A Price to be Paid

I have been frustrated.  It is not a new frustration.  It is very familiar, like an old pair of shoes.  Yet it is ill-fitting.  It often makes me wonder why I put up with it; why I don't cast it off, like an old pair of shoes.

I live in Oregon.  The beautiful part of Oregon.  The Willamette Valley.  As the historians remind us, it is the Garden of Eden at the end of the Oregon Trail.  This is where those early pioneers decided to end their journey and stay because it is such a beautiful place. I doubt they arrived in April though.  I have a love/hate relationship with the month of April. Having endured the long rainy months of Winter, resigning myself to that fact of life, I start getting a little antsy for a change. Then Spring comes, and things start bursting forth with new life, and color, and freshness.  BUT, the weather is often so lousy that it is impossible to enjoy the new life, and color, and freshness.  And simply looking out from a window does not count.

I braved the elements this morning and took my camera out into the muck.  I wanted to have reminders for myself of how beautiful this place is, how much promise April holds.  And when an Oregonian becomes afraid to get a little wet, she has no business being an Oregonian. 

I was happy to see there were still a few blossoms left on the cherry tree after the violent winds we have been having.

One of my new little lemon trees has not fared as well.  This may be the tenth time it has fallen victim to the wind.  We simply haven't found a break in the weather to get it planted in something more substantial.

I was able to get my flowers planted, though.  I only got rained on planting the last three.

The clematis is almost ready to pop out.

Despite my frustration, and sometimes harsh words about the Oregon weather, it would take an awful lot to convince me to move away.  I do live in a beautiful place.  And most of the time, I am willing to pay the price to live here.  Just not during April.

Easter, a new way

What an eye-opener.  I have gotten used to long, quiet days without driving kids around; I have gotten used to cooking dinner for two; I have gotten used to my turn for family prayer coming around much more often.  But I wasn't prepared for this holiday that doesn't seem too much like a holiday.

This Easter has brought about tender reflection on a number of things. Foremost has been contemplation on the miracle of the day; the resurrection of our Savior, Jesus Christ; another being the difference of homes with just two old folks, and those that are filled with the life and energy and joy of children.  I imagine other households barely containing the delight of children thrilling over Easter Egg hunts, and Easter baskets, and Easter dresses.  I chuckle at the thought of sugar-laden, energetic, happy children, running on beautiful green grass, twirling their skirts, and tugging on ties, casting off restrictive shoes.  I have grass-covered hills in my backyard that are aching for those bare little feet to find freedom in their coolness.  The blossoms of my cherry tree anticipate falling as confetti on curly little blonde heads.

And yet,  here we sit.  Two tired old people, caring for each other in comfortable silence.  Easter has been different today.  I am thankful for the beautiful Easter sermons we have heard today.  And the wonderful music.  But there is a void.  I just put the smallest Easter ham in the oven.  I don't even know how to cook a ham that small.  I am hoping the mashed potatoes and gravy will deliver the comfort I need.

We did have a lovely Easter Brunch for two, with piping hot gingerbread scones, slathered with fresh homemade lemon curd.  See, I'm trying to make things festive...

I hope you are all having a wonderful Easter, surrounded by the love of your family, and the love of our Savior.

Pitching our tent toward the temple

Will you be pitching your tent toward the temple this weekend?  We will be!  I love the visual given in the book of Mosiah, found in the Book of Mormon, of the crowds gathered around the temple to hear the prophet, king Benjamin, address his people and teach them the doctrines of Christ.
     "They pitched their tents round about the temple, having his tent with the door thereof toward the temple, that thereby they might remain in their tents and hear the words which king Benjamin should speak unto them." (Mosiah 1:6)

Okay, so maybe we won't literally be huddling together inside our little tent, while the winds blow and the rains pour. And we certainly won't be in Salt Lake City to gather with the saints in the beautiful Conference Center out of the elements.  But that doesn't mean that my family room can't be a sacred place too, with our chairs directed toward the television to watch General Conference, to listen to our prophets and apostles.  And in my family, there can often be found hot cinnamon rolls to reward those who get up early to watch.  I bet they won't be having those in the Conference Center.

I look forward to every time Conference comes around.  It has been a delight to watch my children throughout the years as they have grown in faith.  They were normal children, sometimes getting distracted with other activities, but they were always respectful.  And then as they grew, they eventually found a spot on the couch to sit and listen and take notes (usually without any prompting from their parents).  What a blessing that the Lord sent me children who would be so responsive to sacred things. I have a firm conviction that even though they are all away from home now they will still be found this weekend with their tents pitched round about their television sets, with the door opened toward the temple.

Have you ever gotten a little too comfortable laying on the couch in your favorite spot, oftentimes still in your jammies and have been known to doze off a time or two? I cannot deny this happens to me occasionally.  That makes me particularly grateful that the church follows another pattern from king Benjamin's day:  "he caused that the words which he spake should be written and sent forth among those that were not under the sound of his voice, that they might also receive his words." (Mosiah 2:8)  Thank heavens for the Ensign Conference editions and LDS.org, huh?

It is my hope that I will be prepared (and alert) to receive the teachings of the prophets this weekend and that I won't "trifle with the words they speak, but that (I) will open my ears that I may hear, and my heart that I may understand, and my mind that the mysteries of God may be unfolded to my view." (Mosiah 2:9)

Won't you join me?  I hope you get to have cinnamon rolls, too.  You're welcome to drop by for some of ours, but you might find me still in my jammies...

You may be a prude if...

Here is the definition of the word "Prude" from that ever so reliable source, yea, you know which one.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"A prude (Old French prude meaning honourable woman)[1] is a person who is described as being concerned with decorum or propriety, significantly in excess of normal prevailing community standards. They may be perceived as being more uncomfortable than most with sexuality, nudity, alcohol, drug use or mischief.
     "The name is generally considered to suggest excessive modesty, and is hence unflattering, often used as an insult by people who do not share the moral standards of the "prude". A person who is considered a prude may have reservations about nudity, participating in romantic or sexual activity, drinking alcohol or consuming other drugs, or participating in mischief. These reservations usually stem from, or are at least justified by, moral beliefs. Actions or beliefs that may cause someone to be labeled a prude include advocating or practicing abstinence, advocating prohibition, advocating censorship of sexuality or nudity in the media, disapproval of being nude in public, avoiding or condemning public display of affection, or exhibiting unusual levels of discomfort with sexuality, alcohol, drugs or mischief.
      "The term is generally used in a relative sense. For example, one may be viewed as having relatively liberal standards regarding sexuality and drug usage compared to the overall population in which one resides, but compared to a smaller, specific subculture, one may appear to be unduly conservative and thus be labeled a prude because one refuses to participate in more illicit behaviors.
     "In historical contrast, the word prude was originally a noble compliment. Traditionally, it was usually associated with wisdom, integrity, usefulness, and profit.[2] Even in present day language, it forms the root of the word prudence, meaning "sound judgement in practical affairs".
       "The degree of prudery can vary among different cultural frames."

It's me talking now.  I won't pretend. By this definition, I am probably considered by many to be a prude.  Oh, such an insult!  Wait a minute.  No, it isn't.  When I read through this, I find myself nodding, yea, that's me, but I am not ashamed to admit it.   It states that the word "was originally a noble compliment."  I don't suppose it is a compliment anymore, due to the decline of the "prevailing community standards."  But I make no excuses.  I,as a rule, try to turn away from things that are crass and crude.  So sue me.  I welcome being "labeled a prude" if it means I "refuse to participate in more illicit behaviors."

So where do I fit in society?  Am I an outcast?  Am I the laughingstock at the water coolers around the world?  Perhaps I am.  Sometimes we have to boldly face who we are, and what we are.  If I am a prude, it is because I choose to try and take the high road, by my definition of high road, maybe not yours.  I would never presume to judge anyone else for being on the path they choose.  That is their business.

You know the funny thing?  I don't think I am alone in my prudishness.  There are more of us out there than the world might think.  Maybe it is time for us to come out of the closet.  Let's stop pretending to laugh at crude jokes.  Let's admit that we think PG-13 movies are offensive.  If it means taking up knitting, then sign me up.

In this crazy world there is room for everyone and whatever idiosyncratic baggage they happen to carry along with them.  There is no place for being judgmental.  If I exhibit prudish tendencies and it offends you, I'm sorry.  No offense was intended.  I hope that despite seeing me as a prude, you may also see me as a person of "wisdom, integrity, and usefulness."  Apparently they used to be one and the same.

Anyone else watching Chuck?

In my opinion, Chuck may be the best show on television.  It is cleverly written, well-cast, and entertaining in every way.  The ensemble is one of the most unique ever put together, yet each odd-ball character, each stunning spy, each awesome relative all bring their own charm to the table.  It is something we look forward to every Monday night.  It draws the viewer in with likable players caught in challenging situations without the need to stoop to the trash that most TV shows rely on.

And the serial episodes keep one waiting and wondering and anticipating what cliff-hanger we'll get hung on next week.  Watch Chuck. NBC.  Mondays at 8:00pm if you live on the West Coast.  You're welcome.

That's Ridiculous!

No, THAT's Ranunculus!  Sorry, very bad joke.  What IS ridiculous is this weather we've been having.  I know, I know.  It is Spring, and it is Oregon.  But the flowers I bought on Saturday are still sitting out in the rain on my front walk, waiting to be put into the ground. I decided to forego the regular geraniums this year and try something new.  I was totally drawn to these beautiful yellow ranunculus-es. ( I wonder what the plural for that is....) 

 I would love to get just a tiny break in the weather, a little sunshine, dig a few holes, get my hands dirty; then my flowers will welcome the rain and I won't have to worry about watering them. But I am not going to plant flowers in the rain.  I am not going to plant flowers in the rain.  Well, if this keeps up I guess I may be planting flowers in the rain.

Happy Spring!

Best kind of paperwork

I have been working this morning on paperwork.  Sounds dull?  Not in the least!  I am making final arrangements for my kids to come home for their Spring Break which will be the middle of next month. 

This is what I call the best kind of work because the end results will be wonderful.  I love planning trips.  I love itineraries.  They hold such promise.