The Fatherhood

I consider myself very lucky. I come from two very interesting people, and even as an adult, I like them. My parents are cool. I admire them; I learn from them; I'm grateful for them.

But today is my dad's birthday, so even though it's late, I simply must blog about Dad.

He's way too much of a character to adequately do him justice in this short post, but a few faves have been kicking around in my head as I've thought about him today.

For one, his words. Dad is a lover of words. He loves to use them playfully, artistically, and poetically. Here are some little Dad-isms from my childhood:

Rice is nice.

Peas will make you peas-ful.

Never rip your scripture.

Best behavior for your Savior.

Grab it, bag it, don't be a.... (well, I'll leave this one unfinished for a little family joke. He meant no harm.)

He also used to make up songs galore. Songs for everything. He would sing them exuberantly from the bathroom while he shaved in front of the mirror. Sometimes the bathroom window, which looked onto our street, was opened. This creates an unfortunate experience for a homely little girl in junior high, who is greeted by the neighbor boy down the block with, "Well, does she?"

"Well, does she what?"

"Does she love him? We heard your dad singing this morning, 'I wonder if she loves me anymore?"

Very funny, Dad.

My dad used to tell all nine of us, and me in particular because of my love of journaling and maybe because of my birthright, to keep an accurate record of everything he did and said because his biographers would need careful notes.

When I was 12, I wrote this: "I like my dad. He's a terrific guy. And good-looking too. Most of my girlfriends at school think he's handsome. My dad usually takes a lot of vacations from work, and normally during that time he doesn't shave. His beard got to be pretty full and he wanted to experiment and see how he would look and how he would like having a beard. He kept it for about two months. During that time his parents teased him, 'Harvey, you look like my garbage man!' But they weren't kidding."

My dad is a tease. We never crossed a bridge without him taunting, "I hope we don't fall into the icy depths below!" And we never took a trip to the Jersey shore without him threatening to throw us in, and us begging, crying, and bribing the entire car ride. He chased my mother around the house with huge insects, and he scared our friends with this horrible Halloween mask, even when it wasn't Halloween.


Even now, my children live the tale. A few years ago, when he lived a few streets away from us, my kids loved to ride their bikes to Grandpa's house. He would give them push-pops and show them his fossil collection. He would teach them about all the species of birds that would visit in his backyard where he maintains a veritable bird sanctuary, complete with a hen house he built and named the "Chicken Cacciatorium".

He grew this genetically engineered corn seed he had gotten through some mysterious means, just because he hoped the newspaper would want to do a story about his miraculous gardening techniques. This corn reached the electrical wires. It was freaky. The neighbors would ask for his soil amendment secrets, and every day he would go out and look at the new growth and throw his head back in cackling laughter. That's Dad, for ya.

And he told them there was treasure buried in his yard, and all they had to do was dig it up. Day after day, my little ones would race through their schoolwork so they could ride over to Grandpa Holiday's to dig for the treasure. He would encourage them along, telling them how close they were getting, and day after day they'd come home sweaty and tired. The hole got bigger and deeper, but no treasure.

"You're just joking us, aren't you, Grandpa," they caught on.

"No, no! There's treasure! This morning I tapped with the shovel and I think I heard metal!"

It got to the point that even I had to interfere. My babies were planning on what they would do with the loot once they unearthed it, and I was anticipating their broken hearts, when once again they would be duped by silly Grandpa. "Tell them the truth, Dad," I said. "Stop lying to my kids!" He held on stubbornly and laughed his head off, as he's probably doing right now while he reads this. And though there never was any treasure, my kids sure have a gem of a memory of their Grandpa Holiday.

My dad's life would be the most fascinating novel EVER, I kid you not. He's the most interesting man I know, BY FAR. Really. He has not been perfect. But he has faced his imperfections with humility, and I've watched him deal with loss, disappointment, and trial with unfailing faith and fortitude, and forgiveness. He never stops learning; can't get enough study. He's the most brilliant person I know, but he's also the most humble. He was my rock during the hardest years of my life, and he continues to offer me quiet strength and the wisdom of his perspective. I cannot even imagine my life without him being there.

I do not use the word lightly when I say that my dad is my hero. I count on him and look up to him more than he knows. I never want to let him down.

"My daddy is my favorite pal,

And I help him every day.

It's plain to see I want to be

Like him in every way.

He teaches me that honesty

Is best in all I do.

I'm very glad that he's my dad,

And I know he loves me too."

Happy Birthday, Dad. As you have told me, I love you a mountain amount.

The Face of God

During the year my first husband and I were separated, I serendipitously got a job teaching yoga at our local health club. It was good for me. Yoga is all about being centered. It’s about staying calm and feeling peace inside, even with the storms of stress on the outside. It’s about feeling your muscles burn and quiver and not deviating from the breath. It’s about learning to not react. All things that I needed during that tumultuous time in my life.

I taught a 90 minute class four times a week, and it was a very rigorous Ashtanga routine. I don’t think my muscles ever recovered between workouts. They were in a constant state of strengthening, being torn apart and healing. Just like me. Some days were so hard for me to get out of bed and teach that class, especially if I’d been up crying through the night. But I would go, and face my dedicated students, most of whom had no idea what was going on in my private life.

How hard it was to clear my mind! How hard it was to keep my breathing calm. How hard it was not to burst into tears when I felt that calm. Letting the truth of my life flow through me, and not reacting. Most of the time I was breathing, I was praying. And the rest of the time, I was listening.

At the end of the series of asanas, or poses, we finished up with guided deep breathing and meditation while lying on the floor in corpse pose. Ironic. Boy, at that time didn’t I feel like the walking dead! I would walk the class through relaxing each part of the body, starting with their toes and ankles, and ending with their foreheads and eyeballs, and even their scalps. All the tension you never even know you’re holding. One by one each muscle was softened. Let it fall away from the bone. After several deep, controlled abdominal breaths we would let the breath continue, softly, shallowly, almost imperceptibly, for five whole minutes. Eyes closed, mind clear. This relaxation is a vital part of yoga practice, when the body can respond to the healing and the opening that has taken place, and it’s a welcome retreat at the end of a rigorous class.

But my eyes were sometimes open. Sometimes, I was staring at the ceiling tiles and the pattern of dots on them, looking for familiar shapes as one would do while staring up into the clouds. Once, I could vividly see in the pattern the face of Jesus. I stared at it the entire time. "I’m trying," I prayed internally. "I’m trying. Tell me what to do. Tell me I will be okay." I blinked. Opened again, and it was still there. The face of God.

After that class, I looked forward even more eagerly to the relaxation, when I would scan the ceiling tiles looking for that face again. Anything. I wanted, I needed anything to give me the strength to keep going. A sign. Sometimes the stillness, the lack of distraction, the focus, it was all just too painful. Many times as I lay there, little warm tears spilled down my face and hit the mat. Nobody ever saw, or knew. But if I could just see His face, even in ceiling tile dots, it would give me comfort.

I saw the face of God many times during those years. But it took many forms. Once, when I knew I had to mow the overgrown front and back yards by myself--an arduous task--I struggled and struggled to get that lawn mower started with no success. I started to feel embarrassed, wondering if my neighbors were watching me struggling alone. I was falling apart on the inside, but I wanted at least not to look completely inept on the outside. I was wrenching that pull cord as hard and fast as I could, and I could not get the engine to start up. I said a prayer right there in the front yard: "Heavenly Father, I can’t start the lawn mower! The yard is a mess. Couldn’t I at least have things look like life is normal around here? Maybe if things could look normal, you know, if people didn't have to drive by my house and know just by the look of things that there’s that poor woman whose husband left her, well, then maybe it would be easier for me to deal with everything. Please send someone to help me start this mower. Please. It’s a small thing, I know, but it would make me feel better."

And the phone rang. It was a brother in our ward who lived at the end of my street. He was driving home from the grocery store and wondered if I could use a few gallons of milk. Could I? Oh, yes! I had forgotten to tack that small problem onto my prayer! Oh, yes, thank you! When he pulled up, he saw the lawn mower, and simply asked, "Can I start that for you?" There it was. The face of God.

It probably most often works that way, with us, His children, doing what He would do if He were here. One of the blessings of a broken heart is being primed to receive Him, through the service given to us by others. One of the blessings of having one’s heart broken is being in the state to hear Him telling us what it is He needs us to do, where to go, and who it is that needs to see His face.

Things I Love

Valentine's Day is my second favorite holiday. Nobody better screw it up for me this year. And with today being the first day of Valentine's Month, I've been thinking of some things that I love. And maybe you love some of these things too!

1. Clean bathrooms
2. Clean stovetop
3. Freshly shampooed carpets
4. A swept off patio
5. Raked and mowed grass
6. Flowers, but especially tulips
7. Really nice pajamas
8. Any book by Carol Lynn Pearson
9. Any book by Richard Paul Evans
10. Puffy Cheetos
11. Ben and Jerry
12. Freshly colored hair
13. A new haircut
14. Getting a pedicure
15. When all the laundry is folded
16. Listening to Hilary Weeks sing live
17. Laughing with Amber
18. Laughing with Adam
19. Clean sheets, high thread count
20. Buying books
21. An unexpected check in the mail
22. A clean car
23. Eating in bed while watching a movie with Adam
24. Art by Liz Lemon Swindle
25. Anything Noah's Ark
26. The color red
27. Rainy days
28. Cinnabon
29. Chick-fil-A
30. Chocolate almost anything
31. Singing karaoke with my family
32. Packages in the mail
33. Love letters
34. Massages

There! That's a good start! And if you're here, reading my blog, then I love YOU too!

The Hundred

In Pilates, it's a grueling core strengthening exercise. In blogging, it's a rite of passage when one reaches 100 posts. I've been eagerly looking forward to trying my hand at it. It's okay if you don't want to read them all. But if you do, I hope I am able to sufficiently entertain. And I hope you'll still like me.

1. I was named after Conan the Barbarian's girlfriend, from the comic book! My dad told me he still has the copy of that issue.

2. I attended kindergarten at Timpanogas Elementary in Provo, UT, and I still very vividly remember my teacher, Marilyn Hatfield sitting me on her lap when I cried because of what she told the class were "butterflies in my tummy".

3. I also still remember the school song, and if you'd like I'll sing it for you anytime. With gusto.

4. My family moved to NJ after my kindergarten year, when my dad had graduated from law school.

5. We lived with my Italian grandmother for a while when we first moved there.

6. That was when I began to idolize my dad's sister, my Aunt Lori. She would camp out with me on the livingroom floor and tell me about the neighbor's rooster that sounded like Donald Duck.

7. I went to five schools before 4th grade.

8. Once, when I was walking to school by myself in Willingboro, NJ (not the safest place, but hey, it was a different time), I got to the corner and couldn't remember the way. I started to cry, standing there on the street corner at an intersection. A blue Cadillac pulled up, rolled down the window, and the passenger asked if I was okay. I told the woman I was lost and couldn't remember how to get to my school. And I couldn't remember the name of the school. She figured it had to be a certain one, asked if I wanted a ride, and though I knew I wasn't supposed to get into a stranger's car, I did. They took me to school. And I never told my parents. (Sorry, Mom and Dad)

9. I was skipped from the first grade to the second grade.

10. I loved to play school as a kid. I even taught my brother Josiah how to read. Neighborhood kids were students of mine as well. And there was homework.

11. My favorite Christmas present as a child was when I was 8 and I got a chalkboard.

12. My third grade teacher ruined Santa Claus for me. She said to the class, "We all know Santa doesn't really live in the North Pole." I played it cool, but I was ever so confused. My mom confirmed this terrible truth when I got home and asked her. I still fought to believe and listened for sleigh bells for several years afterwards.

13. My favorite house we lived in was a huge white Colonial on the Delaware riverbank in Beverly, NJ. I could draw a floor plan still to this day, though I was 8 when we lived there. (and check out that sale price back then...1981??)

14. Once I got a pretty good spanking for going down to the river to play on the frozen ice chunks that had been pushed ashore in the winter.

15. Next to the Carriage House/garage of that house I used to dig up shells, beautiful shells. I had a Simon and Schuster Shell guide and I would identify them. I would wash them and coat them in clear nail polish and lay them on my windowsills.

16. We lived in that house when my Grandfather Baker died. I remember my mom coming into my room to tell me.

17. My favorite town I lived in was Merchantville, NJ. I still think it's probably one of the best towns in the world, and every child should be so lucky as to grow up there. I miss it.

18. I attended Merchantville Elementary School from the middle of 4th grade to 8th grade, and my favorite teacher was Mrs. Holt.

19. I walked by a Pet Shop every day as a child, People's Pet Shop, and would go in and look at all the sad pets. I saved my money and bought my own cat when I was in 5th grade. He was a black Persian/mix and we named him Merlin.

20. I was in the County Spelling Bee in junior high.

21. It was down to me and 2 other kids, and I got out on the word 'insidious'. I thought it was a trick word, spelled like 'hideous'. It's not.

22. I loved Little House on the Prairie as a child. I looked very much like Laura Ingalls, and I was called that quite often. But I've been called worse.

23. I won several poetry competitions and had some poems published in state anthologies. I had to go to a local college and read my poems.

24. I won the Knights of Columbus coloring contest in 5th grade. My grandparents took me to the awards ceremony and I was given a medal and my picture, framed. A family pledging allegiance to the flag. The trick was in the outlining, people. Really makes it look finished.

25. I have never stolen anything from a store.

26. But I have snatched a few things from people's houses when babysitting. Like I used to take their Afterglow tapes home to make copies, and then return them. What a nerd.

27. I loved to play house with my sister Amanda. We were mothers to our other two sisters, Hannah and Abby.

28. We had made-up names. I was Dianne Myers, she was Kathy Smith.

29. We would take the big thick JCPenney catalog and circle bathrooms and bedrooms in the home decorating section of what our houses looked like.

30. The only pop star poster I ever had hanging on my bedroom wall was this huge poster of Debbie Gibson. I had every tape and knew every song word for word. I also had a video of her concert. I told you. Nerd.

31. My husband saw Debbie (who now goes by Deborah) Gibson in his acting class last year, and almost embarrassed me, but he restrained himself.

32. In junior high, I was completely on board with the Cabbage Patch Kid craze. My kid, Kristin Marie, even had a slumber party and all of my friends' kids came. Even my 6th grade teacher's doll attended. What a good sport.

33. I can wiggle my ears.

34. I used to love going to my friend Marnie's house after school because she had great junk food and pretty much no rules. We would split a can of Beefaroni and watch Charlie's Angels, and then eat Butterscotch Krimpets and dance to the (record) soundtrack of A Chorus Line. One song made me very embarrassed, and I made Marnie skip it. Again, nerd.

35. When I was 7, I found in a drawer a diagram of an episiotomy in some pamphlet my mom had stashed away. It scared the living daylights out of me.

36. When I walked to school when I was about 7, I passed by a candy store each day that sold penny candies. I loved to go in and buy 100 Swedish fish, which were put into a brown paper bag and I would eat them as I walked.

37. It was in that candy store, while I was waiting to buy my Swedish fish, that I heard grown-ups talking about how President Reagan had been shot. I went home and told my mom, and she hadn't yet heard it on the news, so I felt like I had important things to say.

38. I still love Swedish fish (only the red ones), and sometimes I still have important things to say. But not as often as I wish.

39. One of my favorite things about being the oldest child was being able to get the other kids to do what I said. They were like my own little army of slaves, as long as I didn't abuse the privilege.

40. For a small price, they would walk to the store for me to buy me treats. For instance, I went through a Welch's grape soda and Cheetos phase, which then switched to Funions, which then switched to Planter's Cheez Balls. Sometimes I had a 100,000 bar (not called 100 Grand yet) to go with it, or a Butterfinger. As long as the sibling got a candy bar out of the deal, he/she would happily walk to CVS for me.

41. I used to collect stickers. My friend Marnie and I spent much of our time together in 4th-6th grades arranging, acquiring, and trading stickers. Her parents even took us on a few trips to New Hope, PA to shop for stickers. I had an album and the stickers were organized by category: Dazzles, Scratch-n-Sniff, Puffy, Hello Kitty...

42. I stopped biting my nails in 4th grade. It was around the time we were learning about Saudi Arabia and had to make shoebox dioramas, although these two facts are not related.

43. When we were learning about Saudi Arabia we had to eat stuffed dates. I took one bite and thought I was going to throw up. I ran to the drinking fountain and almost did.

44. Back to my nails: when I was waiting for them to grow out, I wanted them to look long and pretty, and since I wasn't allowed (or rich enough to afford) Lee Press-On Nails, I made my own out of Scotch tape. I would put a piece of tape on my nail, cut it into a rounded shape on the end, and then polish it. They were bendy, but I thought I looked like hot stuff.

45. I used to pretend to smoke candy cigarettes. But that's as close as I've ever come to substance abuse. I've never had a sip of tea, coffee, or alcohol, and I've never smoked or tried drugs.

46. I used to ask my mom to make Snickerdoodles for me. She made the best Snickerdoodles.

47. "Snickerdoodle" became my first husband's pet name for me when we were newly married.

48. When I was in 8th grade, Miss America, Sharlene Wells, came to our Stake to do a fireside. I

wrote her a letter afterwards and mailed it to her, and she wrote back with an autographed picture. I still have it. 49. Also, when I was in 8th grade, astronaut James Lovell came to our school to do an assembly. I got my picture taken with him and his autograph too, which I also still have. What a groupie.

50. That summer I worked at my dad's law office, and my favorite part was when he took me to lunch every day. We would walk down the street to a little Italian place and he would buy me a slice of pizza.

51. It was during that summer while working at his office that I got my period for the first time.

52. Thank goodness the secretaries kept sanitary supplies in the bathroom.

53. It took me 2 days to tell my mom, and I finally got up the courage during a commercial break for Action News, while she was folding laundry. I blurted it out, red in the face and sweating bullets, and she exclaimed, "Well, Hallelujah!" And then she asked me if I knew how to count out my cycle. I was so relieved, and embarrassed.

54. Once we had a pet squirrel. It was a baby that had fallen out of the nest. We named it Sylvester Stallone and let it crawl all over us. It slept in a Fisher-Price van out in the garage, but after about two days we woke up to find it frozen to death. We buried it in our pet cemetery in the backyard.

55. I started taking Latin as my foreign language in high school because I knew I could never trill my r's for Spanish, or sound authentic enough for French. Plus, my dad had Hebrew and Greek covered.

56. I won the school spirit cake decorating contest my freshman year of high school. And then again in my Junior year.

57. Even then, I loved looking through Wilton cake decorating books.

58. I used to pretend to do shampoo commercials while taking a bath. I would read all the fancy marketing stuff on the bottle and do the Price is Right hands thing. You know what I mean.

59. The first guy I ever kissed was Tommy Johnson, just before I turned 16, but it was only a sweet peck on the lips. It was enough of an initiation though to give me the confidence to hit the field.

60. The first guy I was ever in love with was Hank Groman, a tall, dark, and handsome musician. He always wore shirts and ties, and dress shoes, and could play the piano like nobody's business. He also played the steel drums. I tracked him down a few years ago and he still makes my heart go pitter-pat. Ah, the memory of first love. I'll always be a goner for Hank, no matter how old we get. And I can never hear "Bridge Over Troubled Water" without thinking of him. He played it often on the piano. And those eyes....Hank? Are you reading this? Kirsten knows what I mean.

61. I have this weird quirky thing where I have to smell my hands after something has been on them. Like, if I get milk on my hands, after I wipe it off I have to smell the spot where it was.

62. This is why I don't like ketchup. Have you ever smelled your skin after there was ketchup on it?

63. I also have to smell my dishrags, and my hands after I use a dishrag.

64. I used to be very dramatic about life. Like, when I was a teenager, I would make cassette recordings of me talking about life, my feelings, my testimony, etc., just in case I died. That way I could leave something of me behind. So retarded, I know. I should listen to some of them sometime and get a good laugh.

65. I do not like to share milk products. Gross. I will not give bites of my cereal, or ice cream, or give you a swig from my glass of milk.

66. I am not a daring eater like Luisa. The most daring thing I've ever eaten was piranha that I caught in the Amazon River. Tastes like chicken. I'm kidding. More like tuna.

67. I love casseroles. I know that to many they look like piles of brown glop, but they are so good and comforting to me.

68. I used to play records at home and pretend to lead the orchestra with a piece of dry spaghetti. Don't act like you didn't.

69. My favorite candy bars are Milky Way, Caramello, 100 Grand, Peanut Butter Cups, Take 5, Twix, Cadbury Cream Eggs, Peanut Butter M&M's, Peppermint Patties, and Junior Mints.

70. I used to be addicted to doing aerobics with Jane Fonda. I felt the burn, baby. And I had great abs.

71. My senior year I beat the girls and boys record for sit-ups in the whole school. My dad still talks about his pride.

72. I was in the school musicals my Junior and Senior years. My Junior year was "Annie Get Your Gun". In my Senior year, we did "Once Upon a Mattress" and I was up for the lead against my best friend, Kirsten. She got it. I was not disappointed to "lose" to her, and she did a fantastic job.

73. Several romances developed with the boys in the plays. Maybe I've always had a secret thing for actors.

74. I love to have a bowl of cold cereal late at night in bed. I love Cocoa Puffs and Captain Crunch the most. Oh, and Cookie Crisp. All the bad kinds.

75. I am an avid journal keeper. I've been journaling since I was 4 years old.


76. I also keep journals for each of my four children. Each one was started on the day that I found out I was pregnant with them. I will give them to them when they move out.

77. I also keep Baby Books for each of my kids.

78. Oh yeah, and a separate Christmas Journal, that has beautiful holiday photos of Williamsburg, VA. It has pages for each year, with things to fill in about Christmas that year and a place for a family photo. The husband in the pictures changed halfway through, but it's still so fun to look back on.

79. My children all keep their own journals too. And they LOVE to hear journal entries from when I was their age. They love to laugh at what a nerd I was.

80. I cannot dance. I always wished I could. In fact, it's deeper than that. When I watch a dancer perform, I have this swelling within me, like it's familiar to my spirit. Like it's something I once knew how to do, or would be good at, but I just never learned. Does that make any sense at all???

81. I used to play the flute and the piccolo in the school band.

82. I have been homeschooling for twelve years, with a one year break in there.

83. My mom taught me to sew, knit, and cross stitch, but I never could pick up crochet. Of course, I was 8. Maybe I should try again.

84. For most of my childhood I wanted to be a teacher, but for several years through junior high and high school I considered being an OB/GYN.

85. I'm so glad I didn't pursue such a challenging career because of how it would have taken me away from my own children, but I do sometimes toy with the idea of becoming a midwife.

86. In 1985, our parents took us on a vacation to Washington D.C. (I think we lost Micah in one of the Smithsonian's), and to Mt. Vernon, home of George Washington. Mt. Vernon was my favorite part.


87. In 1989, My parents took us on a really great vacation that included visits to the Joseph Smith home, the Sacred Grove, the Hill Cumorah, and then on up to Niagara Falls.


88. I wish, wish, wish that I could see Riverdance on Broadway. And have my husband there with me, who has never been to NYC.

89. (11 more to go...this is getting harder!) I love to plant things and grow things. I have also toyed with the idea of becoming a Master Gardener, just for fun. One of my dreams includes having my own yard, lush and blooming, with fruit trees, berry bushes, and a gorgeous garden.

90. Someday I really want to go on an African safari. And to Rome. And to the Orient.

91. And everywhere, really. The only country I've visited has been Peru, and that really put the bug in me. There's a lot of world to see!

92. I've had many jobs, including managing a dry cleaners, managing a mail service/packaging store, bank teller, and yoga instructor.


93. When I'm caught off guard and scared (like if someone sneaks up behind me) I sing opera really loudly. I don't know why, it just comes out.

94. I have many, many favorite memories of my first marriage, but up there at the top was the trip we took with our three children to Alaska for a few weeks. It was heavenly, and had you told me that less than a year later he would leave, I wouldn't have believed you.

95. I have horrible teeth. We seem to have inherited really weak, soft-enameled teeth, prone to disaster. I have spent more on my teeth than I ever spent on a car, and I've never even had braces.

96. My life has not turned out the way I planned, and I'm trying very hard to be happy and grateful anyway. My faith is that the end result will be even better than I planned.


97. Oh! Here's a weird random one! I used to idolize this one teenage girl in my ward. I thought she was so pretty, and so cool, and so everything. She was a senior when I was a freshman, so anytime she gave me the time of day I felt like a queen. She sat next to me in Seminary, and clipped her long fingernails off one day, and asked me if I wanted them. (long story). I said yes, and I kept them in a ziploc bag in my drawer for years. I told her about that 15 years later and she laughed her head off.

98. (you can see I'm really scratching the bottom of the barrel now, right?) I love all things bedtime: nice pajamas, quality bedding and pillows, bedtime stories, etc. Someday I want to have a very dreamy bedroom that truly feels like a sanctuary instead of half media room, half office...with a bed in there.

99. I collect Noah's Ark things, especially Christmas ornaments.


100. I love to cry. I love books that make me cry and I love movies that make me cry. I love to be able to evoke strong emotion like that in other people. Crying feels good sometimes. But even more, I love to laugh. Hard, loud, bent over, hysterical laughing...the kind that makes me cry.


Now that this list is done, I'll probably think of a million other things that I should have put on here. Oh well, if you've read this far, then you rock! And I want to be your friend! Thanks for sticking it out with me till the bitter end!

Something Beautiful

I attended a baptism on Sunday for a little 8 year old boy in our ward named Lewis. He and his four younger brothers came to live with their grandmother in our ward because their mother has had serious problems that have left her incapable of being a parent at this time. His brothers are two sets of twins, ages 6 and 4. That's a lot of boys! I was asked to lead the music for Lewis' baptism, and I gladly agreed.

I sat about three rows back, and watched as people from the ward filled the room. And all of a sudden, one of the twin boys said with such pure joy, "It's Mommy!" and five little boys ran into the hallway, which I could see just through the doorway, and jumped on their mommy, who was crouching down to receive them.

She came in quietly and discreetly and sat down at the end of the front row, and her lap and arms overflowed with her little ones. They looked at her with such reverence and love and acceptance. They were telling her all the details of their lives, and she was caressing each one in turn, and nestling her nose into their hair, and rubbing their backs gently. And smiling. And crying. I heard one of her boys say to her, "I miss you, Mommy."

They've been away from her for several months, and though they get to visit her, she isn't quite ready to have them back yet. Having never seen her before, and only seeing the results of some of her choices, I am afraid that maybe I had made decisions about her in my mind. But she loved those babies, and they loved her. They adored her. They had stars in their eyes for her. She was their everything. They forgave her. I couldn't take my eyes away, it was so beautiful to see. A mother's love is powerful, but the love of a child transcendent. It's why the Savior loved them so. It's why He asked us to become like them.

I ached for her ache. At the end of the service, she would give over her children to her mother and go home empty-handed. I prayed that she has a speedy recovery and can resume her role in their lives. God bless all the little children.

Blessings

I'm so grateful that even though I haven't had the inspiration for an incredible story of my own yet, I still have the appreciation for the stories that others write. Man, oh, man, what an experience a well-told story is. I will read anything that Khaled Hosseini writes for the rest of his life. You know how A Thousand Splendid Suns did me in. Well, I just finished reading his debut novel, The Kite Runner. Really, really engaging. I can't wait to see the movie, although I'm sure it will not measure up to the beauty of the writing.

I'm grateful that I was blessed with four new piano students in the last week, bringing me up to 11! My goal is 25 eventually, and I'm getting there. It's an amazing feeling to be entrusted with little ones, and to teach them to love music.

I'm grateful that after a very slow period, and tumultuous times in Hollywood right now, Adam just booked a commercial for Macintosh! They didn't even do call-backs this time! Out of more than 600 people who auditioned for his role, they decided to book him without even a second thought. This is incredible, because usually the process involves a call-back, and then being put "on hold" for an agonizing, roller coaster ride of several days while the men in suits decide. It's rough. But this time, just a phone call from his agent that he got it! He goes for wardrobe on Monday, and it shoots on Tuesday. You have no idea what a blessing this is. But I do.

I'm grateful that I'm finally over my stint with the flu. I didn't know I was so sick, but apparently... thank goodness for ensuing health!

As the Dew

A little verse came into my mind the other night, the words just placed there, in answer to a prayer. I quickly wrote it down in the notebook I keep by my bed. It's been a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Speak sweetly, lips.

Remind the tongue

that faults not seen

are allies won.

Seems obvious enough, but using my words to be uplifting, encouraging, and edifying can be a struggle for me. I'm so grateful for those who can see through my faults to my intentions, and know that my heart is a seedbed of goodness, and I'm trying to keep it weeded!