On Belief

On the topic of faith, sometimes I feel a lot like Stinky in this picture- there's a huge ocean around me, but I'm looking at the small stuff on shore.

I believe in family.  I believe that it extends beyond genetics and time and death.

I believe in love, and that you don't choose it, but you can choose to nurture it or not.

I believe in miracles- big and small.

I believe in my chosen religion, but I don't believe it is perfect. I'll gladly discuss it with parties who are curious, but not antagonistic.  I believe that my time is valuable and fighting over faith wastes it.

I believe in carbs.

I believe that it is okay to question and doubt.

I believe conversation is always better than conflict.

I believe in equality, and I try to reconcile that with my faith.  This is something I've tried for more than a decade.  I believe there is an answer, but none that I've reached have set right in my heart.  I keep looking and praying.

I believe that being defensive accomplishes nothing but building a wall. I believe you can soften someone's heart more by being a friend than you can by being  an enemy.

I believe in the power of creativity, and that it resides in everyone.

I believe in cookies.

I believe in a God who loves you and me.  I believe it's cool if you believe in one that is different, or don't believe in one at all.

I believe in your right to believe in whatever gets you through, and I hope you do, too.

Parenting 505

Earlier this month, our church held it's semi-annual general conference. Twice yearly, the leaders of our church broadcast messages via sattelite- for us this means that we gather at my parents for pancakes, gummi bear conference bingo, and we get to enjoy church in our jammies. There's usually one or two talks the feel like they're aimed directly at me. I know that for many other moms, this year that talk was the one that referenced "Parenting 505." In this talk, Lynn G. Robbins said:

"A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101. If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505. Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more godlike yourself. With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed, and refined? Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you? "

This talk has been on my mind frequently since it was given. Stinky has been a Parenting 505 kid this year in particular. Then I think about it more, and I don't know a single parent who doesn't feel like they're muddling their way through 505, even those whose children are adults now.

Most days, I feel so blessed that I get to be a mother, and specifically, Stinky and Rotten's mother. I watch our family and other families, see how their dynamics work, and I think about how they work with the personalities their children came with, and how each child seems to be so perfectly placed within their families- I don't know how anyone can fail to see a Divine Hand in that.

When I think about the way that my boys have shaped me- like putting a rock through a tumbler, polishing me by rolling me around in a mess of sometimes abrasive circumstances- I know that they were meant to be our children, and WBH and I meant to be their parents. I reject the idea that our family is mere coincidence. The gravity of knowing that makes the responsibility that much more fantastic and real to me.

How Freddie Mercury Answered My Prayer

Yesterday I sat in the mother's lounge at church, half-listening as they piped in the speakers from the chapel. My mind wandered to the events of this last week- my grumpiness and frustrations with the boys and myself. I thought about what it was I needed to change this week, and prayed I'd get the answers, the opportunity, and the motivation I needed.

This morning, I woke before Stinky- got dressed, put on music, had his breakfast on the table and ready to go. He woke and came downstairs. As is his nature, he couldn't hold still once he heard music. I scooped him up and we danced in the kitchen. The words stood out to me, and as many songs often do, took on a greater meaning when heard as a mother. In the Queen song, I found my job description as mother to my boys.

Whenever this world is cruel to me

I got you, to help me forgive

Oh, you're the first one

When things turn out bad

You know I'll never be lonely

I'm happy (happy at home)

You're my best friend

So we danced the song out. He sat to eat, and I kept moving with my morning tasks, but it stuck in my mind. It is my job to teach him, to discipline him, to prepare him - but it's also my job to protect him, to be a safe place he can come to. It's funny, the places the answers to our prayers come from, isn't it?

I hope your week is off to the same great start mine is. The sun is shining, and we're going to prepare eggs for mailing today. Happy Monday!

It's a Good Crazy

My house smells like molten chocolate right now. That's not exactly kind to brag about, but it is true. This weekend is a whirlwind of family gatherings, beginning with my adorable sister-in-law's birthday lunch, continuing to Rotten's baby blessing and ending with a family luncheon. My grandmother, aunt, and uncle flew in from Arizona tonight. It will be crazy, but it's a good crazy. I'm mostly in charge of showing up with the baked goods, hence the chocolate scented house. I wish I could make this blog scratch and sniff.

Rotten will be wearing the same sweet suit that Stinky wore, that was also worn by his uncle. looking back on the pictures from Stinky's blessing day (February 2007) has been fun.

Have a great weekend!

I was in the middle of a pretty good pity party the other night. Watching Stinky interact with other children can be hard. It brings out a very sweet side of him; he's eager to share and help that other child. So, I feel a little guilty that we can't give that to him yet, and I wish that he had the brother or sister we thought he'd have by now.

So, I found myself reading some of my old journal entries from early in our marriage. When I was diagnosed with the condition that causes pain and also contributes to my fertility problems, my doctor told me he didn't think I'd ever live without pain, but we'd do what we can to make it manageable. At that time, I'd recently quit both jobs I was working and was unable to get off the couch a lot of the time. His prediction worried me constantly. Here I was praying to be a mother, but how could I even think of that when I couldn't move without pain?

At the end of my rope, I asked WBH for a blessing . In it, I was told that this trial was temporary, and that through it, I would help others. Things didn't get better for a long time after that, but I had hope. With the exception of July and August's rough patch, I have been nearly pain free since Stinky was born.

With the promise that my pain was temporary, I was told I would help others- which is why I speak about it pretty openly, and write about it when I feel prompted to, like I do tonight. If for no other reason but to make one passing reader feel less alone, I think that it's important to be open about it. I don't know how often it will be here, but fair warning, you might get more like this.

Growth: Somedays, it is just hard.

The last week has been a struggle for me. Last week felt like a series of intentional and unintentional slights, hurt feelings, and plain old bad luck. This week, our family has been sharing a cold- it is lingering longest on me. I don't think I'm getting much right. When you add in a medication* that is making me especially emotional this week has been quite the weep-fest.

Our church's semiannual conference was this weekend. I needed it very much. I needed words of wisdom and love. What I got was just that, but also a bit of conviction. Did you ever have that moment when a teacher or parent tells you "I just expected more from you" and you feel simultaneously loved and horrible? That's how I felt. I know I can do better. I need to do better. I needed the fire lit underneath me that conference gave me.

Sometimes growth is hard. Sometimes the best thing that can be done for a plant is for it to be cut down. That doesn't make it feel better right away, but sometimes you know what

*On that: We've decided to try for another baby, which for us is an intimate process involving WBH, my doctor, nurses, pharmacists lab techs, and me. Honestly, we're blessed in a lot of ways here. As far as fertility treatments go, what I require is the least invasive of all. Also, when the time comes for the birds and the bees talk, we think we can get by for several years with "When we decided to have a baby, the doctor gave Mommy pills. The end." When I mentioned this to my mother-in-law, she said if we do that, we'd better be careful when we say Baby Tylenol.

Seasons: an epiphany!

I had errands to run after church with the family being sick, and it let me have some alone time while still enjoying the leftover feelings of a really good meeting. I drove through one of my favorite stretches of freeway, a stretch that comes alive with color when the leaves turn. I got excited, thinking how much I will love driving through there when they change. This is where my epiphany hit.

As what would have been my due date approaches next month, I've been struggling with my feelings about the miscarriage. I've run the gamut of emotions where somedays I've felt almost overwhelmed with sadness for what we would have been preparing for, other times, it's been anger that this has happened, and other days I've had deep envy for those who are expecting. I've become more and more frustrated at how unfair infertility is. It's been more difficult since WBH and I decided that this fall is not the right time to try again, as we'd been discussing.

Back to the drive, though: Going through the canyon road, I thought about how silly it would be to be angry at the leaves for not changing sooner, or wishing that winter would hurry up and get here, while it's still warm and sunny and beautiful. I know those seasons will come, and that I will love it when they do. Then I realized how that related to my emotional state. This is just the season I am in now. I can't be angry at winter for not being here sooner; it has to come in it's own time. Our having another child will come; now is not the season for that.

Looking back, what's going on right now is much like when I was on some rough meds to treat my endometriosis, before we could try to conceive. It was a season we had to endure (and I really mean endure- that stuff was awful), until it was time for the season to change. This phase of life is so much more joyful than that one was. Yes, it means some waiting, and some sadness. The joy I have with my family now, is so much greater than my impatience and sadness are. Soon enough, our season will change, and I believe that more children will join our family. The difference is, I see that it doesn't do any good to pout and sulk that the time doesn't come any faster when so many good things are happening now.

Today I came across these scriptures on a box at Target, and it solidified my feelings from this weekend:

Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 3 A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

I'm finding that when something doesn't sit right with me, or I struggle with something, the best thing I can do is to live with it for a while , and almost as soon as I stop fighting it, Heavenly Father shows me the answers in a way I'll understand. I don't know why I had to go through the miscarriage. I know from our fertility problems before Stinky that the timing of our children is important- that was the answer to many of our prayers. I don't have the answers to all of my questions- but I do have peace about them now.

Ecclesiastes 3: 11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time...