiously happy, zany and fun, mentally and emotionally strong, and steadfast and immovable in doing and standing up for what is right. This will be a process of a lifetime, but I feel I am getting closer and closer to becoming that ideal every day.

Never be embarrassed to seek professional help. I am eternally grateful that my parents encouraged me to do so, and that I agreed. Find one who is positive and upbeat, and someone who holds your same moral standards, and I promise that they will be a great blessing to you as long as you do your part and work with them on your own healing. I believe everyone has unhealed wounds, and would benefit from a good counselor.

By the time I left for BYU I felt that I was totally healed. Light had replaced the darkness in my soul, and I finally had hope that I could lead a normal and joyful life. Little did I know, however, that I wasn't completely healed. Some parts of my illness were lying dormant, and didn't surface until after I was married and had 2 children and we moved to Dallas. Being far from "home" and living in a big city reawakened my fears and nightmares. Several times a week and for several years I would have horrible nightmares, and then wake up to a panic attack that took Marc's utmost patience and love to bring me out of.

Things only worsened when we moved to Bryan, Texas, and Marc started travelling as part of his duties as a grad student at Texas A&M. It all came to a head one night when he was out of town. I had my usual nightmares, but they ended in a way that was completely new. I saw a man. His body was cloaked in darkness, but I still remember his attractive face and steely, cold eyes. He was looking directly into mine and cruelly laughing at me. He said nothing, but I knew from the laugh exactly what he meant, "You are in my power!" I awoke and bounded out of bed in an instant panic attack--the worst I had ever known. I was simultaneously sobbing, dry-heaving, and hyperventilating as I paced the house. I was so overcome with darkness and fear that I had no hope. I felt completely doomed to destruction, much as Joseph Smith must have felt when he knelt to pray in a grove of trees when he was just 14 years old. After a time, I gathered what little strength I had for the sake of my 3 sleeping children and knelt at my bed and cried out, "Father, please save me." I climbed into bed and closed my eyes in a vain attempt to block out that cold face, when another man appeared in my mind. This time, a man clothed in light, with a gentle, loving smile on His face. He spoke these words out loud, at least it seemed so to me, "Fear not, I am with thee, oh be not dismayed, for I am thy God and will still give thee aid. I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand; upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand." Instantly the darkness and cold left and I felt warm arms around me and a fire light within that warmed me to the core. I lay there for minutes, absorbing the warmth and peace until it gradually dissipated and I softly fell back asleep.

From that moment on, I was healed. I have not had the same type of desperate, hopeless nightmare since, and I have not had any panic attacks. And I knew with a surety two things: Satan is real and wants to destroy us. Fear is one of his greatest tools, as is hopelessness. And Jesus Christ is real and will always be there to help us--especially in our darkest hour just before we reach the limit of our strength. And He CAN heal.

If you have emotional pain or illnesses, He can heal you. Sometimes, though, He works through others, including competent professionals. Don't fight it on your own. I needed Him in the end, as well as throughout the process, but my parents, husband, friends, and counselor were key components to my healing. Some illnesses may require medication. Put yourself in the hands of the Lord and He will guide you to whatever you need.

As for my addictions, it is almost as though it was another Sarah, at another time altogether, and in another world who did those things. Those things are so far from my character now, that I can barely remember what the process of overcoming was. I can say that in so many instances I was snatched from the chains, rather than overcoming them on my own. I look back and more than seeing my past as an unbroken story, I see tender mercy after tender mercy--a mother in tune with the spirit who found me at the wrong party at just the right time; an unanticipated acceptance into BYU where I was able to escape the ME that everyone knew and expected, and be the NEW ME without fetters; good friends who showed up at my house at just the right moment; a fireside addressing the perfect topic in a way that was specially catered to me; opening to the exact scripture that would invite me to change and enjoy a greater portion of the spirit in my life; and a husband who brings out a desire in me to be my best self.

The key, though, to those tender mercies working on my behalf was the simple fact that I WELCOMED them. When they came, I invited them in. I WANTED to change. After my initial partial emotional healing I had a sincere and intense desire to be totally different--to shun evil and darkness at all cost, and to have an intimate relationship with my Savior. Like the people of Ammon, I began to bury my "weapons" deep within the earth (everything in my life that was contrary to God's will). With each addiction, something higher was there on the horizon beckoning me to abandon the lesser.

For example, with my language, I don't remember setting out with a goal to improve it. However, when I started attending BYU and taking amazing religious courses, those words just seemed incongruous with the beautiful thoughts, principles, and ideas that were beginning to become a part of my daily life. As I filled my life with good words from scripture and prophet study, the bad just seemed to phase out naturally.

Another example of the higher replacing the lesser was in my addiction to movies. Truly, like a drug, I would see that a Blockbuster movie was coming out and I simply couldn't rest until I saw it--regardless of its moral content. After a while, you get callused to the immorallity and profanity in movies and don't even notice it any more. And living in a very dim spiritual light becomes comfortable.

One evening I found myself watching the newest hit film. I was about 7 months pregnant with my first baby, and some of the content was just evil. It was cruel and violent, and I figuratively stepped outside of the movie for just a second and instead felt the spirit of the room. It was cruel and violent as well, and I burst into tears at the thought that I was exposing my unborn child to such a toxin. It was like the Lord allowed me, just for a moment, to see the unseen--the bad vibes (for lack of a better word) that the movie was producing in the room, and it made me ill.

Motherhood was the higher plane that lifted me out of the pit of filth that I was in. I started bawling, and told Marc there and then that I would never watch another PG-13 movie again (with very few exceptions, and after total scrutiny as to why it is PG-13--I will confess that and not be a hypocrite. It can't have language or sex or glamorized violence.) I truly desired something better MORE than I desired those movies. At first, it was hard and I would watch the advertisements for each new movie come out with some feelings of regret and longing. It wasn't easy throwing out every single movie (and CD) that I owned that didn't meet my new standards, but now I don't even care. They actually repulse me.

I am thankful that caffeine was relatively easy for me. Again, I overcame when I desired something greater MORE than the caffeine. I let go of that drug when I became engaged to marry Marc. As we talked about our life together, we found that most of our standards were the same. There were a few, however, that differed, and caffeine was one of them. We made the decision right from the start that we would be unified on all moral decisions. If we couldn't come to an agreement on something, the most conservative way would always win--and the other person would conform. Marc was raised believing that caffeinated drinks go against the spirit of the Word of Wisdom, and I desired unity with my husband more than caffeine, so I let it go. It was easy to trade an unhealthy chemical for, literally, the best man on earth!

Since overcoming my addiction to caffeine, I have learned more and more about its adverse affects on the mind, body, and, I feel, the spirit, and so my decision has been greatly reinforced. For a while, though, I did have to endure intense cravings for my favored "Doctor Pepsi" (a mix of Dr. Pepper and Pepsi) but again, I don't even miss it now.

The other addictions have been similar: Talk shows--I saw what it was doing to me as a mother and I didn't like it. I desired to be a better mother more than I desired the temporary "high" that those shows gave me. Books to excess--I still struggle with this one. They are such a thorough escape for me, and I can rationalize that they are "good," but I still know that the better or best thing for me to be doing is getting to bed at a good time, or being there for my children and husband. I have had years altogether where I read nothing but religious non-fiction, because I enjoyed it but it didn't consume me like fiction does. Those times were wonderful times! Again, I didn't just stop the bad--I replaced it with something better. With junk food, it has taken YEARS of regretting my binges, feeling the headaches and the sugar buzzes and the light-headedness and the stomach aches over and over again until it finally sunk in that it just isn't worth it. I have found other healthier favorites, and have learned to find greater joy out of a bowl of salted popcorn than chips and candy--with no regrets! I know this will always be a weakness for me, though, and I will always have to be careful.

The principle of trading out the bad for the good reminds me of the Lord's words, "When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none. Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first." (Matthew 12:43-45). When you are trying to throw out the garbage from your life, you can't leave that space empty. You have to fill it with something good. You have to root out the desire for the evil, and fill it will a desire for good. And that desire HAS to be sincere and firm.

The biggest key is, never give up. You will be rewarded simply for trying. You may try and fail and try and fail, but the Lord knows your heart and your desires to change. Every time you pick yourself back up and try again it is a victory.

I love how Elder Christofferson put it in the 2011 October General Conference: "Surely the Lord smiles upon one who desires to come to judgment worthily, who resolutely labors day by day to replace weakness with strength. Real repentance, real change may require repeated attempts, but there is something refining and holy in such striving. Divine forgiveness and healing flow quite naturally to such a soul, for indeed 'virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light; [and] mercy hath compassion on mercy and claimeth her own' (D&C 88:40)."

I have had so many weaknesses that I have had to overcome in my life--those mentioned in this post as well as countless others. And I still have a lifetime of work ahead of me. I think I was born as one of the "knottiest" lumps of clay ever, but with great potential for good. I love it when I can feel Heavenly Father molding me, little by little, into that potential, even though it is painful at times. I could look ahead at how much work there is to go, but I would rather look back and see how far I have come already. We all can focus on the great changes that we HAVE made, and simply continue working on those that still need our attention.

Reach out for something higher, fill all voids with something that is "virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praise worthy," seek help from your Loving Heavenly Father who will be there every step of the way, don't give yourself demerits, and celebrate each minor victory. The good news is, Jesus Christ has already won the game. He has already overcome sin. All we have to do is keep trying and make sure that we get on and stay on His team!

My Response to the Last Comment Under "Where Have All the Molly Mormons Gone?"

2011-12-23T22:01:00.000-08:00

I know this seems crazy, but I want my response on here, but it is too long for one comment to my post, and I am too lazy to divide it into more, so I am just turning it into an actual post!!!! Plus, I want all to read my response so that all can know where I stand.

Katy,

That was an awesome video. Thanks for sharing! Marc is the one who first taught me that principle--to see everyone like they are fighting some unseen battle, because in reality--they are. I know that I need to remember that more often. I think the hardest part is knowing, like the guy in the video, just what to do to help others. I guess that we really are just like him; we can't help everyone, but we CAN help someone.

Also, thank you for trusting me enough to share your feelings with me. I believe that we share more common ground than we think, and I just want to agree with you on two points specifically.

First, I agree that members of our church often over-complicate things. We sometimes get so caught up in the histories and mysteries of the church, that we give less time and focus to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I agree that if we all could better focus our lives on the basics we would be a lot better off. If I were to name those basics, they would be to increase our faith, hope, and charity and to better keep our covenants.

Faith, to me, is learning more about the character and attributes of Jesus Christ. Who exactly is it that we have faith in? What is He like, and how can we be more like Him?

I would increase hope by learning more about the power of Jesus Christ. How is it that He can save us from all pains, all ills, and all sins and weaknesses. Why is it that we truly can have hope at all when so much in this world seems amiss? It is our hope in His power to save that allows us to know that everything will always work out for the good of them that truly love Him.

To me, developing charity means that His love becomes our love. Just as He gave his life for all mankind, we learn to dedicate our lives to blessing mankind in the ways that He would if He were here. The question here is, how did Jesus show His perfect love?

He showed love in so many different ways. In fact, isn't it amazing that the expression of his love was perfectly catered to each individual that he served? Some, he simply fed. Others, He taught. With some, He rebuked and called to repentance. Though harsh at times, this was actually a loving invitation to change and to enjoy greater blessings, safety, and peace. Others, He forgave and refused to condemn. Some, he healed. Though different in nature, all of these acts of service were the same in principle. They were all done in love and with a desire to lift and help, and they were all perfectly suited to the immediate and eternal needs of the individual.

If we are to develop charity, we need to learn to love and serve as Christ did. Like Him, we need to heal where it hurts--even if the person doesn't think they are injured. It may seem presumptuous to state that we should behave towards others just as Christ the Lord did, but it was He Himself who commanded, "What manner of men ought ye to be? Even as I Am."

Finally, we keep our covenants more fully by remembering often what they are. I know that I have covenanted to always remember Jesus Christ, to keep His commandments, to give everything I have and am to the building up of His kingdom, and to avoid all unholy and impure practices.

Again, getting back to those basics alone would take a lifetime of hard work, devoted effort, and loving service, and we don't need to waste our time on trifles. I liked that point that you made.

The second point that we definitely agree on is that love is the most important quality. If we truly love God and man, all of the other commandments will come naturally. Love of God and man HAS to be the motive behind all that we do, or it is all hypocrisy.

The big question, then, is how do we EXPRESS that love? I don't trust myself to answer that question alone, so I will take it straight from the Master's mouth:

"If ye love me, keep my commandments."

"He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him."

"Lovest thou me more than these? . . . Feed my sheep."

"Love worketh no ill to his neighbor: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law."

I love how Paul describes charity. It is so much more inclusive than how we normally define love:

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vanteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, edureth all things."

How often do we equate shunning evil and iniquity with charity? And yet, that is a vital part of it.

I go on:

"Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever."

"And this is love, that we walk after his commandments."

And finally, I learn a lot about love from what Paul equates with the opposite of love; which he prophesied would abound in the last days:

"This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power therof; from such turn away."

As firm as my faith is in my Savior, Jesus Christ, I also know that Satan is real, and he rules this world for the time being. I know, because I have felt His presence as surely as I have felt the Lord's. The only way we can withstand His philosophies (which are specifically designed and catered to destroy us) as well as the "perilous" times spoken of by Paul is to hold fast to the iron rod (which is a symbol of the word of God) and to, like the wise virgins, take the spirit as our guide and fill our vessels with oil drop by drop every day.

Unfortunately, when the Bridegroom cometh, some will be turned away. Not because He doesn't WANT to admit them, but because He CAN'T. And he can't because THEY chose otherwise, not because He is cruel.

I am so thankful for a Father in Heaven who loved me enough to risk losing me so that I could have a chance to become like Him and become His heir--a queen in His kingdom that can be given all that He has. I am so thankful that He gave me the chance to choose the light by faith, even though there was a chance that I would choose darkness. I am thankful that I have a Father in Heaven who never forces us to do anything--even to live with Him again one day if we would rather seek earthly pleasures and serve other gods. I am eternally grateful that, knowing I would mess up, He provided a Savior for me who would pay the awful price for every wrong thought and deed that I would commit every day of my life. And how thankful I am for my Savior who drank the bitter cup that was full partially because of me, even though He really didn't want to do it and it was harder and hurt more than any mere mortal could live through.

How thankful I am for a Father who loves me enough to give me commandments--guidelines that, if obeyed, are only there to keep me safe and add to my potential for happiness. I am so thankful that my Father loves me enough that He has provided me with every tool I need to make it back to Him if I choose it, including scriptures and prophets. It is extremely comforting that someone who knows and loves me perfectly will be my judge. And I am SO thankful that I won't be given that job for anyone else!!

And because of all of those things, I love Him with all of my heart and I want to give Him my all--my life, my sins, my will, my energy, my strength, my weaknesses, and every material thing that I possess. I want to bless and help to bring as many of His children back to Him as I can. And I want to wear out my life in His service. I am so far from perfect, but I hope that He can use me anyway.

I love you and I will always love you, and I am grateful for your amazing, loving heart.
~Sarah

P.S. Because it is Christmas I want to share my favorite non-Christmas Christmas scripture! It is in Revelation, but it is a Christmas scripture to me because it is the very reason that Hosanas were and are still being sung for the birth of the babe of Bethlehem.

"For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." ~Revelation 7:17

THAT is the hope of and the reason for Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T09:28:00.001-08:00

A free photo slideshow by Smilebox

Wrapping it Up

2011-11-07T09:02:00.001-08:00

Well, what can I say once Laura Oler gets in on the discussion? My hands are tied; she is the most perfect woman I have ever known. Especially when you add that to Katy's amazing gift of charity and Hillary's canned chicken!

For those of you who have been following the little banter between Hillary, Katy, Laura, and me, you will be interested in seeing its (hasty) conclusion! And really, it has been based on no new argument. It is as old as the hills. Mercy vs. Justice. Grace vs. Works. That one argument has been the cause of wars, contentions, and religious discrimination for about forever. That one question has formed entire religious sects. Who am I to jump in and think that I can answer the age old question with one or two blog posts? I'm clever, but I'm not THAT clever. I'm good, but I'm definitely not THAT good. And, Molly Mormon or not, my friends are all VERY good. Any heaven that wouldn't admit them would hold no hope for me.

I will just finish my side of the debate with this:

I am so thankful for the atonement of Jesus Christ, that not only provides the way for me to return to my Heavenly Father, but for me to change enough that I could possibly be happy there. He not only meets me at the end of my journey, but he is with me every step of the way. I am far from perfect now, but with Him as my partner it is destined to happen one day. And as I cleave unto Him, He just naturally guides me through each upward step. I don't have to climb the mountain alone or all at once. I can take it one step at a time, and I can lean on Him. It is Jesus Christ who gives me the strength, not only to overcome my weaknesses, but to wake up and face each day. It is Jesus Christ who fills in every single gap in my character, as long as I love Him enough to keep trying.

And I may be able to somewhat see where other people are on the mountain, but I have no idea how hard they are trying. And I have no idea which mountains they have already mastered. Probably ones that I am just beginning to climb. Only the Savior can truly understand as He helps each one individually and with perfect love.

Finally, you may be interested in the following talk that I recently discovered. It is excellent, and provides much clearer understanding of how the atonement of Jesus Christ can work in each of our lives. I HIGHLY recommend taking just a few minutes to read it.

His Grace Is Sufficient
BRAD WILCOX
________________________________________
Brad Wilcox was serving as a member of the Sunday School General Board of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as well as a BYU associate professor in the Department of Teacher Education in the David O. McKay School of Education when this devotional address was given on 12 July 2011.
________________________________________
I am grateful to be here with my wife, Debi, and my two youngest children—who are currently attending BYU—and several other family members who have come to be with us.
It is an honor to be invited to speak to you today. Several years ago I received an invitation to speak at Women’s Conference. When I told my wife, she asked, “What have they asked you to speak on?”

I was so excited that I got my words mixed up and said, “They want me to speak about changing strengths into weaknesses.”

She thought for a minute and said, “Well, they’ve got the right man for the job!”

She’s correct about that. I could give a whale of a talk on that subject, but I think today I had better go back to the original topic and speak about changing weaknesses into strengths and about how the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient (see Ether 12:27, D&C 17:8, 2 Corinthians 12:9)—sufficient to cover us, sufficient to transform us, and sufficient to help us as long as that transformation process takes.

Christ’s Grace Is Sufficient to Cover Us

A BYU student once came to me and asked if we could talk. I said, “Of course. How can I help you?”

She said, “I just don’t get grace.”

I responded, “What is it that you don’t understand?”

She said, “I know I need to do my best and then Jesus does the rest, but I can’t even do my best.”

She then went on to tell me all the things she should be doing because she’s a Mormon that she wasn’t doing.

She continued, “I know that I have to do my part and then Jesus makes up the difference and fills the gap that stands between my part and perfection. But who fills the gap that stands between where I am now and my part?”
She then went on to tell me all the things that she shouldn’t be doing because she’s a Mormon, but she was doing them anyway.

Finally I said, “Jesus doesn’t make up the difference. Jesus makes all the difference. Grace is not about filling gaps. It is about filling us.”
Seeing that she was still confused, I took a piece of paper and drew two dots—one at the top representing God and one at the bottom representing us. I then said, “Go ahead. Draw the line. How much is our part? How much is Christ’s part?”

She went right to the center of the page and began to draw a line. Then, considering what we had been speaking about, she went to the bottom of the page and drew a line just above the bottom dot.

I said, “Wrong.”

She said, “I knew it was higher. I should have just drawn it, because I knew it.”

I said, “No. The truth is, there is no line. Jesus filled the whole space. He paid our debt in full. He didn’t pay it all except for a few coins. He paid it all. It is finished.”

She said, “Right! Like I don’t have to do anything?”

“Oh no,” I said, “you have plenty to do, but it is not to fill that gap. We will all be resurrected. We will all go back to God’s presence. What is left to be determined by our obedience is what kind of body we plan on being resurrected with and how comfortable we plan to be in God’s presence and how long we plan to stay there.”
Christ asks us to show faith in Him, repent, make and keep covenants, receive the Holy Ghost, and endure to the end. By complying, we are not paying the demands of justice—not even the smallest part. Instead, we are showing appreciation for what Jesus Christ did by using it to live a life like His. Justice requires immediate perfection or a punishment when we fall short. Because Jesus took that punishment, He can offer us the chance for ultimate perfection (see Matthew 5:48, 3 Nephi 12:48) and help us reach that goal. He can forgive what justice never could, and He can turn to us now with His own set of requirements (see 3 Nephi 28:35).

“So what’s the difference?” the girl asked. “Whether our efforts are required by justice or by Jesus, they are still required.”

“True,” I said, “but they are required for a different purpose. Fulfilling Christ’s requirements is like paying a mortgage instead of rent or like making deposits in a savings account instead of paying off debt. You still have to hand it over every month, but it is for a totally different reason.”

Christ’s Grace Is Sufficient to Transform Us

Christ’s arrangement with us is similar to a mom providing music lessons for her child. Mom pays the piano teacher. How many know what I am talking about? Because Mom pays the debt in full, she can turn to her child and ask for something. What is it? Practice! Does the child’s practice pay the piano teacher? No. Does the child’s practice repay Mom for paying the piano teacher? No. Practicing is how the child shows appreciation for Mom’s incredible gift. It is how he takes advantage of the amazing opportunity Mom is giving him to live his life at a higher level. Mom’s joy is found not in getting repaid but in seeing her gift used—seeing her child improve. And so she continues to call for practice, practice, practice.

If the child sees Mom’s requirement of practice as being too overbearing (“Gosh, Mom, why do I need to practice? None of the other kids have to practice! I’m just going to be a professional baseball player anyway!”), perhaps it is because he doesn’t yet see with mom’s eyes. He doesn’t see how much better his life could be if he would choose to live on a higher plane.

In the same way, because Jesus has paid justice, He can now turn to us and say, “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19), “Keep my commandments” (John 14:15). If we see His requirements as being way too much to ask (“Gosh! None of the other Christians have to pay tithing! None of the other Christians have to go on missions, serve in callings, and do temple work!”), maybe it is because we do not yet see through Christ’s eyes. We have not yet comprehended what He is trying to make of us.
Elder Bruce C. Hafen has written, “The great Mediator asks for our repentance not because we must ‘repay’ him in exchange for his paying our debt to justice, but because repentance initiates a developmental process that, with the Savior’s help, leads us along the path to a saintly character” (The Broken Heart [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1989], 149; emphasis in original).

Elder Dallin H. Oaks has said, referring to President Spencer W. Kimball’s explanation, “The repenting sinner must suffer for his sins, but this suffering has a different purpose than punishment or payment. Its purpose is change” (The Lord’s Way [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1991], 223; emphasis in original). Let’s put that in terms of our analogy: The child must practice the piano, but this practice has a different purpose than punishment or payment. Its purpose is change.
I have born-again Christian friends who say to me, “You Mormons are trying to earn your way to heaven.”

I say, “No, we are not earning heaven. We are learning heaven. We are preparing for it (see D&C 78:7). We are practicing for it.”

They ask me, “Have you been saved by grace?”
I answer, “Yes. Absolutely, totally, completely, thankfully—yes!”

Then I ask them a question that perhaps they have not fully considered: “Have you been changed by grace?”

They are so excited about being saved that maybe they are not thinking enough about what comes next. They are so happy the debt is paid that they may not have considered why the debt existed in the first place. Latter-day Saints know not only what Jesus has saved us from but also what He has saved us for. As my friend Brett Sanders puts it, “A life impacted by grace eventually begins to look like Christ’s life.” As my friend Omar Canals puts it, “While many Christians view Christ’s suffering as only a huge favor He did for us, Latter-day Saints also recognize it as a huge investment He made in us.” As Moroni puts it, grace isn’t just about being saved. It is also about becoming like the Savior (see Moroni 7:48).

The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can live after we die but that we can live more abundantly (see John 10:10). The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can be cleansed and consoled but that we can be transformed (see Romans 8). Scriptures make it clear that no unclean thing can dwell with God (see Alma 40:26), but, brothers and sisters, no unchanged thing will even want to.

I know a young man who just got out of prison—again. Each time two roads diverge in a yellow wood, he takes the wrong one—every time. When he was a teenager dealing with every bad habit a teenage boy can have, I said to his father, “We need to get him to EFY.” I have worked with that program since 1985. I know the good it can do.

His dad said, “I can’t afford that.”

I said, “I can’t afford it either, but you put some in, and I’ll put some in, and then we’ll go to my mom, because she is a real softy.”

We finally got the kid to EFY, but how long do you think he lasted? Not even a day. By the end of the first day he called his mother and said, “Get me out of here!”

Heaven will not be heaven for those who have not chosen to be heavenly.
In the past I had a picture in my mind of what the final judgment would be like, and it went something like this: Jesus standing there with a clipboard and Brad standing on the other side of the room nervously looking at Jesus.

Jesus checks His clipboard and says, “Oh, shoot, Brad. You missed it by two points.”
Brad begs Jesus, “Please, check the essay question one more time! There have to be two points you can squeeze out of that essay.” That’s how I always saw it.

But the older I get, and the more I understand this wonderful plan of redemption, the more I realize that in the final judgment it will not be the unrepentant sinner begging Jesus, “Let me stay.” No, he will probably be saying, “Get me out of here!” Knowing Christ’s character, I believe that if anyone is going to be begging on that occasion, it would probably be Jesus begging the unrepentant sinner, “Please, choose to stay. Please, use my Atonement—not just to be cleansed but to be changed so that youwant to stay.”

The miracle of the Atonement is not just that we can go home but that—miraculously—we can feel at home there. If Christ did not require faith and repentance, then there would be no desire to change. Think of your friends and family members who have chosen to live without faith and without repentance. They don’t want to change. They are not trying to abandon sin and become comfortable with God. Rather, they are trying to abandon God and become comfortable with sin. If Jesus did not require covenants and bestow the gift of the Holy Ghost, then there would be no way to change. We would be left forever with only willpower, with no access to His power.

If Jesus did not require endurance to the end, then there would be no internalization of those changes over time. They would forever be surface and cosmetic rather than sinking inside us and becoming part of us—part of who we are. Put simply, if Jesus didn’t require practice, then we would never become pianists.
Christ’s Grace Is Sufficient to Help Us

“But Brother Wilcox, don’t you realize how hard it is to practice? I’m just not very good at the piano. I hit a lot of wrong notes. It takes me forever to get it right.” Now wait. Isn’t that all part of the learning process? When a young pianist hits a wrong note, we don’t say he is not worthy to keep practicing. We don’t expect him to be flawless. We just expect him to keep trying. Perfection may be his ultimate goal, but for now we can be content with progress in the right direction. Why is this perspective so easy to see in the context of learning piano but so hard to see in the context of learning heaven?

Too many are giving up on the Church because they are tired of constantly feeling like they are falling short. They have tried in the past, but they always feel like they are just not good enough. They don’t understand grace.

There are young women who know they are daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves them, and they love Him. Then they graduate from high school, and the values they memorized are put to the test. They slip up. They let things go too far, and suddenly they think it is all over. These young women don’t understand grace.

There are young men who grow up their whole lives singing, “I hope they call me on a mission,” and then they do actually grow a foot or two and flake out completely. They get their Eagles, graduate from high school, and go away to college. Then suddenly these young men find out how easy it is to not be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, or reverent. They mess up. They say, “I’ll never do it again,” and then they do it. They say, “I’ll never do it again,” and then they do it. They say, “This is stupid. I will never do it again.” And then they do it. The guilt is almost unbearable. They don’t dare talk to a bishop. Instead, they hide. They say, “I can’t do this Mormon thing. I’ve tried, and the expectations are just way too high.” So they quit. These young men don’t understand grace.

I know returned missionaries who come home and slip back into bad habits they thought were over. They break promises made before God, angels, and witnesses, and they are convinced there is no hope for them now. They say, “Well, I’ve blown it. There is no use in even trying any more.” Seriously? These young people have spent entire missions teaching people about Jesus Christ and His Atonement, and now they think there is no hope for them? These returned missionaries don’t understand grace.
I know young married couples who find out after the sealing ceremony is over that marriage requires adjustments. The pressures of life mount, and stress starts taking its toll financially, spiritually, and even sexually. Mistakes are made. Walls go up. And pretty soon these husbands and wives are talking with divorce lawyers rather than talking with each other. These couples don’t understand grace.

In all of these cases there should never be just two options: perfection or giving up. When learning the piano, are the only options performing at Carnegie Hall or quitting? No. Growth and development take time. Learning takes time. When we understand grace, we understand that God is long-suffering, that change is a process, and that repentance is a pattern in our lives. When we understand grace, we understand that the blessings of Christ’s Atonement are continuous and His strength is perfect in our weakness (see 2 Corinthians 12:9). When we understand grace, we can, as it says in the Doctrine and Covenants, “continue in patience until [we] are perfected” (D&C 67:13).

One young man wrote me the following e-mail: “I know God has all power, and I know He will help me if I’m worthy, but I’m just never worthy enough to ask for His help. I want Christ’s grace, but I always find myself stuck in the same self-defeating and impossible position: no work, no grace.”

I wrote him back and testified with all my heart that Christ is not waiting at the finish line once we have done “all we can do” (2 Nephi 25:23). He is with us every step of the way.

Elder Bruce C. Hafen has written, “The Savior’s gift of grace to us is not necessarily limited in time to ‘after’ all we can do. We may receive his grace before, during and after the time when we expend our own efforts” (The Broken Heart [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1989], 155). So grace is not a booster engine that kicks in once our fuel supply is exhausted. Rather, it is our constant energy source. It is not the light at the end of the tunnel but the light that moves us through the tunnel. Grace is not achieved somewhere down the road. It is received right here and right now. It is not a finishing touch; it is the Finisher’s touch (see Hebrews 12:2).

In twelve days we celebrate Pioneer Day. The first company of Saints entered the Salt Lake Valley on July 24, 1847. Their journey was difficult and challenging; still, they sang:

Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
[“Come, Come, Ye Saints,” Hymns, 2002, no. 30]

“Grace shall be as your day”—what an interesting phrase. We have all sung it hundreds of times, but have we stopped to consider what it means? “Grace shall be as your day”: grace shall be like a day. As dark as night may become, we can always count on the sun coming up. As dark as our trials, sins, and mistakes may appear, we can always have confidence in the grace of Jesus Christ. Do we earn a sunrise? No. Do we have to be worthy of a chance to begin again? No. We just have to accept these blessings and take advantage of them. As sure as each brand-new day, grace—the enabling power of Jesus Christ—is constant. Faithful pioneers knew they were not alone. The task ahead of them was never as great as the power behind them.

Conclusion

The grace of Christ is sufficient—sufficient to cover our debt, sufficient to transform us, and sufficient to help us as long as that transformation process takes. The Book of Mormon teaches us to rely solely on “the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah” (2 Nephi 2:8). As we do, we do not discover—as some Christians believe—that Christ requires nothing of us. Rather, we discover the reason He requires so much and the strength to do all He asks (see Philippians 4:13). Grace is not the absence of God’s high expectations. Grace is the presence of God’s power (see Luke 1:37).

Elder Neal A. Maxwell once said the following:
Now may I speak . . . to those buffeted by false insecurity, who, though laboring devotedly in the Kingdom, have recurring feelings of falling forever short. . . .
. . . This feeling of inadequacy is . . . normal. There is no way the Church can honestly describe where we must yet go and what we must yet do without creating a sense of immense distance. . . .
. . . This is a gospel of grand expectations, but God’s grace is sufficient for each of us. [CR, October 1976, 14, 16; “Notwithstanding My Weakness,” Ensign, November 1976, 12, 14]

With Elder Maxwell, I testify that God’s grace is sufficient. Jesus’ grace is sufficient. It is enough. It is all we need. Oh, young people, don’t quit. Keep trying. Don’t look for escapes and excuses. Look for the Lord and His perfect strength. Don’t search for someone to blame. Search for someone to help you. Seek Christ, and, as you do, I promise you will feel the enabling power we call His amazing grace. I leave this testimony and all of my love—for I do love you. As God is my witness, I love the youth of this church. I believe in you. I’m pulling for you. And I’m not the only one. Parents are pulling for you, leaders are pulling for you, and prophets are pulling for you. And Jesus is pulling with you. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Post Script: An Invitation in Love

2011-11-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

"When prophets come crying repentance, it “throws cold water on the party.” But in reality the prophetic call should be received with joy. Without repentance, there is no real progress or improvement in life. Pretending there is no sin does not lessen its burden and pain. Suffering for sin does not by itself change anything for the better. Only repentance leads to the sunlit uplands of a better life. And, of course, only through repentance do we gain access to the atoning grace of Jesus Christ and salvation. Repentance is a divine gift, and there should be a smile on our faces when we speak of it. It points us to freedom, confidence, and peace. Rather than interrupting the celebration, the gift of repentance is the cause for true celebration.

"The invitation to repent is an expression of love. When the Savior “began to preach, and to say, Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17), it was a message of love, inviting all who would to qualify to join Him “and enjoy the words of eternal life in this world, and eternal life [itself] in the world to come” (Moses 6:59). If we do not invite others to change or if we do not demand repentance of ourselves, we fail in a fundamental duty we owe to one another and to ourselves. A permissive parent, an indulgent friend, a fearful Church leader are in reality more concerned about themselves than the welfare and happiness of those they could help. Yes, the call to repentance is at times regarded as intolerant or offensive and may even be resented, but guided by the Spirit, it is in reality an act of genuine caring (see D&C 121:43–44)."

~Elder D. Todd Christofferson, October 2011 General Conference (emphasis added)

In my last post, I invited all of my friends and family to enjoy more light, joy, and peace. Perhaps it was not done in the proper spirit of love. Ok, so I didn't truly invite--I ranted. I apologise for that, and want to instead share my sincere desire for all to be better able to have the Holy Ghost with them, and to enjoy an improved ability to receive personal revelation. I always welcome similar loving invitations. I hunger for a knowledge of what I am doing wrong, or what I could do better, so that I can change and experience more joy in my life.

In my last post I highlighted 3 vices--caffeine, inappropriate media, and crude language. In my younger years I struggled with all three of those. Now that I am free from them, I truly do feel more joy in my life, and I am better able to feel the spirit. I am thankful, too, that I overcame those habits so that I can be a better example for my children, as well as for all of those who look to me for an example. I know from experience that no real good comes from any one of those things. If anyone struggles with them, know that it is possible to overcome the addictions, and to not even WANT them anymore. I am proof of that. I testify that it really would bless your life. If you ever want to know how I overcame the addictions, just let me know!

I love you all!

Where Have All the Molly Mormons Gone?

2011-11-01T14:16:00.001-07:00

I miss them. I do. I fully recognize that my generation took a purposeful detour away from the barefoot and pregnant, unappreciated and undervalued MISconception of the stereotypical Latter-day Saint woman, and I also recognize that in some ways that turn was needed. We couldn't be salt or lights unto the world while decked out in our curlers and housecoats, and it stands to good reason that not many woman wanted to follow in that path. However, just as the woman's rights movement began with a stand for something good and right but went too far, causing backward progress as womanhood and femininity has all but been shot down; so the proper shift away from what was lacking in the "Molly Mormon" has spiritually degraded the modern LDS woman, who flocks to the world like a tween to the mall to trade in her virtue for vulgarity, innocence for idolotry, strength and power for silliness and pride, and the wisdom of God for the philosophies of men (mingled with scripture?)

I get on this soap box because I am currently living one of my recurring nightmares. It is the one where I "wake up" and go about my daily business. My family surrounds me, but as I step out of my house I get the eerie sense that no other living soul is anywhere around. I hop into the car and as I drive through town, the streets are deserted. I arrive at the store and all is silent. I can hear the rustling of empty plastic bags in the wind. A faint smell of smoke is in the air.

In other words, I am beginning to feel alone, deserted, the last soul--besides my family and the images of church leaders who I see on my TV twice a year--who is still living in a world of high moral standards, while everyone else has been beamed off into some other dimension.

Yes, I admit it with pride--I am a Molly Mormon. Perhaps one of the last, at least as far as I can guage. My criteria may be a bit simplistic. I recognize that living the gospel has far more depth than the few petty items I am about to innumerate. However, these are the very "petty" items that I would like to soap-box about for just a moment.

I don't drink caffeinated sodas. Now, I KNOW that I am alone in that particular standard. I am the first to admit that the church has made no official position on caffeinated soda. However, I take the counsel of my church leaders as seriously as I take the commands, and when they say: "Leaders of the Church have advised, and we do now specifically advise, against the use of any drink containing harmful habit-forming drugs under circumstances that would result in acquiring the habit. Any beverage that contains ingredients harmful to the body should be avoided" I take that to mean that caffeinated soda should be avoided!

Maybe I am over-simplifying it, though. I am supposed to read 7 lines where there is only one written, and start rationalizing over every word. Chocolate does have caffeine. And nevermind the fact that there are more good-standing, temple recommend-holding members in America addicted to Diet Coke than there are citizens of the greater Dallas/Fort Worth area, but no big deal. After all, the Word of Wisdom clearly states "HOT DRINKS" as the only forbidden caffeinated beverages.

Another item. This one comes to mind because my continuous wincing over output from the mouths of fellow Latter-day Saints is starting to turn into a twitch. True, no one uses the BIG FOUR that even a large part of the great and spacious building still blushes over; but the words I hear in such becoming places as the podium at sacrament meeting and within my laurels class are still ugly, crude, vulgar, and unbecoming of a representative of Jesus Christ (which, I believe we have all covenanted to be).

To be blunt, they are unbecoming in general. I think that is part of the reason for my wincing--it is so totally incongruous to hear such ugly words coming out of the mouths of such beautiful women. I don't care to list these "minor" but offensive words. You all know them. But I will give you just one hint. If you need the definition for the word "sucks," just go ask a baby boomer. Yes, that is the phrase that you abbreviate multiple times a day without blinking an eye. Sorry, but you ain't talkin' 'bout lolly pops, folks.

Next on my list is media. I have spoken of my desire to hear no evil. I know that I am old-fashioned, but I prefer to limit the evil that I see, as well. It is an uphill battle finding movies (I don't even try to find TV shows--I just avoid those altogether) that don't offend my "over" delicate eyes and ears these days. And I enjoy a good movie as much as anyone.

I guess I am strange, but I have a hard time remembering the Prince of Peace at the same moment that I am bombarding my mind with images of violence and gore. And I find it difficult to think about the God of Holiness when I am viewing the desecration of one of His most sacred sacraments--the physical expression of intimacy that is supposed to be reserved for husband and wife only. And I struggle to consider upon the meek and gentle character of the Lamb of God when I am viewing incident upon incident of the crude, the profane, and the cruel. I suppose it is prudish to assume that my covenant to "always remember Him" actually means "ALWAYS remember Him." I can't be expected to remember Him ALL of the time--especially when it interrupts my need for entertainment.

As far as I can discover, the Law of Moses Commandment movie guideline to avoid rated R movies was given in 1986 or before. How much have movies changed since then? No wonder the Church has since given it's New Testament on the matter, one which is ignored by the church at large. It is found in the "For the Strength of the Youth" pamphlet and it says, "Do not attend, view, or participate in entertainment that is vulgar, immoral, violent, or pornographic in any way. Do not participate in entertainment that in any way presents immorality or violent behavior as acceptable." Will we ever get to our latter-day promised land (Zion, Celestial Kingdom, etc.) while we still insist on living by lesser laws? Think of the last movie or TV show you watched. Would you watch it again if the Savior was sharing your love seat? Your own wincing might soon turn into a twitch, and you just might weigh that only one bad scene a little more heavily.

Now would be a good time to talk about the word "justify." Let's think of it in terms of construction. To justify in construction is to make something straight that ISN'T. We do that morally whenever we take the vices that the prophets have warned us to avoid and paint over them in all of the varried hues of our own personal circumstances in a vain attempt to make what is ugly into something beautiful--or at least not a big deal.

Something else popular with members of the Church is what Elder Nelson calls "the cafeteria approach to obeying the commandments." We pick and choose which commandments we like, or which ones suit our style. And if we get an extra large helping of broccoli we don't feel so bad about our french fries, 16 oz. steak, triple chocolate brownies, and Diet Coke! But if I am not mistaken we have been commanded to "live by EVERY word that proceedeth forth from the mouth of God," and we believe that whether that word comes from "His own voice, or by the voice of His servants, it is the same."

People may wonder why it matters to me if other people drink caffeine, use crude and vulgar words, or watch offensive movies. Technically it doesn't, I suppose. Except that we know that the actions of a few people can put the entire Church under condemnation. Also, my kids are starting to wonder if I just made our family standards up for the sole purpose of inflicting cruel and unusual punishment and getting away with it. As we get further and further "behind the times" it is harder and harder to enforce what is RIGHT.

And this is MY blog. I can say what I want. And you are more than welcome to comment on the things that I need to improve on. Being judgmental and self-righteousness might be good places to start!

2011 Fisher Family Reunion

2011-08-07T15:28:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been a crazy 9 days of lots of fun, lots of food, lots of laughs, lots of sun, and not much sleep. It is coming to a close now, but we have memories to last forever. We love you, guys!

Christian Joseph Fisher

2011-07-27T20:11:00.001-07:00

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I Champion Motherhood

2011-06-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

My last blog stemmed from a frustrating moment of PMS, bloating, and feelings of ugliness. While I still think that everything I said is true to an extent, I do feel it needs a balancing post. If you read my last, please take the time to read this as well.

I CHAMPION motherhood. I have given my very best to my work, and it has richly rewarded me. While I sometimes lament the time it takes away from me, I would never want to fall into the trap of becoming my own idol.

Yes, I used to be cute. I used to be smart. I used to be more spontaneous and fun. But I also used to be selfish, self-centered, and snobby. I used to be impatient. I used to be a WIMP! Now, I spend 95 percent of my time and energy focusing on others, I truly see other people, and I realize that I am not all that and more. I have a seemingly endless reservoir of patience, and I am tough as Granny's turkey.

I can take 5 children under the age of 10 to Disney Land for two days by myself. I have survived morning sickness 6 times. I have been so tired that I could literally have lain down on the dirt outside and been out like a light, and yet I have kept chugging. I have voluntarily endured 5 epidurals, and what is more--1 natural childbirth. I have stood by as my infant son was stuck again and again and again--over 30 times--until they could get a line into his tiny veins. I have watched helplessly as doctors and nurses surrounded my blue and lifeless newborn baby in a frenzied, and eventually successful attempt to save her. I have listened stoically to surgeons who informed me that my 2 month old little boy had a 10 percent chance of death with his open heart surguries. I have performed the heimlich manuever, rescued a drowning child, and dried oceans of tears. I have listened from afar to the screams of my 3 year old daughter as Marc had to hold her down so that she could receive countless shots in her head to prepare her for stitches. I have given 5 children the priceless gift of literacy. I was a bishop's wife with a new 5th baby at the green age of 27. I have moved 12 times and had to pack our house up by myself for 10 of those moves. Each time, I have had to hunker down and settle in and make friends and adjust to yet another new place. I have cried with my children as they have cried during that adjustment period. I have gone 10 months straight with an average of 3 hours of interupted sleep every night, and stayed cheerful and kept working throughout. Many times I have wanted to scream and punch something but kept a smile on my face. I have stayed up late editing and studying and gluing things on science fair projects. I have late-nighted it sewing and mending and cleaning up puke. I have nursed 6 babies. I have quietly continued as normal on my own with a husband who is out of town half of the time. I have served in the nursery at church 7 different times--half of my married life. Maybe instead of saying I used to be cute, I should revel in the fact that I am still "relatively cute" despite it all!

As the old saying goes, I may not have changed the world, but I AM the world for 7 people.

And since when is it about me? Only recently have we become an individual-centered society. In the past centuries of humanity the greater good of family, society, and the world always took precedence over self. Now, the world touts self like we really are what makes the world go round--as if anyone is interested in our self discovery. I love what Elder Bruce D. Porter of the Seventy has said:

"The messages we constantly hear in the media, entertainment, and advertising sound like this: 'You're number one.' 'Do your own thing.' 'You're special.' 'Find yourself.' Such messages are so pervasive that we unconsciously absorb them and sometimes repeat them. Yet they are diametrically opposite from the message of the Savior, as recorded in similar language in every one of the four gospels: 'He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' We gain happpiness and salvation not by blindly pursuing our own self and our own will. We gain salvation by submitting our will , indeed our very selves, to the will of God. We must lose ourselves to find ourselves."

I compare myself to my friends who have chosen a sterile life, and I can honestly say that they have not found more fulfillment than I have in my extremely fruitful one. They find fulfillment in their publications, their research, their long hours at the office, and their cat or their dog. I find fulfillment as I shape and mold immortal souls. My friends who have children but also struggle to balance careers have never confided in me that their work outside of home and family brings them more joy and fulfillment than the work they do as mothers. In fact, it is usually quite the opposite. Truly, the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that shapes the world. The hand that refuses the cradle is a largely impotent one that will one day be forgotten.

Elder Porter goes on to say, "In all of human experience, there are no joys more tender, no love more sweet, no fulfillment highter than that found in the family. Those who honor the calling of righteous parenthood will find their souls refined, their hearts purified, and their minds enlightened by the most important lessons of life. They will rise to far greater heights of happiness than those who engage in the narrow and ultimately unsatisfying pursuit of self."

The tears of sorrow and anger and frustration that I have cried as a wife and a mother are far outweighed by the tears of joy. And even the hard tears have shaped me and strengthened me and formed me into the more sensitive, gentle, patient, loving, and strong woman that I am today. I hope that my family continues to build me into a better person. I need them as much as they need me.

Sometimes the best way to understand the value of something is for it to suddenly disappear. Imagine a world without doctors or nurses, lawyers or scientists. Imagine a world without police officers or CEO's of companies. What would life be like without college professors or office professionals? What about dentists or orthodontists? Even without teachers or, heaven forbid, politicians? All of these people offer incredible services to mankind, and our standard of living would drastically diminish without them. But now ask yourself: What would the world be like without Mothers? And I don't mean Breeders. I mean loving, selfless women who nurture and teach the children that they are happy and grateful to bear. If all mothers were True Mothers, the world would lose the need for many of its professionals. Without Mothers, civilization would completely crumble. Indeed, our very species would soon cease to exist.

I wouldn't trade even one of my battle wounds for all of the glam and glitter that the world has to offer with it's ever growing sect of ME-ism. Stretch marks are more beautiful to me than worldliness personified in all of her glamour--the fake tanned, fake highlighed, fake nailed, bejeweled, make-up smeared, perfectly toned girl who hides behind her fashionable clothes like a child hides behind her mother's skirts.

I have not only developed life-changing character traits, but I have acquired knowledge and skills that would have come in no other way than as a wife and mother. To be brief I will list a few: Cooking, sewing, budgeting, finances, interpersonal skills, communication, cooperation, organization, interior design, health care, nutrition, assertion, book keeping, family history, food storage, emergency preparedness, gardening, managing, frugality, teaching, public speaking, photography, canning, baking, parenting, and counseling. What 12 hour work day childless female CEO can claim such a broad array of practical skills and knowledge? I may have all of the feminists of the world beating at my happiness with sticks, but it will be to no avail--unless I choose to buy into their lies that fulfillment is only attainable within the cold and sterile doctrines of ME-ism.

And when I am truly honest with myself, my family has not deprived me of what makes me Me. I have not simply sat back, wiling away my days watching soap operas and eating twinkies. I have still found time to develop my talents and pursue my interests. I have joined community orchestras, church choirs, taken piano lessons and violin lessons. I have pulled out my pencils and my paints every now and then. I have read hundreds of great books. I have dappled in photography. I have studied and learned and read anything and everything that has interested me. My mind continues to expand as readily as my soul enlarges with the great work that I do.

And really, what are a few bumps and sags, wrinkles and bags, puckers and lumps compared to the eternal destiny of 7 immortal souls? And how many more will come after them? When all is said and done, at least when I die I can say that I gave my all to a worthy cause that I truly believed in--a cause much greater than myself.

Thanks to all who responded to my last post and gave me words of love and encouragement. Motherhood is definitely hard work, but we are all in this together and I love you.

Used to Be

2011-06-24T07:47:00.000-07:00

I think those are the most frustrating combined words in the English Language.

I used to be cute. I used to be smart. I used to be quite musical. I used to draw and paint. I used to dance. I used to be crazy -- in a good way. I used to be spontaneous. I used to walk into a room fully expecting there to be lots of double takes from members of the opposite sex.

I recently bought Mark Twain's full autobiography--the first in a series of three. He requested that it not be published until 100 years after his death, so that he could speak his "whole frank mind" without fear. Would I dare speak my whole frank mind before my death? No, I suppose I would not. Like him, my mind has acquired a bit too much cynicism for frankness, just like an old sink slowly builds up more and more lyme. But I am in a frank mood now.

I am like a pitcher. I have poured all that I am into my 6 children. Thankfully they are amazing, and so I do have something to show for myself. But I no longer have myself to show for myself, and that hurts at reflective times such as these. If my works are to praise me at the gates, I surely hope that my children turn out to be fantastic people, because they are the total sum of all that I have had to give in my life time. If only I could have been a wellspring, rather than a pitcher--never running out no matter how much I give.

And yes, I used to be cute. I think I can say that now that it is gone. I know that to admit this will not be very complimentary to my character, but "used to be cute" is the "used to be" that smarts the most. There is no splendor in "I used to be cute." I can't live off of past cuteness like borrowing on equity. All I can do is dream myself back in the glory days and hope for a glorious resurrection.

I think that "used to be cute" is worse than "never was" or "never will be." When you are a "never was" or a "never will be," you learn early on to maximize on your other positive attributes. Cute, however, is a fleeting yet proud and egocentric quality. It thinks it can thrive on its own--and succeeds for the most part until it abandons you and drops you on your expanding derriere like so much gravel--in all of the rotten refuse of its past glory.

And that is where I lay.

I celebrated my 34th birthday last month. Yes, 34 seems a bit young to raise the white flag and abandon all hope of cute. But I am sure that if I were brave enough to take one of those true age tests it would spit me off somewhere in my lower fifties. Actually, marrying at age 19 probably waxed on 10 extra years. Add ten more for each kid and I should be nearing 100 by now; maybe already decomposing in my grave. It is funny how you can feel so brittle and yet so green at the same time. My mind still feels like a 10 year old playing house. I don't know what I am doing--I just make it up as I go along.

But back to cute.

If I am properly philosophical about it all, I think I abandoned my hair too young. Cutting it all off was so freeing initially. It actually gave me the deceptive euphoria of restored youth. But time has passed and now it is little more than old lady hair. I have realized too late that it sent a direct message to the rest of my body to universally grow old. In rebellion of that message I am desperately trying to grow it back out--as though long hair will reclaim youth and maybe even a little bit of cute along with it--but in the grow out stage it is not simply old lady hair, but crazy old lady hair. Maybe I just need to get a big red sun hat and call it done.

And the color? Muskrat. And not even muskrat in its pure lackluster. It is muskrat streaked with raccoon.

I would try to smile and perk myself up, but really, there is nothing "up" about me. Or perky. Age takes a toll on more than your hair. The lower half of my back side is certainly not "up," and the upper half of my front side is certainly not "perky." Nursing six babies for over a year each took care of that one pretty thoroughly. And the side sides? Really, I didn't move to Texas with the intention of acquiring permanent saddlebags. I am only 5 lbs heavier than the day I got married, but my 132 pounds of yore were all perky--each and every one of them. It is definitely not glamorous to be thin, but saggy. It gives the overall beauty affect of a white raisin soaked in formaldehyde--for a very long time.

So, if I can't be cute anymore, I suppose it is time to develop a new attribute to hide behind. Smart is definitely out. I lost at least 10 IQ points with each child born to me. I suppose I could read books and regurgitate the ideas of truly intelligent people, but I abhor any form of artifice. And I simply couldn't pull it off. Everyone who knows me knows how utterly transparent I am.

Beautiful and Regal have been known to follow women through old age, but those are qualities that are bestowed, not acquired. I can only cross my fingers and hope for those, although my chances do not seem over high so long as I sport racoon-streaked muskrat-brown crazy old-lady hair. And I certainly have no hope of beautiful or regal until I chip off a few layers of cantankerousness.

I was thinking possibly of interesting, but interesting has so many different connotations. For example, I would much rather be clever interesting than amusing interesting. Interesting is too often synonymous with eccentric. And really, how do you develop interesting as a quality when it is such a fickle one--what is interesting to one person is definitely not guaranteed to be interesting to another. I know that for sure to be true because I have taken part in a few one sided converstions that were about as exciting as toe jam or morning breath.

I suppose I can try out other forms of cute. I can always resort to surgical perky and cute, but I despise plastic so-called beauty. I would rather stick to my own flaws than someone else's sculptured attempts at "perfection." Or I could join the ranks of the constant pedicure, so that I can at least have one pretty feature. MAYBE I can get people to focus on my toes. And I do still have nice shoulders and clavicles. Maybe I will figure out how to play those up while still maintaining my personal modesty.

I think I will have to ponder this some more. It might just be time to actually get the big red sun hat, bright floral Mumu, and play up the crazy old lady to my advantage. At least crazy old ladies have earned the right to actually express their "whole, frank minds" without too much fear of repercussion. I have always envied that ability. It is one of the only things I have looked forward to about old age. In the meantime, I will just avoid mirrors.

And to all of you young beauties--BEWARE. The same fate WILL be yours one day.

P.S. This is not an invitation or plea for flattery. To any who would refute what I have said out of the kindness but insincerity of your hearts, I have only to say this:

"Li la li . . . li la li li li la li, li la li . . . li la li li li la li la la la la LIE!" (Simon and Garfunkle)

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-20T09:38:00.001-08:00

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Adios California!

2010-11-19T08:24:00.000-08:00

Farewell California. You have treated us well for the last 2 1/2 years. The journey has been brief, but the company excellent and the scenery breathtaking. We will always remember you with fondness.

That first breathtaking moment when Yosemite National Park came into view. The thrill of seeing my first giant sequoia. Watching my kids chasing and running from the frigid surf of Monterey. Our favorite (because otherwise neglected) "look at me, look at me" sand crab at the Monterey Aquarium. Feeling the salty sprays of the aquamarine waves as I sat on my favorite sunny rock and gazed at the setting sun. The wonder and amazement of watching my first wild bear meandering through the forest. Unrivaled sunrises. Mouthwatering local oranges, strawberries, grapes, figs, pomegranites, plums, peaches, and nectarines and so much more. Hair-raising water slides. Hair-raising hair-pin turns! Turning my home into an annual grape-juice factory. Night swims with great friends. An old-fashioned Christmas in a little cabin on Donner lake. Polar bear swims with Marc at that same venue. Shaver lake and hikes in the hail.

A precious new daughter being laid in my arms.

In-and-Out burgers and Claim Jumper pork ribs. Piano lessons and dance classes and scouts and church youth groups. Getting a bit wobbly in the knees crossing the Golden Gate. Cruising through Napa Valley. Panda Express runs. Cross Country meets. Chatting with friends at the bus stop. Laughs and loves and tears and many, many forever friends.

Adios. We will miss you! But you have become a part of us and thus we will never truly say goodbye.

We Love You, and Thanks.

(Coming Soon: "Howdy Texas!")

Aint Got No Time (For a Catchy Title)

2010-11-18T13:53:00.000-08:00

Brielle is truly our little "Hunny!"

"Which witch is the scariest? Babies at the ward Halloween party all thought it was Liriel!

Goodnight, Good Knight!

Give us an S-A-V-A-N-N-A-H! Go Savannah!

This Ringwraith cant "wraith" for "ring"ing doorbelthes.

I "spy" a cutie!!

I'm KICKIN' my heals in excitement!

My motto for this post: if you can't think clever--think cheese. And a good pun is always the way to go if you are wanting cheese. And yes, I am proud of the overdone literary emulation. Enjoy!

A Picture Says a Thousand Words

2010-09-08T16:32:00.000-07:00

We all know by now that I am one of those people that must astound the world with my genius or just stay quiet. I am too sleep-deprived for genius or anything even remotely close to it, so I am going to just let the pictures speak for themselves. And I know that at least a few of you won't complain about that. What can I say? Like all genius, mine is generally only appreciated by myself--and maybe my mom.

And that sums up our summer in a nut shell!!

A Word on Natural Childbirth

2010-09-08T15:19:00.000-07:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

This is my face of absolute relief when it was all over.

Really, how did anyone have more than one child before the blessed age of the epidural? And the lie that you forget the pain--it is just that. That is about the same as saying that you will forget the pain after someone saws your leg off . . . slowly . . . without anesthesia . . . in the shin bone. I never thought that I would lose my inhibitions so completely as to let out window-cracking screams in the ears of total strangers, but they were GONE. Long gone, with no forwarding address.

It is no picnic for baby, either. Beleive me, she knew she wasn't in heaven anymore. This is not the face of ecstasy.

But this is! With enough cuddling, she did finally decide that she may as well stick around for the long haul. She even smiled for the camera!

And me? As soon as she came out the pain was gone and I knew that I was Super Girl. I can do ANYTHING!

In the Arms of the Angel

2010-09-08T15:15:00.001-07:00

Brielle Elise~Born June 25, 2010. I feel so blessed to finally be in the arms of my angel.

Waiting!

2010-06-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite books discusses a dark and dreary place that we all find ourselves in at times:

"You can get so confused that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place . . .

. . . for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting."

Well could Dr. Seuss have added,
"waiting for a baby to come," because that is the dark and dreary place I find myself in. But I must go on in the book, because he gives some very wise advice:

"NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With Banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!"

Can I get out of the useless Waiting Place and into the Sunshiny Boom Bandy place? I am trying, but it is hard when you are nine months pregnant and have been in "labor" for a week with no warm little bundle to show for it.

The Baby's room, waiting . . .

Here I am at 9 months pregnant, waiting . . .

Hodge Podge

2010-04-20T08:52:00.001-07:00

Avanlee's competition cheer squad takes regionals. (And yes, we are already preparing the shotgun.)

The kids green it up on St. Patty's. Which brings up a good question. Why on earth?

Marc takes the kiddies on a Daddy date to Yosemite. (And Mom basks in some quiet and a good book.)

Avanlee and I go Cuban and attempt making croquettes. Aside from burning out the motor in my blender (I NEED A MEAT GRINDER!) they were a great success.

It's PLAY TIME!

Girls and dolls.

Boys and "forts." My boys begged to stay the night in theirs.

The face of true devotion. Yes, this is how our 6:15 morning devotionals generally look (blurry and all.) Think they are absorbing anything through the blankets?

Easter: It's all about the candy, right?

Still busy growing a little gymnast. (Or could it be a female boxer?)

Six kids just don't fit in a Dodge Sport minivan. Result: The BEAST! Family outings are so quiet now! But the best part? Paid in cash, in full! YES! Dave Ramsey would be so proud!

The end. Nighty night!

IT'S A . . .

2010-03-18T09:36:00.000-07:00

Any guesses for what this is?

No, it is not a new Mormon Jello Sallad for the ward potluck. It is the remnants of about three bushels of grapes after turning our home into a temporary grape-juice factory.

Any guesses for what this is?

No, it is not the brain of an alien that we abducted and disected. It is a lemon from the bottom of my fruit basket.

Any guesses for what this is?

Your guess is as good as mine. A bowling ball? Basketball? Tumor? Giant roundworm?

Any guesses for what this is?

It's a GIRL! Which is of course EXACTLY what I wanted. (I only said I wanted a boy because I really thought it was one, but now I can admit the truth!) Isn't she beautiful already?! What a profile!

Sleeping Beauty

2010-03-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

As Emerson so eloquently remarked, "There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep." And as Robert Brault put it, "The world is as many times new as there are children in our lives." Both quotes most certainly apply when it comes to Liriel. Every night I get a brief moment of discovery when I go in for a last kid-check. What oh what will her sleeping position be this time?! Here are just a few of our favorites for your enjoyment.

And now comes a horrible thought. Marc, she didn't inherit this strange genetic fluke from her mother, did she?!?!?

2+10+23=CHAOTIC FUN!

2010-02-20T10:39:00.000-08:00

What do you get when you take two Grandparents, ten parents, and 23 grandchildren and put them all together in a 1800 square foot house for a week? What else? Pandemonium! And mayhem, bedlam, uproar, chaos, loud voices, food fights, coerced talent shows, plenty of Bananagrams (always getting whooped up on by Grandma), really yummy food, no big fights this time (impressibly enough!), and lots of fun. After 13 years, the McBee family was finally all together again this Christmas, and after the ears have stopped ringing I can finally start to soak in the great memories that we made. Yes, it was a lofty goal, but with the excellent planning and unsurpassable patience of Grandma, it was a great success.

You know that you are a McBee if you find yourself hiking in the snow. Hey, why not? Hiking the Colorado National Monument is like the mail--a necessity rain or shine. Here I am in what I am guessing to be the first-ever picture of me with my two amazing big brothers. I love those guys!

A highlight of the trip was our winter swim at the pristine Ouray Hot Springs. Nothing beats the combination of soking in toasty warm water, freezing cold ears, an amazing backdrop to take your breath away, and a near-naked man to cuddle up against--and his chest isn't even too hairy.

And here is that breath-taking backdrop, although the picture doesn't do it justice. All I can say is this: Ouray Colorado, Destination 2039. Future retirement spot.

We planned our trip so that we would be in Salt Lake on Christmas Day for the gorgeous light display on Temple Square. What a beautiful way to celebrate the birth of the Savior (other than Christmas dinner at a smoke-filled truck stop in Nevada, which I wouldn't necessarily want to duplicate.)

All in all, it was a great time (despite our vow to NEVER make that drive AGAIN--a vow that will most likely be broken in about 6 months). Thanks Mom! Love you, family!

The Discovery: Evens Are Better Than Odds

2010-01-18T09:56:00.000-08:00

After four wonderful years of having an odd number in our home, we have decided to try our luck at evens. Avanlee, Dallin, Savannah, Christian, and Liriel would like to announce their new sibling in the making. The only question now is, will it make a tie in the boys to girls contest, or will the girls dominate even more?

Here I am with my 3 month belly. It is hard to believe that I am back to those old, familiar pregnancy joys after a 5 year sabbatical: Leg cramps, heart burn, morning sickness, bloating to the point of looking 8 months pregnant, locker-room worthy gas, fatique, constant bathroom runs, worry, bizarre dreams, off-the-wall libido (which actually isn't so bad, and Marc agrees), and crazy cravings (big, fat burgers? I mean REALLY!) But could this actually be the last time? Makes me want to enjoy every second!

Just keep our little one in your prayers. I am such a fatalist, I need all the prayers on our side that I can get.

Oh What a Summer It's Been, It's Been! Oh What a Summer It's Been!

2009-09-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

How do I update a blog that I have neglected for 6 months all in one post? Lots of pictures and very few words. Ok, go ahead and breathe a collective sigh of relief. My wordiness can be a hiss and a byword at times, I know.

Precarious economy = "Summer Art Camp With Mom!" Besides, I miss my kids all year. Summer means it is finally MY turn! Here we are meticulously painting tiny ceramic tiles in preparation for making mosaics.

What would any summer be like without multiple trips to the beach? Here the kids pose in front of our favorite sign (Beware, confirmed shark attack at this beach) just before hittin' the waves!

Dallin catches a wave on the boogie board--a favorite activity second only to skim boarding.

Can't you see the serenity in my face? My favorite summer pastime? Soaking up rays and gazing at the big blue.

What can I say but, "Baby he's got it!"

Remember the Pioneer Day Blues, when your Mom dressed you up in old aprons and gigantic bonnets that smelled of moth balls, and how you begged to stay in the car so that you wouldn't have to ride around the church parking lot in a rusty wagon with a makeshift cover on top that kept you from seeing where you were going or knowing when you were going to fall because your sister turned the wagon too quickly? This is PAYBACK time--Only, Liriel got away without the bonnet!

This is what happens on long summer days when you have in your house both a pre-teen girl and a life-size, life-like, LIVE Barbie Doll!

And another one!

Brotherly love personified.

And sisters can have a lot of love too.

Our rough-and-tumble, snuggly-wuggly, quiet, wry, scientist surfer-dude little boy turns 6--and gives us the very best "I LOVE IT" face that any parent could ever hope to catch on camera!

Avanlee gets a hair cut, contacts, and rocks it up at cheer camp!

. . . and braces! I won't even mention the dent in the pocketbook!

My Summer project: I actually sewed something that turned out! (Savannah's dress.)

We won't even talk about my next try at making some shorts for Avanlee. I still have NO CLUE what I did wrong. And it is a sign of my unsurpassable humility that I even share this laugh with you all, so be grateful!

Marc took Dallin on his first high Siera backpacking trip. Two nights, lots of fish, and one bear later they came back stinking but jubilant!

Not to be undone, I got to go out on a little excursion myself. My amazing husband flew me out for the weekend to see two of my best and longest girlfriends for a little Mom's getaway--my first since having children 12 years ago. Here we are sporting our fresh-out-of-bed hair styles.

If you think that Summer Art Camp With Mom is a good idea, you'll love Summer Pre-School with Avanlee, Dallin, and Savannah. People have called me lazy, but I would say it is sheer genius. How do you prepare younger children for school; teach older children organization, patience, and childcare skills; and entertain them all at once? Make your older children the teachers of a Summer Pre-School program at home. Here Christian and Liriel pose at Pre-School Graduation.

The students with their FABULOUS (and they really were) teachers.

Without T.V., video games, or cell phones, there was a LOT of reading going on in our home this summer.

You have to love new school clothes, especially the ones that friends give us for free!

The Toothless Wonder (missing three of his four front teeth) starts kindergarten. Christian was ecstatic, Mom cried . . . of course!

Labor Day Weekend found us at our favorite old haunt, Hume Lake at Sequoia National Park.

The big news of the Summer? Our ward of 450 active members split, bringing our numbers in at a manageable 240 each Sunday. With the splitting of a ward comes all sorts of jumbling up of callings. I am still a Relief Society teacher, but Marc was called as the Young Men's President. It is such a relief to have him back to work for the Lord. I was tired of having him moping around the house and taking naps on Sundays!!! But, on that first Sunday (with no positions filled) we only had sacrament meeting--so we went home for an awesome home primary. I got to be Mrs. Friendly (Or Mrs. Friend Lady, as the kids would say): the crazy woman who comes in and shares a story from the Friend magazine. The kids didn't know quite what to think of their Mom gone crazy (ok, so they are actually quite used to that!)

REALLY crazy!

After a great start to school for all four kids, and a freshly quieted home, Dallin surprises us with the news that he is a great long-distance runner. He placed 5th in the district Cross Country meet of 150 fourth grade boys. Run Dallin, Run!

And Th-th-that's all folks!

Our New Baby

2009-06-19T09:36:00.001-07:00

We just wanted to let everyone know that we recently welcomed a beautiful new baby into our home. She is five feet long and about 300 lbs. We decided to give her a Japanese name: Yamaha.

Hail's Bells Ring in Eden

2009-06-02T11:13:00.001-07:00

Well what do you know, you don't have to fly to Hawaii to enjoy lush green hikes and pristine waterfalls! Last weekend we hopped in the car to explore the outdoors a little closer to home. Less than an hour later we found ourselves high in the Sierras--a living sea of green. We wanted to check out Rancheria Falls, a 2 mile hike round trip--perfect for 3 year old legs. Could anything compare to the Falls that took our breath away in Hawaii?

Just below the trail head we were absolutely forced to pull over and become better acquainted with THIS view. The gravitational pull of gorgeous scenery is amazingly powerful.

Walking on nice, dry ground and following our trail blazer, Liriel.

Turn the bend and . . . voila! A torrent of rushing water powerfully yet elegantly streaming down the rocky mountain side. Hawaii, I am sorry to say it, but this rivals even you.

Just below is another little trail blessing us with a perfect view of the falls.

But then, the heavens burst open without warning. Darting toward some rocks and trees for cover we huddled together, hoping to stay semi-dry until the storm passed. Unfortunately for us, the very powers of hell suddenly unleashed upon us. Lightning flashed and thunder pounded with split seconds in between. Rain turned to pebble sized hail. The trail instantly became a torrential river. With no true shelter, we made the quick decision to run for the car, one mile of winding path ahead.

We were a blur of color and a confusion of sound; Christian's screams reverberated every time the lightning flashed. Liriel cried solidly in Marc's arms as the bits of hail welted her skin. Breathless sobs came from Savannah's direction, the hail biting into her bare legs with each leap. The gloppy sound of muddy water splashing with every step joined that of the pittering and pattering of hail and the roar of the waterfall. Avanlee and Dallin's silence was an almost audible concentration on making it out alive. And intermingled with it all was the occasional whoop of sheer joy from me, absolutely refreshed and loving it. When he wasn't screaming, Christian kept frantically repeating, "This is the worst hike ever!" But as soon as the hail slowed and we came in view of the car, his sense of adventure resurfaced and he shouted, "That was the best hike EVER!!" His words mirrored my thoughts exactly!

Soaking wet and half naked in the car, we were all a bit shell shocked until the heater did its work.

Most of us were completely reinvigorated and ready to head home. A couple were totally wiped out! It was a perfect representation of a telestial world--threads of heaven interwoven with the powers of hail!

Growin' Old, but Forever Young

2009-05-28T18:25:00.001-07:00

This month I celebrated my birthday. Ladies never reveal their age, but I am starting to feel it. I actually have a bit of a crick in my hip and knee. Funny how I still feel 18 inside, though. I still dance around the street in the rain. I still sing loud, ribald songs at the top of my lungs from time to time. I still turn cartwheels if I ever have enough open space. I still beat Marc in tennis. I'm still beach-bummin' (and the "bummin" part only intensifies as I get that middle-aged spread in back). And, as the photo will attest to, I can still make it to the tippy top of the mountain.

My motto of late: Embrace change. Even in the form of gray hairs. Plucking is getting tiresome. Maybe it is time to accept and embrace them. They are marks of my intense labors over the last 12 years (literally "labors" in 5 separate cases for me): pregnant and nursing, pregnant and nursing, moving 11 times, supporting a husband through 9 years of school, bishoprics, pregnant and nursing, 7 separate callings to serve in the nursery, endless homework and permission slips from my kids, pregnant and nursing, teaching my children all about the birds and the bees, pregnant and nursing, and watching my oldest daughter shave her legs and experience her first crush. I have earned every one of those gray hairs. They are POWER!

So, happy birthday to me, and many more to come, I hope! Each year brings a new experience, a new joy, a new joke, a new challenge to overcome, a new friend to meet, and more memories to add to my endless supply.

The pictures are of my birthday ventures: Beautiful Yosemite National Park; Our own private little beach complete with tide pools, perfect sand, and a trickling stream; and Monterey Aquarium.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game!

2009-04-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

Take me out to the ball game! Out for a new year of fun! Avanlee finished up her season with her best game ever: Striking out several opponents as pitcher, catching 1 out, assisting in 4 or 5 other outs, and scoring twice.

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks! I don't care if I never get back! Out flies the fast ball!

So it's ROOT, ROOT, ROOT for the home team! Avanlee swings and the ball zooms out to left field.

If they don't win it's a shame! Avanlee is a blur of skin and blue and white jersey as she speeds toward home!

And it's ONE, TWO, THREE strikes you're out at the old ball game! But not Avanlee. She is . . . SAFE!

Tired, but satisfied after a great season. GO AVANLEE!

Veni, vidi, vici . . .

2009-04-18T08:47:00.000-07:00

She saw, she came, and she did conquer, but not without sustaining injuries. Savannah saw the swing, and she took that naughty swing on. She fought a good fight and came off victor, but she left the battle with a fracture clear through her elbow--just above the joint, thank goodness. The result--one full night of intermittent howling and whimpering pain accompanied by no sleep (for Mom or Dad, either) until she could see an Orthopedic Doctor; and a hot, sweaty, itchy, bothersome cast from top of hand to near-top of arm for 6 weeks. What a girl!

Hey, at least it is not 10 lb. plaster like what I got when I took on and conquered the stairs in my rollerskates at her age. And nobody dares get in her way now with her own unique, personalized, built-in club to weild!

The Latest Edition: 2009 Family Picture Time!!

2009-04-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

Have you ever spent hours dolling up 5 kids and two adults, then taken them to a beautiful outdoor venue in an ATTEMPT to keep them all clean and tidy long enough to take their picture? If you have, then you also understand the joys of ATTEMPTING to then get 7 decent smiles and 14 open eyes all at the same time--in short: to produce a work of art worthy of being indelibly recorded on glossy photo paper and hung on your wall for the next year, at least (depending on how soon you can work up the nerve to repeat the process.) This can be a daunting task, as your success or failure will be staring back at you (as well as anyone who visits) every day for many months to come. This can be truly exciting with a real photographer and several silly puppets, but since we have moved away from our photographer, I decided to attempt it myself.

Let me just state right here that tying to get 7 simultaneous smiles for a tripod is even more exciting.

A Road Well-Traveled

2009-04-10T17:16:00.000-07:00

We went the distance. We took the challenge. We risked a 14 hour drive in one day and came out smiling. We discovered that the Turkish proverb is true, "No road is long with good company." Our destination: Utah and Colorado. Our quest: General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints--LIVE, and precious time with extended family. Our memories: Singing ribald songs at the top of our lungs in the car, food fights with cousins, long and enlightening chats, Easter egg hunts, scurrying over red rocks, misty sprays from waterfalls, an ailing but feisty Great Grandpa, and a spiritual feast. We went the distance, and as any great adventure assures, returned changed. As Saint Augustine said, "The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." How we love turning the leaves in our book.

Mine all Mine, My VALENTINE!

2009-02-12T13:31:00.000-08:00

Will you be my V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E?
If you will you surely know how HAPPY I would be.
Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what you are to me.
Will you be my V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E?

Ok, ok. So maybe I am just not much of a romantic, but the whole sugar and spice, perpetual roses of red and violets of blue, and the "you are all that I need and the air that I breathe" thing just doesn't do it for me. Or maybe I am actually one of the few TRUE romantics--my love for you feeds principally on meat and potatoes instead of whipped sugar. It has substance. It is the love that lasts even when "the air that I breathe" is your morning breath. Or, when after a few months of marriage the "sugar and spice" suddenly and periodically shifts to vomit and phlegm.

A wise man once said: "Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two." --St. Augustine

That is not to say that we don't have beautiful flowers on our tree, or those heart-throbbing moments of passion. In actuality, our life together abounds in both of those: Heart-throbs and flowers. How? Because we have the meat and potato love too, or, in prettier imagery--the roots to the tree.

So, Valentine, how do I love thee, and I mean TRULY love thee, not just "Flove" thee? (Flove is a word I have coined that conjoins the words "love" and "fluff.") Let me count the ways in a modern and methodical Top 10 List:

10. You don't leave your stinky socks on the floor.
9. You put the toilet seat down when you are finished using it.
8. You're never late for dinner, in a rather broad sense of the word--and if you are you at least call.
7. You can immediately sense when I am having a bad day and act accordingly.
6. You put up with MY morning breath and phlegm.
5. You don't ever tell me that I am eating too much, that I must be having PMS, or that I look like I have a cold.
4. You always go along with my crazy, impetuous schemes.
3. You are an excellent liar, and thus a very handy person to have around when I am feeling ugly or when my dinner didn't turn out right.
2. You are always right by my side when I am cleaning up throw-up, even though it makes you want to throw up too.
1. And the number one reason why I love you? Your hand fits perfectly in mine, you are just the right distance taller than me, you like sunsets as much as I do, you go on walks with me, you dance with me, you make me laugh, you let me practice my cage-fighting moves on you, you let me sleep in on the weekends, when I was pregnant you never let on that you were tired of feeling the baby move, you forgive my outbursts, you aren't really hairy, you are a "sparky" dad, you take care of the taxes, you like chick flicks, the Olympics make you cry too, you love God, and every now and then you will do one of my exercise videos with me--even Denise Austin's 1980's pregnancy video with a pillow stuffed up your shirt!

So, Valentine:

While you are not the air that I breathe or the fruit that I eat,
Or perpetual roses beneath my feet,
I will go even farther and say with another:
"You are nothing short of my everything."

Life, out of wisdom and out of necessity,
Writes more of prose than it writes out of poetry.
And when mythical roses wantonly call to me,
Where facades of hollyhocks are forever inviting--
I stay by your side for it is there I am finding
The singular garden where prose is exciting.

Always and Forever,
Sunny

("Always and Forever, Always and Forever." --Kip Dynamite)

Savannah Jane Fisher

2009-02-05T16:23:00.000-08:00

I swear, I am really just a little girl, still playing house and dressing up my baby dolls. I can't possibly be the mother of three baptized children. But somehow, I find that it is true. My angel Savannah was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on January 24th, 2009.

Savannah truly is the angel that she appears to be. I don't think that she has ever been in trouble in her life. She is giving and sharing and offering love from the moment her head leaves her pillow each morning to the moment it hits it again at night. She personifies sweetness, a trait which must have spilled from heaven just as she was exiting that place--in abundance. She is every little girl in the neighborhood's "best" friend. She can some how sense a sad or a lonely soul without any external cues--and is always right there to give a hug or encouragement.

She is one of those children that you pray for hard, because you wonder how such a wicked world could possibly hold her for long. But no one can laugh quite like she can, either. Evidence, I suppose, that angels have a sense of humor.

Savannah Jane, we love you, and Happy 8th Birthday!

Another Stinky Week in Paradise

2009-01-21T10:12:00.000-08:00

Yes, it was just another blah week in Paradise. You know the kind: Perfect 75 degree weather. Crystal clear, aqua-marine, 80 degree water. Gliding through the open ocean with sea turtles. Basking in the sun with seals. Discovering remote tide-pools deep enough to swim in. Taking a refreshing dive beneath 200 foot high waterfalls. Kayaking through flowing glass to far-distant islands. Eating shrimp that was scurrying around in the shallows just a few hours before being marinated in the most delicious combination of tastes ever invented, with the salty sea breezes and rhythmic lapping of the waves as our only ambiance. Exploring a pristine reef and making friends with the living rainbow of tropical fish that reside there. Hiking just to the side of sheer cliffs with the world-famous Na Pali coast as our foreground. Leisurely taking our quiet breakfast to the balcony and watching whales breach while we eat. Napping in each other's arms not 4 feet from the 3,500 feet deep Waimea Canyon--a rainbow serving as our canopy, the sun as our thermal blanket, and not another soul in sight.

And worst of all, being alone for the first time since the birth of 11 year old Avanlee with the person we both fell in love with 13 years ago--no demanding voices, no fires to squelch, no competition for sound wave time, no dishes to wash, no homework to check, and especially noteworthy: a sole one quart box of milk more than amply serving us for the week sitting all alone and lonely in the fridge.

Yes, as you can tell, we had just a regular, boring old time in Hawaii, with nothing interesting to see or do. Paradise--it's overrated. Really. You should believe your Mom when she tells you that you can have just as much fun going someplace local, such as the dairy farm visitors center in California's Central Valley. Just remember not to breathe. Or, when we lived in Texas, Galveston Beach with its murky, brown water. Just be careful to avoid the tar spots. Take our word for it. You don't need to go all the way to Hawaii in order to see the world just as Heavenly Father created it in its original, paradisaical glory.

We'll just go again for you!

A Holly, Jolly Christmas!

2009-01-01T16:08:00.000-08:00

We had a holly, jolly Christmas--

The most stressful time of year.
We weren't sure, if we'd endure,

But look--we're all still here!

We had a holly, jolly Christmas,

And we sure hope you did too.

But gosh by golly if I could remove the folly

We'd have a MUCH more jolly

Christmas next year!

Yes, I know that we all love Christmas time. Especially us moms, whose special job it is to deck the halls, trim the tree, drudge through the fudge, and roast the chestnuts--or for the less traditionally inclined, at the very least, roast the turkey. And let's not forget the writing of 200 personalized cards (if you are REALLY good), along with the licking of 200 not-so-specially-flavored envelopes. I always used to wonder why my mom happened to get sick every single Christmas.

Another personal favorite: donning all of the wintry "gay apparel" for the kids--including but not limited to: snow pants, boots, hats, gloves, scarves, and coats. We all know the "Christmas Story" joy of watching our little bundles then proceed to lose all ability to move or, best of all, talk. But that joy is tempered by the groans we have all emitted when, two moments later, our little bundle mumbles through the layers that they have to go to the bathroom. After donning the gay apparel for the second time (a little more sloppily this time), they then waddle out into the snow, pick up one handful, fall in, can't get up, and after being rescued turn around and come right back in; leaving a pile of that gay apparel to slowly melt and make a pool of muddy sludge out of your entryway. They do learn young that "Jack Frost nipping on your nose" actually doesn't feel so good.

Then there is the two week break from school. You are so thrilled to have your personal little angels home for the holidays, and up until Christmas day they are fulfilling your every dream of hot chocolaty mornings and cuddles on the couch; of happy smiles and joyful singing; of board games and firesides; of sober children pondering the birth of the Savior--if you ever actually get to that part, that is. Then, the second week sets in. Suddenly the nature of the angels change, as well as the carols they sing. Your once heavenly cherubs are now little hell's angels, and they are now singing, "Thumpity Thump Thump, thumpity thump thump" and "I tied a knot in Susie's hair" and "Somebody snitched on me" and "Mommy and Daddy are mad" and "They used to laugh and call him names" and "We won't go until we get some, we won't go until we get some, we won't go until we get some so BRING IT RIGHT NOW!" and, of course, "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg"--as LOUD as they possibly can!

Then there is the very best part of the Holidays: Actually PAYING a babysitter to watch your kids so that you can trudge out into the cold, weave through the traffic, wait at endless stoplights, chicken race total strangers to get the last parking spot within your time zone, elbow your way through crowds at the store, and inevitably go into total panic because they are all sold out of the latest "MUST HAVE FOR CHRISTMAS" gadget; which means: you go back out into the cold and repeat the whole process. Or, you could always settle for the generic brand cheap imitation of the "must have for Christmas" gadget--which I do not recommend. This option doesn't make for a pleasant REST OF YOUR LIFE as your child will inevitably and irrevocably cast up at you the fact that you got the Flutterby Fairly Bambie instead of the Butterfly Fairy Barbie, or the Star Wads action hero Fluke, instead of the official Star Wars action hero Luke. Whatever it may be, beware. Don't give in to common sense and a tight budget. Best to travel the globe in quest of the RIGHT thing, because only the official Monarch Fairy Barbie will extract the gleam in the eyes and those special holiday smiles on Christmas morning, and only the official Star Wars action heroes will collect dust in exactly the right places.

To be fair to you Dad's I will just briefly mention here that it is their job to climb the roof, in December no less, to hang either the Christmas lights or themselves, whichever one happens to occur first. Enough said.

So this year, we did our best to avoid at least some of the more disagreeable Holly Jolly Christmas activities. We had an old fashioned Christmas, at a cabin in the mountains, with homemade candy and one hand-crafted present per person. And how was our Christmas week? MAGICAL. Yes, we drudged through lots of fudge, I personally trudged my way through the colder than cold cold, and I sludged through more than my fair share of yuletide puddles, but we had PEACE! I didn't lose my life to holiday chicken. I have no bruises on my ribs by way of steering clear of department stores the entire month of December. Do you know what I did on Christmas Eve? I stayed up with Marc putting a puzzle together in front of the fire, sipping cider and eating popcorn. That was instead of our usual "twas-the-night-before-Christmas" activities of marathon wrapping and wracking our brains to uncover the physics behind stuffing piles of goodies and toys the size of my bed into 5 little stockings--and then seriously worrying, "Did we get them enough?"

And that is not to mention another one of good ol' Dad's yuletide treasures: sweating to get things out of their wired in, taped in, and now even screwed in theft-proof packaging, then wading through instructions that started out in Mandarin and then were "roughly" translated into English (or Spanish. Take your pick--they are both about equally discernible) and then attacking the "some assembly required items" until about an hour before the kids wake up--if he's quick. Thank goodness we have stale cookies, warm milk, and Rudolph's rubbery carrots to keep our energy up. I can tell you, most Christmases, Santa's busy little elves have Nuttin' on us--except for hired help.

This year, we really did have a holly jolly Christmas (as opposed to other years where you try to make a grinding of the teeth look like a smile), with happy children who weren't fighting over new toys all Christmas day. We really did sit in front of a fire and sip hot cocoa every evening, giggling and telling stories. We were forced to turn to each other and nature for entertainment, rather than the latest electronic mind numbing gadget. We really did feel the Christ spirit--or, in other words, the spirit of joy and love. At times, things were so quiet that we could literally hear the peace nestling in on our souls.

I was given the choice opportunity to observe my children, more anxious to watch their sibling open the present they put so much work into making than to open their own. I saw true happy sparkles in the eyes of giver and receiver both, rather than the tinsely gleam of greed. I received my own gift with tears in my eyes--a gift that took great sacrifice and truly came from the heart of a much beloved eternal companion. I shared in true and free joy with my husband, running like children through four feet of snow in the black of night and jumping into an almost frozen lake. Best of all, I reverently watched my nine year old boy (defined by some as "a noise with dirt on it") tear up in response to the spirit of the story of Christ--a tiny babe who came into the world for the sole purpose of giving himself to it, to be battered and spit upon and rejected by it, to redeem it. I felt, and I knew that each member of my family felt, that no matter what 2009 brings, we will be OK because we have each other for eternity; because of that tiny babe.

The money we saved by celebrating Christmas the old-fashioned way--the way it has been celebrated for centuries before Santa became an icon for materialism rather than the symbol of Christlike giving--was nothing compared to the eternal rewards that came to our family for doing so. Our experience was priceless, and we will never forget it.

Just don't ask me about this week!!!

Kids Really Do Say The Darndest Things: A Trip Down Memory Lane

2008-12-18T10:04:00.000-08:00

I would like to thank Debbie for the inspiration behind this blog. She recently blogged with some of the cute things that her kids have said, and it reminded me that I need to get busy and record my favorites before I forget them. Here are just a few, with more to come in future posts as I remember them:

Avanlee, age 2: One day I found Avanlee just crying and sobbing on the floor in her room. I asked her what was wrong. She whaled, “I want my Mommy!” I took her into my arms and told her that her mommy was right here--that everything would be ok. She just looked at me like I had the brain of the stuffed bunny she was holding and said, “No, I want my REAL mommy. My mommy up in heaven.” What can you say to that one? I confess, I feel the same way sometimes. And as much as they wish they could, our mortal Mommies really can't make everything ok all of the time. Each of us have owies that can never be ok until we are once again in the arms of our Heavenly Mommy. I guess it takes a lisping toddler to verbalize what we all feel at times.

Dallin, age 4: We were all in the kitchen together enjoying some blessed family time when I noticed that Dallin was saying something to us. I saw his lips moving, but he was whispering so softly that I couldn’t quite make it out. I asked, “What did you say, bud?” He cocked his head up, got a very pensive look on his face, and matter-of-factly replied, “I don’t know. I’m so quiet I can’t hear myself!” Laughter truly holds a greater power than anything short of love.

Savannah, age 2: Once I was on one of my rampages that don’t occur too frequently, but on occasion and at certain times of some months. They seemed to occur most often at this point in my life, when I was alone with 3 very little ones all day and often into the night. I confess, I was revelling in my mood--storming around the house, slamming things around and barking out orders to “clean that darn thing up,” and “stop it already with that doggone whining!” Savannah innocently, and with tears welling up in her big brown eyes, remarked: “You are not a nice Mommy. You are like Cinderella’s Step Mother.” I wasn’t in the kind of mood that could laugh over it at the time, and it kept me up that night with some rather bitter reflections, but the memory has since settled in to being pretty funny to me now (though the recollection is not without a hint of a sigh). I like to think that it has at least served to increase my patience.

Christian, age 4: Sitting alone with my five young children at church every week for five years while Marc served in the bishopric was taking its toll on me. It was especially hard because my energetic four year old son struggled with sitting still for three full hours, and was convinced that church was invented for the sole purpose of torturing him. He would ask me every morning if it was “church day” today. After my negative response on six mornings of the week he would cheer and run around the room in a happy little dance. On the other one he would whine and complain incessantly until the moment we got home. I always said the typical parent things such as, “church is fun,” and, “we love church,” and “we go to church because we love Jesus and He gives us all of our nice things,” but he would always reply, “IT IS TOO MUCH!” One Sunday morning found him especially full of the old scratch, and I felt like a mud wrestler in my efforts at confining him to his space on the pew. He looked at me, got a twinkle in his eye, and let out a HUGE snort, just like a pig. This was during the passing of the sacrament; the quietest time of the service. I gave him my best cutthroat glare and he smiled at me and snorted again, even louder. I then threatened him with certain death, which, of course, was responded to with another enormous snort. I grabbed Liriel in my left arm and dragged him by one arm all the way out from the very front pew; me beet red and Christian loudly snorting and laughing the whole way. I have to admit, this time my choices were bleak: Either break down in tears right then and there or throw my head back and laugh like a mad woman. I chose the latter, after he was safely tucked away in his usual “Naughty Chair” and couldn't hear me. All I can say is, who wants to mess up their make-up by crying at church?!?!?

Liriel, age 2: One night as I was putting Liriel to bed, instead of rolling right over and sucking her thumb like normal she turned to me, looked me right in the eye, and clearly said “Don’t lose me Mommy.” I was startled to hear this from my just learning to talk little one, and flippantly replied, “Oh, I would never lose you.” She just gazed even deeper into my soul and said, again, more fervently and slower: “DON’T LOSE ME.” I melted, picked her up in my arms, held her tight, and told her what a treasure she is to me and that I would never, ever lose her. That seemed to satisfy her, and so when I laid her down again she contentedly rolled over and started sucking her thumb. I walked out of that room more than a little bit emotionally jostled. I had the distinct impression that her great spirit had momentarily broken the barrier of that little body, and was pleading with me to ensure that she make it back to her Heavenly Father. Oh, what a responsibility is mine!

Whoever said that parents are for instructing children? I think my job is merely to mess them up as little as possible. They are already so wise and so amazing. All they need to do is survive me until it is time to move on and relearn from their own children what they will have forgotten by then. My children are my very best teachers. Oh, how I love them! How bland life would be without them.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-15T22:44:00.000-08:00

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Scary, Hair-Brained Hiking

2008-12-08T08:17:00.000-08:00

Ahhh . . . Thanksgiving. The family, the turkey, the friends, the stuffing, the nosatalgia, the pumpkin pie, the toasty kitchens, the artichoke dip and sugar cookies and black olives that you wear on your fingers like black finger nails. I love thanksgiving, but one of the very best things about it this year was being back in the mountains I love, scurrying like a lizard atop the red sandstone of the Colorado National Monument. And this time, I got to bring my children, which called for at least a few changes from my norm--most importantly: no turning cartwheels on the protruding rock at Cold Shiver's Point or tunnel running through the inky blackness of the night. (And if anyone ever tells my kids that I did that, they are toast. My Mom still can't stand to hear about it!)

There is something about the Colorado National Monument that calls me forth from a sort of stupor that I live in for the most part of my life. It is rather like a werewolf on a full-moonlit night. My senses heighten, my eyes brighten, and I am ALIVE! I can't be certain, but I am pretty sure that my entire body exudes a visible energy. If you catch me glowing an eerie green light, be not afraid! It is the same energy which possessed me in my youth to run free through the mountains, completely one with them--nothing in between my skin and the ruddy boulders, if you catch my drift. I am reformed now, but it is at a great and painful suppression of my free-souled passions. I have a deep sympathy with John Otto, the founding father of the monument; who spent his life wandering and worshiping the giant sandstone monoliths, sheer cliffs, and deep canyons; brewing "Mormon tea" and roasting rabbits. Possibly I would end up as hairy as him, but I would relish in the chance to make his home and his way of life mine.

Taking my children on the same hair-raising hikes of my youth provided a powerful lesson in life. Throughout the climb there would be narrow passages where a wrong step toward either side meant certain death. Many parents would find such a hike with young children far too daunting a task. We found it to be a powerful teaching moment, which would have been far less impressive on the safe and wide paths that most children experience. Here are a few of the lessons that most certainly will stay forged in the minds of both the children and their parents. (I will just quickly make one point clear; we did not deem Liriel to be at an age to learn these lessons other than the hard way--i.e. falling to her death. Hence, we did not bring her on the more dangerous of our little excursions. There, you can breathe.) Our lessons:

There is often only one safe way to get to a desired point. At times you really may think that your way will be better or shorter, but in the end, you wind up getting there far behind the rest of the group because you are compelled to stop and pull the cactus out of your palms. (Which, in and of itself is a great lesson. Some of the cactus is easy to pull out because you can see it, but others are nearly invisible. You feel the pain of the torturous barbs, but simply can't find them to get them out. They blend in perfectly with your skin. Others are inbedded so deeply beneath the skin that only a very painful process of digging around with a needle will work to extract them. And the longer you wait to get them out, the deeper they will burrow.)
The geology of the monument is such that you often think that you know exactly what is in front of you, so you doggedly bull-doze ahead without a thought of what is coming. What is less known, however, is that this particular type of mountain range can be very deceiving. At one point, Christian desperately had to "release his waters," and so I directed him to "go do his thing behind that little ledge just ahead." As he hastily galloped on toward the "little ledge," Marc was fortunately more sensible and thought to rush ahead of him and check it out. My "little ledge" turned out to be a steep drop-off of about fifty feet--not quite cold shivers point, but certainly far enough for a thoughtless five year old to charge atop of and subsequently stumble over to his death--all at his mother's direction, no less.
There are those narrow passages that I mentioned previously, where safety lies only in the very center of the path. Either side presents a precipice. How many times are there spiritual precipices on either side of the very same coin? I can be steadfast and set as stone to the principle of obedience; but if it makes me unrighteously judgemental and self-righteous, eager to pick at the motes in others', then I have fallen off one side of the stone I have become. On the other hand, I can be filled with charity and empathy for those around me, but if I take it so far that I tolerate and evetually embrace evil, then I have ever so softly, almost imperceivably stepped off the other side of that same precipice.
All safe paths have been clearly marked by someone who has gone before--someone who knows exactly where the dangers are, and how to best make it alive. Any time you leave the path, you are egotistically putting your life into the hands of someone who is clueless as to what is ahead--yourself. At times, the known path becomes less clear. It is then that extra signs have been placed to ensure that you don't get lost.
And yet, with all of the posted signs and well-marked trails, it is still up to us as idividuals to either follow those trails, or forge our own way. Even if we wisely choose to stay on the trail, we can still foolishly choose to be an idiot--not be careful, show off to our friends, or simply strive to prove to ourselves that we are above the law of gravity, or even the possibility of stumbling--and end up falling anyway.
Sometimes, someone in our own life has gone just ahead of us, and can see perfectly in retrospect what we can not see at all. At one point, the older three kids and I had unwisely ignored the posted warnings and left the path. There was a point in the distance that we desperately wanted a picture. It seemed like the face of the mountain was one continous, never-ending plain as you came, but when you looked back, you could see that off to both sides there were vertical walls of sandstone, hundreds of feet down. We were sitting on our perch watching as Marc and the other kids made their way toward us. Christian ran ahead of the others, and was happily and unsuspiciously bounding over the rocks in our direction. What he didn't see, and what we saw perfectly, was that he had veered too far to the left. In about five big enough bounds he would have jumped right off the edge. I yelled with all of the force a panicky mom can muster, "CHRISTIAN, STOP NOW!" I don't like to think of what would have happened if he would have been like most adults and pridefully decided that he didn't need to listen to me. Instinctively, he trusted me, and froze on the spot. I yelled for him to stay right where he was until Marc could get to him and guide him away from the cliff and to safety.
Sometimes in our ascent, there would be a cliff on one side, but a solid and firm rock face to the other side. At times like these, we repeatedly told the kids, "stay near the rock! LEAN ON THE ROCK!" Always, in life, The Rock of our salvation is at our side. We have but to reach out and cling to Him, and we will make it through the hairiest moments of our lives, stronger and more trusting in Him for the experience.

At most points, the kids could very well see for themselves the danger around them. Having parents who had hiked mountains like this many times, it was imperative for them to follow our directions with exactness. If we told them to sit, they sat. If we told them to stop, they stopped. If we told them to hug the side of the mountain, they hugged with all the energy of their little souls. If we told them that the only safe way down was to hold our hands, they white-knuckled our hands with all the strength they could muster. They were perfectly obedient, and as a result, we are all still alive and well and just a bit the wiser for our holiday excursions.

CHEESE-y Grins!

2008-11-17T09:39:00.000-08:00

SAY CHEESE! Have you ever had an outdoor photo shoot with 5 kids in the rain? That was us about 6 months ago when we updated our family pictures. Just try it once and you can see how easy it isn't to keep them all grass-stain free and with each hair in place. As for getting all of them to smile at once--ha! That is a joke. But, when you have the best photographer ever (thanks Michele!), miracles happen. We think our pictures turned out pretty darn cute. See for yourself with more photos on the side bar!

Soccer Season Sighs

2008-11-15T11:14:00.001-08:00

Oh. The joys of soccer season. Don't we all love getting up early on Saturday mornings, helping our little athletes to strap on their too-big shin guards, then tugging too-tight soccer socks up onto our little athlete's legs, filling water bottles, piling the car with lawn chairs and blankets in order to keep off frost bite, then rushing madly to get that little athlete to his game on time, cheering madly for your own child, and secretly wanting to pop the head off of the parent next to you doing the same thing for theirs, all while praying madly that your child will score just once--just one itty bitty goal to boost his fragile little self-esteem. PLEASE!

My favorite soccer division is the U-6. No score keeping, no pressure, no goalies--just a bunch of Kindergartners running around, swarming the ball like twice as many bees to an invader. There might be one straggler, of course, off in Oz turning cartwheels, or maybe another one chasing a butterfly. My personal favorite this season was when one little girl on our team would only ever just stand there, so the assistant coach (Marc) took her by the arms and ran with her, lifting her up and swinging her legs at the ball in a futile attempt to at least get her to have SOME sort of contact with the ball this season. It was like some mad game of croquet, with him using a limp rag doll as the mallet.

Another favorite was my own son, Christian. Somehow, he got the idea into his head that no one, on either team, should ever get to touch the ball--including himself. He took it as his life's mission to protect the innocent ball from being contaminated by unworthy soccer cleats. He would dance around the ball with quick, shuffling steps, raised hands, and a death-gleam in his eye--ready to defend that ball with his life. After a few games of that we finally convinced him to actually try dribbling the ball, and to maybe even take a shot with it. After one taste of that first goal, he was hooked. The result, two proud and relieved parents and 7 goals in the last 3 games!

And now, for us, soccer season is over. No more hurried dinners rushing to get to practice; the lawn chairs have been put back in their permanent resting place--at least until next season; and sweaty shin guards have been washed and stored. I give a soft sigh of relief and take a much needed breather in my armchair. But wait, what is that I hear out in the driveway? Some kind of a rhythmic pounding--what oh what could it be? Uh-oh, it sounds suspiciously like the dribbling of a basketball!!!

Happy HOWL-oween!

2008-11-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

Hello all you batty boys and ghoulish girls out there! In celebration of our HOWL-oween this year, (Howl-oween because that is the sound I am forced to emit after contriving 5 costumes, purchasing the necessaries for five costumes, clothing five children in their costumes, taking pictures of five becostumed children, traipsing through the dark streets in an endless quest for candy with five children, listening to the howls and cries of five children whining for candy every moment of every day for weeks afterward, bending over to pick up a Hansel-and-Gretel-like trail of skittles and milky way wrappers every day, and paying the dentist bills one month later) we would love for you to check out our fabulous and frightful costumes.

First, the lovely and elegant winner of the 2008 Miss Galaxy Pageant; hailing from the little-known planet of Hagblurt-2. With her flawless, green complexion and her 3 soft, brown eyes, this little beauty will knock your socks off!

Next, all the way from the Death Star is not quite the one, or the only, DARTH VADER, just a wee bit smaller. You can almost hear the ominous music playing now, maybe just a couple of octaves higher. He is here on his quest, not only for candy (being a sweet-toothed Syth Lord), but for his arch-rival, LUKE!

Yes, next we have Luke Skywalker--of course it is him, just look at the hair! Completely determined NOT to join the dark side, unless it is in chocolate, Luke has been trained in the ways of the force, and is now ready to defeat his infamous father.

Let us not forget the youngest gymnast ever to win the gold medal at the Olympics, 7 year old Savannah Fisher. She has flipped and flopped her way into the hearts and front porches of hundreds of fans throughout our entire neighborhood--will she now spring her way into yours?

Finally, our lovely prima ballerina, the illustrious Liriel Mercedes. Doesn't that name alone just exude grace and power? Watch out, Galina Ulanova, here she comes, pink tights, tutu, superior attitude, crimson lips, and all.

We hope you enjoy this rare glimpse of these famed individuals, both in the picture above and in the slide show on the side bar. And may the force be with you all.

Happy Thankful People

2008-11-10T11:46:00.000-08:00

As the popular hymn says, "Count your many blessings name them one by one, count your many blessings see what God has done." Do we really see how much we have to be grateful for? How long is your list of things that you take for granted? I know that mine can be long at times.

A wise man once made this intriguing observation: "It has been said that the sin of ingratitude is more serous than the sin of revenge. With revenge, we return evil for evil, but with ingratitude, we return evil for good."

Do I at times seem like a cynic? I confess, there are parts of the mortal experience that get my already hot blood boiling. I feel a call to raise my voice against both folly and evil, and to be heard by any who will hear. But in the midst of my rantings and railings, I hope to be able to also express my many raptures. November is the perfect time to do so.

So much of what we face can be to us a blessing or a cursing, depending on the attitude the circumstance is met with. Another wise man penned these words, "There is no place [in the world] for pessimism or negativism. WE SHOULD BE INCURABLE OPTIMISTS!" We should refuse to let whatever world or personal events that occur make us into cynics. We should vow that the clouds might break at any moment, even if the sky is totally black. As our beloved President Hinckley said and did so well, "Cultivate an attitude of happiness. Cultivate a spirit of optimism. Walk with faith, rejoicing in the beauties of nature, in the goodness of those you love, in the testimony which you carry in your heart concerning things divine."

So, count your many blessings, name them one by one.

I am thankful for a sink full of dirty dishes, because they remind me that we have more than enough of very tasty things to eat.

I am thankful for sticky hand prints all over my windows, because they serve as constant reminders that I am honored with the great privilege of having little ones to love. One day, my windows will stay clean and our voices will echo in our silent hallways, and I will miss those fingerprints and childish noises both.

I am thankful for endless loads of laundry. Every time I do yet another load, of at least three outfits per kid per day, I am reminded that we have cool clothes to wear in summer, warm clothes to wear in winter, nice clothes to wear to church, and play clothes to wear on our many excursions to the great outdoors. I am also reminded that I have running hot and cold, clean water in my home. How many in the world can claim that?

I am thankful for the tiff I had with Marc last night. It cleared the air and gave us a chance to make up, and it showed me what a wonderful man I am married to: he is here, he cares about how we run our home just as much as I do, and he listens to me without clamming up or striking out. In fact, we can laugh and love in the midst of our disagreements. And I have a husband to argue with. I am not alone. I always have a best friend to lean on. Oh, you souls who are lonely, I am so sorry.

I am thankful that when I stood in line to vote almost a week ago today, my only real concern was that I was a little cold. How many people fear for their lives when they exercise their liberty to do the same thing?

I am thankful for Obama. Having him elected as our president reminded me that I am free. I live in a democratic republic. I actually do have a say, though it be small, in who leads my country. How many millions of people are devoid of that very basic of rights?

I am thankful that Marc got a speeding ticket recently. It was an indication that we live in an orderly and lawful society. The police system is not corrupt. We didn't try, but we are pretty sure that the police officer who issued the citation would not have accepted a bribe!

I am thankful for the slanderous articles and blogs posted against my church recently. While they are free to say their opinions, so am I. This is a freedom that I may not long enjoy, and so I feel to rejoice in it all the more now while I still can.

I am thankful for the persecution I have gone through for my standing on Proposition 8, as well as my religion. Like Paul and Joseph Smith, I take great joy in suffering for the Lord. I firmly believe in the law of restitution--whatever hits I might take in His name, I will be more than repaid for in blessings.

I am thankful for the PMS and menstrual cramps I recently suffered through, and do so every single month without variance! They are a regular reminder that I am a woman and a mother with a divine inheritance as such.

I am thankful for a bit of a cold right now. Whenever I get a minor illness it reminds me that in general I enjoy excellent health.

I am thankful that I have to wake up every morning at 5:30 a.m. if I am to accomplish all that I want to accomplish in my day. I get to see the fiery sunrise of each new day, and adore the beauty of the earth while it is still and quiet.

I am thankful that I get to walk my children to the bus stop each day. The bus is safe, the children are kind, and the schools in our community are excellent. Also, I CAN walk. I can go wherever my fancy takes me because I can move these two healthy and strong legs. My own father can not do as much, as well as countless others.

I am thankful to be typing this right now. I have a (rather superior) mind to think (ha ha!), hands that can type, and eyes that can see and help to correct the many typos that I make! I am literate, and thus have the world before me in the numberless books at my disposal, and I have the written word under my total subjection.

I am thankful that I can work. Nothing could be more frustrating than simply not being able to do what you see needs to be done. How tiring it would become to have to be served all of the time, and never be able to return the favor. You saintly souls who have ever been on strict bed rest, I am so sorry.

I am thankful for the troubled times in which we live. They force me to be unwavering in my dedication to the Lord and in keeping my eyes on the Prophet of God. And they remind me that the day is near that I will be able to rejoice in the coming of the Lord and the subsequent deliverance from evil.

I am thankful for my many weaknesses. They are what force me to rely upon the Lord and His mercy. Because of that, "when I am weak, then am I strong," because I have my perfect Savior by my side as my companion making up the difference.

I could "count" on and on, but my blessings indeed are countless. My prayer is that I will always be attuned to the gifts that the Great Giver of all gifts has given me--even the ones that are oddly packaged in what at first seem to be trials.

2008-11-05T08:25:00.000-08:00

The elections are over, and at the end of the day, our candidate did not win. What do we have to do now? The only thing to do: pledge our support and whatever sustaining efforts we can give to our new President Elect. May we all unite for the good of this great country. We pray for Obama to be given wisdom from on high, the courage to do what is right, and the protection he will need to carry out his term. And we are proud of America for this history-making huge step in the direction of what civil rights are REALLY about: taking whatever color, gender, or socioeconomic level you were born into and making the most of them; becoming the very best you can be without excuses for failure or even for the ever expanding standard of mediocrity.

My Grandfather-in-law was forced to escape Cuba at the onset of Castro's invasion. Overnight he went from being a very wealthy and influential man to a penniless refugee in the United States. Without knowing any English, he went on to once again rise in wealth and influence; by his own genius and sheer hard work alone. America truly is the great land of opportunity for ALL who will dig in, work hard, and partake of its bounty.

Interesting that in the midst of great turmoil within our nation--political, economical, moral, and environmental--we feel more patriotic than ever. We raise our voices in harmony with Irving Berlin, the Russian-born composer and mouthpiece of these inspired words: "God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her, through the night with the light from above. From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam. God bless America, my home sweet home. God bless America, my home sweet home."

And California, we are proud of you and love you for passing Proposition 8! Hoorah for Israel!

America's True Enemy

2008-11-03T10:23:00.001-08:00

I find that this blog is a great way to keep a family history. It serves another function, as well, though. One in which I have always been sadly lacking and now thrill to the power of! It gives me a soapbox to stand on and speak out to anyone who will hear.

We are about to vote and decide who will be the most powerful man in America, right? WRONG! When asked recently who is truly the most powerful man in America, I replied, "Steven Spielberg, and his ilk, of course." Most powerful woman in America? Oprah Winfrey. Now, that is not to leave out some other favorites. Let's not leave out Al Franken and Ed Shultz. To be fair I will even throw Rush Limbaugh in there. And how about my personal favorites; NBC, ABC, FOX, CNN, etc.

Somehow, tv and movies aren't supposed to influence behavior. That is certainly what the entertainment industry would have you believe. And yet, they are willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for commercials which, of course, have no influence over the millions of bandstand Americans who rush stores to get whatever is the hot new product being advertised.

Interesting, also, how Steven Spielberg was listed by LIFE magazine as being the most influential person in his generation. Let's see. He was born in 1946. So that generation would include George W. and Laura Bush, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Tammy Fay Baker, Newt Gingrich, David Letterman, Prince Charles, and Al Gore, to name a few. Hey, Al invented the Internet thank you very much.

Here is another recent study proving that the media does have a huge impact on behavior. TIME reported new long-term research findings that increased sexual content (such as a teenage oral sex scene on 90210) in tv and movies is directly related to teenage pregnancy rates. It is worth your time to check it out. http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1855842,00.html

I remember when I was a kid my mom would tell me to "turn that trashy show off!" It would have been "Growing Pains" with Kirk Cameron, or some other "risque" 1980's sitcom, no doubt. Now, I don't even watch the rare good shows on prime time for fear of corruption by the commercials alone. It is much like our recent experience with Las Vegas, which used to at least TRY to hide behind the facade of "we are family friendly" but now doesn't even make an effort to soften its invitation to join in the ever increasing demand for absolute moral decay. Now days, if you naively take your kids down the strip to see the buildings shaped like pyramids or Roman temples, you instead end up ordering them to shut their eyes as you run red lights in order to escape the slime as quickly as possible. Same with tv and movies these days. "Close your eyes during the bad part" is no longer an option. "Prime Time" tv is waging battle with your youth, and I hope you parents are keyed in to that. The destruction of the moral fabric of America is just as sure a destruction of our nation as an enemy from without could accomplish. I am all for freedom of speech, but when did that extend to treason?

We recently watched a "clean" PG adventure movie, hoping to have some much needed veg time with something free of Satan's subtle signature. However, the hero's are either living together unmarried, or are divorced and haven't spoken to each other for 25 years simply because they "no longer have anything in common." When the main couple has broken up, we are supposed to rejoice with them at the end of the movie when they get back together and move back in with each other. Remember when "living in sin" was actually only spoken of in antagonistic whispers? Wow, we are a long time gone from that!

Speaking of news personalities, I have long ago lost all respect. I have had three intimate experiences with news stations, enough to form a less than positive opinion.

First: When I was about 14 years old my sister and I got in a car accident with an older woman in a much heftier car than ours. What can I say, ours was an itty-bitty Corolla. Hers was an Oldsmobile TANK! The whole front of our car was caved in. Not a scratch was to be found on the tank. The police, a tow-truck, an ambulance (WHY?) and the local news (what can I say, it was a small town) arrived at the scene and the whole thing wrapped up in a matter of minutes. Next Scene: The 5:00 news. A view of our totally thrashed tuna can of a car, the "reckless teenager who careened into an innocent, poor old Senior Citizen" crying on her sister's shoulder, an ambulance carrying away the aforementioned old lady, complete with neck brace, on a stretcher, and a dutiful police officer issuing the aforementioned reckless teenager a ticket. I barely recognized the scene!

Second Scene: Worst American civilian shooting of all time, Virginia Tech. The unequalled community was full of love, forgiveness, and support. Arms were extended to victims, traumatized students and citizens alike. I was there. The spirit of unity could be physically felt in the aftermath. But then, in swarms the media like a wall of so many life-sucking grasshoppers. They infest every corner, they poke their cameras directly in the faces of mourners, they fill hotel rooms leaving no place for families of victims to stay, they do all they can to breed a spirit of anger and finger-ponting in the student body, rallying them to help the news industry keep their business up with their #1 best-seller--contention. And what are the images most shown on the all day news reports? Is it the mass prayer meetings of the students? Is it the outpouring of letters and flowers and support from caring people all over the nation? Is it the community rallying in support of the University? No. It is the disturbing videos made by the creep who took so many lives that day, fulfilling his dying wish of getting all the attention he would ever want and more. Why? Because disturbing is the second best seller.

Last Scene: A Yes on Proposition 8 (saving traditional marriage) rally in Fresno, CA. Hundreds of community members unite in a positive and kind-spirited event to show our support for time-honored moral values. A handful of No on Prop 8 people are picketing nearby. The next morning on Fox News: a "report" on the rally with NOT ONE shot, nor ONE interview with any of the hundreds of prop 8 supporters. Literally the ONLY camera shot was of the handful of protesters, accompanied by interviews with several. And we live in a largely conservative area!

I recently had an argument about media bias with a friend of mine. Hmmm! If that last example is not enough evidence for you, then go to http://newsroom.ucla.edu/portal/ucla/Media-Bias-Is-Real-Finds-UCLA-6664.aspx A UCLA study supports my claims.

Do I like politicians? Not particularly. Do I love Obama? Not really. But are they my enemy? No. I only have one true enemy. That would be the media in all of its insidious, contentious, biased, satanic, evil propagating forms. Want to know where America is headed in the next few years? Watch the next big action thriller blockbuster.

Dizzy--or, excuse me, DISNEY Land!

2008-10-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

If I have ever been a hero, it was last week. We took the plunge and went to Disney Land. Marc had a conference there, which meant free hotel, free gas, and a discount on the 3 day park hopper. How could we resist? But conference meant that I would be the sole adult on a Disney excursion with 5 kids for 2 of those days. Don't consider that heroic? Well--add to the fray the unfortunate detail that I suffer from motion sickness. You can't even say the word "dizzy," or I get dizzy. My kids know that it is a four letter word in our home. The trouble is, little Liriel couldn't go on any of the rides there without a grownup, so I got to go on EVERYTHING! From the spinning tea-cups to the Tower of Terror (just saying those horrible words makes me sick!) . Then when Marc joined us for the last day, he made it his mission to get me on every ride that I didn't want to go on in the whole park. His crowning achievement was getting me on the Boomer, one of those straight up and straight down at top speeds kind of rides.

We all had fun, I guess, in that Disney "RING OUT EVERY DROP OF FUN THAT WE POSSIBLY CAN, AND YOU HAD BETTER HAVE FUN OR ELSE" kind of fun. At certain points of our "fun" several of our kids were laid out on the floor in line, and the only way to get them to move was to kind of slide them along with your foot. At least Disney gets free floor cleanings that way. At first, my feet hurt. Then I was begging to have someone cut them off. By the end I wondered if I even had feet any more.

But, of course, we made a lot of memories that will last forever. Here are some of my favorites:

For some reason they allow 2 year olds on the fast and frenzied "Matterhorn" ride. I got to sit next to Liriel, and after we pulled into the exit I asked her if she had fun. She said, "No, it scary!" The lack of feeling in my legs where she was squeezing me could attest to that fact as well. After we got home a friend asked her how she liked Disney Land and she matter-of-factly remarked, "It was too much."
After I took the kids on Space Mountain I asked Christian if he had fun. Christian is my little boy who never wastes words. He calmly said, "No. It made me want to throw up." I completely understood! Five year olds are also the most fun to watch at 3D movies. They are the ones flinching, ducking, and batting away at the images before them.
Speaking of 3D movies. Dallin gave us the best laugh of the 3 days. When we went to the 3D muppet movie, Gonzo thoroughly cautioned that the glasses should only be worn when safely seated, or you might trip and fall. As we were walking into the theater, Dallin, typical 9 year old boy, was wearing his glasses and bragging about how he could see perfectly well. Just as he stepped over the threshold of the theater and just as he was most emphatically declaring his superior glasses wearing abilities, he tripped and literally fell flat on his face. No worries, nothing was hurt but his ego, and that needed to be cut down a few notches. People must have wondered how I could be laughing so hard all through a rather thread-bare comedy--they just didn't know that I couldn't get the image of my sprawling son out of my mind!
Savannah can be a bit timid at times, but we were so proud of her for being brave enough to go on the California Screamin'. This is an extremely high-speed roller coaster with upside down maneuvers to boot. She firmly told me that she WANTED to ride it, but people must have thought that I was a horrible mom forcing her on. She cried all the way through the line, whimpered in terror throughout the ride, and cried for another 10 minutes afterwards. It was hysterical for me, however, because during the ride I had Savannah by my side blubbering and begging for it to stop, and Dallin and Avanlee behind me yelling, "Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! Keep it goin'! Oh Yeah!"
My favorite time watching Avanlee was on the white water rapid ride. She was the unlucky last member of our family on the raft, which meant she had to be on the opposite side of us sandwiched between a crazy old man and the opening of the raft. Ok, he wasn't crazy, but that makes my story better. Needless to say, she leaned closer to the opening than to the old man, and every time we made a plunge waves poured through that space and just drenched her. Of course the rest of us couldn't help but laugh at her ruthlessly. Hopefully she will forgive me soon.

As you can see, it of course was a great time. (I am saying that through clenched teeth!) Despite the spinning heads, aching feet, constantly starving kids, crowds, lost sunglasses, depleted pocketbook, and general exhaustion, we had a blast. But our very favorite part of the whole trip? Our Sunday Stroll down a pristine Malibu beach. Price? Free! Go figure. Check out the above slide show to see pictures from our trip. Our favorite is the one of us all over Mickey with the sign clearly visible that states, "Please Do Not Climb on Mickey!"

Go Proposition 8!

2008-10-12T14:37:00.000-07:00

Top Ten Reasons Why Traditional Marriage is a Good Idea:

10. Who would remember to buy a new tube of toothpaste BEFORE you run out?

9. Who would get the big, scary spiders out of the house?

8. There would be WAY too many of the same kinds of hormones in the house if otherwise.

7. Every kid needs a dad to wrestle and a mom to cuddle.

6. How else would we women keep from being total emotional wrecks?

5. How else would you men ever survive yourselves?

4. The experience and wisdom of thousands of years of civilization is a pretty hefty responsibility for one generation to completely undo.

3. Evolution and survival of the fittest, or are we really wanting to annihilate our species?

2. Simple anatomy folks!

And the number one reason why we should all join together to protect traditional marriage:

"And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him. And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; and the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh." (Genesis 2:18, 21, 22, 24)

The people of California raised their voices in a vote a few years ago that made any other marriage other than that between one man and one woman illegal. This took no rights away from same-gender partners; it simply took a much needed step toward protecting the divine institution of marriage for us and for future generations. The union of a Mother and Father and their children is the essential foundation for a healthy society, and has been from the beginning of time. Four supreme court judges have since taken the vote of the people, as well as the implied meaning of the State Constitution, and completely obliterated them with one fell swoop of their apparentlly all-powerful claws. Proposition 8 is now being voted on in California to place the mind and will of the people beyond the law and into the constitution, in order to protect traditional marriage forever. We have joined the fight to protect marriage.

We love and respect our homosexual fellow brothers and sisters. This is in no way a call to discriminate against them. However, tolerance has reached the pinacle of the heirarchy of virtues in this country. Indeed, it is on its way to becoming the ONLY moral allowed to be given expression. What concerns us more is that the underlying meaning behind that word has been changed. Tolerance is no longer a love and acceptance for all people. It now demands a love and acceptance for all behaviors.

While extending love and kindness to all people, we can not accept or condone those things which we know to be morally wrong and counter to the law of God. We are not talking about predispositions, inborn weaknesses, or temptations--thorns in the flesh if you will. We are talking about CHOICES that are available to every single one of God's children. Wrong is wrong, and all attempts at making wrong RIGHT will not make it so. When one wall is crooked, you do not push the entire house over in order to align the house with the wall. You gently and patiently work at justifying the wall to realign with the uprightness of rest of the house. He who hath ears to hear, let him hear a lesson in that.

Other states are quickly following California. We call upon all God fearing people that we know still exist in this country to unite in a protection of those virtues that our nation has always held dear and was indeed founded upon. And let us stand up for our rights as a democratic republic, and not allow minuscule numbers of government officials to silence our constitutionally endowed voices.

Wonder what you can do? Go to http://www.protectmarriage.com/ for information. Want to learn more? Go to http://preservingmarriage.org/ .

In The Beginning . . . Our Story

2008-10-10T13:46:00.000-07:00

Since this is to be the Fisher Family personal history (thus, the justification for spending hours on the computer trying to figure this out *@#*@**!!), I thought I would include a brief history of how our family came to be. Now, I will warn the reader that, in all reality, brief is not actually a word in my vocabulary. When you think of me, brief is not usually the word that comes to mind. Marc and brief go along very well, but not me. (Note: I did not say, Marc and briefs go along very well, although I certainly could have. That is true too.) Just a warning.

Once upon a time a beautiful princess (hey, it's my history, I can say what I want!)was much dismayed because her Psychology paper was due the next day and her naughty word processor (this was before the time of computers, at least for our princess)flashed and sighed and went "KAPLOOEY!" With a tear in her eye she did not know who to turn to for a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, or better yet, a computer that worked. Then she was informed of a computer lab located in the central building of her BYU dormitory. She hastened through the bitter October night air and found a tall, dark, and handsome (literally) prince awaiting. Holding back a sob, and knowing that he was "the ONE," she fell into his rippling arms and they embraced. . . ok, that is just the ending that would have been a lot more fun. That part didn't come for a few weeks, and we're still working on the rippling, but hey!

Really, the very hot guy across the counter smiled that soft smile and batted those big brown cow eyes (Cow eyes isn't very romantic. Let me try again.) and batted those gentle, chocolaty eyes that were, to the princess, a swirling sea of goodness leading to deep reserves of SOUL. She knew instantly that no ordinary spirit was behind those two rather handsome features. I won't say what the prince instantly thought, but know that it was good.

That suffices for the beginning. The middle is a whirlpool of events, including stolen id cards, volleyball games, rides home, Hogi Yogi, the UnGame, talking until 2 am at the clock tower, frogs, hermit crabs, lots of trips to the central building to "make copies," notes outside windows, ice-skating and holding my hand so that I would "never ever ever fall down," private candlelight dances, waterfalls, weirdos in our car, preference, Mulboons and really not knowing how to eat the shrimp (hey, we were poor and green), tennis, rollerblading, walks, worms, an unexpected first kiss that landed only halfway across my lips because I turned my head, a much more successful but equally surprising kiss on the side of the freeway, and a really nervous proposal that took him 2 hours just to spit out. The end of our beginning very well could have started with the movie (edited version) "Legends of the Fall," but fortunately it was saved with a snowman.

Is that too vague? Ok, ok. New paragraph.

If you have ever seen this movie, you know that it is the most depressing movie ever to have been made, or, it would be if it was at all believable. However that may be, its bad vibes got the better of my fiance. He vacillated between different types of hysteria--crying, whining, questioning, doubting, adoring, etc., until I finally cut his pains short with a return of the ring and a kind but firm departure, something I congratulate myself for to this day. Coming to his senses instantly upon returning to his home, especially after a helpful phone conversation with his mother (a long distance boot to the head, actually) he began thinking of ways to grovel in utter humility and subjection before me. His means was a snowman the next night, laying prostrate on the snow with a glimmering diamond in it's strangely limb-like hands. After a few moments of deliberation, I forgave him, and have made him my indentured slave ever since.

We were married and sealed for time and all eternity in the Jordan River Utah temple about seven months from the day we met--June 7th, 1996. I had celebrated my 19th birthday less than a month earlier. Speed has been our motto ever since, having our first child a year later, and our next four within 8 years after that. Of course, we don't know where in the world they came from. We thought for a while that it must be the water, but after moving from Provo to Dallas, then to College Station TX, and finally to Virginia, and having it be the same story everywhere we have gone, we have started to wonder. We drink filtered water now, though, just to be safe. We think that our family is complete.

Twelve years later we are more in love and happier than the day we were married. (Can you blame us--we had only known each other for 7 months?!?) That may sound trite but it is true in our case. My patriarchal blessing (a special blessing we receive from a priesthood holder designated to that calling)said that I would marry a man who would make me his queen, and that we would have great unity. That has certainly been the case. At first we struggled with this, but then we came up with the system that has worked for us ever since. Marc is the leader and I am the boss.

I don't know how I got so lucky, but I thank whichever of our mischievous children it was who tampered with my word processor so that the beautiful (this is still my story!) princess could be rescued by the handsome prince (who has only improved in that regard with time!) and end up living happily (and realistically) ever after!

Avanlee Turns 11!

2008-10-10T12:06:00.000-07:00

Am I really as old as I must be, to have a PRE-TEEN for a daughter? I still feel like I am 7 years old and just playing house (as my sister would have said, "I will be the Mommy and you will be the Honey!") Avanlee has now joined the ranks of the pre-teens, and she is actually still quite pleasant. The "Mother's Curse" has been placed on me, and so I am sure that I will get one as hormonally unstable as I was from 13-15; but I really don't know that it will be my first born. Avanlee is actually quite steady. Avanlee is . . . well, let's spend a few moments celebrating what Avanlee is.

Avanlee is hilarious. This is not commonly known, because she has adopted a little bit of her Father's natural shyness (ok, whoever knows Marc understands that to be a joke) and so you have to be one of the lucky few that she feels comfortable enough around to let her comic side come out. I wish I could think of something specific to illustrate my point with, but you will just have to take my word for it.

Avanlee is a musical genius; and a future commercial jingle writer to boot. She makes up songs for whatever product I might happen to pull out of the refridgerator. I have never known quite such a composer as her! We just won't point out that most of her songs are more on the ribald side of the musical spectrum.

Avanlee has a memory like none other. She can remember the wall-paper in our bathroom when she was 3 years old. (Yes, I am confessing to you now how pauper like we were when she was 3 years old, seeing that we lived in a home graced with wall-paper. And, it was secured in a few fairly prominent places with staples, to boot!) Be that as it may, she remembers it. She remembers what she ate, sequentially, each day after having her tonsils removed when she was five years old. She remembers things that haven't even happened, as far as I am concerned; but hey! I am sure not one to doubt her. Her memory comes in handy in school, too. If she sees a word once, its spelling will be committed forever to the inner-most folds of her rather remarkable cranium.

Avanlee is refreshingly genuine and unique. If it is pink and frilly, she might throw up. If it has a picture of Hannah Montana on it, she might run. And regardless of its general popularity, if it is just plain dumb, she gets this rather familiar look on her face that I seem to remember from my own adolescence. I think she has a bit of the non-conformist in her--another trait she inherited from her Father.

And speaking of traits she inherited from her Father, I am a little more hesitant about this one. Avanlee is fiercely competetive. Nevermind that it is just a friendly little game of Go Fish with her younger brothers and sisters. If she does not win she may as well go to bed, because the whole day is SHOT. It kind of reminds me of Marc when I beat him in Skip-bo. Good grief, you little baby! It's just a game!!! Ok, ok, lest you think that I am a horible wife; I confess. It is me. I am the big baby. I can't stand to lose. There. I said it. Also, Avanlee can not be wrong. Regardless of whether she is right or not, she IS right buster, and you had better believe it ! Unfortunately, that sounds rather familiar as well. Sigh! You hope that your children will adopt your better qualities and just forgive your lesser ones.

There is so much more I could say about my amazing first born. I could write ballads (if I so much as had one line of a ballad in this cold old soul of mine) about her artistic abilities, her spunk, her thoughfulness, her rare possession of an abundance of gumption (if you don't know what gumption is then you don't have it, plain and simple. I am sorry to be the one to inform you), her uncanny knack at developing a friendship with all sorts of creepy and creeping things, and much more. But I think I will close with one more.

Avanlee is a true little woman. She can cook; she can care for children, including babies, as well as I can, if not better because of her superior patience and creativity with them; she comes in and does the dishes without being asked; she tidies and cleans and helps; and she has the wisdom of someone (a wise someone) 3 times her age. Sorry to any children who may be reading this. You had better back click quick before your parents see this and get any ideas. Any parents reading this, print it out and read it to the kids!!! I can't imagine a better first child.

Avanlee, we love you and happy birthday!

The Beginning...

2008-07-29T21:06:00.000-07:00

And so it begins...the life of two tired adults, five raucous kids, and a shedding cat, captured in a virtualpedia called a "blog."