REALLY?

1. Phil and I were in Costco late this afternoon. "Shouldn't we get a chicken?" he asked.

Getting a roasted chicken is the highlight of Phil's life. Well, almost. Getting a Costco chicken means I won't have to cook dinner so it's a win-win. So we got a chicken, and then we went into the fruit and veggies room. We had been in there maybe five seconds when he said, "Hurry!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, he said, with a worried look on his face, "my chicken is cooling off."

Really, Phil.


2. I was in the living room, talking on the phone with Hillary, tonight.

"Maddy (age 11) was going swimming with Bailey today," Hillary said. "A huge thunderstorm came up and Maddy came in the living room and threw herself on the couch in despair. Face down."

"Face down, Mom," she said. "What am I going to do with her?"

"You better watch her," I said. "You know what happened to Elizabeth when puberty hit?"

All during this conversation Elizabeth was downstairs, with the TV on. Obviously she has excellent eavesdropping capabilities.

"What?" she yelled. "What did I do?"

Then she got on the phone and said, "In my defense, I am sweet and lovely." Hillary and I were speechless. "Sweet and lovely," Elizabeth continued, "With bouts of naughtiness."

Really, Elizabeth, bouts of naughtiness?


3. One day when Liza (age 11) was here, she was sitting on the couch and had her feet up. The bottoms of her socks were so worn out you could see her feet through the weave.

"Liza," Hillary said, "nice socks."

"Thanks," Liza said, "They're breezy!"

Which sounds like a good thing to me. Somebody ought to market socks that way. Breezy socks. Really. Liza should get royalties. Really, she should.


4. Hillary told me that last night Maddy had a glass of water and a glass of milk at dinner. She took a drink of her milk, pulled a horrible face and said, "Ugh, milk. What a horrible surprise."

"What a horrible surprise," is now a by word in their house. I think that phrase can be used for lots of situations. It's kind of like the word "Interesting." Sometimes it means interesting and sometimes it means interesting! Know what I mean? I'm sure you have had some interesting things happen in your life, and so have I. Really.


5. Hillary and I continued talking. How we got on this subject I don't know.

"I hate the word 'beloved'", she said.

"You do? Even when it refers to Jesus?"

"Yes," she said, "and I hate the word 'gorgeous,' too."

Now that this is published on my blog, if any of her siblings read it--which is unlikely--they will have the perfect ammunition for getting her goat. They will probably tell her they think that one of the reasons Jesus was beloved was because he was gorgeous.

I hope this isn't sacrilegious, talking about Jesus this way. Really, I hope it isn't.


6. Which reminds me, Trent was always good at "getting people's goats." He probably still is, he has seven children to use as victims. When he was still living home, one day he was teasing one of the kids (I can't remember which one) Whoever it was came running to me, tattling.

"He's got your goat," I replied.

Whereupon the child turned around, marched back to Trent and yelled, "Give my goat back."

"He gets your goat all the time." I said. "He has a whole herd of them by now."

"Give them back!" the child yelled.

"Where will you keep them?" Trent asked. "A whole herd of goats is a lot to take care of."

"They can live in the back yard and eat grass," the child said.

Now one begins to wonder, did that child really think Trent had real goats? And then I wonder, no, I'm sure of it, they must take after Phil's side of the family.

Really.

NO EMPTY CHAIRS

Today Hillary and the girls came for a visit. We didn't do anything outstanding, just visited and I fixed them "Toad in the hole" for dinner. I know, a horrible name and a breakfast food to boot. I loved having them here. They are mine and I am theirs.

When they left I thought, There goes my life. Then I thought, Phil and the other kids and grandkids are my life, too. And then I thought Heavenly father and Jesus are my life too, they were my life first. They are the reason I'm here, with this family that I love so much. They make it all possible.

Standing there in the doorway, waving to them I had the distinct impression--almost words in my mind from Heavenly Father: "Without every one of you my family will be incomplete." It was so strong, this impression, that I told Phil about it. And then I told Hillary, when she called to say she was home. I don't know if either of them understood the significance of what I heard. It IS significant. Each is valuable, wanted and all will be wrong if even one doesn't make it back.

Before my last child was born--she was a late arrival--I was 42--I had no idea she was coming and yet, sometimes, when setting the table I took one too many plates and had to put one back. This happened so often that I deliberately tried to take just the right number but often, there it was, an extra plate. I knew, somehow that the family wasn't complete yet. And now it is. My earthly family.

Take of it what you will. I think "my" thoughts earlier were right. Without every single one of us, there will be a hole in our Heavenly eternal family. And incompleteness. Empty chairs.

Let's have no empty chairs.

JESUS WANTS ME FOR A SUNBEAM

Yesterday and today is the Mormon (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) General Conference. We get broadcasts two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, with talks from our Prophet and General Authorities. They are filmed in the Conference Center in Salt Lake City and broadcast to TV stations and Stake Centers all over the world. They are translated into 92 languages so Latter Day Saints all over the world can listen in their own languages.

Yesterday, when President Uchtdorf spoke, he mentioned that he loves the song "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam." This is probably the first Primary song the three-year-old children learn. (I tried to download a video of the song but my skills as a computer competent person are nonexistent.)

The thought immediately came to me that Jesus wants me to be happy--to shine, so to speak--in my life, in my trials, in my encounters with others. I do not shine in my trials. I am not happy in my trials. I am "heavy laden," and "My hands hang down." I sigh. I weep. I want to run away--once I even wrote a story about running away to Texas and described what I would do there. Occasionally, not often, but occasionally, I am even angry. But mostly I worry. Is that a trait of women? Worry? I don't want to worry, I want to have faith.

I am really going to work on my attitude as I feel this was inspiration, sent for me. Jesus wants me to be his sunbeam. Jesus doesn't want me to be his gloomy, doubting, depressed, angry, upset, weeping, horrible person with my feet dragging in the sand and my head hanging down.

Will you help me? Will you be my confidantes? My fellow blooggers who show me by your faith that I can have faith too? I read you blogs and am strengthened as I see you fighting your battles with faith--as I watch you having integrity and courage. We are all in this together, we are all connected.

"I love you and you love me." the next line is, "We are a happy family." As a church, we believe we are all one family. God's children. We are all brothers and sisters.

So, with God as my Father and Jesus as my Savior and with your help, maybe I can become more of a sunbeam. I will hold your hands and be strengthened and sustained.

I SPENT TWO L-O-N-G HOURS IN THE NURSERY TODAY

Today I served in the nursery. Two hours! Two hours with seven charming VERY busy, eighteen month to three year olds. Seven! The other nursery leader is over seventy years old. May God prepare special blessings for her.

Almost my entire two hours were spent being buddies with a new nursery child, Margaret, who wanted her Momma and her Daddy. I went through so many Kleenex, wiping her little tears and her running nose that I lost track. This is her mom's blog, which she neglects but there are photos of Margaret in her younger years. Well, she isn't even two years old so it would be her "younger year." This is a blog her mom co-authors. This is her dad's blog. They are kind of sassy but definitely fun.

Margaret looks like an angel. Her mother is one of the fashion guru's of the ward and little Margaret was dressed to take over that role. She has great big blue eyes and her hair was in little piggy-tales. But Margaret was heartbroken. Margaret wanted to be on the other side of the door. Every time someone came in the door she remembered and cried.

We played with play dough, Margaret and I. She tried to eat the play dough "ice cream cone" several times and then removed the goo, which I tried to get before she smashed it back into the "ice cream." I mostly failed. She threw the snakes I made for her so many times that the carpet color has changed from blueish to turquoise-snake color. She liked snack-time and after she drank her water she took the empty paper cup to the garbage. Of course she also threw the play dough and a spoon away. Her mother is the tidy guru and Margaret is practicing to take over the role.

My whole two hours was spent with Margaret, leaving the seventy-year-old saint to take care of bathroom duties--one child went commando for the second hour as we didn't have a new "pull-up." The seventy-year-old saint taught the lesson. She sang the songs. She said the prayers. She fixed snack. She did it all. Rewards, I tell you. She deserves rewards.

The crowning moment for me was when I was showing Margaret a story book. "Look at the frog," I said.

"Can you see the little boy's doggie?"

"What is that?" It was a cow.

"Daddy," Margaret said.

"No, not Daddy, look right there, what is that?" I pointed to the huge black and white cow. "

Daddy," she said.

Everything I pointed out she didn't know what it was until I pointed at Jesus. "Who is that?" I asked.

"Jesus," she said as if she has been seeing him every day of her life.

And then I wondered. Maybe she still remembers him. Maybe she still sees him.

Thank you, Margaret for being a fashion guru, for being tidy, for loving your Mom and Dad so much that you cried and cried. But mostly, Margaret, thank you for knowing who is the most important.


And a little child shall lead them.

AND THEY HAVE FAITH

This is a little bunch of tulips that come up every spring in a spot impossible for growth. They are almost to the foundation--almost no sun and no rain or snow ever gets that far back. I have to remember to hand water them. That's fairly easy in the spring, when I can see them, but in the fall, when they are putting down roots, I totally forget. And yet they survive.

We are here on earth like these tulips. We have forgotten our father and Jesus. All we have to go on is the testimony of the prophets. And yet we believe and know we are watched over. And so we flourish and grow and sometimes we even bloom. We do because we have faith. And hope. Especially at Easter, when the faith in our Savior, who gives us the chance to be washed clean so we can return to our Father, is strong.

We all grow differently and in different places but we all grow because our Father loves us and wants us back. Whether we remember or not, we have hope and we believe.

AT CHURCH TODAY

Today in Relief Society our President was giving the lesson. She took it from Julie Beck's talk in the October 2007 Women's Conference. Our President is a darling woman who out-works, out-"relief's" and out-does me in everything and I adore her. First off she puts up a poster board on the white board-magnetic board with two magnets. The title of her poster was "Increase in Faith and Personal Worthiness." The magnets weren't strong enough and her poster slowly slid. The other counselor--I call her the Russian Princess--said, "Oh, oh, it looks like our faith is slipping."

Later Madam President was making a list of all the things the audience members suggested that women do. Things like "teach," and "cook," and "nurture." Someone said, "We're compassionate." Madam President said, "Well, that's one I'm certainly not!" Which really surprised me because he is the very essence of compassion. She turned around and wrote the word, "Passionate." I tried not to snort but it was difficult. Someone corrected her she laughed and just shook her head as if to say, "I can't believe I said that."

One woman said she was at the mall with her seventeen year old grandson and the displays at Victoria's Secret were particularly offensive. She was very embarrassed and he was too. Later she found out that several women had written to the Mall and Victoria's Secret had more modest displays after that. Voices for decency can be heard.

Another woman said that the drill team at the high school came out with outfits with one sleeve and no sleeve on the other side and the fabric made a slash across the body--quite immodest. One teenage boy yelled, "Modest is the hottest!" and the other kids in the bleachers yelled, "Say it again, say it again." Another voice for modesty heard.

Another woman said, "When we do what is right we get everything and more." She had a story to go with it but it's too long to put here.

Today during testimony meeting the Russian Princess's teenage boy was bearing his testimony. He was talking about Jesus and the Holy Ghost being a comforter. He quoted from John 14--I didn't get the verse--and then he said something like, "Jesus watches over us and we can rely on him and nothing bad can happen to us," and then he paused for just a milisecond, and said, "even if it does." That made more sense to me than almost anything that was said today. "...even if it does." Because we have faith in the Savior we can weather any storm, even though it's hard. Even though it hurts. Even though our hearts may be broken we can do it because he loves us and atoned for us and sent the Holy Ghost as the most precious gift.

Anyway, a big of rambling. Today was a good church day and a not-good "I've rented another bomb from Netflix" night and I think I am really banned this time. Send good recommendations.

And one last bit: Another woman in Relief Society had on brown herringbone tights. They were beyond darling. She also has the perfect legs to go in the brown herringbone tights. "It's discusting," said the jealous woman who does not have brown herringbone tights or great legs to go in them, either.

THE ABC'S OF GRATITUDE--L

L--I am grateful for love. Grateful I was born into a family who loved me.

My dad was killed in a plane crash before I was two and I have always missed the love he had for me. the chapter I am writing this week has all the emotion I have always had about being raised without him. It's been hard to write because I have been so angry and feel so cheated.

Mom remarried and Daddy loved me. Even when I was a dirty-rotten-stinker. I adored him. He was a marvelous man. I am a better person for being raised by him and I love him with all my heart.

The love I have for my Mom cannot be described. She loved me totally and I loved her back. I miss her so much that some days I sneak away to the bathroom and cry. She was the ideal mother, fixing tea parties for Holly and me, grinning and bearing my teenage hysterics, adoring my babies and my teenagers, loving Phil as if he were her own son, and always, always, loving me.

I had two amazing sisters. Each was different and unique. Who I am is in some part because of how they treated me when I was growing up. They loved me and I loved them but there was all that sibling stuff going on. My book is full of that sibling stuff. It may be hard for my sister to read--then again maybe she will never have to. I hope she will understand that without all that sibling stuff I would be a weak, easily wounded sissy and that she helped make me strong. My other sister died way to early and when I am crying--in the bathroom for my mom--I cry for her, too.

I have been in love maybe three times in my life. I was lucky that the man I loved the most, Phil, loved me back. He's loved me when I was grumpy, depressed, angry--I threw water on him once from the second story balcony because I was so angry--actually that time we ended up laughing. He's loved me through good times, the birth of our children, the funny, laugh out loud times. He knows me better than anyone else and loves me anyway. He is my strength. He is strong in the gospel and loves the Lord and tries to do what is right. I love him for his commitment and his goodness. I love him for a hundred different reasons.

I love the children. They come as babies and we are charmed. By the time they get interesting it's too late and we are hooked. And they were interesting in unnumbered ways. We waited them out and soon they became interesting in milder ways and now we are friends. I am madly in love with each of them. I love who they have chosen to love and spend their lives with. They have given us grandchildren and the grandchildren are charismatic and we are as hooked on them as we are about our children. Some of them just have dogs and so we love the dogs while we are being patient for the charismatic grandchildren.

And I can't talk about love without mentioning my "goodest," daily, life-changing-for-the-better friends. They know me almost as well as Phil does and maybe even better than the kids. Some are email buddies, some are "spittin' distance" ones and some are not seen often but are friends to the end.

And I've saved the best for last. I love Heavenly Father and Jesus. I am so grateful I had the chance to come to earth and receive a body and find Phil and be allowed to bear Heavenly Father's children. I am in love with the fact that Father trusts me. I let him down and what does he do? Trusts me again. He must love me a lot to let me make all these mistakes and let me decide when I am going to make things better. And he sent Jesus to atone for me and for all His children and then, if that weren't enough, he sent the Holy Ghost to warn, comfort and guide.

I am blessed to have loved and been loved.

EEK! A SPIDER!

I had finished today's blog when out of the corner of my eye I saw a black not-small fuzzy looking dot zip across the far right hand corner of the monitor. Was it a spider?

I smacked the picture of Jesus, I smacked the picture of my two oldest boys when they were ages five and one. I smacked the picture of Daddy, holding Elizabeth when she was two, just before he left to go home--she was not happy because she wanted to go with him. Did a dead spider fall out? No! Will I be sitting at the computer any more tonight? Not on your life.

As you know, if you have read this blog long, I do not like spiders. I do like Jesus, my boys, Daddy and Elizabeth and I'm sorry I smacked them with such frenzied violence, but it was necessary.