The Secret to the Perfect, Imperfect Marriage

Ever have something so perfect and wonderful and good that you wished that you could share it with the rest of the world?  I have.  Sometimes it scares me a little that it is too perfect and therefore something must come along to pull it all down.  Other times I feel guilt because nobody else has what I have and why do I deserve something so wonderful.

Jason says I’m crazy when I say it.  Really.  Why should I feel guilty for having something amazing, even if few others do?  Wondering what I am talking about?

So last night I watched the show “Fresh off the Boat.”  Not life changing, it never is meant to be, but sometimes when I can’t fall asleep something light and fun like that show helps.  Anyhoo…it was their Valentines show and the middle boy who is a ladies man (he’s like 11 so it’s very innocent and cute) was making a love wall, hanging all of his valentines up on the wall and leaving them up for the whole year.  He was really sad later in the show when his parents had an empty house with no kids and instead of doing a gooey lovey dovey Valentines Night they stayed home and did their taxes.  Broke his heart but the neighbor man next door taught him that true love shows up in little things and not always in grandiose ways.

The idea was sweet, and it had a good message, but I couldn’t help but think of what Jason’s little things were, verses theirs.  Like the fact that he carries around a blanket for me in his car trunk just in case I might get cold.  How he knows the best places for me to go potty any trip we take because he knows I kinda hate public bathrooms.  How I have every gadget I could ever imagine for my kitchen cause he knows how much I love to cook.  How a section of our bedroom, his side of the bed even, has my stationary bike in it because he knows it is the best angle for the television and he knows I hate to workout outside cause it’s cold.  How he gets mad if the kids let me shovel the walk or driveway because he knows I can’t keep my core warm and I’ll shiver for hours after.  The times he gets the shower warm ahead of time just for me and a towel laid out because, well…the whole cold thing again.  He calls me to share his day with me all day long and he rushes home to me at night.  He snuggles and holds me nonstop and chases me around the house to get kisses and hugs because he needs me near, and he doesn’t even care who sees.  Even going to the store he drags me along because he knows how much I miss him when he is gone to work all day. 

Then I’ve thought about the big things that he does.  He never ever looks at other women and turns his head if they are dressed inappropriately.  And in no way form or circumstance does he ever let me talk bad about myself.  He tells me that I am beautiful, or sexy, or perfect about a million times a day and better yet he absolutely means it.  He says sorry first when I hold a grudge and he covers me up at night when he comes home late from a gig and I am already asleep in bed and my covers have slid off.  He holds me and listens and remembers everything.  He tells the kids how wonderful I am and expects them to treat me like a queen.  He goes to church and holds my hand or wraps his arm around me while we sit side by side, no children in between us, because, he taught me when our children were very little, he loves me and they should know that.  And I am the first person that he wants to share something with when he’s had a bad day, or even better yet when something wonderful has happened.

Now can you see why sometimes I feel so guilty because I have something so amazing?  But this is where I will share this little secret with you…are you ready…we, Jason and I, didn’t just happen upon this perfection accidently, and sometimes, some days, it’s lacking ever so slightly in perfection.  We’ve been married twenty two most beautiful, wonderful, amazing, incredibly hard years.  Sometimes me squeezing the tooth paste tube all wonky has driven him nuts, and sometimes him leaving his bags all over the living room coach has made me pull out my hair, but at the end of the day, none, not ever one of those things have ever been deal breakers.  Not the year before Jason figured out that he was Diabetic and his moodiness was really picking at me.  Not the year that my hormones were off when Luke was a baby and one minute I was crying, the next minute I was yelling and the next minute I was sulking.  Not when we had a teenage boy that was driving us to our wits ends and at each other’s throats and we didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.  Not when we had a very sick baby threatening to die on us every second and neither of us knew the right way to handle the stress of the fear.  Not even when I was on bed rest going stir crazy and Jason being pulled in every direction at once being both mom and dad. 

None of those things, or bigger things that pull at every marriage has ever been deal breakers.  And why is that, you ask?  How did we overcome that and flourish and build this perfect imperfect marriage.  Because…ready for this…we chose to.  There you have it, the secret to the perfect, most wonderful, beautiful, happy ooey gooey marriage is found in one word, choice.

Jason has always been better at this choice thing.  He chooses to forgive so much faster than me, he chooses to love even when I’m the least loveable, and he chooses so completely to think of me every moment of his entire day.  But he has taught me that choices, those moments of serving one another, of loving one another are the most important choices that we will ever make even if sometimes they are the hardest ones.  And you know what, the more that you make these choices the easier they become until your life is wonderful and amazing and perfect, well until something else hard comes along and then you have to make all those choices all over again.  But those choices are worth it and even if the other person isn’t choosing them you can, and hopefully somewhere down the road, they like me, will learn to make those choices too, because we are human and believe it or not we are completely capable, each and every one of us of making those wonderful though sometimes very hard choices to love, and forgive, because let’s face it, every one of us needs forgiveness sometimes.

So yes, I’m gonna make my ooey gooey Valentine’s Day wall to last all year in my house.  You may not recognize it as such when you see it, but I will always know what it is every time that I walk past it.  It’s this great big mirror in my bathroom, and in the right light it reflects back at me all the emotions and thoughts and choices that I have made every day and every day that I am making the right ones, the loving ones, I’m adding to that valentines wall that makes up this so wonderful and ever changing marriage that is all my own, well and Jason’s too.

 

More Grandpa Dinkels

Let me tell you about my Grandpa.

Louis Frederick Dinkel.

No this is not a blog on genealogy, though I know that genealogy is important.  This is quite literally about my grandpa and love, his love, God’s love, perfect love.

When I was a little girl we would go visit my grandpa, and my little bit crazy grandma.  Grandma was fun, she would buy us things, expensive things.  As a little kid, flashy things were exciting, but Grandpa was better.  I knew he loved me, loved me more than anyone or anything.  I remember him holding me tall to watch the coo coo clock.  I remember him taking me for walks and stopping to pick a rose from a neighbor’s flowers (OOPS) for my crazy grandma, and I remember how he looked at her, with love in his eyes.

I remember walking through the door every summer for the first time and him kissing me and saying, “This one looks just like me,” as he continued down the line of all of my brothers and sisters, even my adopted brother who is black.  I remember him taking us for rides to get ice cream in his old station wagon, and I remember him complaining to my grandmother every time that she bought him a new pair of fancy shoes that his old ones were just fine.  And I remember him shrugging and putting them on for her as he smiled at her with love.

I remember walking into his business and watching as he greeted each and every employee knowing everything about them and showing them proudly his spectacular grandchildren, and I remember thinking that I was someone special to all of those that worked for my grandpa, because I was his.

I remember walking into a restaurant or diner and feeling the room change and the crowd soften because the light that flowed from my grandpa lightened all that was around him, and for a moment peace spread through any place he went.  I remember his house covered in pictures of the Savior and crucifixes and holy bibles.  And I remember knowing his love for God was greater than anything that I had ever known.

And when I got older, I began to realize that crazy grandma was really very sick/bipolar/schizophrenic hurtful grandma.  Grandma wasn’t nice grandma, grandma wasn’t loving wife or mother grandma.  She was hurtful and cruel and sad grandma, and my grandfather loved her perfectly even with so much hurt.  He brought her shakes and flowers and slippers and she would say thank you one moment and be cruel the next, but my grandpa loved my grandma till the very, very end of his life.  Why, you ask, because he loved the Savior and he was as much like the Savior as perhaps possible in this life. 

When I got married and started raising my babies I always thought of my grandfather who only met my oldest once when he was only a few months old.  It’s been so many years since he has died, so many, but I still think of him every single day.

It took me so many years to learn to find joy, joy in everything.  It took me so so many years to be the glass is half full kind of gal, but now that I have lived so many years that way I can’t help but understand the kind of peace and joy that comes from finding something so great.  Sometimes my heart physically hurts from the joy that I feel.  And when it does I think of my grandfather.  How do I become like him?  How do I take that joy and peace and love and let it radiate out of me so that the room, wherever that room might be, softens from me walking into it, lightens just a little from me being there?  How do I share that love, that peace and joy so perfectly like my grandpa did?

He shared it so perfectly that this granddaughter of his, so many years later still smiles and softens for thinking on him.  He loved my Savior, his Savior, and he loved people even in their most hurtful states and he changed his little granddaughter for forever because of his perfect love.

Now if only there were enough Grandpa Dinkels around, maybe the whole world would change, because their God’s light, would be so great.  Maybe, just maybe, that is what this world needs, more of my grandpa Dinkels.  Maybe then eternity would be right now.

http://www.nedcoelectronics.com/pages/tribute.asp a tribute a little about him from his death.

 

The Devil's Business

I’ve tried to sit back, I really have.  I’ve tried to be the polite one who shared her views quietly as I blogged about sweet things, of hope and love, and God.  I’ve shared small quiet opinions on Facebook as I have shared others blogs and posts and by doing so I thought that I was being polite and kind.  I thought that I was doing my best to spread joy by not spreading controversy, but today as I was reading yet another blog by another person other than myself who seemed to put everything that I felt so perfectly into words for me, I realized that I wasn’t being polite or kind, I was being cowardly and hiding the testimony that is me, even if it might offend someone.  I need to use my voice even if all it accomplishes is to make someone mad.  I cannot profess to have a testimony if the only way I share it is in the quiet confines of my safe little home with others who feel the same way as me.  No fear of rejection, maybe, but no voice in a world that so desperately needs more.

Most of you know that I am a mother of six crazy kids.  I try to be a great mother, my most important job, but I am human and fail quiet regularly, and my kids are human and fail quiet regularly too…that being said, I’ve mostly stuck to the pleasant times in my life, or the testimony building times in my life in this blog.  Some of you may not know that I at times struggled to have those sweet kiddos of mine.  After Luke we had a very unexpected pregnancy, he was only three months old, but after lots of, “oh craps”, we accepted, moved on and even became excited.  Three months later on the move back to Utah I lost said baby.  At that point that baby was already mine and the loss was hard.  It took 18 months more of trying and praying and several early miscarriages later before we conceived Jenny.

Joy of Joys, let me tell you when Jenny was born.  That was until 5 ½ weeks later when she contracted RSV which led to pneumonia, which led to several days in the hospital which led to Jenny turning blue, which led to our doctor rushing to get her breathing which led to said doctor who was also our Bishop at the time and Jason giving Jenny a blessing and little sweet tiny baby Jenny and me riding frantically in an ambulance to Utah Valley Hospital where she almost died.  Seeing my baby with pick lines and tubes and oxygen for days struggling to live when in reality she should not have, crushed my heart, not to mention the next two years of her fighting to get her immune system back.

Flash forward 6 plus years to my little Stephanie.  5 ½ weeks away until her birth and suddenly my blood pressure is racing and her little body starts actually losing weight in the womb in the month that it should be gaining the most.  3 ½ weeks of bed rest and one false alarm emergency trip in an ambulance to Utah Valley Hospital later and sweet, very tiny, Stephanie is born, complete with the cord wrapped several times tightly around her neck and all, all 5 ½ pounds of her with fiery wild red hair and the sweetest little face ever.

 

 

 

I’ve had sister in laws who have struggled much worse than me, trying so desperately, going from one doctor to the next, spending day and night on their knees just to get the chance to be a mother.  And the heartbreak that I have seen on their faces says it all, childhood is a gift, a gift that so many don’t seem to understand.

Where am I going with this, well, I think you all know?  When Jason and I were first married and first pregnant with our first baby Luke, we lived far from home in a state very unfamiliar for us without the use of a cell phone and long distance being so much money.  I was young and naive and completely unaware of what to do next.  Looking for a place to come across discretely a pregnancy test I looked in the phone book and came across the name, “Planned Parenthood.”  Now this was 22 years ago and I was very innocent and in my mind those words described me perfectly, someone trying to plan parenthood.  I would like to say the pregnancy test was free…but it wasn’t.  It cost the same as it would have in the store, but it was discrete and very quiet.  Had I known then what I know now, I never would have gone.

Planned Parenthood is the Devils business.  By walking through those doors I was in the Devil’s house even if not aware.  And times have changed and the world has grown and eyes have been opened and everyone is aware, well accept maybe our very little ones who are still slightly protected from this world.  No one in America can any longer claim innocence like I could 22 years ago, media and the internet have changed that.  We all know who Planned Parenthood is and what they are about.  They are about the Devil’s work, destroying innocent lives before they have a chance to flourish or fail per their God given right, and destroying the most sacred institution in this world the family.  If you enter Planned Parenthood you are entering the Devil’s house.  If you work for Planned Parenthood you are working for the Devil’s business.  And if you have any excuses for it you are making excuses for the Devil himself, you are doing the Devil’s work.

There is no longer a grey line, a magic haze between right and wrong that is easy to sway one way or another to fit our whims and selfish desires.  When Planned Parenthood was ousted as baby killers that line was no longer grey but black and white and when the media hit with the sale they are making of these innocent victims body parts that only come after the horrible murder of ones too tiny to fight for themselves the magic haze disappeared entirely letting light, or maybe more accurately darkness shine in on the whole deal.

If you’ve ever been a mother, you cannot look at a little newborn in your arms and not know, if even just for one little second, that there is something, or someone greater working in the making of that child.  And if you’ve ever been a mother struggling with the fear or even loss of losing a child, you cannot logically say that that life didn’t matter, even in the few minute cells that it was in its very first beginnings.  And if you’ve ever been a mother struggling so hard and praying so long just for the chance to be a mother, you cannot possibly understand how someone, shellfish or inconvenienced or hurt could ever think it alright to destroy something so precious.

I don’t care who you are, what your views are, or how I might hurt your feelings…if you support Planned Parenthood, well then you are doing your little bit today to help the Devil along his way.  And if I keep shut about how I feel about it, well maybe, just maybe I am doing the same.

The Most Dreaded Calling that I Never Knew that I Would Love!

Who knew that I could love Scouts?  Certainly not me…certainly not the lady who was in Cub Scouts years ago when my grown son was a baby and hated, yet endured, every minute of it.  When the bishopric came and welcomed us into our new home over a month ago and asked what callings I loved and which had been my least favorite, my first response was that I loved Young Womens and that Nursery, though I had loved every minute of that year that I had served there, was not huge on my hope to serve there again calling list, but back in my mind I was also thinking, “Oh, please, not Cub Scouts.”

Shock to all get out when I was called, though I had had the feeling for a week that Cub Scouts was coming.  I told the first counselor that I wasn’t a Scouter, but that I would learn and that I could do anything that Heavenly Father wanted me to do and I chose to go forth with that attitude.  Let me reemphasize the word chose, because it very much was a conscious decision on my part, I was determined to do good by my new calling and by Heavenly Father.

That’s where the neat part comes in.  Isn’t God amazing?  In my heart I wanted to do his will and be grateful.  I wanted to serve where he needed me and where I could bless someone else, but that is the amazing thing about God, he knows what we need even when we don’t, he knows the best way to bless us even in a calling that we so don’t want.  I’ve only been at it 2 ½ weeks and only attended 2 activities and one training, but I am already excited for this Wednesday and to be able to go to Scouts.  I was even excited when the ugly yellow scout shirt came in the mail and it fit so perfectly.  And when I was on my knees in prayer this morning thanking Heavenly Father for the blessings that keep piling on our family and on me I was so grateful for our new ward and for the women that I am already getting to know and learning to love and I realized then that Cub Scouts was for me and not for those that I will serve.  God knew that I would meet some pretty amazing women there and get to know them in a way that only a calling can do for you.  He also knew that I needed to be part of the Sunday School and Relief Society programs to learn and grow and feel the spirit there and I couldn’t have in a Sunday calling that would have taken me away from that.  Not to mention the amazing women that I am learning about by going to Relief Society with them.

I didn’t know that when I was answering yes to a calling that was very close to one of the lowest on my list of must have callings would turn out to be God’s way of giving me friends and helping me to feel so much a part of a ward that is MY ward, and My ward family.  I’m so grateful for Cub Scouts, that most dreaded calling that I already am so in love with and for the choice that I made to have a determined and joyful attitude when called, because I couldn’t have known then that in so doing God was trying to bless me with everything, and everyone that I needed.  Who would have known?  Certainly not me.

Somebody Driving that Knows the Road

“Lord, but this is a funny world when you get to studying!  Looks like things didn’t all come by accident.  Looks as if there was a plan back of it, and somebody driving that knows the road, and how to handle the lines.”  –A Girl of the Limberlost- by: Gene Stratton-Porter.

Funny how many times that I look back on my life and think those same thoughts if not in such a pretty verse.  I sure had it all settled out when I was a little girl of how I hoped my life to be, and for the most part it has all come to pass, only so much harder, and so much more beautiful than I ever could have planned it to be.  It never ceases to amaze me how much God is in all of the details.

I miss my dear little town of Nephi, so much, as I was sure I would, but only God could have known how quickly I would become attached to this sweet place and these wonderful people in Eagle Mountain.  When we sold our house to the nice gentleman who bought it, I was expressing my concern for the girls feeling like they belonged and he said to me then that I would have no problem fitting in with the kind of attitude that I had.  I knew he was right, in a way, that I really could be happy anywhere, if I chose to be, and I am, oh how much I am.

I’ve decided to smile when I meet a new person, and look them in the eye when they talk to me.  I’ve taken part in Sunday School and Relief Society when I should be feeling shy and I’ve decided to enjoy the blessing of being so close to so many wonderful amenities.  Because that is what I can do and what I can be responsible for.  I can choose to love our Ward and become attached with every ounce of my being.  I can be excited about the good men who are in our bishopric and I can look for the love that they show to the whole ward and be grateful for their service.  I can watch the young mothers in our ward and remember when that was me and smile at their children and be excited about all that I know that they are learning along with their little ones and learn from their love and compassion and I can soak up the warmth and the wisdom that the older sisters have to offer and listen so closely to all that they have to say.

I can laugh at the constant incoming of well-wishers and family that stop by so regularly and be grateful that we are so loved even when sometimes I just want to flop onto the coach and relax.  I can even watch the men as they dig out the dirt for a foundation of a new house going in across the street and be excited by the thought of a new neighbor to love and the thrill of watching a new house being built from start to finish even if it is kind of loud…I can choose to be excited instead. 

I can look at Jason’s new calling that will take up so many crazy hours out of his week and be grateful that Heavenly Father is giving him so much opportunity to serve his people and be able to thank God a little more for all that he has given us all the while he is learning and growing and becoming even more amazing than he already is, even if that takes him away from the family a little more than I would like…look at the great example he is for my children, especially my little boy.  I can choose a lot of things…even things that are outside of my comfort zone and I can see the blessings in the choices that I make.

Oh…I miss you dear Nephi with all of my friends and even my family.  With your town celebrations and small schools where every teacher knows and loves my children.  I miss the familiarity of knowing almost everyone everywhere that I go and I miss the relationships that I have made over the years.  Thank you for helping to build confidence in my children and in myself so that we can go into this new adventure with our hearts fully into making the most of every moment.

 

 And…thank you Eagle Mountain for making me feel already so much at home.  You have won my heart with your outstretched arms and rolling hills and small town feel in a town that should feel too large. 

 

Thank you Nephi 10^th Ward for teaching my children and loving our family and helping me find the woman that I am today, the woman who is so excited for this next phase.

Thank you Liberty Farms Ward, for scooping us up and grabbing us right in.  We love you already even if we can’t remember all of your names.  Sitting in Sacrament Meeting Sunday I couldn’t help but know that this is where we belong, that you are now who we belong too.

And thank you Heavenly Father, for planning out the little details so far in advance that we didn’t even know that you had planned the path out ahead of us.  Thank you for taking the wheel and navigating when you already knew the road. 

Here’s to being happy because I choose to, making friends because I can if I want to, and falling in love once again with all of the beauty all around me.

 

Pure Craziness

Craziness seems to follow me almost everywhere lately.  Putting our house for sale in March seemed to start the “Madness.”  You know those little prompts in your head that speaks to you so clearly no matter how softly?  They seem to haunt you if you don’t know how to look at them correctly.  Well, they started itching at me about five years ago, just about the time that Jason’s job transferred him back to Utah.  Everything was perfect, right?  My husband was finally home, my children were adjusting to life in normal, finally, and I was happy wife and mother who couldn’t have asked for a more perfect life.  So why was it that those little promptings had to come?

I knew then that Jason driving over 70 minutes one way to work was ridiculous, but I loved our life in Nephi, we all loved our life in Nephi.  Enough said.  Even Jason said so.  He knew how much my house, my yard and my ward family meant to me and to the children, it would be all right for him to drive all that way and spend all that time on the road away from his life if it meant keeping us happy, and somehow all of us were content with that.  It wasn’t until a couple of years later at a recommend interview with a very Intune priesthood holder that the promptings stopped whispering and started speaking louder.

“You need to move,” he said matter of factly in the middle of our pleasant conversation.  “Jason needs to be part of your family again.  Take the next few years and get your finances in order and then you need to move.”

Now you may ask what it was that he knew.  Surely Jason and I should get the promptings for our own family, but sometimes God sends someone to awaken you when you have been sleeping through those little whispers that he has been sending.

I knew when this man said that, that God had been trying to tell me that all along.  So what did I do?  I cried a little…of course I did, I had the perfect life and God’s little detour was going to disrupt that, but then I smiled because I love Jason oh so much and the thought of him being around more, being part of the family more, having time to love me more, well how could I not smile about that?

So our plans started and miracles came to help us pay off some debt and pay down our house a little and put money away for the time when it came to move.  For the last three years March 15^th of 2015 sat in our heads of when to put the house for sale.  December 2014 came and I mapped out what I would have to do at the start of the new year to be ready to sell in a few months.  Prayers came to ask for guidance both for our family and for the family that would buy our house.  Kids were emotional.  Those that were normally tough were weak, those that usually battled through emotional crisis poorly arise to the change that was coming.  Little manifestations of God’s tender mercies seemed to fall on us so often that it left us with little doubt that what we were doing was right.

Then came that little itch again, that one that this time I was determined to listen to.  “Hurry up.  Don’t wait until the middle of March put your house up for sale in two weeks.”  When you are in the middle of painting and cleaning and packing excess away, the idea of moving up the listing of your house by two whole weeks seems a little impossible, but we did and magically we were ready in time.  Then it was prayers that we would know the right house for us to buy when we stepped into it, that we would know that God had sent us there.  Also were the prayers that whomever was supposed to buy our house would know too that God had sent them there.

4 ½ weeks later that man stepped through our door, looked at me without going passed the front room and said, “Now I know why I kept feeling like I needed to come look at your house, God has sent me here.”

I would like to say that from that point on the miracles kept happening and everything went so smoothly, but it didn’t.  Oh, the miracles kept coming, at such an alarming rate it seemed to knock the wind out of all of us…but at the moment the trials started too.  We looked at so many houses, all of which needed so much work, or just didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t possibly see how leaving perfect little Nephi could ever be a happy blessing.  Jason was frustrated and feeling guilty, the kids were terrified and horribly sad, and I was disappointed to all get out. 

But then, a light flipped on at the very last moment of our journey down the darkness that seemed to have no hope of lifting…a beautiful big house, on the rolling hills of Eagle Mountain Utah.  Jason and I both looked at each other as we stepped through that front door and said, “This is it, God has sent us here.”

Offer was made and accepted…loan was secured, all that we needed was the man who was buying our house’s loan to go through…

Days drug on, nothing.  Oh, it would be coming, the loan officer would say.  Supposedly sometime next week was all that we would be told, but then next week would come and nothing would happen.  Finally when we were down to the wire and we had already extended the offer by two weeks, the call came that we would be signing in two days.  Brilliant, or so we thought until those two days went and the loan failed and a very sad man called asking us to please wait and not sell our house to someone new while he tried to get another loan.  What do you do at that point?  Well, you cry some more.  Then you breath after all of the hysterics, you get on your knees, and you ask your Heavenly Father what he wants of you, no questions asked.  Jason and I agreed to give the man one more shot knowing full well that our dream house would probably go to someone else, but it would be okay because we were being patient and trusting God, even though my heart still knew that that amazing home in Eagle Mountain, that almost seemed to glow from the spirit guiding us there, was meant to be mine.  I tried to be happy and not fear as I felt like my dream was being ripped away, and somehow I was…I was happy and the fear completely melted away from me.  God was in charge and he got to decide, not me, not Jason, and certainly not the world.

Miracle of miracles was the call the next day…another loan had been procured in just shy of 24 hrs. time and we were to sign on the house the very next day.

Of course then came the rush of moving and living with my brother Cullen and his wife Annalee and their cute family for a week while we waited for the owners of our new house to move out, and of course moving in after all while the amazing Jen Jen graduated from high school.  Throw in the fact that we play end of school activities for about a million different schools throughout the state and grad-night parties for more than I would like to count…it really was craziness. 

And yet here I sit, trying to understand how I can share all of this with all of you and let you see just a smidgen of the gratitude that I feel.

This last weekend, five of my seven siblings and I took a much needed retreat to Saint George without spouses or kids and just enjoyed time to spend with one another.  So much fun, so much craziness, and so much of God’s love.  Family…that has been the whole theme of my whole life, even when I was a teenager and hadn’t realized it yet.  That is what God was trying to give me when he sent us here to Eagle Mountain, a chance for Jason to be more part of our family.  That is why we are here, my friends, for those connections, and if you think God isn’t aware of you or doesn’t care about you, all you have to do is look at that family that you were either tossed into at birth, or you grabbed up along the way, and you can’t help but feel that little bit of gratitude that I was talking about, because it is always there waiting for us to offer it while we smile at the life…the family that our Heavenly Father has given us.

                                                    Pics from our Siblings Retreat..

Ever tried smiling while holding in your cheeks?  Not a pretty picture...this is what it looks like.

Cullen feigning sleep.  Always the center of attention.

 

Brad...fun as always.

Jill the "Trunk Troll..." because that's what you do when you are out of seats in the Prius.

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.