Example

The Savior is the best example for how one should lives ones life.  Through the scriptures, words of the Prophets and seeing others live truly Christlike lives, we too can begin to emulate Him and gradually work towards that goal of being "perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect." (3 Nephi 12:48)   

On this earth I have examples that are right in front of me that help me by how they live their lives or some of the choices they make and even very every day things they do that influence me and make me desire certain things.  Some of the things I want to do are really basic, others may have more far reaching affects.

One of the things I want to try is to 'journal' through blogging.  A large number of friends and acquaintances write consistently and well, noting their families or personal achievements, latest home project or the latest crafting idea they've worked on.  Their blogs are replete with pictures, captions, pins, and links.  They are works of art that can be later printed and bound in amazing books for their posterity.  

The best example of this is my friend Colette.  Her family's journey through this last year, as her husband battled Hodgkin's Lymphoma, was epic.  Her term of phrase and ability to paint a picture through her words was a trip that I was privileged to be part of.  Now, after all the year brought to their family, Colette had her 2012 blog posts made into a hard bound book.  A family year book!  How cool is that?  Her example of getting a year of her life bound into a book, I want to do that!  

Another friend, Sara, said a prayer at our Stake choir practice last Friday.  I love Sara.  She calls things as she see them.  She's practical, kind, loving and says the most beautiful prayers.  I want to say prayers the way she does.  I thought about that.  I can wax lyrical with the best of them when I so choose, why on earth can't I do that in prayers without the vain repetitions that I think we all tend to fall into during prayer?  I think Sara said something along the lines of asking that we would find beauty in the music that we sang and that it would be a testimony to our hearts.  I THINK that's what she said, but even if she didn't, just by thinking about being more thoughtful about my words and what I really want to say to my Heavenly Father is a great thing.  All from the example of someone who doesn't know she set one.

My husband is one of THE most charitable people I know.  He's an eternal optimist and would do anything for anyone.  Yeah, not me so much.  I have a hard time with people who seem to do/say/act the same way over and over.  There's been a situation within our family ranks that has very much had me feeling less than charitable to say the least.  If there wasn't the life of a child involved, I may feel a bit more charitable toward the adult involved, but as you can see, not much.  Anyway, without divulging anything, I read this post on Facebook and it socked me in the face.  I had to do some serious pondering and repenting and deciding to try to not be so critical of this certain individual.  My heart was softened to a larger degree.  I still have to work on things, but the example of our prophets and apostles is something I wish to follow.

I love my children, they are amazing human beings and a huge example to me.  Each of them has done things in their lives that have amazed me.   They have all shown courage, faith, determination, tenacity, tenderness, resourcefulness, patience, intelligence and a terrific sense of humor in their comparatively short lives on this earth.  They have testimonies of the gospel, a love for the scriptures and are just plain good human beings.  I want to be like them.

February is the love month, being Valentine's and all.  Have you noticed how many kids say Valentime's?  I love all the hearts, the flowers, the RED and the PINK. I love me some pink.  This is something I really enjoy, a quote from Winnie the Pooh (A. A. Milne) that I got as a freebie from http://www.thescrapshoppeblog.com/.  I love Pooh's example.

No Resolve Here

I just really don't do New Year's Resolutions.  How sad is it that I have to admit that I'm not big on setting goals, mainly because of the fear of failure.  Must be something to do with being a passive-aggressive personality (according to some of my children).  I don't know, but whatever the reason, I've already failed myself in that regard.

My son-in-law, Marco, challenged me to give up Diet Coke and any and all artificially sweetened drinks for the months of January.  It's has been 21 days since the big DC nectar has passed these chapped lips.  I also finally decided that I was tired of being overly fluffy (aka overweight) and rejoined Weight Watchers. Yeah, it's only taken me six years of living in New Jersey to decide that this is where I'm living, my husband is always going to be in some work or church position that keeps him more away from home than in it, and I can't eat my way out of discontent.

So, for not setting goals, I'm working on two biggies.  Well, one biggie, as in the poundage, and the Diet Coke, which shouldn't be a biggie, but kinda is.  I have to say, it's amazing what losing 6lbs. in two weeks will allow one to do.  I used to paint my own toe nails all the time, but for the last year have not and instead relied on a sweet friend or a local mani-pedi place to help me out.  Nothing like a belly getting all scrunched up and making you breathless to have to relinquish having perpetually perfectly painted piggies.  I painted my own piggies this past week , a lovely pink, my favorite color.  That’s right, with just six unwanted pounds down the drain, you TOO can have pretty appendages!  It made me happy, in case you couldn’t tell.

I am actually a lifetime member of Weight Watchers and kept off a considerable amount of unwanted weight for nigh on twenty years.  Then we began the process of moving across country.  For six months we were a separated family, bi-coastal, different cultures, different ways of living, and it was beyond stressful.  Between late night runs to visit Karen's friends at our favorite (and greatly missed place), stressing about selling our house and having Kris gone
for what seemed FOR. EV.ER., old friends returned to hips and thighs.

Then came the actual change of address, getting lost just about every time we left the house and then having Kris become bishop of our ward, the poundage made its way up the body.  Before you could say, "Animal style, hold the pickles" it was 2013 and way, way, way, weigh too much was added to the fluffy frame.

Deciding to lose weight 'for reals' isn't something you just take on one day and succeed at.  It's a definite mind game and an inner strength that just makes one have the ability to say, "I can do this now.  I am ready and I shall succeed."  That, and having to buy a bigger pair of jeans, not being able to easily scale the gates put up for wandering grandchildren, and not wanting to see my silhouette.  So I signed up for online accountability.  Amazing what having to pay to record what gets shoved in the old cake hole will do for motivation.  

I realized that what I done over the last six years was give up my old habits of things like not eating mashed potatoes (I just eat them plainly boiled), not eating any desserts unless it was something chocolate and only on weekends, not eating ice-cream (only non-fat frozen yogurt) and of course, PORTION CONTROL!  I also reacquainted myself with cheese, 2% milk and gravy.  Lots and lots of gravy.

One has to realize that undertaking all the bad habits of the past results in an even high price the older you get.  This time around, and almost twenty years older, menopausal, not nearly as active and miserable, the weight shows up around the face, on and under the arms.  Everything flabs and flails.  Joints hurt, sagging is predominant and sweat is never ending.  It's just NOT a pretty sight or a comfortable existence.  In order to reverse all of that I took the leap.

My folks are getting older too, almost 84 and 80, my grandkids are increasing in age and number and I need to be able to take care of and keep up with all and sundry.  I don't want to be the grunting, sweating, waddling Nana.  I want to be the fun, get down on the floor (and be able to get up), dance in the kitchen Nana.  I can't be unhealthy and take care of my parental units, especially if they end up being bedridden and totally reliant on me.

I'm excited for February 1st to savor the bubbly, cold Diet Coke I shall celebrate with.  But there will be new rules.  I am not going to be consuming the liquid 24/7.  Not that I did before, but I did drink way more than has to be healthy.  I love Zero Water and regular water (we have GREAT water here in our little borough) so I'll be good to go.  I shall reserve the DC for out-of-the-house.

Maybe another non-resolution I can make is to record more of the daily goings on in my life.  We shall see.  I can't be overly good at doing this kind of thing or Marco will start asking me to make other 'deals' with him.  I don't wanna do that!

We fall and trip sometimes.

One thing that I have to live with every day is the possibility of one of my family members needing me in a way that I can't always be there for.  Other times, I'm there, the need isn't dire, the deed not demanding, but it's a way to help them out.


Case in point.  Jamie has cabin fever, and I don't blame he.  After the birth of Eliana Jamie lasted maybe two weeks before we made a trip to Target.  The weather in California in May being as different as January in New Jersey, made this possible.  Taking a baby out even in a California winter is SO different than in New Jersey.  Jamie's pediatrician and midwife have both said to avoid taking her where there are large numbers of people, to mention nothing of the sometimes frigid temperatures.  Anyway, we have had our little trips to the store, just for a break, and such was to be the case on Thursday.


Kohl's has a great post-holiday sale and we had 30% off, warranting a very necessary trip.  You know, you get in the mindset of what your day will go like.  Didn't happen quite as we planned.  Marco left for work early Thursday morning as usual ... with the car seats in his car.  No problem.  I'd run over to the school and pick them up, but first I'd have to go over to the hospital to break my friend out and take her home.  


Now, anywhere else, this wouldn't be a big deal.  Eleven miles to the hospital, from there seven miles to my friend's house and from there to Marco's school, 14 miles then another 14 miles home.  A total of around 45 miles took me almost 2 hours.  TWO HOURS!  I loved the scenery, don't get me wrong, and I do like to drive, but when Retail Therapy is at  stake, well, you know.  A literal trip and a trip in our plans.


We took another trip on Friday to Sam's Club, my folks, Eliana and I.  It was a big trip, lots of items, lots of loading and unloading, and as my mom gets out of the car and closes her door, I notice her wince and make a face.  I watched her limp away into the house as I got out of the car to unload the trunk, thinking not much of it since Mom always limps.  After about four trips to the car and back to the house, Jamie says, "Have you seen Granny's leg?  She's bleeding everywhere!"  Sure enough, Mom had caught her leg on the edge of the car door as she back up to close it using her bum (her hands being full) and her thin skin ripped open and blood was pouring down her leg.  Jamie took care of her very competently whilst I finished up the unloading and putting away.  I always wonder if we are going to have to have a trip to the doctor's to get stitches!


But wait, I'm not finished.  Saturday was our first wonderful day of snow and we didn't have to go anywhere. Kris cleared the driveway, the cars and did a few errands etc.  Daddy hadn't had a very good night and was feeling somewhat shaky, a common state with his nearly 83 year-old body.  We regularly threaten Mommy and Daddy that they are NOT to go out when the weather is bad and there's a possibility that they could slip.  


Why Daddy decided that, despite being shaky, he should go out to the garage and do his usual one hundred steps on the elliptical.  Unbeknownst to him, there were boots on the step out into the garage and Daddy, not thinking there would be anything there, stepped into one of the boots and went flying.  He gashed his arm on something and fell on his knees, badly grazing one of them.  Mommy informed me after the fact and she had cleaned him up.


Life is one big trip with lots of falls along the way, literal and figurative.  I'm not always good at handling either, and at other times I handle them spectacularly.  As time moves on, the literal falls that Mommy and Daddy take are harder for them and me too.  Obviously I don't suffer the pain and stiffness of the recovery from their falls, but it scares the crud out of me and makes me feel like I'm not nearly as vigilant as I should be.  Should I be up way before them to make sure I'm all dressed and ready for the day, just in case?  That "Just in Case" looms over me some days more than others.  Should I remove all the rugs that we have lying around?  Should everything be lighted 24/7?  Which fall will be the last one?  And within the year, we're going to have a little one learning to crawl and walk which presents a whole new trip!


All of that sounds kind of dire, but it's the kind of thing that goes through my mind often, especially when I'm trying to go to sleep and I'm going over the day.  I'd rather be taking a trip into dreamland.

I have a super-cool friend who does wonderfully creative word-art and she did this for me.  It is in honor of my foodie family.  The end.

In search of a perfect definition.

This past Sunday, November 7th, it was Kris's turn to conduct during the Fast and Testimony Meeting.  He bore his testimony, as is customary for the member of the Bishopric who is conducting.  During his testimony he told of his love for me, among other things, and what he said made me feel that I needed something to describe 'the essence' of Kris. 

The obvious choices, in saying who Kris is, is son, husband, father, papa, and Bishop, mentor, hard-worker, son of God and so on.  He is loved by so many, and rightly so, but I've never felt like I could express adequately how I feel about who Kris is.  Then I read this article by Brother Johnston.  The italicized portion is what I feel perfectly describes my sweet husband.  I have much to live up to with the lofty perch he places me upon, whilst I truly believe he deserves the one he sits so modestly upon.

"Last Friday, Clive Romney, his wife, Bonnie, and bass player Rob Honey trekked north to perform for our little band of brethren in Brigham City, Utah. Clive, engineer and conductor of the group Enoch Train and a celebrated songwriter, gave us a taste of our own medicine. He sang about shared pioneer heritage.

One song, a haunting little ballad he'd just penned, has stayed with me for days now. It tells of a pioneer wife who was going through hell but kept seeing bits and pieces of heaven.

The woman isn't in denial. She acknowledges the suffering. She's no Goody Two Shoes.

She simply chooses to see the stars, not the darkness.

She chooses to taste the sweet within the sour and hear the masterpiece, not the missed notes.

I think the ability to do that — to feel joy behind the pain — is a spiritual gift, right up there with healing and preaching.

And the people who have that gift live in a world vastly different than the one most of us know. It is world where goodness lies hidden inside of everything — like maple syrup in a tree.

And Clive's song quickly had me bustling to my bookcase for a book called "Here and Now" by the Christian moralist Henri Nouwen.

Nouwen and Romney are singing the same wonderful song in harmony.

Nouwen writes:

"Joy is not the same as happiness. We can be unhappy about many things, but joy can still be there because it comes from a knowledge of God's love for us. … Often we discover the joy in the midst of sorrow.

"Joy is contagious, just as sorrow is. I have a friend who radiates joy. … He doesn't deny the great sorrow that surrounds him, nor is he blind to the agonizing sights and sounds of his fellow human beings, but his spirit gravitates toward the light in the darkness. … There is nothing sentimental about him. He is a realist, but his deep faith allows him to know that hope is more real than despair."

Nouwen ends by saying he used to get distracted by the clouds instead of looking for the sun. Then he realized it was the sun that allowed him to even see the clouds.

So with the gentle pioneer ancestor in Clive Romney's song. Her story both broke my heart and made my heart soar.

Clive says when he records the song he'll send me a copy.

Maybe I can learn it and sing it for others.

It seems to be the kind of thing the woman in the song would want me to do."

Jerry Earl Johnston shares his take on the Mormon experience in his column “New Harmony,” which appears on MormonTimes.com on Wednesdays and Sundays.
E-mail: jerjohn@desnews.com

My Happy Chum

I've been typing up the poems of my great-grandmother, Kitty Friend, and I thought this one was sweet.

                                  MY HAPPY CHUM

The sun rising with flaming gold

Illumined the dawnlight grey,

And with a strength re-born

In the joy of morn

I hailed another day

And as forth to my daily toil I fared

It seemed that the joy of my heart was shared.

Oh the gladness stayed all through the hours

And made each task a delight,

What mattered to me,

Any difficulty

when Life was so wondrous bright?

for aye it seemed that a Comrade strode

Keeping in step along the road.

The setting sun has disappeared

In a glory of Rose and Pearl,

And in sweet content

As the daylight went

I watched nights' wing unfurl;

For I knew, when eventide was come

I had walked with God, my Happy Chum.

Because we don't give up ... maybe.

I really struggled with my last entry, and what a cute one it was too! The pictures ended up all over the place, except on the blog. Kimi tried to fix things for me, because she's kind like that, and a few others have given me their two cents worth. I appreciate it and all, but some of the two cents make no sense to this techy-challenged brain. I'm not going to give up, though, because my grand children are too dang cute and the pictures Kris took were even cuter. Plus, the stories that go along amuse me and should do the same for you. So, here goes, again.

Caelen Glenn loves her some bath time.  Her hair is so blond and fine that sometimes it's hard to see she even has any.  This bath time we decided to show off the spectacular do created with shampoo and her sweet smile.

As women, we have a thing about our hair, what we do with it, how much we have of it, how it looks on us and so on and so forth. For those of us who have the pleasure of bathing our little Caelen Glenn, we have absolutely cannot, will not and do not shy away from creativity with hair. We were taking care of the kiddos whilst Kimi and Jeremy escaped their real lives in Canada, eh, and this was the first night of bathing. What is there to resist? Water, soap, and THE cutest little face to show off the do.

Caelen has this thing about capes. Brinkley has this soft, athletic-themed throw that his Grandma made him, and Caelen has Kimi tie it around her shoulders. She will usually yell, "Away!" and off she tears down the hallway, blankie flying behind her. 

I got really adventurous, something that happens to Nanas, I have found, and went on line to www.thelongthread.com There was a pattern for capes for little heroes and heroines that I thought I could manage sewing. Brinkley's favorite color is green, his favorite shape is a square and so, of course, I had to meet those requirements.  The above picture shows the results of my efforts.  It's wonderful that these are such little ones because they don't do quality control!

Brinkley's favorite color is green and his favorite shape is a square.  Yup, met those requirements.  Notice how Brinkley's baseball cap matches the colors of the cape.  Purely coincidental, but it almost looks like I used the Piperlime Accessory wall very wisely.  (Nota bene:  reference made to Project Runway, thank you very much.)

The park we were in in Olmsted Falls was an old quarry and there were cute little stone benches, old grinding discs, tables and pathways all through the forest.  How cute are these two as they took a moment, a very brief moment, to sit and check out the scenery.  It was a super hot day and their little cheeks were soon rosy, I was drippy and soggy and Kris was doing a fantastic job of chasing the kiddos and taking awesome pictures.

There was a little local fair going on and the fire department had a fire engine that the kids could sit in.  Brinkley wasn't overly sure about it at first, but as soon as Kris hiked him up there and started taking pictures he was all for it.  There was also a little movie set type house set up that the kids could shoot water at to put the "fire" out, but Brinkley wouldn't have any of that.  

One of the local stores in downtown North Olmsted sold old organs (the musical kind, of course) and various other bits and pieces from the past. They had this cute little train going round and round so we decided to go inside and check it out. They also had air-conditioning, which was a HUGE plus since it was a brazillion degrees outside and I was one soggy mess. One of the first things both kiddos wanted to do was touch the train, which would have resulted in it derailing. We began the "hands-behind-your-back" indoctrination, lesson #1. Brinkley may be more inclined towards the "hands-in-your-pockets" method, since he has pockets and likes them a lot. 

They have the cutest little library right next to the park we were visiting and Brinkley wanted to go in. I was not about to argue since the place also had air-conditioning. Kris was the most adventurous of the two of us wanting to visit any and everything and whilst we tried to read to the kiddos, they were way more interested in us playing with the toys they had in the children's' section.

 
 

We were with the kiddos from Tuesday night until Saturday afternoon before we had to take off so we could be back home in New Jersey in time for Kris to be at his Bishopric meeting at 6:30 in the a.m. (we got home at 2:00a.m.). The following picture was how we felt at the end of each day. Kris is taking the picture so you don't get to see him, but he would have looked the same if I had taken the picture. Well, he wouldn't be a 'platinum blond' like me, but you get what I'm getting at.