Christmas Memory #2

The memory I want to share today is of very special quality and I share it with the world to bring a smile to a face and warmth to a heart. Sometimes memories are too precious to share the entirety, so just know as you read that there is much more and I give you only part.

Christmas time is a rather special holiday for my husband and me. It all began Christmas 1999...

For 2 whole months I was tortured over the thought of moving to a state that I found rather intimidating; Utah. My good friend Kevin lived there and I lived in Missouri. The two of us had gotten to know each other rather well and wanted to pursue "dating" and I decided to move closer (I say "dating" because you can't do too much of that states apart). I was invited for Christmas and spent one glorious week. I spent a good deal of the time hunting for jobs and apartments. I was overwhelmed and discouraged due to the reservations I had in regard to Utah in general. But Kevin was very supportive and encouraging all along the way.

On Christmas Eve we drove up to Salt Lake City where Kevin's mother and her family awaited meeting...Me! Can you imagine how I felt meeting all of these family members as a girlfriend trying to fit in? Kevin took me to the famous Temple Square to see the beautifully decorated grounds. He was however, not as enthusiastic and warm and bubbly as he usually was. I was really taken aback by this. He barely spoke a word the whole evening. He held my hand and continually had a far off look on his face. Suddenly out of no where I had this thought "He is going to ask me to marry him".

We walked all around the grounds and saw all sorts of love birds snuggled under trees, walking hand in hand, and I continued to have a strange feeling of distance between Kevin and I. Before I knew it we were back on a bus that would take us back to the truck at the parking garage. Did I mention there was silence the whole way? I began to wonder what I was doing there. Was I doing the right thing by moving to a state I dreaded, to be closer to a guy who barely spoke a word to me all night and acted incredibly awkward, and didn't even propose! I couldn't believe it. Wondering what was going through that boys mind drove me bonkers, which just caused me to withdraw. Which there was mistake number one, I should have not cared and not give it another thought. But I did, over and over and over.

We arrived back at his Grandmother's house where a lot more family awaited our return. There were games, food, laughter, and all sorts of excitement. Awkwardness dissipated and that bubbly energetic Kevin was back as if nothing were different. I felt a wave of relief and relaxed and enjoyed myself.

Christmas morning goodbyes were said and we make the lengthy drive back down to St George where more family awaited our arrival to open some gifts. The ride down was strange. It was a getting to know you session and the oddest questions were asked of me, which to all I answered agreeably.

Upon arrival at his house all his local family were gathered around to open some gifts. Everyone had gifts and laughs over secret jokes and I felt as if I was peeping in on a family tradition I should not have been part of. I squirmed and felt awkward until I was handed a gift at the end. A single priority envelope. I looked around nervously as all eyes were on me, accompanied by grins that seemed to be repressed.

A single invitation lied within the envelope. An invitation to go on a scavenger hunt beginning immediately. There were explicit instructions that I must follow to a T. Kevin's sister was my driver for the activity, I had to wear my very best outfit I had brought, and I must be quick. My heart was racing the entire time! I had never been part of anything so fantastic and exciting before. Coming from a state with zero creativity and dating a man from the most creative state in the country made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Each location I had to get to had a small gift and another clue. At one point my gift was surrounded by a small group of elderly folk trying to figure out what it is. When I approached my gift they all turned and said, "Oh this must be for you! The handsome young man who left this here was here just a moment ago". My heart leaped at the thought of him being just steps ahead of me. I wanted to run to him and thank him for the best day, the best gift I had ever been given. But there was more to come on the hunt and I could hardly wait to see what was next.

I had arrived at the final clue, the final destination. It was a place of very special and significant value. I could hardly contain myself as I walked amongst the beautiful grounds, my eyes continually searching for the final gift. My eyes fell upon my gift, Kevin standing under a tree, more handsome than ever. I walked up to him hugged him and thanked him for the most amazing gift. Tears of overwhelming joy were already filling me eyes, so when he said, "There is one more gift", I couldn't hold them back. I couldn't imagine being given more than he had already given me. But then he pulled out a tiny gray box.

Now, don't be upset, I am going to interrupt this fantastic tale to give you a little background to what I am about to think in regard to the tiny gray box.

Kevin had visited me for Thanksgiving just a month before and with him he had brought several tiny boxes. The first tiny box was a necklace given to me at a very special place in St Louis Missouri. The next tiny box was given to me atop the St Louis Arch, 3 rings made of different types of rock. (Which reminds me, the first gift on the scavenger hunt was a tiny white box and within was a ring made out of an old nail.)

Ok, back to this fabulous tale...

I said to myself, upon viewing the tiny gray box, "It's earrings. It's earrings. It's earrings!" As Kevin lowered down onto one knee and opened the tiny box my eyes fell upon the most precious ring of all accompanied with the words I had longed to hear since I was but just a small girl "Suzanna, Will you please marry me?" I stood in shock and wonderment, tears pushing against my eyelids but not quite falling, a smile so large I could no longer feel my face. As I held this amazing man in my arms and thought, "Is this for real? Someone please wake me now if I am dreaming!" Kevin said softly in my ear, "Is that a yes?"

Well, the rest is history! We were married in a very special place in St Louis Missouri where he first tortured me with a tiny box. I was quite pregnant for our second Christmas, and two Christmases after that our second daughter had arrived a month prior and we had a family of four only three years after the greatest day of my life!

Christmas Memory #1

One of my most heart warming, emotional times was the Christmas 1998. I was on a mission for my church in Niagara Fall New York. I had been away from family for just over a year and had been missing them tremendously. I had been forgotten the previous Christmas and received very little mail the entire year. So, as Christmas time approached yet again and my companion was receiving package after package and letters innumerable, I mentally and emotionally prepared myself for yet another year of silence. I did rather well hiding and covering up the pain inside, and immersed myself in giving, serving, and loving the people I served. It truly was a good holiday season and I was happy the Lord was blessing me with a cheerful attitude.

The countdown to Christmas day was fast approaching, the mailbox was checked multiple times a day, the door step thoroughly inspected for hidden packages the mail carrier may have delivered. And still nothing came. Christmas day came and nothing else. I was broken hearted and gave it my best to suck up the hurt inside. The day after Christmas after returning home from an appointment, low and behold there upon the door step was one single medium sized box. I stared at that box, I hugged the box, I caressed the box, and with childlike dreams wondered what could possible be inside.

With shaking hands and increased heart rate I slowly, and I might add with reluctance, opened the box. Immediately my eyes overflowed with tears, my heart was so full I could not speak. All I could do was sit and cry. Once I had gotten my composure I ever so gently reached into the box and removed the quilt made by my parents, sisters, brothers, and their children. Each square had a hand and a scripture. And right in the middle says, "Suzanna's Praying Hands". I wrapped the quilt around me and literally felt the love and prayers of my family who lived so far away.

To this day, this memory is one of my fondest. I shall never forget that Christmas! The Christmas I received and felt the love of my family.

(I had a pictures taken while opening the package and being wrapped in the quilt. I have looked everywhere for these photos and cannot find them anywhere! I am so downhearted right now, I had wanted to share that moment with you!)

Who am I?

For most of my life I felt like an odd ball, unsure of who I was or what I should be doing with myself. I had great desires and passions, but they were so fantastic I felt they were unrealistic; why they didn't compare to anything anyone around me dreamed! So, I did what any girl with low self esteem would do. I buried myself, and buried myself deep!

I am now, shouting it out loud and long. I know who I am! I know what I need to do. I am reading a great book called Please Understand Me II by David Keirsey. I strongly recommend this book to everyone.

To change the world one heart at a time is the deep desire of my heart. I am willing to do whatever necessary to assist in combating personal wars. I dream of far of places needing me, I dream of the child next door needing me. I dream of the man I am married to needing me. I had previously thought these were endeavors for super heroes, or that I was naive for thinking I could do anything remotely this phenomenal! This book I mention offers a quiz to help the individual gain understanding into their temperament, character, and intelligence (see cover of book). Although I have barely scratched the surface of this book, not to mention the great surface of "Me", I feel I finally can say I know who I am and what I need to do to make my mark.

I never was dedicated to my education (this is a subject for future reference) because I never understood what to focus my attention on. Ya know, there isn't a super woman degree! I didn't understand enough about myself to know where to apply myself. Oddly enough a year ago I was "guided" to my current degree program, Social Science. I am awe struck at how long it has taken me to find the right focus. Someone was definitely looking out for me on this one! I actually enjoy learning and even look forward to a Masters Degree. Now who'd have thought Ol' Slacker Sue would go that far!?

I must admit, I am a bit frightened by all of this. Just because I am now not afraid to admit my huge dreams does not make the grandness of my mission any less frightening. I admit, my feelings of inadequacy are overpowering. If I were super girl my kryptonite would definitely be lack of confidence.

So, check the book out. Discover something new about yourself. If you already know who you are then read it anyway, maybe it will give you a boost to magnify your potential. Who doesn't need a nudge back on track once in a while?

What kind of seeds are you planting?

Last night I attended a free class about creating abundance in your life. The instructor used the parable of the sower to instruct us on how to get the most out of life. The class did not discuss marriage, but I had a light bulb moment and must share it with you.

I frequently have something along the lines of "you are..." directed at my husband (and not usually pleasant or uplifting). My husband responds with "OK", or "If that is the way you want it". Of course that isn't OK or the way I want it. It is my female way of saying knock it off or I can't handle what you are doing. I realize it is not the best way to approach a man (or anyone for that matter), but when upset it is hard to think any other way. The light bulb moment was this...My husband was not trying to frustrate me further. He was simply trying to please me and be the way he thought I wanted him to be. Now why on earth would he think I want him to be (...)? I am reaping what I sow. I plant in him names or labels and that is what he will become. My new goal is to stop labeling; stop sowing bad seeds in my husband and start planting with love and tenderness the seeds he is worthy of.

2 Steps Back

How does that old adage go? "Three steps forward and two steps back." The past few days I was progressing quite nicely. I fell short last night and my demons once again presented themselves causing me to not just take two steps back but to fall back. The difference between last night and so many instances in the past is that an unseen force was there for me and for my husband. A force that took us by not only the hand but by the heart and helped us get back up.

A thought has been going through my mind this morning, aside from my two steps backward last night. It is better to face sorrow that I may know the good from the evil. I am a religious person and attend a sacred ceremony every Friday morning before the sun even awakes. I do this by choice. I do this so that I may draw closer to my Maker. It is in this holy place that I am reminded of the purpose of my life. It is here that I am reminded why I love my husband so much. In spite of every trial and struggle and heartache I endure (or cause) I am reminded that my marriage is eternal, that if I face and overcome the weakness of my physical character I will be given more than my mortal mind can comprehend. I am reminded of my duty to my husband as his companion and friend. There is no other place on the face of the earth I would rather spend my Friday mornings. It is here that I find the courage and hope required to let the past week go and face the coming with renewed vitality.

So I failed last night, today I am stronger and more prepared. Today I am even more aware of my weaknesses and ready to face them head on. My mind, my heart, and my feet are ready to make up the 2 steps we lost and move forward!

Dudes and Chicks: Testosterone and Estrogen

What does a spider and mold have in common? Scientifically nothing, as far as I am aware. Emotionally, a great deal according to the husband. Upon his request I was asked to help come up with solutions to this problem, after the venting and raging about the issue. He informed me that I need to think less like a girl (in regards to me getting emotional and extreme with my labeling him as over compulsive and wack-o) and more like a guy by helping him think logically and find a solution to the one spider problem and the shower mold. After offering a suggestion there was a moment of silence in which I could take my shower and contemplate further on what just happened. I took his challenge and thought like a guy. I said to myself, "I am a dude. What would a dude think about all this?" What follows may or may not be a real dude solution but according to a chick, this is what a dude would think.

"Dude, I am dude! I need dude time! Living in a house with 3 females and all this estrogen is really affecting me. I need to stop being so extreme about all the stuff I think is a big problem and stop freaking out over everything. I need to stop nagging, isn't that the woman's job anyway? I am hormonal and emotional and take everything as a personal attack. I need to go hunting or fishing or bowling or grunt at something. I need to do something truly manly and dude-ish."

So, after thinking like a dude I went to the husband and said, "I did what you told me to do. I thought like a man and if I were a man I would need dude time."

Husband's response: "Are you rejecting me?" (Again, isn't that something a woman would ask?)

So, I went back to the bathroom to complete my nightly ritual and all of the sudden something hit me. Something I should have seen a long time ago. Something my husband has been trying to get me to understand for almost a decade.

I put myself in the shoes of a women whose husband is frequently gone doing "dude stuff". I would nag him about being gone too much and I would nag him about liking his guys better than his girls. I would nag, nag, nag. I thought, "I do not want that!" I went to my sweet husband and I first apologized and then and I thanked him for loving me and finding me to be his one true friend. He has told me many times he doesn't need guy friends when he has me. As a female who needs female friends because my husband cannot fill that need, I felt extremely guilty.

My husband having dude time is not going to solve anything. Especially my attitude. I assumed his ranting and raving about the spider, mold, and whatever else he conjures up before he goes to bed, is because he is unhappy with me. I need to trust that he is happy with me. I need to be understanding of where he comes from as the man of a house. He sees problems left and right and wants to "fix" everything. The part that causes him to be so frustrated is that he is tired all the time and always too busy to do anything about "fixing" anything. I love him. I love that he cares so much.

What I need to do is stop the emotional response every time he gets upset about something. Not everything is my fault, so I need to stop reacting as if he is blaming me for everything. When in all reality he is upset at himself.

Question for the dudes:

How do I support him with his "problem", minus all my estrogen?

MHC?

Male Hormone Cycle. Yup, that's right. Men have hormone cycles too. And girls believe me when I tell you that their cycles can be worse than ours! My husband, when he is in a good mood (which means he is not on his MHC), will admit it! Actually, after watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding recently, he has decided to call them HORMONIES. It lightens the mood.

So, for today's 3rd entry I will just let you know that I successfully survived my husbands peak of MHC last night. Maybe I should get him some chocolate to munch on tonight. I know that always makes my hormonies more bearable. I think we should both be old enough that our hormonies should be balanced...Right? Unless of course men go through some sort of menopause too. Wait! It is call men-o-pause. So maybe, for women that is when men should pause in their verbal and physical pursuits. And for men, well they just need to pause. So, that is straight from the mouth of Dr Sue. You hear that? Once you reach the menopause phase in your life, just press pause; no matter your gender. Hmm, I wonder what I mean by pause? That needs some serious critical analysis.

Peanut Butter Cookies

It is amazing what greeting your man at the door with fresh home baked peanut butter cookies and a big squeeze can do for your own heart! My husband has what I will call from now on CARD (Critical Anal Retentive Disorder). His "made-up" (by me and partially him) disorder was no less extreme than usual last night, but my reaction to it was lets say, less intense! I cannot let my husband have all the fun with a "made-up" disorder. So, now for my "made-up" disorder...UIFD (Unbalanced Intense Female Disorder). I tried so hard to come up with a funny acronym! My husband and I have found that laughing at our "disorders" is far better than taking them too seriously.

Well, today will make day two on this journey. Who would have thought Peanut butter cookies could have so much power! Anyone need a cookie?

I've Gotta Be Startin' Something

I am guilty! I have stolen my title from Michael Jackson. It doesn't matter though because it still applies to what I have to say to you today.

My last entry was quite dramatic. I was experiencing some pretty dramatic things in my mind. I have since decided what better place to work through my drama than here, in my virtual world. What better place to share little tidbits I learn along the way. Who knows? Maybe in some small way I will help my readers face their struggles.

I know, I am going to be getting pretty personal. I am going to be opening up a whole lot of "stuff" that many people don't usually discuss on blogs. So what? Maybe someone should. So, today we shall begin this journey together.

"Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands" by Dr Laura Schlessinger. The title alone makes me want to puke. My initial reaction when I first read the title was, "what about me? What about the proper care and feeding of me?" In addition to this really negative first reaction, my mother-in-law was the giver of this grand book. I thought, "what is she trying to tell me?" The receipt of this book certainly was not positive. And then a month ago, my sister-in-law sent me her copy and recommended it. Again, "what is she trying to tell me?" I am beginning to think my husband's family doesn't think I am taking very good care of their boy.

So, all of this has really gotten me thinking. Am I giving my husband proper care and feeding? My thoughts and feelings go so much deeper than this though. Let me try and explain it short and simple with an attempt at adding some sweetness. (ha, sense my sarcasm in that?)

I came to the conclusion that there is a very dark truth about me. I am possessed of the devil. Laugh all you want, but it is true. A devil called pessimism, depression, and anger. Oh and let me add to that list lack of trust. Wait, I think that is 4 devils. Yikes! I am pretty screwed up!

My mind had been so completely clouded over with lies. Lies that any rational person would have immediately disregarded. I had far lost any rational thoughts on the matter of marriage that my heart too became dark. One may ask, How does this happen? I will tell you. A little at a time. I can take you back to the very beginning of my relationship with my husband and I can tell you that from the very very beginning our relationship was under attack. I allowed the bombs to enter my mind and heart and eventually bring us today, a tiny little village within my heart completely destroyed by war. I allowed it. I am a spiritual person and believe there is opposition in all things. If there is something so great as love, then there is certainly something as great as hate. Light and darkness, I have certainly experienced both.

I have not lost hope in marriage. I have actually gained some serious insights, or light if you will, on the matter of my marriage. In particular I have finally understand what was happening to me.

I wrote my husband an in depth letter discussing my fears, ultimately my "devils". I have realized that when I admit something to myself and then confide my weaknesses in a close friend I become more aware of attacks made on my weaknesses. Facing trials seems more bearable. And I most certainly come out stronger, rather than weaker by holding them in. Because, previous to my confession I locked my fears deep with in my heart, afraid that if I let them out people would get hurt, which in all reality everyone around me was getting hurt even worse than if I let it out.

The "something" I've gotta be startin' is a documentary of my new path. I am going to take you along. One, I need company, and two, maybe we can learn from each other. How often have you been allowed into someone's life? Someone's struggles? Welcome to mine. I do not anticipate a perfect journey, I understand there will be bumps along the way. But we will experience them together. Maybe laugh, maybe cry, but we will definitely learn.

So, come along as I take you on my journey to a happy and healthy marriage! I will strive to document daily, that I may recognize on a daily basis my progress. As my profile states, this is my world...welcome to it!

To Fly Would Be Grand

With every step I took negative energy was released through my toes. My arms swung with great force to burn off all my anger and frustration locked deep within. I noticed my surroundings, that they were beautiful, peaceful and serene, but I did not give my heart to the hills for fear they too would betray me. The water babbling along through the canal was free, why could I not be free just as she? The ducks that foraged along the bank for breakfast too were free, why not I? I walked on fiercely, my thoughts and emotions driving me further on.

My feet dove straight into the soft sand of the foothills, nothing could stop them or keep them from going farther still. Away from the shade of lush trees along the canal path and facing the dry mountain desert hills, my nerves lose tension as sweat begins to run down my cheek. The sun's warmth is welcome to my icy disposition and I long to climb to the top of the world just to touch the rays that give such warmth! My breathing is staggered as I suck in air so dry my lungs heave and my mouth longs for moisture. I continue forward determined to leave my world behind. The hills are alive with red winged grasshoppers and yellow fuzzy ants and tall sunflowers. The hills' current hiker is dying and longs to be just as alive as its occupants.

I reach a summit. I stop and turn in circles as I take in my surroundings. I look below to where I had come from and see that if I run fast enough back down I may just be able to fly. I take my first step, then another, soon gravity increases and my feet are no longer my own. Up and over hills, around the bend, at every turn insects fly and buzz and click their little bodies out of the path of furry. How I long to be free, free to fly far, far away from here!

I stop, hunched on the ground, coughing and sobbing. I can not fly.

I'm a Poet and Didn't Know it!

As I lay in bed
I listen to the sounds of thunder
I synchronize my heart beats
to the beat of rain
My heart breaks with the crack of lightening
The inner peace I previously felt
is shattered by annoyance

Years and years ago I had an English class that spent a small portion of time on writing poetry. I was horrible! I just couldn't rhyme or be emotional or anything. A few years after high school I made an attempt to read and write poetry, but I just never understood it or fully grasped it's point. The story behind the above poem, in case no one gets the true emotion of the poem, goes like this...

Last night I was determined to go to bed at a decent hour, it was 1045. I was excited and thrilled to go to bed with a storm rolling in. I just love the sounds of a storm! As I snuggled in to my cozy bed, so comfortable and ready to fall quickly asleep, I heard a noise that was not the noise of a storm. Boom...ba da boom, da da tadada, Boom...da da boom, da da tadada...repeated over and over and over and over and over and over....I think you get the point. These were the first external sounds that filled my ears since living in our new place. My impression of having quiet neighbors was boomed right out of existence. I did all within my mental power to block the annoyance and focus on the whir of my fan or even better, the rarity of natures rhythmic percussion. Nothing worked.

The annoyance continued for 45 more minutes! Before I knew it I was falling asleep way beyond a reasonable time to go to bed and barely even had the chance to truly enjoy the rare storm.

So, before falling off to sleep I wrote the above poem. And that was when it occurred to me. Poetry only makes sense to the author of the poem. Take my poem for example, the reader would probably think I was saying the storm was annoying. Well, now you know...neighbors are annoying.

In conclusion,

As I lay listening to the sounds of a soothing storm announcing Autumn is near,
neighbors are listening to the sounds of bad rhythm and drinking beer.

How's that for rhyming?

God does hear us

We moved into a house that is 2 blocks from our children's school full knowing that the first grade was FULL. Lydia was number 3 on the waiting list. We were planning to home school her (because they wanted to bus her to a different school that was 4 miles away) until the school notified us of an opening. Lydia was devastated by this news. She was truly heart broken. She was also very mature about it and agreed to work hard from home so that when she could join her class she would be on top.

As a family we have been praying that Heavenly Father would bless Lydia to start school on the first day with her sister and the other children. In secret I pleaded with Heavenly Father to know the thoughts and feelings of my 6 year old child. I told Heavenly Father that I knew that with Him, nothing was impossible. I knew that if it was His will, 3 families with first graders would have already moved or would be moving.

Today, just moments ago, I received a call from the school. She informed me that they received notice that 3 first graders had moved and that Lydia would be starting school along with all the other children! Right then and there while on the phone with the secretary I got choked up and could have cried. Not because Lydia's attending public school was so important to me, but because attending school with the other children was important to Lydia. I am so emotional because Heavenly Father KNOWS and LOVES my precious child, HIS child. He HEARS and ANSWERS prayers of the young and old!

For with God NOTHING shall be impossible! Luke 1:37

The Hills Were Definately Alive

On a day not too long ago I felt restless and needed a hike. Upon dragging the family out to a spot unknown to me and well known to the husband, my heart began to lift and my spirits began to ease.

The weather was a perfect 77 degrees with the most gentle and refreshing breeze. A warm sun to melt any ice that may have previously been embedded into the crevices of my heart. As I walked along the narrow path that winded gently through the foothills my eyes were turned upward in a moment of gratitude and appreciation for such a beautiful gift. The foothills could not be more alive and perfectly beautiful than they were at that moment as I walked by. It was if the foothills had just woken up from winter to say "Hello, Am I not just the most beautiful country you have ever seen?"

Wild flowers had bloomed in abundance and danced to the gentle tune that the wind played. In the distance I could hear the sound of birds playing in the tree tops and the giggles and sequels of children being chased by their father, distant sounds because my wild heart could not be tamed that day and I felt the need to run on.

Ah yes, the flowers. The colors that spread like a blanket over the usually dusty desert hills were all fresh and wet as if the artist had just completed his masterpiece and had not fully dried yet. Flowers of white, purple, yellow and a unique treat I had never before seen, a sweet pink flower resembling the kind you buy at the florist shop. The sage was in full bloom and smelled of a freshness that only an allergy suffer would not notice. Thanks to Zyrtec I was such a person who might enjoy a day like this.

The hike offered such a variety of natural pleasures to enjoy. Red winged black birds and the sounds of birds I could not identify. Sunshine was offered while walking through sand and sage. Tall shade trees that offered a refreshing break from the hot sun grew in abundance around the bank of a gentle stream. Plant life foreign to my uneducated mind of biology was alive in every imaginable way throughout the foothills. My mind may not know the names of the plants or birds but to my soul they were all close friends. Friends I was sad to say good bye to when the hike had ended.

Dehydrated Carrot

I have an interesting analogy today. Today's message at church was a unique tribute to mothers, talks were given on Adversity. Oddly enough it is true. My good friend gave a wonderful message about facing adversity and coming out stronger and more faithful. She is a wonderful example and I only hope that I can become half of what she is.

So, my thought is rather pathetic but it is real none the less. I was lying in bed momentarily after church and said to my sympathetic husband "I feel like a dehydrated carrot", SNORE (Kevin was asleep beside me).

As I sat listening to the amazing message presented by my friend, who I happen to admire a great deal, I began to think about the adversity I have faced and whether I learned everything I should have learned, did I really grow from it. I then noticed the woman within my peripheral vision, all of which are amazing women! I had high regard for each of them and the respect I had for each of them was huge, each in a different way! So, while I was laying in my bed reflecting on these amazing women I oddly thought of a really good vegetable soup. All of these women were like the amazing delicious ingredients in the soup. Vegetable soup would not be the same if any vegetable was missing.

And here I was feeling rather inadequate among such amazing ingredients, realized I was a dehydrated carrot that was thrown into the soup. If only I could rehydrate myself and become just as amazing as the fresh potato or home grown pea.

I understand that was not my friend's intent, to make me feel like a dehydrated carrot. I certainly left the meeting thinking to myself, half conversing with God, and asking "Have I sufficiently learned?" If I had I wouldn't be asking that, right?

I want to be a fresh, home grown, organic carrot. But seen as how I am not I will make the best of this "soup" and through the process of being stirred and simmered, maybe I can soak up some of the soup's goodness and flavor. So, although I was originally thrown in as a dehydrated carrot, maybe in the end it will seem as though I was just as fresh and homegrown as all the other amazing ingredients and no one will ever know the difference.

Utopia

My good friend asked me if my post on death was the "death of my blog". Hmm, good question. I have toyed with the idea of saying good bye to the old blog, possibly even print it and add it to my other journals. But I will have to say No, it is not good bye forever. This blogger is going to hang on until death does in fact tear me away from the clicking and clacking of keys!

In my defense of not blogging, my thoughts are just so reserved for my online classes that I feel I have nothing else to give right now. As the title of this entry states, Utopia, is on my mind. I am currently enrolled in Sociology 101. Very fascinating class. I was encouraged to imagine a society in which there are no social classes, no differences in people's wealth, income, and life chances. This was my reply to one class mate in regards to "middle class" status...

I too have thought a great deal about where I came from, where I am now, and where I long to be. I certainly would never place my growing up status as middle class. I certainly do not consider myself middle class now. But in defense of that I must say that if there were other statistics riding on what class individuals are placed in, I would most definately have grown up in Upper class style and would still be in Upper class style!

I have ALWAYS had food to eat, presentable and clean cloths to wear (my mother took great pride in appearance, it was all she had control over), a comfortable home with plenty of opportunities to learn and grow, a faith that I base my whole life around, parents who loved me and cared for me, and now that I am grown I enjoy the same pleasures except now I have an addition of a husband who works hard, has the same goals and ideals, and I have children who have 10 fingers and toes each, two eyes that work, two ears each (that work most of the time), and minds that are healthy and active. In my oppinion all of this makes me far more UPPER class than any wealthy woman on the whole earth.


To me that is a utopian society. A society in which there are blessings in abundance. Blessings beyond materialistic wants, but an abundance of the good and necessary things in life.

Death

An interesting topic for you today, death. I am on my final week of my first class back to school and it has been all about human development. This final chapter is about death, dying, and bereavement. I am still young but I cannot help contemplating this inevitable event. I want to put down my thoughts about this so that I can think more clearly in regards to the part, "What about my family?". I have always hated the idea of dying young and leaving my family to live long lives without me. I admit, I am greedy and selfish and do not want to share them, not with anyone. They are mine, all mine.

But with this chapter one of the reflection questions asked what we thought of death. My heart was wrenched and torn into a million pieces and I reminded myself again that I am not allowed to leave before my family has grown to a ripe old age and my husband and I die together in each others arms. Well, I sucked up that mentality and tried to think more clearly and decided a very difficult thing. That difficult thing is this...

I could not ever imagine my life without my children and husband. I would be heart broken to leave them. I had never taken the time to think about them and how would they get on without a mother and a wife. I had always felt that if they couldn't have me then they got no one. Young children need a mother, young men need a wife. As painful as it is for me to admit this, I would never want them to suffer and long for a woman in the house just to please their dead wife and mother. I would want them to be happy. I would want them to be taken care of. Ouch, this hurts.

I am done venting this. I am just deciding here and now that I am going no where and if I have to then the woman who takes my place better be DARN AMAZING!!! Oh wait, maybe I wouldn't want her to be better than me, because then my sweet children and husband would forget all about me. So, I'd be alright with her being just OK.

The Beaver

So, my absence has been due to the fact that I am now a full time student as well as full time homemaker, amongst other things, and I just don't have the time anymore to write. Any thoughts I have are mere passes in the wind. Nothing ever solidifies and gets put down on paper, or in this case, my blog. I have been more diligent in keeping my personal journal, but even those entries tend to consist of, "BLAH" or "Nada to dada". I even wrote one day "Nada Pinata" because it rhymed. How pathetic.

I am enjoying being back at school. I am learning a lot from this first class. But what I am learning from Adult Development isn't what I wanted to write about today. I have been sick the past couple days and not seriously motivated to pour over my text book as I should. So, yesterday I took a break and went to Netflix to watch a quick episode of Leave it to Beaver, season 1, just to ease some mental tension.

All about Leave it to Beaver...Man were those the good ol' days. I love that boy. So sweet and innocent, mischievous and naughty. Typical boy I'd say. I literally wanted to reach through my monitor and pinch his cheekies. The first episode was a complete crack up. I haven't laughed out loud like that in a while. By the end of the 24 minute episode my heart had been lifted. My nose was still running, my head still throbbing, it all seemed a little more tolerable after getting a good laugh in at The Beaver.

Uh, I guess it's true then. Laughter is the best medicine. Well, the Benn and Jerry's Berry Sorbet did help quite a bit too! OK, so the Sudafed helped the most, but I won't give all the credit to the drug industry because the Beaver sure is funny.

Forgotten

I was practicing a song on the piano yesterday for our church choir ( I am the new pianist, ha ha ha, I can hardly play as it is)and feeling a bit overwhelmed with my lack of skill, I decided I deserved a break from the HAVE to practice. I love to play the piano, I could do it for hours every day. My Grandma Stubbs gave me a book of classical pieces when I was maybe 17 or 18. I hadn't opened the book in years. As I bent over to pull the book off my shelf my heart and mind were flooded with memories of that book, my Grandma, and a promise. The promise means nothing, it was never followed through with. It was the memory that means so much to me. But not only that, it is what I gained because of my Grandmother's promise. My Grandmother, who has since passed away, brought me the book on one of her last trips to my home in Missouri. She sat down with me, handed me the book, and said, "I will give my....to whichever of my grandchildren who learns one of the songs that I have checked as favorites and play it for me" I was floored! I worked hard learning two songs. I was the only one to learn and play a song for my grandmother

Years have since passed. I had forgotten all about the book and all about the promise. I ran my hands across the contents page and noticed all of my Grandmother's check marks. I turned to the first one and played with rusty fingers a song I had long forgotten I had ever played for her. Then I played the next song on the list and I played with all my heart. I played for my Grandmother. I played hoping she would hear and be proud of me, that I could still play one of her favorites.

I realize that the gift that I never received wasn't the gift I was meant to receive. The gift I received is greater than the one lost. I received a love of classical music, I worked hard and learned to play a song that I would have never played other wise.

When I finished the two pieces I sat and thought of my Grandmother and my Grandfather who both had a love of the piano. I never knew them very well, they lived in Idaho and I in Missouri, but I pray that through my practice I am in some way reaching out to them and in some way close to them. Particularly my Grandmother who gave me the challenge in the first place.

Happy New Year

Late last night while Kevin and a friend were out back at the park shoot off fireworks I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark looking out the window at the humble fireworks display.

My mind was turned to my earliest memory of New Year's Eve. I must have been about 9, the year being 1985ish. My family was living just outside St Louis Missouri at the time. I had a really close friend, Heidi Schultz, who was hours younger than myself. She and I were very close, her family was my second family. I do recall even dreaming of marrying her brother who was just barely older than us so that I could truly be part of their family.

My parents had actually allowed me to go to the city with them for the big New Year's celebration that took place just beneath the Arch on the Mississippi River bank. The memory is so fresh in my mind, as if it was just last night that I experienced it. This memory is more than just an image, it involves all of my senses.

The stench of alcohol and cigarettes on the thousands of breaths waifting down upon my young lungs, the ground so saturated with spilled beverages that my feet stuck to the pavement. My heart raced with excitement, anticipation, and even fear. Fear of the many people crowding me and bonking me to and fro, fear of being separated from my friend and her family. But then the show began. All fear was gone, my eyes were drawn upward and the sky was filled with the most beautiful bursts of color. So many explosions created a smoke filled sky, causing the fiery lights to be illuminated. Half of the beauty of the display was reflecting not only on the river itself but on the St Louis Arch, the emblem of expansion.

I'd never before seen so many fireworks light the night sky, and to have been underneath all of it. Looking up became painful, my eyes like a butterfly net catching not butterflies but falling ash.

I recall the feeling of climbing into my friend's van, the show ending minutes after midnight, my eyes heavy with sleep, smoke, and ash. The night had ended and with it another year and another childhood memory.

Happy times creating memories, happy times learning, happy times serving, happy times making a difference, Happy New Year, happy 2009.