Nesting From Necessity

When the doctor said "37 weeks" at my Wednesday appointment, I kind of panicked. So today I am nesting. And not really because I feel that big energy rush that sometimes hits during this time of pregnancy, more because I don't have a choice. In the book "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" the Herdmans are trying to understand why Mary and Joseph had to put Jesus in an old feedbox. Then, the oldest sister remembers they had to put the youngest sister, Gladys, in a drawer when she was born. My space-efficient apartment is cluttered enough right now to not even allow room in a drawer.

I'm so grateful that kids don't care, however. Mancub said the other day, "Maybe [the Poopy Pirate] and I will have to start sharing a dresser so there is room for the baby's clothes." I just hugged him and gave him a kiss. His clothes are already jammed into a two-drawer end table from my master bedroom set. In five years he has never had a proper dresser. Does he care? Of course not; he just wants to share so that we can make room for the baby brother he is already so excited to have that he laughs and wiggles every time he touches my tummy.

Back to my rearranging . . . .

When You've Only Got 100 Years to Live . . .

I saw a great movie last night called "Stranger than Fiction." I think Emma Thompson is always fabulous and Will Farrell is great in this. I'm sure you all saw the previews--Harold (played by Will) begins hearing a voice (Emma Thompson) like an omniscient narrator in his life. He doesn't think he is going crazy, and the voice is just a major annoyance until it says, "Little did he know that his death was imminent," or something to that effect. Because the voice has been right about other things, he thinks the voice will be right about this too.

Unable to locate the author, he instead finds a literature professor (the excellent Dustin Hoffman) to help him figure out what to do. The professor helps him to see that what he really needs to do is make the most of his tragedy--in other words, to live the life he always wanted to live but never did. And then, when he has become the person he wanted to be, to embrace the death that is awaiting him--a poetic and meaningful death.

So the question I will send out into the void today is, "What would you do if you learned you just had three weeks to live?"

Personally, I'm torn. Would I strip the life savings to go to New Zealand? Would I stop putting off that sky diving trip? Would I go to the temple every day? Would I call every old friend just to see how they are doing? Would I take the train to Machu Pichu to see the city at the top of the world? Would I climb the steps of a monastary in Tibet, to learn what the universe wanted to tell me? Would I take treats to all my neighbors and finally learn the names of every one of them? Would I go to a Broadway play? Would I do my visiting teaching? Would I finally climb that fourteener I never got to the top of this summer? Would I go to Tahiti and take a surfing lesson? If it was winter would I snowski one last time with wild abandon down the steepest slopes I dared? If it was summer would I spend a day waterskiing until my legs turned to Jell-o?

OR . . . .

Would I just pull my little family close and love them and love them until they could hardly stand it? Would I cook their favorite meals every night and read stories all day if they wanted it? Would I take them on nature walks and try to give my children one last glimpse into my personality? Would I sing my favorite hymn over and over until they had it committed to memory? Would I be more patient? More charitable? More Christlike?

I hope that I don't die in the next three weeks. I can see I have much to do and much to become.

Whats the Deal With That?

This is a big line in Seinfeld standup from the mid-nineties. I think I've found an appropriate usage.

I cannot remember if the news in Houston was like this, (although as an aside, what is the deal with Marvin Zindler?) but there is a really interesting thing they love to do on the Utah news. This thing is called "on location."

My understanding of "on location" is that you send the news reporter out into the world to cover a story. Somehow, being on location should give better insight into what is going on with a particular newsbite. Utah stations, however, seem to think that any time they go "live" to a story it is improved, even if the story is airing six to 24 hours later.

I first noticed this interesting phenomenon a few weeks ago when they had a woman reporting from the scene of the accident. The only interview in the story is one that was taped several hours earlier and the only shots, other than her talking, were of things that happened earlier in the day. She did pause to point meaningfully to some glass shards you could barely see in the dark. Plantboy and I laughed about how silly it was for her to go out to this rough neighborhood in the middle of the night to do a story that could easily have been recorded at lunch time.

Two nights ago took the cake, though. The newscaster says, "Lets go live to Thingy (or whatever her name is) for her story on domestic abuse (or whatever it was)." The camera flashes to Thingy who is live, on what looks like the patio of the Triad Center, freezing her butt off in a heavy parka with the wind whipping the hair about her face. She then proceeds to give a very profound report about domestic violence from the patio--no interviews, no footage of her having been anywhere else, and the downtown panoramic in the background had nothing to do with her story.

????????????????

What is the deal with that?

You Can't Have It All

A couple of years ago I read a quote by a feminist writer who said that for all of the positive things that came out of the feminist movement (and there are some things ladies--even the most conservative among us would not want to go back to the 1950's), the biggest disservice was that it perpetuated this idea that it was possible to have it all. Many feminists overlooked marriage and children and are now in their 40's and 50's wondering why they are alone. OR, they attempted to have it all and now have these really dysfunctional kids who never had real parenting or daughters with the attitude that they don't want to produce grandchildren. You've got these really smart "progressive" women contributing fewer and fewer great attributes (and the genes to match them) to each successive generation.

Anyway, I've had some you-can't-have-it-all-moments lately. My boss thinly veils how over the moon happy he is that Plantboy has not found a job yet and may end up doing something part time for bubkus here in the Land of the Frozen Chosen. He is happy because this means I will be staying. He says every day how much they don't want to lose me. Yesterday, he offered me a study skills class I have been wanting to teach ever since I got on campus. They are completely changing the format of how they are offering it (to fit my "unique" set of qualifications) and want me to do all of the curriculum planning and have given me a budget for textbooks and disposables--my choice. To me, it is really a promotion. It means extra money, but it also means extra work. It was a real pat on the back for me professionally to get this chance.

BUT . . .

If I was the man of the house this would be an awesome opportunity. Instead, my heart is torn. The job I have here is the job I was supposed to get 10 years from now when my kids were all in school and I could stay there forever. I don't even think I'd feel so shaken up if I wasn't going to have a 3 month old baby next fall when school starts. I want to be home taking Man Cub to kindergarten; I want to be home reading to and playing games with Poopy Pirate; I want to be the one BabyPete takes his first steps to.

And I won't be if I have to work full time. Part time would be a great trade off, but that would mean Plantboy has to find something very close and very soon with adequate pay.

Don't get me wrong; I am so grateful for my job skills and my work ethic. My wonderful parents saw to it that I did not enter the "real" world unprepared. I'm grateful that if my hubby's full time employment has to be put off a few more months then we are not entirely destitute. I'm grateful for a job with such regular hours and copious amounts of time off. I'm grateful to really enjoy what I do since I have to spend so much time at school each day.

Sometimes, though, the things we SHOULD be grateful for, don't always match up with what we WANT. I know that my desires are righteous, but I also know that we live in a natural world and there are consequences for everything. No matter how great we felt about it, going back to school was a risk. No matter how ideal a job in the Denver area would have been for us, Plantboy was not the only one who applied and the world is competitive. No matter how much I want to have it all--, lots of time with my family, active in the church, service to my neighbors, and, yes, the successful career . . . (you all know the list), I can't have it all. NOBODY can.

Just Like Santa Claus

The idea for this blog actually comes from a very lengthy conversation my husband and I had on Saturday night. We've had some setbacks on the job hunt this week. Oh, and we have to be out of our apartment by June 1st. Oh, and the baby is coming on the 26th. None of this was ever going to be a problem because Plantboy would have a job, but now it is anybody's guess where we will be even a month from now.

That isn't really the point of this blog--that is just the background.

I have been thinking a lot about prayer and scripture study lately. Especially scripture study. Or rather, my lack thereof and the reasons for this. It didn't always use to be as hard to motivate myself as it has been lately. And, while obviously, I just need to get get more personal discipline and righteousness, I've lately started to realize something.

Keeping the commandments in order to get blessings is not the right motivation.

I think we have to be really careful about this. I'm going to make a list and you check them off if you have heard of them before, "Reading scriptures in the morning makes your whole day go better." "Praying and fasting about important decisions always means you will make the right ones." "If you pay your tithing, things just seem to work out for you financially." "If you do your visiting teaching early in the month, you'll have plenty of time left over for everything else." "The more obedient you are on your mission, the more baptisms you'll have." "The more you tract in the rain, the better looking your husband will be." (My personal fave.) "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Okay, I could go on (and on) but I will stop, you get the picture.

Now before you freak out and call me the worst kind of blasphemer, just think through this with me for a minute. Maybe your day goes better just because your attitude is improved--maybe the events are exactly the same ones that would have occured anyway. Maybe you'll sometimes make the wrong decisions, but you can still have confidence knowing you did everything you could to make the right ones. I can testify without a doubt, that things don't always work out financially when you pay your tithing, even if you do EVERYTHING else right; maybe your lesson is that you learn to eat beans and rice and it gives you empathy for others. Doing your VT early perhaps just helps you put into perspective what actually matters and you find time to do everything because you have taken some things off the list. Maybe, on a mission, obedience is its own reward, the one you can actually take with you to hang your life on, and a lot of baptisms sometimes has a lot to do with the charm and charisma of the missionary. Sometimes the window doesn't open. Sometimes you have to take a sledgehammer to the wall to get out of a difficult situation. It sure makes you tougher, but it would have been a heck of a lot easier to have a nice window to climb out of.

I'm not sure about the tracting in the rain one . . . my husband is incredibly handsome and I door knocked A LOT in the rain.

Okay, what I think I am trying to say is that if we are doing things to get the blessings, then we have really missed the point. I once had a friend who was an atheist. He said that the only truly good person was the athiest who did good deeds. Why? Because he had absolutely no thought of reward. He isn't waiting for a benevolent God to reward or punish him, nor does he have any expectation of Heaven. Interesting idea. It was nearly 15 years ago I had that particular conversation with that particular friend and I still remember the pause it gave me even though I was very young.

Elder Eyring once gave a talk on faith called, "But if not . . ." The point was that our faith often moves us to action, but if things don't work out like we expect then we cannot lose faith. I have done this recently. I think my loss of faith stems from thinking, "Wait a minute! Wasn't I promised?"

I think the resounding answer from the Heavens has to be "NO!" We weren't promised. We weren't promised deliverance from the calamaties that come with a mortal life. We weren't promised that we wouldn't be witness to and even victims of terrible tragedy and difficulty. We weren't promised that we would be able to overcome EVERY personal defect in this life alone. We weren't promised a big stocking full of presents if we were nice.

So what were we promised? Eternal life. That is the real promise. The Lord says that to get there we have to come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit. That means humble, submissive, meek, patient, charitable, penitent, willing to put God's will first and everything that comes with it.

Am I using this blog as justification for my slack habits? NO. I think I have finally found out what my motiviation needs to be though. Reading scriptures, praying, doing good doesn't change God's attitude toward me (he loves me ultimately--no change is needed there!) nor does it convince him to hurl blessings out of the sky. My life is what it is: a combination of choices and circumstances that make me who I am and create my daily reality. What God will change is my heart.

I cannot read the scriptures and pray and attend church and the temple because I am hoping that Father in Heaven will send Plantboy a job and me a big fat house. I need to do all these things so that I have the courage to get out of bed one more day and go to work, even though it is not ideal. I need to do these things so that if there is inspiration to come I will be in the right place to recieve it. I need to do these things so that I'm strong enough to raise three boys to be missionaries, and to give them a smile and a cuddle every time they need it. I need to do these things so that whether I live in a trailer park or a mansion I can have a smile on my face and dignity in my heart knowing who I really am. I need to do these things so that I feel purpose and joy in my life, even when it is really not the life I thought to one day have.

Sorry about the two long blogs in a row; like Nem, my readership is going to go WAY down before it ever had a chance to go up. Anyway, if you plow your way through the above, make sure you let me know your thoughts on faith. I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

There Are Scarier Things Than Monsters

This blog is going to be a book review. And lengthy. That will probably put most of you off right there. But it is my blog, darn it, I guess it can be whatever I want it to be! My book club this month read "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer. Now, just 4 days after our meeting, the sequel "New Moon" has likewise spread like wildfire among our group.

Both books are page turners, to say the least.

Meyer's plot is clever and fresh with a young protagonist--all of these things make for excellent popular reading. Or even good critical reading. She has certainly created a formula here that will no doubt carry her easily through the rest of the series; there are five books planned.

Now, here is where we move from book review to personal musing. (Again--my blog, my rules.) Maybe if I had read the sequel yesterday when it was sunny I wouldn't feel quite the way I do. Instead I read it today when it rained all and the snow has begun tonight. It is a good setting in which to read dark stories about werewolves and vampires.

Through both books I keep feeling this mild disturbance tugging at the fringes of my mind. I have been unsure about my disturbance until I neared the end of the second volume. Now, I have begun to put a finger on my trepidation and hope that by writing some of my thoughts I will get even closer to my faint distaste.

Despite the deeply romantic element in these stories (a thing that usually gets me sailing on cloud nine for days after I read such a novel), I do not find myself with a good feeling at the end of them. There is something so obsessive about the love the two protagonists share for one another that it is almost destructive. The Romeo and Juliet allegory in the second tome became almost unbearable. And while Bella, our brave and impulsive heroine, isn't so naive that she doesn't draw this comparison herself, there is a faint sense that she prefers the Romeo and Juliet story above all others, despite its idiotic and unneccessary ending. (No disrespect meant to Bill--I think he meant to point out Romeo and his Juliet for their foolishness.)

And I really hate what was done to Jacob. Since the beginning of the last book, I have loved this character. His connection with the earth and his vibrant humanity (even with his werewolf nature) have been a very bright spot in two otherwise very dark books. I think Mike's line in the second book when he tells Bella that "Girls are cruel," just about sums up a big part of this story for me. Some have complained that Bella is weak . . . well, Bella is human for sure. But she is frightening simply for the power she wields over any man who ends up remotely connected to her life.

Now, on a more personal note, another reason to find Meyer's stories somehow out of jive with what I can relate to. Many years ago I was engaged to a man I loved with everything in me. We were compatible in many ways and I was HIGHLY attracted to him. In my whole life I don't think I've met anyone with quite as much charm. I had a wedding dress and we set a date. (This week would be our ninth anniversary, actually.) I'd begun seeing photographers. And then he began dating somebody else--or did he just want to first and that was the reason we broke up? It doesn't matter at all now. Except for one thing: he left a gaping hole in me that Bella is so fond of bringing up in "New Moon." (The way she brings up having her breath taken away in the first; oh, and don't forget that she says "crap" about 20 times in the last 50 pages of the book. Not your most clever expression. Blood sucking vampires? More like holy s**t! Meyer doesn't shy away from the occassional damn or hell, which make some sense for these characters, but if the beautiful Bella pops out with "crap" one more time then I am going to start wondering what anyone can possibly see in her. But I digrees.)

Anyway, after this abrupt breakup, I did the zombie thing. My grades were impeccable that quarter. I went through the motions of every part of my life, knowing that if I for one minute gave into that aching explosion in my heart the hurt would overwhelm me until it crushed me. My friends and family spent months not daring to look me right in the eye for fear they would shatter the tremulous control I had on my life, or fear that I would start to cry and they would have to somehow find the right words to say--an impossible task. I know that I am not the only person this has happened to. Probably most everyone lives through something like this once.

Then, the healing started, even when I wasn't sure I wanted it to. Even when I knew that if he walked back into my life at any point during that time I would shatter to pieces all over again. I forgot his voice and his walk. I threw away 18 months worth of letters from him, willing the memories away. I recognized our relationship for how difficult and unhealthy it had actually been and I came to gradually accept that there might be a different path forward from the one I had expected.

And I learned the most powerful lesson of all: I was stronger than a broken heart. And while it would be a VERY long time (I even still dream about him some time) before I could let go of that last shred of memory and re-collect all the pieces of my heart, I knew that I would make it. I also came to see that what I really wanted to become was a happy, stable person all by myself. I never again wanted to depend completely on another person to fill my days with color. It is not fair to expect another person to complete every wish fulfillment; after all, I cannot do that for anyone else either.

Whew. Cathartic to get that all out. What I am saying is this--why are Bella and Edward so special that the loss of their love never heals? Why couldn't Bella have loved Jacob? Why couldn't Juliet have found a great measure of contentment as Paris' wife? At least then she would have lived! I want Isabella and Juliet and every woman to know the joy that comes from being in charge of their own lives.

Don't get me wrong--I think men are great. I love my husband dearly and we grow closer all the time. He is wonderful. But he is not a replacement for me. And any human heart can heal if we want it to be so and give it enough time. Maybe Bella is less human than Edward thinks she is . . . .

Still, the third installment comes sometime this summer and I am sure I will read it. *Sigh* I love a romance as well as the next girl, however twisted it may be. I guess I am as exactly as human the next 17 year old girl. Which, as Desmama said of "Twilight," that it painfully points out how much of that girl never left!

A Question . . .

DO YOU EVER GET OVER SIBLING RIVALRY?

In a New York Minute

My thoughts are heavy this morning. I just learned that one of my friends in Texas lost her husband to leukemia this week. She isn't much older than I am and she just had a baby eight months ago--her third child. Her oldest daughter is still in primary I believe. In addition, my mother told me of a family in the ward I grew up in who just lost their father. He was in his mid-forties and they still had a child in kindergarten. They were the cute young family that all of the young women in my ward looked up to--we all wanted to be just like her with her three little boys impeccably dressed and her pregnant tummy.

Many of the experiences we have in our lives shape and mold us, but so much of what we spent time on it just fluff. You know, the stuff we must do to survive, but not really live. Or the things that waste our time but don't really make us better people. Our own trials sometimes seem so dramatic, when in reality they are just peripheral to our the true purpose of our mortal experience.

As I ponder on my friend and the loss of her husband this week I hope to draw my own family close, to seize and cherish the moments that matter. My thoughts are many and varied this morning. I hope that you have been able to catch the gist of what I am saying. Perhaps a feeling more than a written expression.

A Change For the Better

I have been thinking a lot lately about how interesting the presidential primary could be--a woman, a Black man, a Mormon are all in the running. This has happened before, actually. The difference this time is that these are all candidates to be taken seriously. Politics aside, I'd like to think that most rational Americans would see such a ballot as a great step forward.

In particular, there has been much talk recently about Senator Obama. People have unwittingly made some stupid comments. What I think is remarkable about this confident visionary is not his color, and certainly not his color combined with great intelligence and understanding, it is that the greater population is finally ready for this important step in our country's history. It is not that a Black man is "capable" of running for president, it is that white men and women can finally accept such a thing. It is that our country can finally accept a legitimate woman candidate. It is that the Mormon faith has become so mainstream that it may not be a stumbling block to his candidacy. This is a hard time in our nation's history. Our divisions are deep. But the candidates in the next election show that my generation is poised to finally see beyond differences to our similarities.

In other notes, the thing with my colleague finally blew over. It didn't end super well; she was pretty resentful about the fact that I had made her "look bad" by taking care of much of the mess myself and giving a list of estimated damages to our principal with little input from her. I just smiled and nodded. It was hard, but I refrained from saying, "Did it ever occur to you that you made YOURSELF look bad?" Our relationship has cooled somewhat, but I don't think I completely burned the bridge. It just needs some repair work.

Finding a Balance

This has been a very difficult couple of weeks for our family. It all began with the flooding of my classroom and storage room due to a broken pipe just a few days after this terrible cold spell started. The disaster/apocalypse has put me terribly behind at work, and I have been coming home unusually late. On top of this extra work, my whole family has been sick with Plantboy being just about the worst. I have a lot of empathy--it is hard to be a 100% parent when you feel lousy. There is little to be done however, other than for us all to just endure.

The problem that I need some advice from all you fellow-bloggers on is that I have a colleague whom I normally interact a lot with who has, in many ways, become a fairly good friend. I don't know that it is a very balanced friendship, however. Because we work together in our department, there is a lot of sharing of ideas and work. Sometimes I feel that I do more than my share and this perception has spread to much of the faculty somehow, though I have said nothing to anybody. The storage room disaster affected the colleague's room also and she has behaved pretty nasty through the whole thing. She seems interested in blaming everyone for the problem and finding somebody else to fix it, though it is really nobody's fault. To top everything off, she is also a part time administrator, so she does part of my teacher evaluations each year. It is like one person in my life with WAY too many hats.

My advice needed is this--how do you manage people you work with as well as have for friends? How do you strike a balance? And when colleagues act stupidly, how do you separate that from a person and keep the friendship in place? I could go on in this vein, but I think you get the gist. Any help?

Dedicated From Their Youth

Ever since I read Suzanne's remarkable mini-essay about Mary in ontherun's blog, I have been thinking a lot about the mother of Jesus. Sunday in church, Mary was much brought up again as we discussed the enunciation and her visit to her cousin Elisabeth. A thing jumped out to me that never really has before.

The teacher commented that it must have been very overwhelming to Mary and Elisabeth to have a glimpse of who their children would become. She rhetorically said, "What would that be like to know that you would dedicate your son to God before he was even born?" Interesting question.

While I was a missionary, the course of study one year was the Old Testament. After we had studied the boy-prophet Samuel, my mother sent me a letter describing his parents and how they had willingly given him to the temple (and thereby God) so that he could basically be raised to be a priest. And while his parents, for the blessing of having a child in their old age, were glad to do this, my mom said, "I have often wondered how Samuel felt about it." Indeed.

These words came back to me as I pondered the rhetorical question posed by the Sunday School teacher yesterday. I think any mother in Israel can relate, at some level, to Mary and Elisabeth and to Samuel's mother. Although the scope may be different, and we may not see in such detail the mission God has prepared for these spirits we raise, haven't we indeed dedicated our children to the Lord?

We pray daily with them and for many the first song they recognize and respond to is, "I Am a Child of God." How often to we go to a blessing to hear father admonish sons to be worthy priesthood holders, serve missions and be married in the temple? Daughters we implore to be sweet and kind and motherly and temple worthy. Pictures of temple and the Savior dot the walls of our homes and our kids bedroom. Plantboy and I have started a "mission fund" for each of our boys and will do the same with the one who is coming. I could go on and on . . . I will spare you; this blog is already lengthy, but you get the idea.

What is is like to dedicate your child to the Lord? It is the hardest and most wonderful work any mother can do. Yesterday in church I saw my tiny two year old bow his head and squeeze his little arms together in his button up shirt and untied shoes and nearly cried for how cute and innocent he is. I prayed with all the feeling in my mother-heart that he would somehow withstand the difficulties that will surely come his way, that he will be strong enough to face every buffeting of Satan, that he will know who he is with such fervor that nothing will shake his testimony. I prayed that I would remember his cuteness and sweetness even when he goes through his really ugly stages and that he would emerge on the other side as a man of God.

Yes, indeed, I have dedicated my children to the Lord. I cannot comprehend the missions and blessings the Lord has in store for them, but how can they fail to be great if they will but follow his admonitions? How can any of us fail to be great?

I will close with an excerpt Nelson Mandela's first inaugural speech, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the World. . . we were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us."

A righteous generation of young men and women dedicated to the True God of Heaven--what could be more glorious than that? May we teach them so well who they are and of the strength within themselves that, like Samuel, when the Lord calls, they will answer, "Here Am I!"

Anticlimax

Why does the New Year always feel like such let down? What should be a time of refreshing and renewal often is just a flurry of house cleaning from the "most wonderful time of the year." Oh, and don't forget all the bills that must be paid, hopefully before the tax return shows. In colder climes, there is the inevitable three months of winter left with no real holidays to look forward to. There are gift exchanges that just point out that those you love really don't know you as well as you had hoped. And with two kids, where do you put all the new toys!

Okay, it is a prosy, cold day in the land of the Frozen Chosen, but the promise of spring has not yet loomed bright enough to tempt me out of my mood. I am sure that will all change in about 10 minutes, after all, that is one of the best parts of being a woman. If you are grumpy, just wait for the hormone change!

The Light At the End of the Tunnel is a Train

This week is finals week. Not for my husband, for my family. You probably all remember how crazy your roommates acted during this melee of tests and final papers? Well, having a husband finishing school is no different. It has been completely nuts. I've looked over enough papers and projects this week to be an expert on water conservation. I'm not sure I even wanted to be.

If any of you have ever had spouses go back to school, or done it yourself with little ones, I have MUCH empathy. The committment is huge on everybody's part, and while plantboy's name will be on the diploma, I think scienceteachermommy is implied if you read between the lines.

On the up side, graduation is Saturday and now it is time for the easy part--finding a job!

A Word of Advice . . .

I just finished 3 Hostess Zingers. The raspberry ones with the coconut. If for any reason you ever feel compelled to do this, please reevaluate your taste. Upon evaluation, if your mind is unchanged, at the very least find two friends to share with.

Although I'm sure the pepperoni pizza pocket I started this repast with is not helping the gut-bomb I am now experiencing either.

Things I'm Thankful For

Okay, stole the title from DesMama, but I think she is on to something.

This week I realized something very powerful. It is a lesson that working full time has actually taught me. The last 18 months have been so busy that I've really had to strip away what is not essential and focus on what matters the most.

When we lived in a home, I spent a lot of time (and sometimes money) finding ways to "improve" it--pictures, paint, curtains, decor, etc. I think I did this sometimes for me, but probably more often for the approval of others. And while this stuff is fun and, to a degree, rewarding, I have realized that my happiness level is no different now than it was then. I live in an apartment with no dishwasher that I am grateful to have moderately clean one day in seven. My couches were purchased at a garage sale 7 years ago. My kitchen table was originally in a box at K-mart. Our bedroom furniture is from the classified ads, purchased before my marriage. I'll spare you any more details than this, but you are probably getting the picture.

But my kids are adorable and mostly really happy. I am thrilled for the hours I do get to spend with them each day and love watching them grow. I have a husband who is getting excellent grades and is a wonderful dad. He helps around the house without asking and never categorizes jobs as yours and mine. I never go to bed without a kiss and a cuddle. I love this faith-baby so much growing inside of me that at times I think I will burst for joy. I get along great with both my side and his side of the family; there is very little discord on that front.

I guess that this week I am most grateful for having learned to seperate the wheat from the chaff. Life is definitely not easy, and we are certainly dealing with our own set of trials (who isn't?), but I hope that I always remember the lessons learned from this difficult time in our lives. I hope I can always seperate as clearly as I have this holiday season relevance from irrelevance.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Saturday morning, Man Cub and the Poopy Pirate pulled all the blankets off the top bunk in their bedroom (which are there in lieu of a matress) and made a huge pile on the floor. Man Cub showed his brother how to jump off the coffee table into the pile yet. Not being two yet was no deterrent for the Poopy Pirate. He followed his brother right off the edge every time.

After about 10 minutes, Man Cub grew tired of the first game and organized the blankets into an "airplane." He, of course, was the pilot, but he commanded (he is really bossy) his brother to climb in behind him. Because he does everything the big brother tells him to do, the Poopy Pirate sat right behind him. Man Cub turns around and says, "Now, fasten your seat belt." Then, he pointed his finger right in his little brother's face and said, "And no smoking!"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I nearly fell off the couch laughing! Man Cub has had a lot of flight experience in his young life, but it has been a long time since he's gone anywhere. I couldn't think of any movies or books about airplanes that he has had exposure to recently. Nor have we talked about the Word of Wisdom really.

Fifteen seconds later, the Poopy Pirate bails out of the airplane to the screams of Man Cub who thought he would die. I turned to Plantboy and said, "Well, I guess he wasn't crazy about the non-smoking policy."

Don't even get me started on the extra verses we made to Follow the Prophet last night.

Letter to NG From a Concerned Reader

The whole point of the true evolutionary perspective is that evolution has no goal or object. There is no "intended" outcome. It is merely a series of random mutations that very occasionally produce advantageous results. Over millions of years complexity may result, but only if complexity presents clear survival advantages over being less complex.

In the first two pages of his article Zimmer once refers to nature as "thrifty" and then to evolution as "tinkering" with genes. A scientist quoted in the artricle refers to evolution as an "improviser." It may be a literary technique to endow non-human ideas with human characteristics, but it is not good evolutionary science. Only something intelligent has the capacity to be thrifty or the know-how to tinker or improvise.

In an effort to convince people that evolution is "so elegant, so beautiful, so simple," authors, and occasionally scientists alike, assign creator-like attributes to an idea. Maybe it is a deficiency in our language that causes this. Maybe it is an attempt to demystify science by robbing it of its precise language. Or maybe, just maybe, there is something deeper in us that cannot be explained by genetic markers and neurotransmitters. Maybe this essence of what it means to be human, this soul, is hungering for the simplest explanation of all. That there is indeed incredible Intelligence somewhere in this vast universe that did have a goal in mind.

Maybe it is this faith that will always warm and humanize us when science cannot.

A Moment to Ponder the Things of Eternity

I haven't blogged for a while; this month has been exceptionally busy. I know, and that makes me different than everyone else because . . . .?

I have had something I've been thinking about all week, however, that I meant to post sooner. It is still sitting in my head so I think I need to get it out. Last Sunday in Relief Society we talked about the sacrament. I don't really remember the details, but I had a really powerful thought while it was taught.

I think the Sacrament, as taught in the the church, is a perfect blend of mercy and justice. I have been to other churches were the sacrament, or communion, is pompous and overblown with high language and elaborate ceremony. There is such a heavy emphasis on death and the sin deeply inherent in each of us that mercy is almost strangled right out of the experience. On the other hand, I have been to churches where the sacrament is overlooked completely in exchange for loud music and feel-good talks about being forgiven: once we have confessed the Lord we are good to go even if we keep making lots of mistakes. There is such heavy emphasis on mercy that the justice of God is mocked.

The irony is that the underlying (false) doctrine in these two opposed practices is actually the same. The idea that man is so sinful he cannot change. In the more "traditional" churches this idea is practically beaten into parishoners until they feel so low that God scares them to death; in the more "modern" churches this idea is used to excuse every disgusting behavior. God knows how we are! Just try again next week--no worries! Adherents don't feel low, in fact, they feel so high that they could never do anything wrong again, no matter how bad their true actions are.

But in the true church we say that the commandments are important. Vitally important. Without eventually learning to keep them in every respect, and discipline every un-Godlike action, thought and deed we cannot have the life that God has. On the other hand, we recognize that this expectation is HARD, and nobody can achieve perfection now. So, in the meantime, as long as we approach God in sincerity, desiring to change our hearts, he allows us to yoke our burdens to the Savior so that we might feel, in quiet moments, the feeling of perfection, no matter how fleeting it is. This momentary glimpse of eternity gives us the hope and faith to keep trying even when it is hard.

The LDS sacrament with its emphasis on trying to remember the Savior's atonement while striving to be like him in every respect achieves the perfect balance between justice and mercy. Will works or mercy save us? The religions of the world and the wise men of theology can argue it until they are blue in the face. The truth is that both are needed. It is the only approach that allows us to understand the scriptures or to begin to understand our Father's personality. And how vital it is to try and see things from God's perspective. Didn't Jesus himself say, "And this is life eternal, that they might know thee; the only true God and Jesus Christ whom thou has sent."
How grateful I am for a God who provided a way for us to learn from our mistakes without being eternally punished for them. And how grateful I am to our Elder Brother who agreed that he would be the one. In the war in Heaven He stepped up with the best idea, the idea He knew was in keeping with the prinicples of eternity and the priesthood, but He had a better grip than any of us on how hard it would be. So to make it fair He did the only thing that could make it all work--he agreed to live perfectly and then be killed for it. By saving himself first with his perfect obedience he could then save all of us.

Sorry for the preaching to the choir. I am sure most of you have probably thought this through start to finish before and I'm the one behind the eight ball. It is just so easy to get caught up in the day to day triviality of our life that we forget what we are working and fighting so hard to become . . . to help our children become. May we all smile a little brighter this week for the knowledge of the Savior's love. His love for me, a stressed out teacher with too many students and not enough hours in the day. For my children in their glorious, struggling innocence. For my husband who is worried about finishing his graduation requirements and finding a job while trying to be a full-time dad. And for you. Whatever your difficulty may be this week, this month, this year, He suffered for your pain too. Take it to His feet and together you will work on a way to find relief.

I'm Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Except I do know when I'll be back again. Tuesday afternoon. I'm headed to DC for the weekend. My baby brother lives there and is going to medical school. My mom needed a traveling companion and we are treating ourselves. I feel terrible about leaving Plantboy, but after the fiasco we had trying to get our kids to eat dinner tonight I feel no qualms about having a little space from The Preschooler (from here on out called ManCub) and The Toddler (from here on out called the Poopy Pirate--a nickname given by ManCub). I'm going to owe Plantboy big time. I think the whole, "but I'm supporting you through school thing," is not going to cut it through this favor.

I must admit . . .

Okay, I just have to say it. I love the television show L O S T. What started as a mild curiosity about 18 months ago has just about turned into a full blown obsession. I haven't started visiting fan sites yet or anything too strange, but I feel compelled to send this message out into the void and say "What is your fettish?"

I've had others. In high school it was Batman. I watched the cartoons every afternoon on FOX when I got home. I was really into shoes for a while, but shoes are expensive. For a few years it was CSI that I never missed an episode of, but then it just got too creepy. There is the nearly constant urge to write and read that wans at times but never fully leaves me. Chocolate, of course, is nearly impossible to resist. When buying something new, my first thought is always, "Does it come in blue?"

So, come on bloggers! Share, share.