Well Pleased

Thankfully, we are never too old to learn.  I received an important lesson this past weekend.  It doesn't change what I do, but it has made a major change in the way I think, and hopefully in how I express my feelings.

As a delightful Mothers Day gift, my husband took me to Idaho to be with all of our children.  It was the only thing I had wanted.  It was a weekend filled with love and laughter and warm fuzzies and opportunities to see my grown children in action as outstanding young people.

We were able to hear one daughter speak in church, giving an eloquent address on the motivating force behind service, that being love as taught by the Savior.  Brilliant.

We were able to gather for a family dinner prepared by my innovative daughters who found a place big enough for all of us, who served wonderful homemade food, and who made it as lovely as it could be.

We were able to also attend church with my son and his family, witnessing his great contributions in leadership and music. 

This was when I received my significant learning moment.  Following the meeting we were able to visit for a few moments with my son's bishop and I expressed to him how proud I am of my son, a rather trite and hollow-sounding, yet sincere sentiment. This good man took a moment to teach me a more significant expression.

Being proud of our children is good, but more importantly, it is good to "be pleased" with them.

I was taken aback.

Surely he was absolutely right. 

Being pleased with our children bespeaks something even greater than pride.  I can be proud of what they do; proud of their achievements; but on a higher level is this idea of being pleased with who they are, being pleased with their choices, being pleased with the development of their character and their integrity.

So today I pay tribute to my children and express to them how pleased I am in who they have become.  I may be proud of how hard they work at becoming educated and independent.  But of more significance, they are outstanding, thoughtful, virtuous young people in whom I am very pleased.

And to add a bit of wisdom from Emerson, I hope my children will always remember:

"I wish the man to please himself, then he will please me."

Being True to Myself: A Free Spirit!

My first thought:  I've been duped!!!  Second thought:  Really? Do people really live like this?  Third thought:  It's just not me.  It may be fine for someone else, but that is just not who I am.

I'm actually proud of the progression.  I went from feeling taken advantage of, to trying to be understanding of another's point of view, to finally recognizing that I don't have to be like anyone else and that is okay too.

I have been very conscious of time management lately.  Is it because I am so busy with so many things and I can't find the time to do all the things that are required of me?  Quite the contrary.  I have a lot of free time. Imagine summer vacation.  Long days without many direct requirements on my time. No requirements? Of course not, just freedom to use my time as I choose, filling my days with family and home stewardships, church assignments, personal study, self-improvement and creative exploration.

I purchased an ebook this morning about effective management of time because I had heard that the main idea of the book was about spending more time doing what one was made to do rather than doing merely what one needed to do.  I liked that idea a lot.  Mainly, I liked the idea of discovering what one was made to do.  Unfortunately, this little book was all about charts and graphs and labeling each hour of each day and adhering closely to the schedule (of one's choosing of course).

Blah........ I can see what this would bring.  I would (unwisely) use way too much time analyzing and thinking and planning and imagining and creating a schedule which would then become a dismal excuse to be frustrated with myself while at the same time eliciting copious amounts of guilt for NEVER once using the dumb thing.

Because that's just not who I am.

I was prompted to remember summer vacations when my children were growing up.  I believe it was one of the things I happened to do right as a mother.  Were our days scheduled to the max with goals set and strict routines?  Heavens, no.  But we did find a way to bring some order to our freestyle summer living.

We simply had "Days".  I'll bet if I asked them, my adult children could probably remember, quite accurately, what those days were.

     Monday:  Cleaning Day.  This insured that we would start the week off with clean rooms.
     Tuesday:  Library Day.  This gave us a much-needed outing, while instilling within them a love of books. Win, Win.
     Wednesday:  Cooking Day.  Nothing fancy, just some fun, little yummy project to do together so they would feel that I love them.
     Thursday:  Craft Day.  Again, nothing fancy; just a little "get your hands dirty in a fun way" project.  Who doesn't love that?
     Friday:  Trip day.  This was anything to get us out of the house for awhile, give us something to look forward to, something which told my kids that they mattered to me.

I am a firm believer in giving children free time to be a child, along with the necessary structured time to help them become productive, contributing members of society.  New ideas are not born without time to dream, to imagine, to explore, to play.

How are adults any different?

I feel blessed to have latitude in my days to explore my own agenda.  I feel doubly blessed to have a husband that encourages me to go in search of my own dreams and talents.  Freestyle living is great, but to be truly useful requires some structure as well.

I am implementing a grown-up version of "Days".  It will contain some parameters, not to be restrictive or keep me in check, but to boost my productivity while giving me the freedom to spend all day on Thursday being crafty, if I that's what I want to do.

In some ways I wish I was the type that could follow a strict regimen to the letter and to the minute.  I'm not.

I must have the liberty to drop everything when I get that important call.  You know the one.  When my husband calls and says:  "Let's have lunch!"

Star Girl: Thanks for the Reminder!

I have been invited to participate in a Blog Carnival sponsored by the charming blog, Modern Mrs. Darcy. As the subject is The Book That Changed My Life, I immediately accepted the challenge to narrow down a very long list.  Here is a look back at one of my favorites.

I think I had forgotten. I think I had let it go too long. Had I become afraid? Had I become lazy, or busy, or trying to be selfless, or what? I don't know. I believe sometimes we neglect old friends, friends who have been by our side for years just waiting for our attention, and it is difficult to identify exactly why we have neglected them. I have spent my life reading. It is what I do. There is no greater source for learning and expanding one's mind. But for some reason, I had neglected reading for reading's sake. I had neglected fiction. I have immersed myself in the scriptures. I have immersed myself in non-fiction and don't regret a minute of it. But that needn't be all there is. How had I forgotten?

I am finally remembering the joy that comes from being so deeply within a story that one temporarily leaves behind reality. At the recommendation of my sweet daughter, I have picked up a book, not to learn (and yet I have); not to explore (and yet I have); not to expand my mind (and yet I have). I have gotten back in touch with the dream world of living life through another's eyes, through another's footsteps, through another's thoughts.

I have come to know another person who isn't even real, and yet who I wish so desperately that she was. Maybe I wish she was real because I, in some way, wish that I were more like her. I want to not be encumbered with worry and insecurity. I want to live my life freely without keeping in check every personal expression, fearing that others may not understand or approve. I want to befriend the friendless. I want to show expressions of kindness just for the sake of brightening someone's day. And if I want to wear a long dress, strum a ukelele, and sing as if nobody were listening, then maybe, just maybe, I will.

Sometimes something will come along that changes us. Often it comes in an unassuming way, unexpectedly, and with no great fanfare. Such was my introduction to Star Girl. I read this little gem by Jerry Spinelli in one afternoon, unable to put down this tender, triumphant, heartbreaking story. Something about it spoke to my soul. It called out to me in a very real, very personal way, and I became apart of it, just as it became apart of me. Star Girl is filled with beauty, with truth, with reality; it is also filled with heartache, unkindness and the best and worst parts of humanity.

Having only briefly satisified my thirst for fiction, I immediately turned to the sequel. It is entitled Love, Star Girl. It is quite different from the first one. Among the many memorable parts, the following was the most important for me, the one that woke me up, the one that slapped me upside the head:

     "Where are you going?" he said.

     "Porch. Check the snow."

     "Don't."

     The way he said it, I stopped. I sat back down.

     He looked at me across the table. "Silly worries don't become you."

Fiction will never replace the scriptures. That's okay. I have the scriptures, too. But I don't know of anything that can replace the suspending of belief which enables one to enter into a world of the storyteller's creation, being invited to see inside someone else's thoughts and to walk in someone else's shoes. And perhaps learn things that are just as important.

Hello again, my old friend, fiction. I have missed you.



To read a little more about Star Girl's effect on me, see also this post entitled Mud Frogs: Beginning to See One Another.



All Are Needed By Each One

When is one at their best? Why, when they are in their element, of course.

What does it mean, then, to be in one's element?  When are you in your element?  When am I in mine?

What brings out the best in you?  What would you describe as your ultimate circumstances, your most favorable light, your best accoutrements?

Have you ever filled your pockets with treasures, beautiful rocks that sparkled in a river bed, or iridescent seashells found glimmering among the seaweed, only to bring them home and find that they have somehow lost their charm? When no longer in their element, their value appears to have fled.

I often feel like that drab little pebble which was beautiful amid the interplay of sunlight and water, yet quickly becomes dreary and common and no more worthy than to be cast aside.

Ralph Waldo Emerson discusses this theme in a poem, entitled Each and All.  The following is an excerpt:

All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone.
...
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.


I think I am in my element when I am in active roles as mother and grandmother. That is when I shine. I delight in delighting those around me, in meeting their needs, in bringing smiles and happy tummies and comfort and contentment. To paraphrase Browning, Children in the House, All's right with the World.

My personal challenge lies in finding other times and ways to sparkle.  Perhaps being in our element isn't possible all the time, and indeed, may become old and weathered if it is too commonplace. 

In looking toward our Savior, Jesus Christ for an example, we find that He was always in His element.  He showed love and forgiveness and hope and encouragement and patience and kindness, and while doing so, radiated a heavenly light that never dimmed, never faded, never became dull nor drab nor dreary.

I know my independent, adult children really are living their lives as outstanding, productive young people, making good decisions and working hard to become educated and to support themselves.  I couldn't be more proud.  But I am also thankful that in some way, I believe, they will always need me. 

As I will always need them.

They make me sparkle.

"All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone."

Face to Face with a Fear

I had recurring nightmares as a child. One in particular involved being in a boat surrounded by barnacle-covered whales that would come dangerously close, threatening to capsize the tiny boat.

I had successfully put those nightmares aside and had never even thought about them for years.

Until a few days ago.


I had the unique opportunity to come face to face with those fears, finding myself in a similar experience; and I squealed like a school girl with joy at each spout of water, each acrobatic jump, each aerial breach as I ventured off the coast of Maui on a whale watching expedition.

Until the whales came a little too close for comfort.

Even the captain seemed a little alarmed as the whales came within our comfort zone.  But rather non-chalantly, the captain informed us that the whales had dived and were going underneath our boat.

How would they resurface?  Would they shoot triumphantly upwards as they had been doing? How good was their vision?  Were they as aware of us as we were of them?

My heart got stuck in my throat.  I tried to remind myself of the thrilling moments just before.  The captain seemed calm.  Then so should I be.

Miraculously, I was.  It was even a bit of an adrenalin rush.

I have always been fascinated by these mighty creatures of the deep, so long as they kept their distance and I could admire them from afar.

Now we're close friends.

Hawaiian Music and a Linen Napkin

Sometimes we need to be ready to just react. Sometimes there is no time to think things over, or the opportunity may pass us by. I was on the winning end of just such a circumstance.

I travel often with my husband. He has incredibly broad shoulders and loves to sit next to me on a plane because he knows that I won't mind sharing part of my seat with him, which isn't always the case with less than patient strangers. I love my husband and would follow him the world over, but sometimes, selfishly, I don't look forward to the cramped quarters of the Coach section with his overwhelming presence. If price were no object, we would gravitate to the extra space in First-Class. If price were no object.

This morning as we sat at the gate waiting for the long flight which would begin a much-needed vacation, my husband gave me the greatest gift. Even before the announcement concluded that there were extra seats in First Class available for an upgrade, he shot out of his chair, as quickly as a man of his size can, and took off to the desk. He didn't wait to hear what the cost would be; he didn't wait to talk about it, think about it, stew over it, pray about it. He just went for it.

My first inclination was to follow him, stop him, and tell him we couldn't afford it, whatever "it" was. Something told me just to stay where I was. So I did, all the while trying to contain the giggling that was spilling out of my heart.

Oh my stars. Could it be? Did he really beat the little old man that had joined the race? He did. We won. We beat the odds. We won the gamble. We would be flying first class to Maui at a fraction of the regular cost. I know, because I have priced it.

So often I let common sense win. So often I take the practical approach and it serves me well. Then why did I relish the before-flight glass of water? Or the linen napkin and the hot meal? Or the mango parfait with the grilled pineapple slice, toasted coconut, and fresh whipped cream? Or the unlimited use of the little magic movie box?

You get the idea. I suppose if I traveled that way all the time, those things would become passé, but I'm not there yet. I felt like a queen and with the Hawaiian music that gently played in the background, I knew that we were off to a great start. And the extra shoulder and leg room didn't hurt much either! Perhaps we really would be able to put our cares behind us for a few days.

I am thankful for a husband who, most of the time, is very cautious, is very conservative, very thrifty.

And I am thankful that today he wasn't.

Where It All Begins and Ends

This is it.  This is my study, my office, my craftroom, my place of refuge, my little corner, my den, my hideout, my sanctuary.  Could it be more beautiful?

I love it.  I try to come out occasionally.  I find peace here.  I find renewal of spirit.  I find solitude and also good company. 

It is welcoming.  My family feels comfortable in stopping by, pulling up a chair and staying awhile.  I keep candy in the candy dish so they always have a "Riesen" to come see me.

It was an exhilarating process to see this come to life as I had envisioned it. It took physical work, mental challenge, and emotional investment.

And it has all been worth it.

The centerpiece of the decor is a painting, a gift from my husband. 

When I saw it, I knew it belonged to me even before it belonged to me.

It is entitled: A Place of Her Own.

The artist, James C. Christensen, describes it thus:

"I wanted to create a retreat, a secluded little nook filled with art and books where a woman could really get away from it all.  Here, the tension melts away as lilting strains of lute music drift across the overstuffed cushions."

Sounds about right, doesn't it?  I must find myself some lute music.....