For years I have prayed for the gift of charity, the pure love of Christ, with what has felt like little success. In my simplistic way of thinking, charity means being able to love others in an open-hearted way, even if that love is not likely to be returned. It's a gift I think I desperately need, yet can't learn or practice my way into having. I truly think it has to come as a gift from God, simply because it requires an unselfishness that is beyond my own capacity. Don't get me wrong, I have a loving heart and try to share it, but mostly with lovable people! Lovable people are so easy to love, while thorny people often sting you when you try, which makes it quite easy to quit trying.
Today a conversation with a friend sparked a thought in me that has hung on all day. We were talking about how the things we try to accumulate in order to prepare for the future are often not meant for us, but end up being needed by someone else. We began by talking about things like money or food, but soon began to see that emotional qualities, like love, work the same way. I thought about how I often sit in meetings at church and look around at all the wonderful ladies surrounding me, and suddenly feel a deep love for them as individuals. In my mind I get really sappy sometimes, wanting to stand up and list these fabulous qualities people have that are flooding through my mind. Or, I make plans to find someone after the meeting's over to tell them how great they really are. The problem is, I never do. I wrote about this phenomenon in my journal over two years ago, ending with, "Maybe what I am feeling is an expression of the charity I've been seeking, and that gives me hope that I am progressing and can obtain a greater portion of it in the future."
Ah, but what happens if you receive a gift and then reject it? Can you really expect to get even more of that same gift later? I've rarely ever expressed out loud what has been in my heart all those times, which now seems painfully like a rejection of the very gift I've been seeking. Over the last couple of weeks I've been blessed to receive far more than my fair share of verbal and written expressions of love from others. What a healing balm has been poured over my heart because I've felt loved! And suddenly, I see that I've missed countless opportunities to give that same feeling to others. I've felt charity for them in my own heart, but I've tried to just store it up, when instead I should have been giving it away.
I'm not saying I'm going to be standing up in a crowd any time soon to wax poetic about someone, but maybe if I catch you alone, I just might tell you what you mean to me for a change.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Grapefruit on My Mind
I found a random grapefruit in my backyard when I was doing my yardwork last week. I guess it wouldn't be random at all if I had a grapefruit tree, or if any of my neighbors had a grapefruit tree, but we don't. I believe it must have dropped from the sky, or, from the talons of a very large hawk. I don't like grapefruit much, since it's nothing at all like grapes, but it was nice to get a present from the sky anyway.
Lucky for you, I refuse to create an inspiring analogy from this event. It's just a grapefruit, of unknown origin.
Lucky for you, I refuse to create an inspiring analogy from this event. It's just a grapefruit, of unknown origin.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Change
I lived in Michigan when I was little. I was shy, and I loved my mom. Which basically means, I hated to go to school. The summer before my 2nd grade year, the school boundaries were changed, and I had to go to a different elementary school. I had a large group of friends in 1st grade, and not one of them transferred with me. It was tough, but after a couple months I started to make new friends. That's about when my 2nd grade teacher decided that I was bored, so she moved me up into a 3rd grade classroom that she thought would be more my speed. It wasn't, it was weird. I was still officially a 2nd grader, and so that made me the baby of the group, plus the following year when I actually was a 3rd grader, man, was I bored! I pretty much had 3rd grade twice in a row. Well, things eventually got more comfortable for me, until two months into my 5th grade year, when I was again moved up, this time officially and into 6th grade. In my school district, that didn't just mean changing teachers and grades, it meant moving from elementary school to junior high school.
It was around October. Everyone had already found their "groups". Lunch tables were spoken for, lockers were being shared, and the seating heirarchy on the bus was already firmly established. If you had a boyfriend, you were cool and got to sit in the back. If you didn't, you sat up front with the rest of the nerds. Guess where I sat? My shyness became more pronounced as I tried to figure out how to fit into this alien new world. Everything was drama. Mean girls put a can of dog food in my only friend's locker. Luckily, I got it out before she saw it, but I cried in my mom's arms for a long time that day.
Soon after the beginning of my 7th grade year, my parents decided to move to Arizona, and they put our house up for sale. I was soooo happy! I couldn't wait to get out of that school. The school year dragged on day by agonizing day as our house languished on the market. I distinctly remember one bad day when I asked my teacher for a bathroom pass, just so I could go out in the hallway and cry and pray that our house would sell so I could get out of there. I cried a lot at that school, in case you can't tell!
My prayers were finally answered in April, when we moved. During the four days it took us to drive from Michigan to Arizona, I started thinking about what lay ahead of me. It was hard enough to start at a new school in October, what would it be like in April? How would I make new friends, I was so shy? This school might actually be worse than the one I was coming from. Riding down the highway with my worried face pressed against the window and my little sister's head in my lap, I had a sudden surge of insight. The kids in Arizona didn't know I was shy! Maybe I didn't have to be the shy kid anymore. But how do you put aside a part of yourself that has been with you since you can remember? I knew I couldn't just make myself outgoing, at least not fast enough to make a difference at school. First impressions and all that, you know. But there was one thing I could do - I could pretend. I could act like I wasn't shy until I actually got over being shy for real.
That is what I did. I didn't change into an outgoing person overnight, but I did make a couple of friends right away, and that gave me the surge of confidence I needed to keep at it. I'll never forget the best moment of my junior high career, when I brought home an 8th grade progress report that said "Talks too much in class". I don't think my parents were too thrilled with that, but that progress report was a real symbol of victory for me, and today, as an adult, I don't think "shy" is how people would normally describe me.
So, of course this story has a moral. Everything is changing right now, for almost everyone. Jobs, school systems, ward boundaries. What opportunities lie ahead for each of us to ditch those habits or quirks that we really don't like in ourselves, and start fresh? For me, I'm going to work on being a better listener. In a book my mom loaned me, I was reminded that good listeners don't let their eyes wander off the person speaking to them, as if they are looking for something more interesting. Good listeners don't interrupt or finish people's sentences for them (my particular weakness). Good listeners don't try to one-up other people's stories. Good listeners realize that the questions people are asking them are often the questions they would like to be asked themselves. So next time someone comes up to me and says, "How are you doing with all of this?", I'm going to make sure I know how they are doing before the conversation is over.
This post is dedicated to my husband, who needs and deserves a fresh start. I'm rooting for you, hon.
It was around October. Everyone had already found their "groups". Lunch tables were spoken for, lockers were being shared, and the seating heirarchy on the bus was already firmly established. If you had a boyfriend, you were cool and got to sit in the back. If you didn't, you sat up front with the rest of the nerds. Guess where I sat? My shyness became more pronounced as I tried to figure out how to fit into this alien new world. Everything was drama. Mean girls put a can of dog food in my only friend's locker. Luckily, I got it out before she saw it, but I cried in my mom's arms for a long time that day.
Soon after the beginning of my 7th grade year, my parents decided to move to Arizona, and they put our house up for sale. I was soooo happy! I couldn't wait to get out of that school. The school year dragged on day by agonizing day as our house languished on the market. I distinctly remember one bad day when I asked my teacher for a bathroom pass, just so I could go out in the hallway and cry and pray that our house would sell so I could get out of there. I cried a lot at that school, in case you can't tell!
My prayers were finally answered in April, when we moved. During the four days it took us to drive from Michigan to Arizona, I started thinking about what lay ahead of me. It was hard enough to start at a new school in October, what would it be like in April? How would I make new friends, I was so shy? This school might actually be worse than the one I was coming from. Riding down the highway with my worried face pressed against the window and my little sister's head in my lap, I had a sudden surge of insight. The kids in Arizona didn't know I was shy! Maybe I didn't have to be the shy kid anymore. But how do you put aside a part of yourself that has been with you since you can remember? I knew I couldn't just make myself outgoing, at least not fast enough to make a difference at school. First impressions and all that, you know. But there was one thing I could do - I could pretend. I could act like I wasn't shy until I actually got over being shy for real.
That is what I did. I didn't change into an outgoing person overnight, but I did make a couple of friends right away, and that gave me the surge of confidence I needed to keep at it. I'll never forget the best moment of my junior high career, when I brought home an 8th grade progress report that said "Talks too much in class". I don't think my parents were too thrilled with that, but that progress report was a real symbol of victory for me, and today, as an adult, I don't think "shy" is how people would normally describe me.
So, of course this story has a moral. Everything is changing right now, for almost everyone. Jobs, school systems, ward boundaries. What opportunities lie ahead for each of us to ditch those habits or quirks that we really don't like in ourselves, and start fresh? For me, I'm going to work on being a better listener. In a book my mom loaned me, I was reminded that good listeners don't let their eyes wander off the person speaking to them, as if they are looking for something more interesting. Good listeners don't interrupt or finish people's sentences for them (my particular weakness). Good listeners don't try to one-up other people's stories. Good listeners realize that the questions people are asking them are often the questions they would like to be asked themselves. So next time someone comes up to me and says, "How are you doing with all of this?", I'm going to make sure I know how they are doing before the conversation is over.
This post is dedicated to my husband, who needs and deserves a fresh start. I'm rooting for you, hon.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Split Endings
Well, my ward was split yesterday (meaning, the boundaries that divide LDS congregations and determine who you will attend church meetings with were changed). Actually, split is probably too enthusiastic a term. More like shaved. One little edge of our boundary was shaved off, and I happen to live in that little shaving. It's too soon to say whether that is good or bad, although right now it feels decidedly bad! It's not in me to be too melodramatic about these commonplace kinds of things, but I do have a few things to say about it.
Regrets? Sure, I have them. First, I always wanted to spend more time with the young women in our ward. I've watched them from afar and they are just one huge ray of awesomeness. I feel like I missed out, not getting to know them better. Also, my kids were sick yesterday and by staying home with them I inadvertently missed out on my last day of...everything. Blah. Plus, my 8-year-old was beyond thrilled with the new teacher she just got two weeks ago, and out of everything that comes with moving to a new ward, that is what she cried about. (Luckily, her teacher got "shaved off" with us, so there's still hope!) My oldest son also just recently got the man he admires most as one of his quorum advisors, so that's a relationship I'm sad to let go.
Anyway, all wards are good and all wards have the same gospel of Jesus Christ. But not all the time do you move into a ward that just completely wraps their arms around you and teaches you by example the definition of service. Here are some of my best memories and a few long overdue thank yous:
TL, at my house, goodies in hand, within a couple hours of the U-Haul pulling up almost six years ago. When she left I looked at J and said, "My goodness, who was that woman?!" I'm glad I know, now.
PJ, who came over and taught us how to take care of our pool, we were completely helpless.
Pretty much every single woman in the ward who babysat my two girls when J was going through some rough medical stuff.
CP, who's had the misfortune of having to listen to my deepest fears and regrets, but has always listened with love.
TJ, who brought me O magazine so I wouldn't be tempted to steal it from the doctor's office
LJ, whose calm demeanor is like a lullaby to me. NC is the same way.
SSt, for remembering about the wreath for a whole year, and then bringing me one!
KK, my number one painting cheerleader, who drove by my house and honked and hollered encouraging words every day while I was painting my house. She almost made me fall off the ladder once, but I'm not holding a grudge.
The PP Ladies, who encouraged me to write.
DW, TR & KR for being on Christmas light duty
JG & KG, who loaned me everything under the sun from their wonderfully equipped garage, and I'm sure will continue to do so ;)
The high school seniors I taught, or, who taught me. Treat buckets rule!
My never-ending stream of completely wonderful visiting teachers, who fed me spiritually, and sometimes physically too.
SN, who taught me the importance of being consistent with my own visiting teaching.
TF, who came and picked up baby AJ at least once a week just to give J a break
Pres J, who took the time to answer a young boy's prayer.
JF and SF, for walking into Sunday School with J one day and taking me completely by surprise
My three Primary amigos, spending the last year with them has given me so many tender and wonderful memories that I can't name them all, but certainly our meeting right after J came to Sunday School was one of the best
Our primary kids for bringing me laughter and tears, but mostly for the hugs
MG, for the cake, but mostly for the note
BN, who acts like I'm the bees knees, when really the opposite is true
LT and OS, the only two ladies who came to my book exchange, and were so nice about it that I almost didn't feel like a total geek
SSc, for letting me write about her Grand Canyon adventure, that was really fun for me
CT, who called one time just because she felt like she should.
LS, for being thoughtful enough to introduce me to someone from my new ward right away yesterday
Have fun figuring out all the initials here! We've received so much service from this ward that I know I'm forgetting lots and lots, sorry about that. You've all touched my life and my kids have been so lucky to be taught by many of you. I'm going to stop now before I lose it... Love you all!
Regrets? Sure, I have them. First, I always wanted to spend more time with the young women in our ward. I've watched them from afar and they are just one huge ray of awesomeness. I feel like I missed out, not getting to know them better. Also, my kids were sick yesterday and by staying home with them I inadvertently missed out on my last day of...everything. Blah. Plus, my 8-year-old was beyond thrilled with the new teacher she just got two weeks ago, and out of everything that comes with moving to a new ward, that is what she cried about. (Luckily, her teacher got "shaved off" with us, so there's still hope!) My oldest son also just recently got the man he admires most as one of his quorum advisors, so that's a relationship I'm sad to let go.
Anyway, all wards are good and all wards have the same gospel of Jesus Christ. But not all the time do you move into a ward that just completely wraps their arms around you and teaches you by example the definition of service. Here are some of my best memories and a few long overdue thank yous:
TL, at my house, goodies in hand, within a couple hours of the U-Haul pulling up almost six years ago. When she left I looked at J and said, "My goodness, who was that woman?!" I'm glad I know, now.
PJ, who came over and taught us how to take care of our pool, we were completely helpless.
Pretty much every single woman in the ward who babysat my two girls when J was going through some rough medical stuff.
CP, who's had the misfortune of having to listen to my deepest fears and regrets, but has always listened with love.
TJ, who brought me O magazine so I wouldn't be tempted to steal it from the doctor's office
LJ, whose calm demeanor is like a lullaby to me. NC is the same way.
SSt, for remembering about the wreath for a whole year, and then bringing me one!
KK, my number one painting cheerleader, who drove by my house and honked and hollered encouraging words every day while I was painting my house. She almost made me fall off the ladder once, but I'm not holding a grudge.
The PP Ladies, who encouraged me to write.
DW, TR & KR for being on Christmas light duty
JG & KG, who loaned me everything under the sun from their wonderfully equipped garage, and I'm sure will continue to do so ;)
The high school seniors I taught, or, who taught me. Treat buckets rule!
My never-ending stream of completely wonderful visiting teachers, who fed me spiritually, and sometimes physically too.
SN, who taught me the importance of being consistent with my own visiting teaching.
TF, who came and picked up baby AJ at least once a week just to give J a break
Pres J, who took the time to answer a young boy's prayer.
JF and SF, for walking into Sunday School with J one day and taking me completely by surprise
My three Primary amigos, spending the last year with them has given me so many tender and wonderful memories that I can't name them all, but certainly our meeting right after J came to Sunday School was one of the best
Our primary kids for bringing me laughter and tears, but mostly for the hugs
MG, for the cake, but mostly for the note
BN, who acts like I'm the bees knees, when really the opposite is true
LT and OS, the only two ladies who came to my book exchange, and were so nice about it that I almost didn't feel like a total geek
SSc, for letting me write about her Grand Canyon adventure, that was really fun for me
CT, who called one time just because she felt like she should.
LS, for being thoughtful enough to introduce me to someone from my new ward right away yesterday
Have fun figuring out all the initials here! We've received so much service from this ward that I know I'm forgetting lots and lots, sorry about that. You've all touched my life and my kids have been so lucky to be taught by many of you. I'm going to stop now before I lose it... Love you all!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
How It Is
Today I had a dead battery that made me late for church. I also had a nice neighbor who gave my car a jumpstart both before church and again after church so I could get back home again. That's just how it is around here.
My sister loaned me her quiet house while she was at work one day last week, and I got a lot of writing done. Unfortunately, I was actually supposed to be working that day too, but if you see my boss, tell him that's just how it is sometimes.
I got my #1 best gift for my birthday, Gerald Lund's new book The Undaunted, but I couldn't allow myself to read it for over two weeks. Before I was allowed to read it, I had to finish all my 2010 budgets for work, get all my Christmas shopping, wrapping, baking, and meltdowns over with, AND have a clean house. See, once I start reading a good book, I can't stop. I KNOW you know how that is! (p.s. Do you admire my self-control? Two and a half weeks, come on!)
I had $8 in Register Rewards from Walgreens, and when I went to use them this week I found out that they had expired the day before, and the mean lady at the checkout wouldn't take them. If you know me, you know that almost brought me to tears, but that's just how it is sometimes.
I was sitting behind a class of 7-year-olds at church today while they listened to a lesson about how we are all God's children. One little girl became very agitated, then turned to the girl next to her and said, "Sick! That means my mom is married to her brother!" When you get to watch over the little ones every Sunday, that's usually how it is!
My sister loaned me her quiet house while she was at work one day last week, and I got a lot of writing done. Unfortunately, I was actually supposed to be working that day too, but if you see my boss, tell him that's just how it is sometimes.
I got my #1 best gift for my birthday, Gerald Lund's new book The Undaunted, but I couldn't allow myself to read it for over two weeks. Before I was allowed to read it, I had to finish all my 2010 budgets for work, get all my Christmas shopping, wrapping, baking, and meltdowns over with, AND have a clean house. See, once I start reading a good book, I can't stop. I KNOW you know how that is! (p.s. Do you admire my self-control? Two and a half weeks, come on!)
I had $8 in Register Rewards from Walgreens, and when I went to use them this week I found out that they had expired the day before, and the mean lady at the checkout wouldn't take them. If you know me, you know that almost brought me to tears, but that's just how it is sometimes.
I was sitting behind a class of 7-year-olds at church today while they listened to a lesson about how we are all God's children. One little girl became very agitated, then turned to the girl next to her and said, "Sick! That means my mom is married to her brother!" When you get to watch over the little ones every Sunday, that's usually how it is!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Two Small Things
About this time every year I start to get that funny feeling in my stomach. Too many late nights? That's a slight possibility. Too much fudge? Somewhat stronger possibility. Usually it goes away after a couple days, but this year it didn't, so between my full-time job of following the cast of The Forgotten Carols around from city to city, I snuck in a doctor's appointment. After waiting for 45 minutes in the waiting room and another 63.5 minutes in the exam room, I was finally diagnosed with Failureitis, the official term for those who have failed to live up to their expectations for themselves during the past year (per their dreaded New Year's Resolutions). It's a relatively common disease, with approximately 98% of the population suffering from it. The other 2% are all Jehovah's Witnesses, who don't celebrate New Year's, and therefore have a natural immunity to Failureitis. Which is lucky for them.
The symptoms of Failureitis are as follows (hypochondriacs, please stop reading and instead log onto http://www.coughcoughsneezesneeze.com/ for support):
Difficulty sleeping
Increased irritability
Multiplication of gray hairs and/or wrinkles
Irrepressible urge to snack
Strong daytime attachment to blankets and pillows
Sudden urge to buy a non-working farm and sit on the porch and rock for long periods of time
Mumbling
Bad writing
I spoke with the doctor at length about this disease. She feels I may have contracted it shortly after I told my Jillian Michaels workout DVD to go take a flying leap. That was January 3rd, but at that point my symptoms weren't yet obvious. In February I stopped balancing my checkbook, after I wrote an extra $500 into my checkbook ledger so my balance wouldn't get too low, and then the bank said I was out of money anyway. What use is that? By April I'd long since given up trying to be nice to everyone for one whole day, because all the jerks I work with made it too hard. When my kids started school in August, I had a wholesome and healthy snack waiting for them every day when they came home for the first week, then it was back to Fritos and bean dip. Fiber, you know. But it was in November that my Failureitis really started acting up. I had promised myself to keep on an even keel and not let my "moody" days get to me, but in November I snapped. Some unfortunate grocery clerk asked me very politely to "Have a nice day", and I....I said "No."
My doctor said that to cure my failureitis I must set my standards very low for 2010. Normally I wouldn't even consider such a thing, but she reminded me that Failureitis hurts everyone, not just the person diagnosed. So next year, no big goals or resolutions. Instead, I will do Two Small Things every week. Two little changes so I can cure my Failureitis without becoming a total and stagnant loser. So, even though today is only December 28th, I am starting right now. That's change number one for this week. Starting my Two Small Changes program. Change number two will be posted on my handy little change tracker to the left.
Happy New Year!
The symptoms of Failureitis are as follows (hypochondriacs, please stop reading and instead log onto http://www.coughcoughsneezesneeze.com/ for support):
Difficulty sleeping
Increased irritability
Multiplication of gray hairs and/or wrinkles
Irrepressible urge to snack
Strong daytime attachment to blankets and pillows
Sudden urge to buy a non-working farm and sit on the porch and rock for long periods of time
Mumbling
Bad writing
I spoke with the doctor at length about this disease. She feels I may have contracted it shortly after I told my Jillian Michaels workout DVD to go take a flying leap. That was January 3rd, but at that point my symptoms weren't yet obvious. In February I stopped balancing my checkbook, after I wrote an extra $500 into my checkbook ledger so my balance wouldn't get too low, and then the bank said I was out of money anyway. What use is that? By April I'd long since given up trying to be nice to everyone for one whole day, because all the jerks I work with made it too hard. When my kids started school in August, I had a wholesome and healthy snack waiting for them every day when they came home for the first week, then it was back to Fritos and bean dip. Fiber, you know. But it was in November that my Failureitis really started acting up. I had promised myself to keep on an even keel and not let my "moody" days get to me, but in November I snapped. Some unfortunate grocery clerk asked me very politely to "Have a nice day", and I....I said "No."
My doctor said that to cure my failureitis I must set my standards very low for 2010. Normally I wouldn't even consider such a thing, but she reminded me that Failureitis hurts everyone, not just the person diagnosed. So next year, no big goals or resolutions. Instead, I will do Two Small Things every week. Two little changes so I can cure my Failureitis without becoming a total and stagnant loser. So, even though today is only December 28th, I am starting right now. That's change number one for this week. Starting my Two Small Changes program. Change number two will be posted on my handy little change tracker to the left.
Happy New Year!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Time for a Christmas Message
I read an article in the December issue of Ensign magazine that, while not a typical Christmas story, was a story of true love and unselfishness that touched my heart. Titled Dad's Lesson in Love, by Marcia Akes, it is the love story of the author's in-laws. While both of her in-laws struggled with health issues in their later years, Mom was bedridden for several years, and it was up to Dad to take care of her. Marcia tells of some sweet moments, like Dad learning to cook so he could bake Mom's favorite pies for her, or learning to sew so he could alter her clothing to make it easier to get on and off her while she was in bed. Sadly, Dad's body gave out before Mom's in the end, but he left what was essentially his deathbed in the hospital, and spent two days, "going on nothing but sheer determination", checking his wife into an adult care facility and training the caregivers on how to take care of the love of his life after he was gone. All of this was so tender, but what really slayed me was Dad's quote italicized up in the corner of the article: "I'm just a common man, with common thoughts, and I feel I've lived a pretty common life; there will never be any monuments dedicated to me, and undoubtedly my name will soon be forgotten; but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough." Wow. That quote seems to sum up what life is really about. I would not have been interested in an article about a man who got up out of his deathbed to make sure that the month-end accounting was finalized at the office before he died! Indeed, for the many people who don't even have an office to go to right now, money is short and love is really all there is to give this Christmas season. Let it be enough. As hard as it is not to feel depressed or discouraged when money and material things are lacking at Christmas, may I suggest that those feelings dissolve when you stop comparing what you are able to give with what others may be giving. Free gifts that make a difference include sincere thank you notes to people who have touched your life, carols and visits to those who may be lonely, gifts of time and service written up as homemade "coupons" for family members (I particularly enjoy footrubs, if any of my kids are reading this), paragraphs detailing all the good that is in someone you love, and I'm sure you can think of many better ideas.
I wish all of you a truly merry and love-filled Christmas. Jesus Christ knows all of my faults - He should, he carried them - and yet He loves me anyway. And I don't believe He loves me in spite of my weaknesses, I think he just plain loves me. I want to be more like Him.
To get an MP3 download of the article I referred to above, click here .
Monday, December 14, 2009
Pancakes, anyone?
It seems to me that women generally run the activities committee in a ward. Don’t get me wrong - men are called to be on the committee too, it’s just that the women RUN the committee. The men on the committee can be spotted because they are ones wearing t-shirts that say, “I got called to the activities committee and all I got to do was set up chairs.” I’ve heard rumors, though, of a ward where the activities committee had no women on it. That’s right – all men. You’ll know if this happens in your ward because:
1. The first activity of the year will be a contest to see which teacher can finish their lesson the fastest on Super Bowl Sunday. As part of the contest, all husbands and wives must agree beforehand to drive to church separately that day. This is crucial because, let’s face it, Relief Society lessons never end early.
2. You will notice a sudden increase in pie eating contests
3. Early morning pancake breakfasts will be officially banned. In fact, anything with the words “early morning” in it will be banned.
4. The “Best Costume” award at the ward Halloween party will go to the man with dirty socks pinned to his shirt who’s going as Static Cling, rather than the sweet little ballerina from the Sunbeam class.
You’ll want to know right away if the man in your life ever gets put on the activities committee, and you will. Your first clue will be a conversation that goes something like this:
Him: Honey, I have a meeting with the activities committee in 5 minutes. Do you have any good ideas?
You: Ummm, I hadn’t really thought about it.
Him: Now, hon, I heard the bishop ask you if you would support me in my calling and you said yes. I really need your help here.
You: Well, hmmm…how about a sit down dinner for couples? You could get the youth to be the waiters, it could be really fun.
Him: I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be inclusive of the single members of our ward.
You: I guess you’re right. How about a cowboy style cookout?
Him: Not inclusive of the ward vegetarians.
You: A talent show?
Him: Not inclusive of the non-talented people in the ward. Wait, I know! We could have a pie eating contest!!
You: (sigh)
1. The first activity of the year will be a contest to see which teacher can finish their lesson the fastest on Super Bowl Sunday. As part of the contest, all husbands and wives must agree beforehand to drive to church separately that day. This is crucial because, let’s face it, Relief Society lessons never end early.
2. You will notice a sudden increase in pie eating contests
3. Early morning pancake breakfasts will be officially banned. In fact, anything with the words “early morning” in it will be banned.
4. The “Best Costume” award at the ward Halloween party will go to the man with dirty socks pinned to his shirt who’s going as Static Cling, rather than the sweet little ballerina from the Sunbeam class.
You’ll want to know right away if the man in your life ever gets put on the activities committee, and you will. Your first clue will be a conversation that goes something like this:
Him: Honey, I have a meeting with the activities committee in 5 minutes. Do you have any good ideas?
You: Ummm, I hadn’t really thought about it.
Him: Now, hon, I heard the bishop ask you if you would support me in my calling and you said yes. I really need your help here.
You: Well, hmmm…how about a sit down dinner for couples? You could get the youth to be the waiters, it could be really fun.
Him: I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be inclusive of the single members of our ward.
You: I guess you’re right. How about a cowboy style cookout?
Him: Not inclusive of the ward vegetarians.
You: A talent show?
Him: Not inclusive of the non-talented people in the ward. Wait, I know! We could have a pie eating contest!!
You: (sigh)
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Did I miss Christmas?
So far this December I have:
* Tried to put a 4 ft angel on a 6 ft tree. Those meaurements are approximate, but let's just say that it took 5 strips of duct tape to get my huge-y angel to stand upright. Luckily, my son has every color duct tape there is (including tie dye), so he was able to contribute some white tape that blends right in. sorta.
* Skipped my first rehearsal for the Messiah. Yes, that's right, this year I made the cut to play my violin in our community sing-along version of the Messiah. This is an unpaid but prestigious position that I clinched by sending note-shaped cookies to the powers-that-be. Then I missed the first of only two rehearsals. I hope I'm not fired. I had a good reason!
* Tried to wait up for hubby when he went to the ASU game with his amigos. Unfortunately, the act of getting married some moons ago activated a sleepy gene in me that causes me to fall asleep at 10:30, no matter where I am. Hubby found me on the couch with some No-Doz in my hand at 11:00, fast asleep. Well, I tried.
* Received a random cake. German chocolate, too, my favorite. The sweetest teenage girl in the world showed up at my door tonight and gave me a big ol' chocolate cake that she made for me because, to paraphrase a wise sage, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me." It made my day, thanks MG!
* Heard about a weirdo vendor at Tempe Marketplace trying to sell some sort of smoke vapor machine that mixes straight nicotine with water vapor for a new smoking experience. He came right out and told my LDS friend that it was okay for him to smoke because of a "loophole" in the Word of Wisdom - this little cigarette replacement doesn't actually contain any tobacco. Yeah, I was never worried about the nicotine anyway.
(Don't know what the Word of Wisdom is? Find out at http://www.mormon.org/.)
* I also: learned that even a stuffed SpongeBob with the creepiest pop-out eyes in the world will get taken at a yard sale if it's free, sold 2 things on Ebay, was forced to clean out my garage, got yelled at in Spanish, used my fireplace, saw the cutest smile I'd ever seen on the face of a little boy hugging a stuffed Piglet, hung outside lights with the help of our neighborhood cardiologist (I'm so scared of heights that it's good to have a specialist nearby, just in case), AND wore my favorite Old Navy jeans three times in a row before I washed them. Don't judge me, I'm conserving water.
It can't possibly be only the sixth! Merry Christmas, if I'm still coherent by then.
* Tried to put a 4 ft angel on a 6 ft tree. Those meaurements are approximate, but let's just say that it took 5 strips of duct tape to get my huge-y angel to stand upright. Luckily, my son has every color duct tape there is (including tie dye), so he was able to contribute some white tape that blends right in. sorta.
* Skipped my first rehearsal for the Messiah. Yes, that's right, this year I made the cut to play my violin in our community sing-along version of the Messiah. This is an unpaid but prestigious position that I clinched by sending note-shaped cookies to the powers-that-be. Then I missed the first of only two rehearsals. I hope I'm not fired. I had a good reason!
* Tried to wait up for hubby when he went to the ASU game with his amigos. Unfortunately, the act of getting married some moons ago activated a sleepy gene in me that causes me to fall asleep at 10:30, no matter where I am. Hubby found me on the couch with some No-Doz in my hand at 11:00, fast asleep. Well, I tried.
* Received a random cake. German chocolate, too, my favorite. The sweetest teenage girl in the world showed up at my door tonight and gave me a big ol' chocolate cake that she made for me because, to paraphrase a wise sage, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me." It made my day, thanks MG!
* Heard about a weirdo vendor at Tempe Marketplace trying to sell some sort of smoke vapor machine that mixes straight nicotine with water vapor for a new smoking experience. He came right out and told my LDS friend that it was okay for him to smoke because of a "loophole" in the Word of Wisdom - this little cigarette replacement doesn't actually contain any tobacco. Yeah, I was never worried about the nicotine anyway.
(Don't know what the Word of Wisdom is? Find out at http://www.mormon.org/.)
* I also: learned that even a stuffed SpongeBob with the creepiest pop-out eyes in the world will get taken at a yard sale if it's free, sold 2 things on Ebay, was forced to clean out my garage, got yelled at in Spanish, used my fireplace, saw the cutest smile I'd ever seen on the face of a little boy hugging a stuffed Piglet, hung outside lights with the help of our neighborhood cardiologist (I'm so scared of heights that it's good to have a specialist nearby, just in case), AND wore my favorite Old Navy jeans three times in a row before I washed them. Don't judge me, I'm conserving water.
It can't possibly be only the sixth! Merry Christmas, if I'm still coherent by then.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Glee-ful
When my 15-year-0ld son was four, he liked to watch Barney. A lot. We had all the videos (yes, VHS), and they pretty much got worn out. If D-Dawg felt like singing, it was Barney songs he belted out. "Mr. Sun" and "Drivin' in my Car" were two special favorites. Ipods hadn't been invented yet, but he certainly didn't have a Walkman or a BoomBox. He accompanied his own singing with some artful jumping and twirling.
Now that my youngest is four, things are a little different. See, she has a 15-year-old brother. And a 12-year-old brother. And an 8-year-old sister. They don't like Barney. They like Selena Gomez, Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift and the YouTube clip of the Glee football players dancing to Single Ladies. (I have to admit, I like that one, too). Little AJ still jumps and twirls, just like her older brother did all those years ago, but she does it with his Ipod stuck in her ears, and she's bustin' a move to Life is a Highway.
I miss the innocence of my oldest. If I could, I would keep all my kids from any knowledge of the outside world until they start kindergarten. I haven't found an effective way to do that, but when they're sick and half-alseep on the couch, and I sit down to rub their foreheads, I still sing "Mr. Sun". D-Dawg rolls his eyes, but I'm pretty sure I see him mouthing the words right along with me.
P.S. Check out that hilarious YouTube clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ornIWg0VG7g
Now that my youngest is four, things are a little different. See, she has a 15-year-old brother. And a 12-year-old brother. And an 8-year-old sister. They don't like Barney. They like Selena Gomez, Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift and the YouTube clip of the Glee football players dancing to Single Ladies. (I have to admit, I like that one, too). Little AJ still jumps and twirls, just like her older brother did all those years ago, but she does it with his Ipod stuck in her ears, and she's bustin' a move to Life is a Highway.
I miss the innocence of my oldest. If I could, I would keep all my kids from any knowledge of the outside world until they start kindergarten. I haven't found an effective way to do that, but when they're sick and half-alseep on the couch, and I sit down to rub their foreheads, I still sing "Mr. Sun". D-Dawg rolls his eyes, but I'm pretty sure I see him mouthing the words right along with me.
P.S. Check out that hilarious YouTube clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ornIWg0VG7g
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