Very Loud, Very Public, Displays of Joy

It blew my mind last week as I read the story of the woman who stole the baby right out of another woman’s belly, injuring the woman severely and killing the baby.  What is the world coming too?  Then when I heard that she quite possibly wouldn’t be convicted of murder because the baby wasn’t considered a viable human being yet, I shuttered to wonder what our legal system was coming too.  This following a year of brutality and murder and political unrest and infidelity and naked celebrities bums plastered all over the internet and part of me wanted to just scream, scream at the top of my lungs, “It’s enough!”  But today when I read about the bill in NYC that quite possibly could become law to abort babies in third term, I was ready to throw in the towel.  I am, and will always be, anti-abortion.  You can judge me all you want.  I don’t care if the baby is only seconds into its creation, unless God steps in to end the pregnancy on His own, it is never, I repeat never alright.  Some situations are sad and horrible and I cannot even imagine the pain behind them, be whatever they are, but that unfortunately can be life and it is never someone’s right, no matter how sad or hard or unplanned or inconvenient to decide for another human being, just barely a few cells splitting or 50 years into mortality whether or not they are a mistake or should live.  That is only, only up to God.  That being said, even those people who believe in early term abortion have got to see the wrong in this.  When you have to inject a fetus’ heart with poison to kill it before delivering it, because if you delivered that baby at that time it would almost always live on its own, without the help of anything, that is murder.  No one, not even those who believe in abortion can say any differently without all out lying.

http://www.techmalak.com/startling-new-abortion-bill-approved-by-the-new-york-house/

So where does the world go now?  I look back at my childhood and see the things, hard things, evil things that were coming about.  My mom would talk about how much easier of a time it was for her as a child than we had it then.  I’ve watched my kids and thought the same thing, “Wow, it was so much easier of a time for me when I was a kid,” but as swiftly as things change and as horribly as wickedness spreads, it spreads even faster than years of past.  When one pebble rolls and a piece of mud clings to it, it slowly gets larger, as another roll in the mud grabs hold it grows larger still, as this great big ball of mud gains speed and proportion it grows faster still, and the time will come when there is more mud to be seen than green spots of grass.  Tomorrow will be even harder for my children than today.  No longer is each generation growing in wickedness but each year is, and soon it will be each month is, then each day, then hour, until I wonder if anything will be shocking any more.

When can Christ come?  When can the world end, and burn, and renew and only goodness rein?  When oh when?  I know it is soon.  More than it has ever been it is soon.  You cannot look around you and see the great sin and immoral acts that are condoned and even celebrated as they are in the world today and not know that it is soon.  How I look forward to that day.  But soon, to a world that has been thousands of years in the making may or may not be in my lifetime.  What is a couple hundred years to thousands?  I cannot give in to waiting, because that great tomorrow when finally the world can let out a big sigh of relief when finally sin is wiped away may not quite be my tomorrow, but the Lord’s in His own eternal timeline of things tomorrow.  And so, I, in all the stress and turmoil and unrest of today, will find joy, even if only in my own home, and I, in all the stress and turmoil and unrest of today, will do all I can to spread that joy to others in the horrible, but still beautiful, world around me.

You see, Satan most certainly has not thrown in the towel.  Heck no!  He has amped up his workout and I will do the same.  God doesn’t want me to be sad.  “Men are that they might have joy,” and that doesn’t say, “Except in the last days when the world will be too wicked and neighbor will hurt neighbor and leaders will destroy nations.  Then it will be too hard and then Men are that they might suffer through it all and know that only when the world ends and Christ comes again can Men be that they might have joy.”  No, Men are that they might have joy, even now, especially now.

I can laugh, and smile and giggle even with all the horrible that is and I can smile at a complete stranger and share a pleasant conversation with the man or woman at the checkout line, or passing on the sidewalk, or at a job that I have never met before and brighten their moment a little even if the person behind me is cussing and swearing up a storm, because I can be that little light in that storm that brings about that “Men are that they might have joy,” if even just for a moment.

Last night, Jason, Jenny, Nan and I went out to grab a quick bite to eat after Miss Nephi practice and the run through of sound that Jason does for that for the last several years.  It had been a very busy week last week with uncountable amount of gigs in the books and a million other things.  We were all running very low on sleep for four or five days now and throw in the stress that is in our home with trying to sell said home, and as we all sat down at a table at our local Burger King, it was like a huge stalled breath was released and for a moment all stress just washed away.  I giggle thinking back to those very unfortunate people in Burger King who had to listen as the craziness that is our giggle fest and days story telling fest and silly memory retelling fest unfolded in a very public place such as that, but it was amazing how suddenly everything was alright again, and even more, happy again as we took a moment to set cares aside, and laugh as a family, loud and disturbing as we might have been.  I’m sure all of those patrons will go home and tell their tale of woe, of how they had to give up a peaceful meal to listen to that crazy redheaded family giggle and laugh with one another, but I assure you, that joy was much needed and the stress had to be let to wash away at that time more than anyone could ever know but us.

I felt it then, and I will try to understand it more in others as I maybe see the little bit of commotion, joyful commotion, that maybe from time to time needs to seep out in very public places, and hopefully I will remember last night and instead of rolling my eyes, hopefully I will smile with them and understand their need to find joy in and amongst the evil stressful world that we live in.

And if you were there last night, trying so desperately to eat a peaceful meal at a little town that you passed through on your way home, hopefully you too will smile and know that we were just grabbing a little bit of joy along our stressful way and hopefully you will find some joy in your day in remembering ours.  And if tomorrow comes and it feels too hard and part of you wants to sigh, while the other part of you wants to cry, grab someone next to you, smile with them, laugh with them, forget your stress just for a moment, and you might be surprised just how much joy you have shared with them along your way.

A good eyebrow wax and everything else that comes with it.

“I know, I know, you are gonna put this on your blog right?” that’s what my nine year old Sam said when I just had to record his karaoke with my phone.  He wasn’t smiling when he said this, in fact he looked as if he had resigned himself to the inevitable.  Now this is the part where you wait on pins and needles to see all the glory that is Sam, but as a good mother I smiled and said, “of course not, Boy,” (that is what we sometimes call him, Boy.  Long family story that has to do with his great grandfather Raymond,) “of course not, Boy.  I just wanted it for me.”  Let me just say that you are missing out, because surprisingly he’s really good.  He hits every note perfectly and even puts some soul into it in a few places.

So now what does this even leave me to talk about if I can’t post a rockin’ video of my little boy?  Waxing my eyebrows?  Getting my home ready to sell, or giggling with my girls.  How about all three?

There is something so amazing about freshly waxed eyebrows.  Yes, I said it, there is.  Now you men may not understand this, but any woman who has had a perfect eyebrow wax done, glorious pain and all, will tell you that there is something magical about the results.  Well this was exactly the case twice for me in the last four and a half weeks.

It all began with my first time showing my girls how to wax their eyebrows, comical to say the least, followed by mad woman spending three weeks trying desperately to declutter our house and paint my bedroom, bathroom and hall and hall bathroom all to get our house ready to go on the market.  Followed up by the wonderful agony of the hot wax.

So…Jenny and Nan have been bugging me to wax their eyebrows, always asking me just after I have put the wax away and cleaned up for the day.  Finally they caught me before the cleanup, and the party began.  I’ve spoken in the past about our crazy family dinners with loud talking, crazy conversation, and incessant giggles, well, direct that toward one redheaded girl laughing at the other redheaded girl as the little tiny hairs of their inside brow is pulled.  Magic, I tell you, and definitely another highlight of my day to chalk up in the Gibson history books along with all the other craziness that is a large, very noisy, very outgoing family.  It was priceless, and of course Nan had to record the crazy of it all.  See it here…
https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=715576185229459&set=o.131456070267203&type=2&theater

We still talk about it several weeks later.  In fact when I called Nan a few minutes ago to ask her if she still had the video she couldn’t stop laughing, and Jenny who was busy driving their truck that they were both in on the way to the movies only sighed in the background and started laughing too.  We have a rather strange home, I’ve decided, and we are rather comfortable about talking and laughing and discussing rather strange things that normal people would probably just raise one eyebrow and shake their heads at.  But I am glad that we all feel that comfortable around one another and that comfortable in our own skins, and if that’s strange, well, so be it, I rather like our strange but funny life.

Then came the next few weeks of me cleaning every corner, rearranging every closet, running to the dump about five millions times by myself and with my kiddos.  Furniture strewn throughout the house in awkward places as I painted our bedroom with the help of my awesome mom, plastic covering the carpet, tape protecting vanity mirrors, and paint on my clothes, under my nails, in my nose and throughout the whole entire head of my hair.  What does this have to do with waxing my eyebrows?  Well let me tell you.  I do them very regularly, every two and a half weeks, my hair grows like a weed.  In fact when I go get my hair on my head dyed and cut every three months people ask me if I’m growing it out and then when I get it cut, into the exact same cut mind you, they tell me that they like the new hair style that I got.  That being said, four weeks of fingers in paint and cleaning closets and running to the dump led to no time for messy hot wax and lots of time for bushy caveman eyebrows to grow in.

So when the house finally went up on the market a few days ago, and in my spotless wonder of a house I finally had time to wax, I came to realize just how much I like the face that smiles back at me in the mirror that I had forgotten and even lost under those crazy bushy brows.

I learned a few things about the beauty routine that so many of us woman put ourselves through, and as much as I hate the time of it all like the rest of you ladies, I must say that there is something gloriously empowering about the whole concept.  I’m not one of those feminist who scream foul and want to go more casual on the grooming tips like a man.  I like basking in femininity while I get all messy and dirty doing in some cases what might appear like a man’s job.  And why is that?  Because it does several things for me, two of which are “priceless” as the saying goes.  One of which, probably the most important, is it lets me connect with my girls in a way that only women can understand, laughing and teasing and sharing beauty tips even though I am more than twenty years older than them.  And the other thing it does for me…at the end of a busy, messy, even paint spilled in the hair kind of a day, I can look in the mirror and feel like a million bucks even though all I spent was a little time.  Pretty superficial maybe, but important none the least, especially the giggling and connecting with my girls part of it all.

So, yes, that is how, and why I can write a whole blog post on waxing my eyebrows.  You didn’t know what to expect when you started this, did you?  And right now you are probably asking yourself why you wasted the last few minutes of your day reading this, but I’m telling you, if that is what you are thinking, then come on over to my house and let my girls and I show you just what a good brow wax can do for you.

Callie and the Looking Glass

I wrote this little story several years back for one of the most amazing women that I have ever known, and she knows who she is, and for some reason it has been on my mind as of late.  So today I am going to share it, in it's unedited version.

Callie and the Looking Glass

 

            Once upon time there was a little girl who lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of a large kingdom.  Every morning when she rose she would stand on her front step and look at the beautiful castle on the tallest hill in the kingdom.  It was grander and more beautiful than anything else in all the valley, with its white pillars reaching heavenward.  A great king lived in that castle and he ruled the large kingdom with wisdom and patience beyond any other.

            Callie loved to stand and imagine what it would be like to live in such a place.  Callie was a quiet girl.  Her face was scared and ugly from an accident years before.  When she was but a baby her little home had been lost to a fire, and in the heat and flame that engulfed the little house Callie nearly lost her life.  But her mother with the strength that only mothers can have, ran back into the burning cottage and saved her infant daughter from the death that surely awaited her there.  Her mother had given her own life to save Callie and Callie was reminded every time that she looked into the mirror of the woman who had died for her.

            The neighborhood boys would tease and torment Callie, never letting her forget the horror that was streaked across her face.  As she grew older she grew more remote and sullen, staying quietly to her home and as far away from other’s stares as she could.

            Callie’s father was bitter too, missing his wife horribly and being reminded of what he lost that day every time that he looked at his daughter’s face.  Although he never meant to blame her, his bitterness grew with the years.

            Callie dreamed of traveling to the beautiful castle and meeting the great king that lived there.  It was rumored that inside the beautiful castle, locked in the highest room in the tallest tower, was a magical looking glass.  The looking glass was told to hold a magic that could look into the beholder’s soul and tell of the value of the life that stood before it.  More than anything Callie dreamed of knowing the value of the solitary life that she lived.

            Every morning Callie remained hidden, locked away in her little farm.  She milked the cows and tended their little garden.  She cleaned the house and cooked the meals and stayed hidden far away from cruel eyes and wicked stares.

            One morning as Callie was finishing milking the little jersey cow out along the fence that separated their little farm from the country road, an old woman stumbled along its path.  Her face was tired and old, her skin wrinkled and thin.  Salt and peppered hair was falling messy out of a corkscrew bun and her clothes were tattered and torn.  She looked at Callie, her tired eyes weak and sad, and in a soft crackled voice pleaded with Callie.

            “I’m so thirsty.  Perhaps you could spare some of your warm milk to wet my tired lips.”

            Callie looked down at the bucket, barely sloshing with what little milk the old jersey cow could give and knew that it wouldn’t be wise to share what little they had.  When Callie looked back at the old woman, her back bent and her eyes begging, she couldn’t withhold what little that she could give.

            Thank you, thank you,” the woman whispered as once she sipped the last from Callie’s ladle.  “Please I must know your name.”

            “CCCallie,” Callie stammered shyly.  “My name is Callie.”

            “What a beautiful name,” the woman spoke back.  “Callie means most beautiful as truly you are.”

            As the old woman limped down the road Callie couldn’t help but to look down at her face in the pale white milk.  An ugly, scarred face looked back at her, even more hideous than Callie had hoped.  Nothing had changed and surely the old lady had been blind.

            Later that day, after feeding her father and picking the grapes heavy on the vine, Callie traipsed off toward the neighbor who lived down the lane.  Farmer Jones had just harvested the last of his wheat and every year Callie traded her grapes for some of Farmer Jones’ grain.  Callie looked down at the basket in her hands.  The grapes this year were small and uneven, nothing like the years past, and she worried that he would reject her offering completely. 

            On the way to the farmer’s house Callie stumbled upon some boys up to mischief.  When they eyed Callie their attention went from the poor little kitten that they were tormenting to Callie and almost instantly the name calling began.  Callie tried to hide her hideous face behind her hands, but the boys kept on teasing.  Soon enough one of the boys gathered some pebbles and started throwing them at Callie.  She dropped her basket and covered her head and began to run.  It wasn’t long until Callie was stumbling, falling in her haste to get away.  As she went down she thrust her hands out in front of her to catch her fall, scuffing them and skinning her knees.

            Just when Callie had lost all hope, warm arms wrapped around her and a gentle voice shewed the boys away.

            “Let me help you,” the kind voice said and Callie looked up into the eyes of a broken and shattered man. 

            From the top of the man’s shaggy brown locks to the bottom of his holey shoes the man was covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime.  He smiled kindly at Callie, his teeth brown and many missing and Callie tried to keep from turning away.

            “Thank you,” she said.  “How can I ever repay you?”

            The man handed Callie the basket that she had dropped and looking at her grapes hungrily asked, “May I have a few for my dinner?  I am so hungry and it has been so long since I remember eating, and your grapes look so appetizing.”

            Callie shrunk knowing that to give him even a little of the grapes that were already so lacking would take away any hope she had of bartering with Farmer Jones, but she couldn’t turn the man away when he had done so much for her.

            “Thank you,” the man said when at last he licked the last of the grape juice from his lips.  “I will forever remember you my beautiful deliverer, in my heart.”

            As he turned walking away briskly, Callie looked down at the basket in her hands.  Where once the pitiful harvest of grapes had been now sat a basket over flowing with magnificent giant, purple grapes, certainly Farmer Jones would repay her generously.

            When Callie arrived home that afternoon it was to find her father packing the wagon and their little tired donkey for a journey into town.  Fall harvest had come and the village would soon be a bustle with farmers and their wares.  Every year Callie’s father went to town to try and sell off the abundance from their garden.  Every year Callie had sat at home praying for a good market for her father.

            “Pack a change of clothes, Callie Girl.”

            “Me?” Callie asked, looking toward town and the beautiful castle.

            “Of course you,” he grumped.  “Instead of standing there and dreaming of a life you don’t have, you could come and help me to provide for the one that you do have.”

            Callie was afraid to go into town in front of all those people with her scarred and ugly face, but she was even more afraid to anger her father.  The trip was long and night seemed to come on early but before morning even had a chance to awake they were arriving in town.  Through sleepy eyes Callie helped her father set up their tent and arrange their wares.  While their first costumer was bartering with Callie’s father she was setting up their meager breakfast.  Nature had not been good to their family this year and there was not much at their scant table for the two of them to eat.  All that they could spare was at market to bring in what little they needed to heat their cottage and feed their animals through the winter.

            As Callie laid out the last cracked plate little eyes stared up at her from behind the table’s wobbly legs.  A little boy, no bigger than four or five looked up at her, his blue eyes large and sunken.  His legs were thin and wobbly and his tattered night shirt torn and stained.  His bare toes stood out dirty and callused and Callie knew even before he opened his mouth the pleading that would come.

            “Please,” was all that he said with big tears tugging at the corners of his eyes.

            Callie loaded up her breakfast, dried bread and salted butter, and wrapped it in a faded linen napkin.  As she placed it in the young boy’s hands he wrapped his arms loosely around her and kissed her hand gratefully.

            “Thank you, Beautiful Princess,” he said as he stumbled away, his hand clinging tightly to Callie’s breakfast.

            That night, after a long day at market Callie and her father slipped down for the evening, their tired bodies struggling to sleep under the majesty of the great castle that loomed above them.  Callie closed her eyes imagining that she was there.  Her stomach growled and she wished that she had saved something for herself.  Her father tossed and turned beside her, unable to sleep with the knowledge of the failure that the day had been.

            “If only,” Callie wished but instead of in her head the words had drifted to the empty space between her father and herself.

            “If only what?” her father asked.

            “Nothing.”

            “If only what?” he said again more commanding.

            “If only we lived in that great castle.  If only we didn’t have to worry or starve.  If only I could get just one glimpse of the magic mirror tucked away in the tallest tower.”

            Callie knew almost as soon as the words left her mouth the trouble that she had caused.  Her father jumped to his feet almost instantly despite his weariness and was swiftly yanking Callie to her feet.

            “Go,” he yelled.  “Go.  See what happens when you get there.  All your life you spend dreaming but you do nothing.  Go and see if anything changes.  You’re ugly Callie and you don’t need a magic mirror to tell you that.  You will always be the ugly reminder of what I lost.”

            She knew the moment that he said those awful words that he regretted it, but still Callie could not erase the meaning behind the pain her father held.  She stumbled through the night, wandering almost blinded by her tears, and she could hear him calling after her, an apology almost innocent and sweet, but he didn’t bother to stumble behind her.

            The large castle, magnificent and magical, seemed to dazzle as it stood before her.  Callie wiped the tears from her eyes, though they had left a salted path in the dust on her face, and wiped the travels from her skirt.  With trembling hands Callie knocked on the door turning almost instantly to crawl silently away into the night when suddenly the door opened throwing brilliant yellow light out across the darkness.  A tall man stood there.  He had soft brown waves and a neatly trimmed beard.  Blue eyes as clear as a mountain stream smiled back at her kind and understanding.  He was robed from top to bottom in a gown of whitest silk and his feet were clothed in the softest leather sandals.

            “Finally,” he said to her, reaching out and drawing her in.  “It took you longer than I thought to get here.”

            Callie looked around her at the enchanting room she stood in confused by his meaning.  Every corner of the room was white and perfect, from its plush carpet to its overstuffed furniture. 

            “You’ve come to see,” was all that the great king said, but Callie knew what he meant.  He pointed to a winding staircase paved in shimmering white marble.  “But know this, once you look you will never be able to unsee.  Once you see the value that I see in your soul you will never be able to forget.  Some say it haunts them until the day that they die, but,” he said with a twinkle to his smile, “others say it brings them the peace that this world could never bring.  Are you sure?” he asked her and Callie only nodded her head nervously.  “Then,” he said giving her a gentle nudge, “no time better than now.”

            The trip up the winding stairs seemed to drag on for eternity.  The thumping behind Callie’s heart seemed to beat harder with every step.  As Callie struggled to turn the gold doorknob at the end of the stairs her hands were slippery from perspiration and fear.  The door slid open smoothly revealing a large empty room, from top to bottom as white and as pure as the rest of the castle.  The only thing to be found at all in the empty room was a large white oval mirror draped across an elegant stand and standing gracefully in the far corner.  Callie inched her way to it, wary of what she might find.

            As she stood in front of it, Callie locked her eyes tightly until she could gain the nerve to peek.  She opened her eyes slowly and examined the image in the mirror carefully.  A beautiful woman, with soft blond curls and beautiful almond eyes smiled back at her.  Her skin was clear and smooth, her long willowing body elegant and poised.  She stood with grace and character and splendor beyond any woman that Callie had ever seen. As Callie reached forth her hand she felt it touch lightly on the cool glass, and as she looked behind her, she realized that no one was in the room but herself, that no one else was reflecting in the mirror.

She turned her head once again upon the mirror and once again she saw the beautiful woman in the glass, but this time a man stood behind her in Callie’s reflection.  The great king of the castle placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders, and as he did Callie felt his warm hands grip softly to her shoulders too.   As she turned around there were questions in her eyes and the king smiled lovingly.

“Do you not see, Callie the most beautiful?  It is you in the mirror, the way that I truly see you.  I do not see the scars that you see, only the beauty of the scars that your mother so perfectly left behind on the day that she saved you.  No greater love hath any man than I for you and no greater love had your mother either than for you.”

“Why?” Callie asked.  “Why do you love me so much?”

            “For I was a hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”  (Matthew 25:35)

            “When, Lord?” she asked. “When did I feed you and give you drink?”

            The king bent forward and raised her chin slightly in his hand, smilingly softly down at her.  He came clearly into her view then and she knew him.  She had seen him many times in the past several days, although each time he had taken on a different form.  She knew him now for who he really was.  He was in the old broken woman and the tired lost man.  He was even in the tiny hungry child.  He gently turned her back to the woman in the mirror and as Callie looked upon herself, for it truly was her, she knew that she would never be able to see her reflection again without remembering the true one that was inside, Callie the most beautiful.

 

 

 

A Little More Booty to Hold at Night

It’s no surprise that in the background while I was washing dishes after lunch that I had the song, All about that Bass, playing.  Kinda the Gibson moto around here.  Jason ran to a friends with Suzy and Sam to help him with some home theatre issues, Jen and Nan are off on their date to Snowcoming and Stephanie is in the other room watching Netflix, so not a whole lot to distract me around here.  I actually thought about the words to that song more closely this time, go figure, and if you don’t know the song there are plenty of places where you can go to listen to it…I actually prefer this one…. http://youtu.be/iyTTX6Wlf1Y the singer’s voice reminds me of my cute Jenny’s bluesy vocals.

She talks about not being a size two but how she can shake it shake it like she’s supposed to do.  I know, I know, I am only a few days away from 40, but I can shake it shake it too like I’m supposed to do and at that moment I was shaking it shaking it like I’m supposed to do and I smiled when I thought that if the girls were to walk in right then they would blush and say, “Mom, you’re too old to dance like that,” and if Jason were home he would come up and grab my bum.  There, I probably embarrassed all of them by admitting that. 

The song talks about photo shop and how that’s not real and it talks about boys liking a little more booty to hold at night, having all the right junk in all the right places.  Where am I going with this, you ask.  Good question.  As I was listening to it all it was like some light bulb popped on above my head.  Now can Heavenly Father through the Holy Ghost use a stupid rock song to speak to me?  The answer is yes and he did.  Grant it, the version that I listed above is a much cleaner version than the original, no swearing aloud, but the picture is the same either way.

Age is catching up with me, and I don’t mind it, really I don’t.  I don’t mind the white hairs that keep coming back, I don’t mind the wrinkles popping up around my eyes and between my nose, I don’t even mind that my body is much stiffer and sorer after a hard workout than it used to be when I was younger.  What I do mind is the fact that I am fifteen pounds heavier than I was seven years ago even though I workout harder than I ever have and eat about 500 calories less than I used to.  And sometimes I wonder how Jason can think that I am sexy and even if he does.  It was while listening to this song that I realized how crazy I am to even wonder this.  And here is why…

Jason is always taking a quick grab here and there, holding me a little longer than needed when he comes home at night, giving my bum a quick goose when no one is looking unless it’s our kids and then he doesn’t care if they see.  When I get undressed he locks the door so he can watch and when I pop into the shower he is always pulling back the curtain to get a quick look.  He cuddles up to me at night and wraps me tightly against him and he plays with my hair when we are watching t.v. together.  He calls me sexy baby stubs, and gorgeous and hot stuff and tells me maybe nine million times a day how sexy or gorgeous or hot I am, so why would there ever be any question whether or not he thinks me sexy?  And I know that you all, all of you married ladies out there, know exactly what I am talking about. 

Why does Satan have such a hold onto women’s self esteem?  Now I’m not a size two or even a size eight like some of you very beautiful woman out there are, but I am a size Angi, and that seems to be beautiful all in itself.  Some curves I would love to do without, but some of the curves I have…well I wouldn’t be willing to give them up.  I have beautiful thick hair and big grey eyes that sparkle.  My smile is contagious and my body is almost as strong as a man’s which is very important in the Gibson household with the line of work that we are in.  I smile all the time and laugh a lot which ads a special kind of softness to my face.  I look like my mom who is BEAUtiful and have the coloring of my dad which means I can tan up all soft and brown easily in the summer.   I have to be careful when I lift too much weight during workouts or I might bulk up a little too much around my shoulders and neck, but my amazing body can put on muscle like nothing at all.  I don’t have a flat tummy but I have a perfectly shaped belly button thanks to the doctor who reshaped it during a hernia surgery when I was six.  My waist isn’t as tiny as I would like but my big boobs and curvy hips help make it seem small.  I don’t have a tiny turned up nose, but it is slender and dignified and gives me an air as if I know something a little more than I actually do.  And last but not least, my butt is rounder than I would like but it is still perky even after 40 years and attached to the longest pair of legs that go all the way to the ground.

See what I am getting at here?  All of that makes up Angi, me, and I’m pretty awesome…and here is the secret…YOU ARE TOO!  And if you have any question about it, pay a little more attention to all of the signals that your sweetie is giving you, heck write them down with a check mark all day long as you are with him if you need to and I think you will be surprised all of the sexiness that he thinks that you are and then when Satan says that you’re not a size two or that you don’t have all the right junk in all the right places you can tell him that he is crazy and that he can go find some other sexy lady to harass, cuz we all know that “Guys like a little more bootie to hold at night,” and quick frankly being you, small and tiny, tall and willowy, round and curvy, elegant and graceful, or clumsy but spunky, whichever you may be is the perfect you and that in itself is sexy and you…yes you my dear are everything that that word means and if you don’t believe me, well….just go ask your hubby.

Biggest Tip Ever!!

In our line of work, the Gibson Family that is, it is not uncommon to receive a small tip beyond the set price for a job well done.  And when that happens I am always grateful, as I was last night.  We were able to go to the Little America Hotel and play a company party and set up our photo booth also.  The people were so nice and we made some new connections for other gigs in the future that I was so grateful for.  I couldn’t help but think that God had led us there.  And if that had been it, that would have been enough.

Pleasant night, pleasant people, nice income and new connections, but sometimes when you think everything is just as good as it can get, well, sometimes God gives you even more.

Last night’s gig was for a company called Sport Court.  They create all kinds of professional flooring for gyms, tennis courts, basketball courts, you name it.  They also create portable floors for outside sports or inside sports, even portable dances floors.  Well, in our line of work we come in contact with the dance floor variety all of the time and in our twenty plus years on the job I have seen some beautiful floors, but the one that they had brought last night for Jason to set up sound behind was one of the most beautiful floors that I have ever seen.  Here is their link to their site.  http://www.sportcourtwest.com/

When we first arrived there, the location of the floor was a little too close to where Jason needed to set up, so they unsnapped a section of the floor, pulled it to the other end of the dance area and snapped it back together in the most amazing set up that I have ever seen.  Ingenious actually.  They commented that in our line of work that we really should get us one of their floors.  I even took the time while they were eating their dinner just before it was our turn to start, to look them up so that someday, maybe when other things for the business didn’t need to be bought, we could save towards getting us one of those ingenious floors.

Long story short…the party went smashing, everyone had a great time and we had a great time, meeting good people and doing what we do best.  As they pulled down the floor that night, those awesome Sport Court people, they commented on how tired they were and how much they didn’t want to bring the floor home.  A few minutes later they came back into the room and asked Jason if he had a way to get the floor home.  Of course Jason looked at me surprised and completely wondering answered her, “Yes, we have a suburban.”

“Do you want the floor?”

Just like that…biggest tip we have ever received.  Did I want to cry when she said that?  Of course.  In fact I felt a little silly for feeling so like a weepy woman, but I don’t think they could completely understand how huge that was for us. 

So now Jason and I and our business are the proud owners of the most beautiful portable dance floor ever.  With all of the weddings and corporate gigs that we play that is a huge blessing given to us from some absolutely amazing strangers that I will forever be grateful for.

Sometimes over the past years in my married life, Jason and I have had some very hard turns.  After Luke was born and I was sick.  After Jenny was born and she nearly died and then she was so very sick.  When Jason’s dad died way too young.  My parent’s divorce.  Jason’s job change and taking him away from us for a year while he was in Nevada and the loneliness that came with it and the struggle too to pay our bills.  But over the years there have been so many good things too, more numerable than I can count so I will just name a very few…

Our wedding and honeymoon.  The birth of everyone of our amazing children.  Jenny living when we thought she would die.  Jenny getting well finally after almost 3 years of her being ill.  A new stepmom that I could love and a different kind of relationship with both my parents that is more amazing than I ever thought that it could be.  Jason’s new job, the one that he has had for the past several years being one that he finds so much joy in and it sending him back to Utah.  Our business booming.  My beautiful new daughter in law that brings us such joy.  Watching my son grow up and Jenny coming so close and being so proud.  Having a new sort of closeness and peace in our home as our children mostly grow up as friends.  And most of all, Jason and I having the kind of marriage that I read about as a girl and dreamt about.  So close to perfect, even with all the very imperfect things that happen and people that we are, that it almost scares me.

Sometimes when all these good things happen I am only grateful, and only filled with so much awe at my Heavenly Father, but other times, like last night, when I already felt so blessed and then so huge of a gift was given to us I feel a little guilty.  Surely we have so much that God couldn’t possibly give us more.  Isn’t it our turn for a tragedy, even a little one?  And I know that that will come again, as it always will, because this is Earth, and this is life, and sometimes it just has to be hard, but I am beginning to learn that great times can come too and they do come and sometimes a billion times more than you deserve, and it’s okay to only be grateful and not to feel guilt.  It’s okay to say thank you without feeling undeserving, because sometimes that’s just what God wants to give us and he doesn’t need a reason, sometimes he can just say, “I am your Father, and today I wanted to bless you.” 

And you know, when those hard times come it’s that knowledge of Heavenly Father’s extreme love for me that not only gets me through, but always helps me to be happy even while I am sad.  Sometimes it is just okay to say, “Thank you, God, for loving me today.  Thank you for reminding me that you are there.” 

I love you, I do!

I love you.  I do.  Each and every one of you.  I don’t know all of the so many of you out there all over the world that read my blog but I love you still the same?  How can I possibly know that you ask?  Because every time that I look to see a post that I have written and read where all of you have read it from all over the world I smile from head to toe and I think that I might even shine a little bit.  What else could do that than love? 

            You come from here at my home in the United States, many that I know and don’t and from all over the world such as, Germany and France, Ireland and Hungary.  Russia, the Ukraine, Iraq and Kuwait, the United Kingdom and Canada, the Philippines and India, the Netherlands, Romania, South Korea and South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and a great handful more.  I wish I could call reference to you all of you but after a couple of weeks BlogSpot sadly groups you all into an area of reference, a continent rather than an actual country.  We’ve even had some very small areas that the Gibson household wasn’t quite sure where it was and of course I looked it up on the trusted internet like you do. 

I now know where Moldova is, a beautiful little country with lots of green and such beautiful architecture, right in the middle of Romania and the Ukraine.  I feel like I have been all over every beautiful little section of South America and quite frankly the rest of the world.  And all of this I have done while sitting in front of my little computer in my little bedroom googling all of you.

            Yes, I think that I love you all so very much. 

            During Stake Conference today our theme was based around that first great commandment of all, “Love One Another.”  And it has gotten me thinking all day.  Sometimes I think it is easier to love someone that you don’t know, like all of you who make me smile from so far away, than the very people who we see and interact with every day.  I need to change that.  I need to see those people with Christ’s eyes and with Christ’s heart instead of my own.  I think if I did my heart would hurt with love inside of me it would be so big.

 I had a time where I was asked to be of service for someone that I didn’t even know by someone that I only knew through professional reasons.  I gladly accepted the weekly obligation thrilled that Heavenly Father had found a place for me to serve his children.  Week after week I continued in this service that only took ten or fifteen minutes out of my week once a week to do and I felt glad, but one day I had a clarifying moment that took it to a new level for me that I had never had before.  At the last moment as I was saying goodbye until next week to those younger members of this cute family that I was able to help, my heart started pounding so fast that I thought it might burst out of my chest and tears came unbidden to my eyes and for one brief second it was as if I could feel the Savior’s love for them in my heart and His thoughts in my head.  “I love them,” He spoke.  “Thank you for loving them for me today.”

            Now, can I say that the very little, literally only a matter of a few minutes every week that has come out of my life, that I really have done near to nothing in helping that family, only the slightest bit, but God did something in return by letting me feel His love.  And it’s moments like those that He gives us, not for us to be some great help to our fellow man, though that is definitely a very important part of it, but because He wants us to have little tastes of the strength of His love for all of us so that we can strive one day to become just like Him.

            My nine year old Sam said to me the other day, “Mom, do you know what my favorite part about Christmas Eve is?”

            I instantly thought he would mention our family tradition of opening all the family presents a day before most of the rest of the world, or perhaps Papa’s house and potato soup, or even Christmas Jammies at bed that night, but it wasn’t. 

            “I love that all of the kids sleep in one room and we are all stuck together.  There’s nothing better.”

            Sometimes Sam drives his four bigger sisters completely nuts, I think Steph puts up with him better than most, but even though Sam is such a totally easy going mellow boy to get along with he is still a boy in a houseful of girls and more times than not his teasing as all little boys do tends to annoy them, but he’s right, each and every one of them loves being stuck together in the same room on Christmas Eve.

            Sometimes the traditions that you put together out of necessity and in this case sanity so Santa can sneak around without getting caught, are really the things that draw a family together and teach them all about that Christ Like Love that Heavenly Father shows us so we can become just like His Son someday.

            So now when you go about your days this week, whether you are out and about at work or nestled tightly at home working your little tooshies off, remember that I love you, I do, and that most of all Heavenly Father and His most perfect Son love you too.

What Drives Us

Sometimes Facebook is so sensational that I don’t even want to look.  Other times you are stuck for so many hours in the car with nothing to do that you can’t help but to thank your lucky stars for that great invention, well…that and Pinterest.  I’ve been getting tired of the share this and share that attitude as of late, sure there actually is some blogs and some recipes that I am so thrilled that people share, even a few of those too funny cartoons, but mostly I would much rather see what is going on in your lives…yes you…the people that I really love and care about not some crazy person that I don’t know from some place that I will never visit, well unless that crazy person is me and you don’t know me and will never visit me and somehow you have happened across my blog and in that case, most definitely read it and certainly share it all over Facebook.

That having been said I did come across the most awesome share on Facebook that led to an immediate buy and download to my Christmas playlist and I just have to share it with you.  Get passed the whole “Jimmy” part at about the five minute mark and just listen to the song.  I loved it strangely enough!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xZ3Ezl5-Lk

Then there was this that very quickly went to my playlist…much more beautiful than Joel the Lump of Coal. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE

 

So I guess when it comes to something like that…by all means share away!

For Thanksgiving our family did something amazing that we have done the past several years.  We’ve built up a following after that initial Thanksgiving with Jason and Clint Robertson but this year all usual families involved had other obligations which just left the Gibson’s in California this year…though we did drag along my amazing mom and Clint’s oldest and also amazing daughter Megan.  Jason’s brother met us there for one of the afternoons.  Can I say that it was awesome!!!!  And I only missed the turkey a very little bit.

The girls couldn't stop taking pictures of the waves.  Gotta love smart phones.

Huntington Beach Pier

We played so hard in the ocean that at night I fell into bed, as pro as I am riding the waves I was equally as pro at crashing to sleep at night.  The first day was very calm and Megan and I and Nan all saw stingrays swimming through the water.  The second day both Megan and I stepped on those stingrays to feel them slip away under our feet.  Suzy and Nan were not so lucky.  What are the chances that two of my girls within an hour of each other would get stung by rays…well they did and let me tell you they were in pain.  Suzy’s pain only climbed past her ankle, but Nan’s sting was so much deeper and sent pain all the way to her hip.  Let me tell you, I got it about six years back and the pain you feel from the poison, well let’s just say as tough as I am it almost brought me to tears.  I was so proud of Nan though.  Jason bought some solar cane (Numbing Crap) and it didn’t work, but she knew it was her last day so she pulled herself into the water, limping, tears running down her cheeks and all, so she didn’t have to miss out on one more minute of the ocean.  It made me realize just how strong my no longer so little girl really is.  When she was little she struggled in school, first with being so shy that the teachers all worried about her and then with her grades.  What did she decide to do, work her butt off and now she is my crazy, happy, so very confident and extremely outgoing and friendly A student.  What helped her decide that?  What made her take that on herself?  Because that is what she finally did, decided who she was and made the changes to be that person.  My once skinny armed can’t lift a jug of milk little girl now throws around huge pro subs like they were nothing.  I get Jenny being able to do that, she is like me and naturally really muscly, but not Nan and now look at her.  What drives that?

The last several months have been insane as we, all Americans and really the rest of the world, have waited to see what would and did transpire over the chaos and finally the grand jury decision in Ferguson Missouri.  What decided that for those people to go crazy?  Sure, what was happening around them seemed unreal and for some unjust, but what caused them to join in and start destroying the very town that they live in, the very people that support them?  I cannot begin to understand where that much hate and animalism behavior comes in.  It seems so against the very nature that God put in us.  How does something created by light become so dark?  I’ve asked myself that over and over and then I looked at my children, playing in the ocean or at the Aquarium of the Deep, laughing and giggling with each other and realized that some of what God created still is good and still is filled with light.

How do we keep that light when so much chaos and so much insanity is going on around us?  Isaiah 5:20 ²⁰ Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that count darkness as light, and light as darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”  What do you do when so many seem to be looking for the bitter and throwing away all that is sweet?  Do we just give up and join them?  Human nature seems to point that way, so why don’t we?

We have to decide who we are and make the changes to be that person. Not saying that is easy to go against the sensationalism around us and not get caught up, after all that is our nature, that is my nature, but God made me and filled me with light and I can choose to continue to feed that light or let it burn out.  I can choose to let Ferguson Missouri and every other crazy insane wildness that continues to be the Daily News drive me and hype me or I can find the strength that my daughter found.  That quiet, sweet peace that if accessed enough can make you something greater than you ever thought, something only The Creator could ever have planned, but you have to decide it, I have to decide it, and the more of us that decide it the more it will spread and before long despite all the bitterness and all the riotness behavior catching the headlines a sweet peace will start to creep across the world.  Maybe those of us who are watching will catch this light and maybe, just maybe if we try so hard and listen so quietly we will be able to see it light within us too, because you see, that really is our choice, not matter how hard it may be, no matter how crazy everything around us may be, we ultimately decide.  We decide who we will be and we decide the kind of world we want to create and most of all we decide if we share it with the rest of all of God’s children.  It’s as simple as that…we decide.

                                              Pics of us at the Aquarium of the Deep

 

 

 

 

Us at the Tide Pools at Little Carona Beach

Sam found a hermit crab and it crawled out of it's shell.

 

 

 
 

 

And finally the Hippy Bus that a very little, very old, "Surfer Dude" told us to add our stickers too.